Never A Memory

~A Slytherin Prince~



The following day...

***



"The answer lies within Slytherin?" Ron mused, tossing a paper ball into the air and catching it distractedly. "Doesn't get much more ambiguous then that, does it?"



Harry, who was seated in his chair behind his desk, his head back and staring at the ceiling, and using his legs to swivel himself around and around, grunted noncommittally. "I think he meant it to be. He wasn't exactly falling over himself to save his son."



Ron eyed Harry as his best mate twirled himself faster and faster in the chair. "What was it Lucius had said before that again?"



Harry placed his feet flat on the ground, causing his spinning to come to an abrupt stop, and tried to remember Lucius Malfoy's exact words. "Something about Draco being jealous of me during Hogwarts," Harry said slowly. "Which doesn't make much sense. Malfoy never wanted for anything. Then Lucius accused me of being jealous of Draco killing Voldemorte...and that jealousy was a renowned Slytherin trait."



Ron placed the paper ball on Harry's desk, sat backwards in a near by chair, and peered at his partner. "Are you?"



"No!" Harry answered quickly. "I'd be dead, right?"



Ron continued to peer at him but said nothing.



"Ron," Harry said, irritation growing in his voice as he stood up and looked down at his life long friend. "Don't be a ridiculous prat. The goal was always to defeat Voldemorte. It shouldn't matter who actually did it."



"You're right," Ron conceded softly. "It shouldn't."



Harry made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat and tossed his head back. "Whatever, Ron," Harry said, grabbing his cloak and throwing it over his shoulders. "I'm going to Hogwarts to talk to Snape. The Head of Slytherin House might know what direction to point us in."



Ron nodded and rose to his feet. "I'll stay here and wait for Nickle to file his report." Nickle was the first Auror they had sent to the U.S. to check on Malfoy, and should be returning later this afternoon.



"All right," Harry said, grabbing his wand and stuffing it in one of his sleeves. "I'll see you in a few."



"In a few," Ron echoed.



***



Severus Snape sighed when Harry Potter walked into his office behind the Potions section of the Hogwarts Dungeon. "To what, pray tell, do I owe the pleasure, Potter?" Snape said, adding the extra special sneer when pronouncing Harry's last name.



Harry's smile was condescending and filled with barely restrained malice as he took a seat across from Snape's desk. The civility between them stemmed from necessity during their stand in the Order of the Phoenix; however, a few years of fighting on the same side didn't change six years of ever-present hostility. It was the strangest feeling to Harry, trusting Snape without ever actually giving a damn about him. Their civil rivalry and the charade they always exploited of nearly hating one another was almost their way of clinging to the simple familiarity of the past. It was a nicety they played with, their version of ceremonial exchange, and it suited them just fine.



Ron and Snape liked to ignore one another whenever possible but Hermione would often owl Snape for advice on this potion or that potion; which, of course, complimented Snape just enough for him to be civil with the Muggle-born best friend of Harry Potter.



"Your godson, of course," Harry answered, lidding his brilliant green eyes. "Why else would I trouble you with my presence?"



"I never took you for a poet, Potter," Snape replied, without missing a beat. "How is Draco?"



Harry paused before answering. Nickle would be returning to the Ministry that afternoon with a full report and they hadn't heard anything suspicious yet. Hermione, of course, having the Muggle-worthy Excuse Committee with the Muggle Protection Act and the International Code of Wizard Secrecy on the brain breathing down her neck these past two weeks, had kept a special eye on St. Mary's and had sent daily reports that all was quiet.



"Fine," Harry said finally. "We'll know more later this afternoon."



Snape nodded, not able to bring himself to show an actual measure of gratitude. "And?"



"I spoke to Lucius before he received the Kiss," Harry continued. "He wouldn't reveal who sent out the warrant for Malfoy, but he said the 'answer lies within Slytherin'."



Snape stood and walked to the far side of his office, arms folded deep within his robes, like they usually were, and his back facing Harry. Lucius Malfoy had once been a kind of friend to Severus Snape. Technically, Snape had used Lucius more than Lucius had used him, but there had always been something more to the dynamic between them. Lucius had, in fact, named Snape Draco's godfather. Harry suspected it had less to do with Lucius than it did with Narcissa. Harry had often wondered if Snape and Draco's mother had once been lovers. Narcissa's death had been a blow to Snape; almost as heavily as it had been to Draco Malfoy. Snape would never speak of it but since her death, a framed picture of Narcissa Malfoy with a cool smile was an ever-present decoration on Snape's desk. The only one, in fact.



"I am not so naive as to believe that all Death Eaters in allegiance with Voldemorte were once of Slytherin House," Harry said after a while. "As evident with Pettigrew, Sloper, Edgecombe, and Cadwallader. That being said, if 'the answer lies within Slytherin', we may have a slimmer list."



