A New Place to Stay Chapter 47 - Harry Potter

On the Hogwarts Express, Harry uses an Extendable Ear to overhear Draco, Pansy and Zabini talk about Slughorn, Death Eaters and Draco's "bigger things," then walks straight into their compartment to drop a bombshell: Voldemort is a half blood named Tom Marvolo Riddle. With flaming letters in the air, he calls out the real blood traitors and leaves five stunned Slytherins behind. At the Start of Term Feast, Harry notes fewer first years, refuses Hermione's plea to start over, and hears Dumbledore announce Slughorn as Potions Master and Severus as the new Defence professor while Ron and Neville react in horror. A private memory reveals how Harry and Severus bound basilisk familiar Zar into a living tattoo on Harry's arm, and a subtle spell from the staff table confirms Draco now bears the Dark Mark. The year opens with exposed truths, broken friendships and a castle on high alert as Dumbledore warns everyone that Voldemort is openly at large.

Transcript

**Chapter 47: Surprises, Good and Bad**

Harry moved fluidly through the train, skillfully avoiding everyone as he navigated the narrow corridors. Most of the students were settled in their compartments, which made his task easier.

He had to quickly step aside when Zabini nearly bumped into him outside one compartment. As the Slytherin opened the door, Harry caught a glimpse of Malfoy's blond hair shining like a beacon.

So that’s where he was. The door closed again, muffling the sounds inside, but Harry noticed that Malfoy looked paler than usual, even with Pansy playing with his hair.

Normally, he thrived on attention, so Harry couldn't help but wonder what was going on with him. Suddenly, Harry's eyes lit up.

He remembered he had one of the Extendable Ears. Silently thanking Fred and George, he pulled it out and slid it under the door without being noticed.

As he placed the second piece in his ear, the sounds of the conversation came to life as if he were right there with them. “So, Zabini, what did Slughorn want?” Malfoy asked.

Harry rolled his eyes. Was he the only one not fascinated by that overweight, fame-seeking idiot?

“Just trying to make up to well-connected people,” Zabini replied with a snort. “Not that he managed to find many.”

Harry grinned in amusement.

It seemed he wasn’t the only one who knew Slughorn's game. Oh, how he wished he could see the look on Slughorn's face when he realized that neither he nor Neville would be showing up.

There was a brief silence, and Harry wished he could see everyone’s expressions. “Who else did he invite?” Malfoy demanded imperiously.

“McLaggen from Gryffindor,” Zabini said. “Oh yeah, his uncle's big in the Ministry,” Malfoy remarked.

“Belby from Ravenclaw,” Zabini continued. “He's a prat!” Pansy interjected, her voice dripping with disgust.

Harry couldn't help but agree—there's a first for everything. “That Weasley girl,” Zabini finished.

“He talked about Potter and Longbottom; he was disappointed when they didn’t show up.” 

Harry could... Zabini rolled his eyes, a sneer forming on his lips.

“He invited Longbottom?” Malfoy asked, his voice dripping with resentment. “Yes, but he didn’t show,” Zabini replied, clearly bored.

“What’s Longbottom got that interests Slughorn?” the blond questioned, incredulity lacing his words. There was a brief silence before Malfoy sneered again.

“Potter, precious Potter. Obviously, he wanted to look at the Chosen One.”

“And what’s so special about the Weasley girl?” Zabini shot back.

“A lot of boys like her,” Pansy interjected. “Even you think she’s good-looking, don’t you, Blaise?

And we all know how hard you are to please!”

Harry couldn’t help but snort at that. A boy like him?

Hard to please? That was ironic.

He winced at his own thoughts. What was he doing thinking like that?

He wasn’t exactly good-looking himself, and his dad wasn’t either. Severus would never be considered handsome, and the shame washed over him as he realized he had been thinking of himself instead of Zabini.

“I wouldn’t touch a filthy little blood traitor like her, no matter what she looked like,” Zabini said coldly, his tone sharp. Clearly, Pansy had struck a nerve; honestly, the whole blood traitor nonsense was ridiculous.

“Well, I pity Slughorn’s taste. Maybe he’s going a bit senile.

Shame; my father always said he was a good wizard in his day. My father used to be a bit of a favorite of his.

Slughorn probably hasn’t heard I’m on the train or he—” Draco rambled on. Harry snorted; that was a load of rubbish if he’d ever heard it.

It was his mum and Severus, not his birth father, who had been Slughorn’s favorites, along with Regulus Black. He should know; he had to talk to the man for nearly an hour.