Snape turned back to Harry and stared at him, his beady, black eyes cold and unrepentant.



"Ron has made a list of all the Death Eaters on record who have graduated from Slytherin House," Harry went on saying, matching his stare. "I was hoping you would be able to give your professional opinion as Head of Slytherin House."



Harry handed him a scroll that had hundreds of names scribbled on it in Ron's tell-tale handwriting. Snape took it from him but continued to level Harry with his stare.



"I'm not here to debate the honor of the Slytherin House and the tendencies of those within, Snape," Harry said tiredly.



"No," Snape said coldly. "You've made your opinion quite clear."



Snape unrolled the scroll and skimmed the list of names. A few that popped up more than once were the bloodlines of Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, and of course Malfoy. Others were Vaisey, Flint, Pucey, Higgs, Warrington, Harper, and many, many more.



"I'll ponder these names and let you know if I remember anything overly remarkable," Snape said quietly after some time.



"Thank you," Harry said, standing. Harry turned to the door but stopped and came back. "Snape, have you...learned how he did it? You had thought it was a potion."



Snape resumed his seat behind his desk before answering and pulled a large book from the shelf behind him. He opened it to a marked page and slid it across the desk.



Harry sat back down and peered over the dusty pages.



"Horcruxes can only be made by murder," Snape said. "But Draco's intention was never to create a Horcrux. He wanted to use his body as a conduit for the Horcrux that was already in existence. That either requires a dangerous bit of Alchemy that I am fairly certain Draco had no knowledge of...or a very complex potion, called The Verve Channel Electron Elixir."



Harry lifted his eyes and met Snape's black ones. "Sounds a bit scientific for a potion."



Snape nodded slowly as he eased back into his chair, a contemptuous sneer curling his lip. "Potion making is a science. Really, Potter, sometimes I wonder if I taught you anything."



Harry chewed on the inside of his cheek to keep from responding.



Snape flicked his wrist dismissively. "Either way, the VCE Elixir doesn't make sense for the time Draco would have had to make it."



Harry drew his brows together. "What do you mean?"



Snape leaned forward and tapped on the page he had opened the book to that showed how to make the Verve Channel Electron Elixir. "It takes four years and nine months to make, Potter."



Harry glanced at the page and then back at Snape. "So does that mean Draco Malfoy is an Alchemist?" Hermione Granger is just going to LOVE that one...



Snape lifted his shoulders minutely in a small shrug. "Either that or Dumbledore had told Draco about the Horcruxes in his second year." Snape shook his head. "He barely knew how to ride a broom back then, let alone create a complex elixir like the VCE."



Harry frowned and studied the list of required ingredients. He stopped when he saw the Elixir called for the Leerdog Root. "I don't recognize this one," Harry stated, tapping his finger on the page.



"It's a root that only grows at the south west tip of the Tien Shen Pass. That's another factor to consider as the Leerdog Root withers within seconds of leaving the dirt and must be placed directly into the cauldron precisely when it is needed."



"This means if he did figure a way to make the elixir,” Harry mused, “he would have had to make in the Tien Shen Pass."



Snape nodded. "Precisely."



Harry was quiet for a moment. "How good was Malfoy at making potions?"



"Better than most," Snape said. "It's still not probable, though."



Harry tsked tsked as he thought to himself. "If there's anything I've learned, Snape, it's that anything is probable in the Wizarding World."



Snape snorted. “But then, learning was never your forte, was it?”



Harry glared at his former Potions Professor. “And prolonging intelligent, civil discussions was never yours,” Harry replied.



Snape sneered but said nothing, satisfied that he’d gotten under Harry’s skin.



Harry sat back in his chair and looked around Snape’s office. “Still,” Harry said slowly. “Is there anything to suggest that Draco would have the means and ability to make *this* potion?”



Snape was quiet for a moment. “Yes,” he said finally.



“Like what?”



“Draco Malfoy was always focused on something,” Snape murmured, remembering. “Always studying, always was pushing himself.” Snape glanced once at Harry’s disbelieving face. “His tendency to torment you and your Gryffindor friends was an outlet for him, I think.”



Harry made a face but said nothing.



“He studied on holidays, during summer holiday even; he would lock himself in his room and only eat if the house elves pestered him.” Snape paused. “Draco excelled at potion making because he had a knack for it, and not, though I’m sure you would claim otherwise, because of my preference for my godson.”



Harry raised an eyebrow and bit back the snarky remark hovering around his thin, disbelieving smile. “Malfoy never hit me as the studying type,” Harry said instead.



“Of course not,” Snape snapped. “You were too busy copying off of Granger or wallowing in the misery of your stardom.”