Lucius Malfoy hadn’t even come up for a mention. "I wouldn't count on an invitation," Zabini warned.

"When I first arrived, he asked me about Nott's father. Apparently, they used to be old friends, but when Slughorn heard Nott had been caught at the Ministry, he didn’t look happy.

Nott didn’t get an invitation, did he? I don’t think Slughorn is interested in Death Eaters."

Harry was impressed; he had never heard a Slytherin speak to Malfoy like that before.

He winced when Malfoy let out a laugh—humorless and dark. It made Harry’s heart sink.

Oh no, there was only one reason Malfoy would laugh defensively like that. He hadn’t, he wouldn’t—he was only sixteen!

What was he doing throwing his life away? No, he was just being dramatic.

Voldemort wouldn’t want a kid who couldn’t even use magic legally yet… right? "Who cares what he's interested in?

What is he, when you come right down to it? Just some stupid teacher," Malfoy sneered.

"I might not even be at Hogwarts next year; what does it matter to me if some fat old has-been likes me or not?"

Harry closed his eyes and shook his head; he had the confirmation that Draco Malfoy had done something completely stupid. "What do you mean, you might not be at Hogwarts next year?" Pansy asked, sounding shocked.

"Well, you never know," Malfoy replied. "I might have, err, moved on to bigger and better things."

Harry tilted his head, sensing an underlying fear in Malfoy's voice.

"Do you mean—HIM?"

"Mother wants me to complete my education, but personally, I don’t see it as that important these days. I mean, think about it.

When the Dark Lord takes over, is he going to care how many O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s anyone has? Of course not; it will all be about the kind of service he receives, the level of devotion he is shown," Draco said smugly.

Harry squashed his invisibility cloak into his school cloak and grabbed the extendable ear, tucking it into his pocket. He slid open the door and stared at the blond boy without any emotion on his face.

"Or rather your pain tolerance; I hope you’re prepared for that. He loves putting the Cruciatus curse on everyone.

I saw him doing it to your fathers, whether you succeed or fail in your impossible missions."

"What do you know, Potter?" Malfoy spat, standing up, his eyes glaring holes into Harry. "Ironic, really.

You hate half-bloods, but you're all too willing to bow down to one," Harry replied wryly. "What the hell are you talking about, Potter?" Zabini demanded, an eyebrow raised in curiosity despite himself.

Harry laughed out loud, echoing the same derisive laugh Malfoy had let out moments earlier. "Ignorance is bliss, isn’t it?

Voldemort's a half-blood; his father is a Muggle."

He ignored the flinches that accompanied the mention of the name. "No way!

He's Slytherin's heir!" Pansy snapped. "Yes, he is, through his mother.

Do you even know his real name? No?

Well, I'll let you in on it: Tom Marvolo Riddle. Familiar?

No? You probably wouldn't find it even if you tried," Harry said, smirking smugly at their dumbfounded and sickened expressions.

He removed his wand, noticing the others did the same. But Harry wasn’t interested in fighting; he was there to make a point.

He wrote Tom Marvolo Riddle in airborne letters of fire, then swished his wand, transforming it into the anagram: I am Lord Voldemort. "You have the nerve to call the Weasleys blood traitors, when in reality, everyone who follows him," Harry said, pointing to the fading flaming words, "are the real blood traitors."

With that, Harry closed the compartment door and walked down the hall to his own compartment.

leaving five stunned sixteen-year-olds to lick their wounds. Harry had made his point; now, all they could do was choose their own paths.

It seemed Draco Malfoy had already made his bed, and now he would have to lie in it. “Where did you go?” Neville asked, curiosity evident in his voice.

“Just to see Malfoy,” Harry replied with a casual shrug. He noticed two inquisitive stares but chose not to elaborate.

They finished the ride in silence. “That’s us at Hogwarts!

Let’s go!” Luna exclaimed suddenly, her gaze fixed out the window. They were all dressed in their school robes already.

Before long, the students were climbing onto the coaches for the journey to Hogwarts. It took only fifteen minutes, and the atmosphere was mostly quiet as they entered the Great Hall.

The silence hung heavy; the students were well aware of how dire the situation had become. Still, they couldn’t help but glance at Harry as he walked by.

Luna said her goodbyes after giving Neville a quick kiss, then made her way to her own table. Neville and Harry settled at the Gryffindor table, waiting for the feast to begin.

“Is it just me… or are there fewer…” Harry started, but he didn’t get to finish. “It’s not you; there are definitely fewer new students,” Neville replied, staring at the first years lined up to be sorted, their faces a mix of nerves and fear.

Harry felt a pang of sympathy for them; this was not how first years should feel. They shouldn’t be scared for their families or themselves.

A wave of guilt washed over him, but he quickly pushed it aside. It wasn’t his fault; the Dark Lord would have found another way to return.

All he could do was continue training—train until he couldn’t train anymore—then confront the Dark Lord. “Students are being pulled from Hogwarts; their parents are too worried,” Hermione chimed in from across the table.

“It’s a foolish thing to do. With Dumbledore here, this is the safest place in the world,” she added confidently.

Harry let out a bitter laugh. “Yes, it sure is.

Tell that to the Troll, Quirrell, Voldemort, the Basilisk, House-elves…”

“Pettigrew, Dementors… tell that to Cedric Diggory when he was Portkeyed out from the so-called safest place in the world,” Harry finished with a sneer. Hermione stared at him, wide-eyed.

He had said Cedric Diggory's name; until now, he had struggled to say it without feeling a pang of guilt. She glanced around, glaring at the others eavesdropping on their conversation.

“Harry, I’m truly sorry. Can’t we start over?” she pleaded, her brown eyes filled with sorrow.

“No, Hermione, we can’t. Not even when you finally realize that Headmasters and teachers don’t come before your supposed best friend,” Harry snapped.

Even after an entire year, he hadn’t calmed down regarding Hermione's and Ron's betrayal. They had known how much Harry despised Snape.

They had understood how lonely he would be. They couldn’t have known that Harry and Severus would form a bond and discover their perceptions of one another were flawed.

Harry wouldn’t have survived the summer if Severus had remained the same. He had been terrified, worrying about the new rules, the fact that Severus had hated him, and that he had magic.

He shook off those bleak thoughts; they didn’t matter anymore. Professor Snape and Severus—his dad—were two completely different people.

“Harry, aren’t you going to eat?” Neville asked, pulling Harry out of his reverie. He had made Hermione almost cry, and now he was sitting there, staring blankly at his plate.

“Hmm?” Harry blinked at Neville, returning to the moment. “The feast has started, Harry,” Neville pointed out, concern etched on his face.

“Oh, thanks, Nev,” Harry replied, piling food onto his plate. Truth be told, he was actually quite hungry.

He hadn’t been eating much over the past few days—just light summer foods, soups, and the like. Even his dad had commented on it, but Harry had been fine; in fact, he felt better than fine.

His snake didn’t have to go down to the chamber; he had made... Harry felt a swell of pride for his dad as he recalled passing his O.W.L.s.

“Hey, how did you do on your exams?” he asked Neville, realizing they hadn't discussed it in their letters. “I passed them all, apart from Potions.

I got an O in Herbology,” Neville replied, beaming with pride. “You failed Potions?

Even with Snape not being in the room?” Harry asked, surprised. Potions had never been Neville's strong suit, which was odd since Herbology was such a big part of it.

Neville flushed red. “Well, at least I won't have to attend his class this year,” Neville said, sounding relieved.

Harry bit his lip, deciding to hold back his thoughts. He wanted Neville to enjoy his moment of bliss a little longer.

Severus wasn’t teaching Potions this year; he had taken the Defense position instead. Poor Neville was going to have to attend those classes.

Harry's mind drifted to that evening when he would need to visit his dad's quarters to let Zar off him for a while. A grin crossed his face as he remembered the night before leaving for Hogwarts.

---

Harry flipped through the book absentmindedly, hardly absorbing any information. He had all but given up on finding a way to shrink Zar or keep him out of the chamber.

He didn’t want to part with his familiar; he was as attached to Zar as he was to Hedwig. Animals, unlike people, didn’t betray you unless treated poorly, and Harry would never do that.

He knew he could always count on their loyalty. Then, he spotted it—the solution to his problems—and he couldn't believe his eyes.

He had read this book before; how had he missed that chapter? He groaned in realization.

Of course, he had been preoccupied with thoughts of the Horcruxes at that time. Without wasting a moment, he grabbed the book and rushed off to find Severus.

He checked the living room, then the kitchen, and finally the potions lab, but Severus was nowhere to be found. A frown creased Harry’s forehead.

Had he been called away? He hoped not.

He almost hit himself on the head; there was someone he could ask. "Hey, Dobby?" Harry called, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for the house-elf to appear.