Harry crossed his arms and glared at his former Potions Professor, feeling like student again under Snape’s withering glare.



“Draco never made real friends because of his habit of locking himself away with this book or that one--except, perhaps, Zabini...but that was more a social agreement then anything else," Snape continued, "and Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson followed him around because...well, because that's just the way it was."



Snape glanced at the framed picture of Narcissa Malfoy. "Malfoys always have this aura about them," Snape murmured. "If you're not a Malfoy, and you are Slytherin...it's always in your best interest just to do the Malfoy's bidding."



Harry snorted and the glare Snape sent him could have set the Womping Willow aflame. "Why do you think Granger, Weasley, and Longbottom gravitated to you, Potter? Because they could just tell, instantly, that they would be life long friends with you?! No! It was because there was something they sensed about you that seemed right. They knew instinctually that if they walked in your shadow, everything would be fine. It is the same in Slytherin House. There is the Prince, and then there is everyone else."



Harry was silent for a moment, tossing this logic around in his head. He thought of the Houses and how there always seemed to be a shining star. Cedric Diggory, Cho Chang, Oliver Wood, Draco Malfoy...and, perhaps, even himself, Harry Potter.



"And for Slytherin," Snape said, "it was always a Malfoy."



"Why?" Harry asked darkly. "Because they were pureblood?"



It was Snape's turn to smile. "No one is really a pureblood, Potter. Draco even realized this in his fourth year."



"Then why did he insist on all the blood slurs?"



Snape slammed his fist on his desk, rattling the frame of Narcissa Malfoy. "Because it angered you, you moron! Why else would he bother you?"



Harry scowled and sat back. "It's childish."



Snape laughed--a sound Harry hadn't known he was capable of. "Very true, Potter. And believe me; I am in no way making excuses for my godson. Draco is a spoiled brat of a Malfoy who received a measure of satisfaction, and maybe even pleasure, in tormenting you and your friends. He is a perfect git when he wants to be; however, my godson is always more than meets the eye. He is more than his father ever was and keeping up the pretense that he wanted to be just like Lucius nearly killed him...Long before the Eve War and more than once."



Harry blinked and remembered Draco as a trembling teenager with his wand pointed directly at Dumbledore. The Slytherin Prince had planned the assassination perfectly but he couldn't kill the Hogwarts Headmaster. Harry remembered the hollow, tired, and terrified look that twisted Draco's features when he had lowered his wand, defeated by his own conscience. And Harry wondered if what Snape was telling him had actual merit.



Harry ran a hand over his face and stood. The two exchanged one more long glance, a look that was filled with silent understanding even if they would never admit anything but contempt for one another. Finally, Harry pointed to the book and asked if he could borrow it.



Snape nodded and watched Harry mark his place in the vellum text and carefully close it. Without a word, Harry left the Dungeon and strode up the long windy staircase. Harry walked through the old castle with ease, even though something was trying to make itself known in the back of Harry's mind.



Harry nodded to Nearly Headless Nick when he floated by and then stopped abruptly in front of the Great Hall. Instantly, Harry turned on his heel and barged through the large double doors and into the Great Hall. All four houses and most of the Professors instantly quieted and turned to stare at him when Harry stopped just inside the Great Hall, seeing that the school was in the middle of their midday meal. Harry turned bright red. He hadn't realized he was going to make such a scene. Harry's eyes quickly searched the Head table and located McGonagall. Beckoning to her, Harry quickly stepped back out of the hall and waited for her.



McGonagall was next to him within moments with a bewildered expression splayed across her thin features. "Mr. Potter! What is the meaning of this?"



"The Time-Turner," Harry said in a rushed voice. "The one you gave Hermione; where is it?"



"Oh!" McGonagall exclaimed. "Well, I'm sure it's in my office. I haven't needed that thing in years and Granger gave it back to me in your fourth year--"



"We need to go check," Harry said, his eyes taking on a bright shade of green. "Now!"



Harry led a protesting Headmistress McGonagall up to Dumbledore's old office and waited for her to say the password. Once inside the room, Harry waited impatiently as McGonagall rummaged through her things, looking for the small box that held the Time-Turner.



Harry had thought all the Time-Turners at the Ministry were destroyed during his battle with the Death Eaters over the Prophecy in his fifth year so he had discarded the idea of Draco using one to make the VCE Elixir the second it had come to him; but he had completely forgotten about the one McGonagall had in her possession. If Draco had found out about it, it was very possible he actually created the Verve Channel Electron Elixir in the Tien Shen Pass during the months of his disappearance.



"Here it is," McGonagall said, holding up a box. She opened it and let out a little squeak of a gasp.



The box was empty.