A mix of excitement, anxiety, and worry bubbled within him. "Yes, Harry Potter, sir?" Dobby replied, materializing before Harry with adoration shining in his eyes.

"Where's Severus?" Harry asked, practically bouncing on the spot. "He's in the garden, Harry, sir, picking potion ingredients," Dobby informed him.

"Does Harry Potter want me to go and get him?" 

"No, thank you, Dobby! I can go!" Harry exclaimed eagerly, already darting away from the house-elf.

He didn't notice Dobby watching him leave, a smile spreading across his face. It was rare to see Harry Potter so happy.

"Sir!" Harry called out as he finally spotted the man he regarded as a father, skidding to a halt in front of him. "Where's the fire?" Severus asked wryly, continuing to gather the ingredients he clearly needed.

"I've found it," Harry said, grinning widely. He felt a surge of triumph; he had done it.

Severus arched an eyebrow, knowing that contrary to popular belief, he didn’t read minds. He could tell when someone was lying, a skill any Occlumens or Legilimens could develop, but it worked best when they were looking him in the eye.

He might appear cold and hard to most, and truth be told, he was. Yet he would never invade someone's privacy without permission.

It was fortunate that he and Harry had been getting along better before Dumbledore granted him that permission. Otherwise, he knew he might have acted immaturely, brutally, and nastily.

He had always been that way with Harry, believing him to be spoiled. How wrong he had been, and Petunia was now paying for her actions.

"Zar. I can keep him with me," Harry said, calming down as he opened his book to show Severus what he meant.

"Are you sure?" Severus asked, quickly scanning the page and grasping the gist of its meaning. People might think Harry had gotten a tattoo.

Harry realized that if they were going to do this, he would need to be the one to cast the spell. “Yes,” he said without hesitation; he wanted to keep Zar with him.

“Then you’d better go and get your snake,” Severus replied curtly. “I’ll meet you back at the house in ten minutes.” He needed to get these ingredients to the potions lab.

While he could have asked a house-elf for help, Severus was accustomed to handling things on his own. It rarely crossed his mind to rely on the house-elves.

“All right,” Harry agreed, already hissing for his snake, who was, as always, wandering around the manor. Zar knew where to go; Harry had told him, so he never strayed outside the wards.

If he did, he wouldn’t be able to get back in. The last thing they needed was for someone to spot a basilisk roaming free.

Thankfully, there hadn’t been any accidents. Harry had maintained full control over Zar.

If he hadn’t, the snake would have been killed and used for potion ingredients. That would have hurt Harry deeply, but a familiar that wandered around killing people was simply unacceptable.

It would only be a matter of time before Zar turned on Harry. Severus entered the room just as Harry was explaining everything to the basilisk.

Zar understood English, but Harry instinctively spoke Parseltongue whenever he was near a snake. Severus had brewed a Parseltongue language potion, just in case Harry wouldn’t understand him when they took out the Horcrux.

When, not if; Severus refused to let himself fail in this task. He had vowed to keep Harry safe, and he intended to succeed.

Once he perfected the potion to remove the Horcrux, he planned to tweak the language potion. He really wanted to be able to speak Parseltongue.

He knew his son would be devastated if he lost that ability, which added to his motivation to create it. Only time would tell if he could succeed.

“Are you ready?” Severus asked. Severus removed his wand and asked, "Where do you want to put him?" The spell needed to hit the basilisk in its only vulnerable spot: its eyes.

It would undoubtedly hurt, but it would be worth it. Harry rolled up his sleeve and pointed to the area on his lower arm where he wanted the spell to be placed.

It was a risky choice, but if he didn’t do it there, he would have to get undressed every time he wanted to let Zar off him. Zar was already grumbling—or rather, hissing—in complaint about what they were about to do.

“Transfero,” Severus chanted, touching Harry's arm, then continuing with, “pingo anguis.” He aimed his wand straight at Zar's eye. The snake hissed threateningly as the spell hit him, and with a great puff of smoke, he transformed into mist and floated toward Harry.

Harry winced, biting his tongue as the mist settled onto his arm, causing a sharp pain. He could only hope that it wouldn’t hurt every time.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t be letting Zar off very often. But just as suddenly as the pain had come, it disappeared.

Now, Harry had a tattoo on his arm that looked exactly like Zar. “To let him off, just wish it,” Severus instructed, watching as the snake made an appearance again.

Harry grinned; he would always have his familiar with him now. Severus smirked in return before putting the book down.

---

Harry stared at the Slytherin table, noticing five students in particular who seemed rather subdued. Even the other Slytherins had picked up on it, casting curious glances their way.

Harry wondered if they knew that Draco had taken the mark. His gaze drifted up to the Head table, where he met Severus' eyes for a brief moment before subtly looking back at Draco.

He placed his hand over... Severus cast a spell on Harry's arm, precisely where Death Eaters bore their Dark Marks.

He didn't dare look back to see if his message had landed; it was simply too risky—especially with Dumbledore potentially watching. Severus had understood Harry's intent, and he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes, curse, or shake some sense into his foolish godson.

What was he thinking? What had Narcissa been thinking?

His godson seemed doomed to repeat the same mistakes. Severus knew deep down that Harry lacked the fortitude to be a Death Eater.

Last year, when he had used that spell on Harry, the boy had been pale, shaken, and sick. That was not the demeanor of a true Death Eater.

Severus recalled how cold, hard, and unfeeling Lucius had been by the time he turned seventeen. He had only known Lucius for a year; Lucius had been Head Boy when Severus first arrived at Hogwarts.

Abraxas, Lucius's father, had been a loyal follower of Voldemort and had indoctrinated his son from birth. Lucius had had a chance to escape when Abraxas died from Dragon Pox, but he hadn't seemed inclined to do so.

Instead, he raised his son to uphold his own twisted ideology. Just then, the room fell silent as Albus Dumbledore stood up.

"The very best of evenings to you!" Dumbledore greeted joyfully, beaming at them as if he wanted to scoop them all into a warm embrace. "To our new students, welcome; to our returning students, welcome back!

Another year full of magical education awaits you. Mr.

Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to remind you that there is a blanket ban on any joke items purchased from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes." He looked at them, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Those wishing to try out for their house Quidditch teams should submit their names to their Heads of House, as usual.

We are also on the lookout for new Quidditch commentators, who should do the same."

"Oh yeah, he's gone now, isn't he?" Harry said, referring to Lee Jordan, Fred and George's best friend. Ron had...

Harry couldn’t help but think how much he hated that guy, all because he brought a pet tarantula to Hogwarts. "Yeah," Neville agreed, nodding.

Dumbledore continued brightly, "We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year, Professor Slughorn." The man stood up, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight. "He is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post as Potions Master." 

Harry glanced at Neville from the corner of his eye, biting his lip to suppress a laugh at the horror etched on Neville's face.

In unison, many students exclaimed, "Potions?!" in confusion. "Yes!" Ron cheered, his entire face lighting up with glee.

"No Snape this year!" 

Just as Neville started to relax, Dumbledore spoke again. "Professor Snape, meanwhile," he raised his voice to be heard above the chatter, "will be taking over the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher." 

"No!" Ron gasped, horrified.

Neville squeaked in renewed terror. Just when he thought he’d escaped Snape this year, the rug had been pulled right out from under him.

Severus merely raised his hand in acknowledgment to his Slytherins, not bothering to stand. There was no doubt that Severus had always wanted that job, and the triumph on his face was hard to miss.

Harry had to stop himself from smirking. "Now, as everybody in this hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining strength." The mention of that name silenced the room immediately.

Harry glanced over at the Slytherin table, locking eyes with Malfoy, who stared back at him. Malfoy arched an eyebrow and shook his head, disappointment evident on his face.

In response, Malfoy glared fiercely before looking away. "I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure our safety.

The castle's magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer; we are protected in new and more... “We have powerful defenses in place, but we must remain vigilant against any carelessness from students or staff.

I urge you to comply with any security measures your teachers may implement, no matter how bothersome they may seem—especially the rule about not being out of bed after hours. I implore you, if you notice anything strange or suspicious, whether inside or outside the castle, report it to a staff member immediately.

I trust you to always prioritize your safety and the safety of those around you.”

Dumbledore’s gaze swept across the hall, reflecting the seriousness of the situation. Once he was sure he had reached his students, he continued, “But now, your beds await you, as warm and comfortable as you could wish.

I know your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. So, let us say goodnight.

Pip pip!”

“Come on, Nev,” Harry said, trying to get his friend’s attention. Neville was still horrified at the thought of having Severus Snape for another two years at Hogwarts.

Harry stifled a laugh; he knew he shouldn’t find it funny, but it was. Well, it was now; he realized he would have been absolutely furious if he hadn’t known Severus better.