Better Be Slytherin!

Severus swallowed hard, and almost did not ask. 'How much?'

The Bloody Baron sighed softly, a forlorn sound. 'I have not seen such raw power in over one hundred years. And in one so young, when the boy has not yet reached his full potential . . . I have never felt its like before.'

As if his heart were being crushed by a giant fist, Severus' chest flooded with pain. He could not breathe, could not think. His vision grayed at the edges. Then, an instant later, the fist opened and he sucked in a harsh breath, greedy for air. He dropped his head down low, braced his hands on his knees, and fought for sanity. Dear Merlin . . .

'Are you well, Severus Snape?' The words were faint, as if they had come from far away and under water, yet Severus still managed to think, Stupid question.

It was another minute before he gathered himself enough to say, 'You are certain?' He cocked his head to the side, to see the ghost's expression, and what he saw there made his heart sink further into his stomach. Of course the he was sure. The Baron had known Salazar Slytherin himself. All of the Founders, in fact. He had known Dumbledore, when Albus had come through the school a hundred years ago--

Ah, it was Dumbledore's power the ghost had felt before. Of course.

The Baron had been exposed to the magic of tens of thousands of students, over the course of a thousand years since the Founding of Hogwarts. He had known the magic of the Founders, of Albus Dumbledore, of Tom Riddle, and now, of Harry Potter, who was fated, perhaps, to end Riddle's reign of terror. If he had the power . . .

It was not for another minute or two that the Baron's tidings had truly penetrated, enough that Severus could make some sense of it. Somehow, somewhen, he had fallen to his knees. His forehead was lying on his forearms, which rested on the door. His first coherent thought was, 'Oh, Harry.' Poor, damned boy.

'You must protect him,' the Baron said softly.

'I know.'

'He is already aware that the Headmaster has designs on him.'

Severus nodded tiredly. It was inevitable, really.

'You must aid him--'

'I know! He can't . . .' He exhaled sharply. 'His power will be very tempting.' The Dark Lord could never learn how much power the boy had, else he would try and take it for his own, one way or the other. Either by enslaving the boy or leeching the magic from his core. Either way, killing Harry would be kinder.

The Baron went on, 'Even untried, unrealized, the intensity of his power, even the potential . . . it is enticing now.'

Severus could only nod again. He would protect the boy, as he had pledged to do. If that protection must also be from those who would exploit Potter and his magic, so be it. But perhaps even more important now, he would also need to protect the boy from himself, from his own undisciplined mind. Harry would have to learn control and discipline very soon, more so than any other child his age . . . or any age.

Because they were less able to master their emotions, young wizards tended to have a more difficult time mastering their magic. As they matured, they learned control, and their magic responded accordingly. From what Severus had seen, because of the way he was treated by his relatives, Harry had already learned some restraint over his emotions. To not have that self-control in his world had meant punishment or banishment to that damnable cupboard. Yet the boy still had a temper, and with all that power at his fingertips, he could do terrible things, all unknowing. And so. In addition to Occlumency, they would need to work on other types of meditation that would help the boy govern his emotions, his reactions, and his power. Else, he could do some serious damage to himself and the school. Not to mention, without truly knowing what he was capable of, how could he ever fulfill the bloody prophecy?

'I see you understand, Professor Snape.'

'I do.' He rose and went to his high board and poured out two fingers of single malt whisky. After this conversation, he deserved it.

HPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSS

The first Occlumency lesson started off tolerably well. Severus had scheduled them to begin directly after dinner, so Potter could have as much time preparing for the lesson as possible. Well, that was what he told himself, anyway, when he knew, deep down, that the real reason was so the boy could enjoy his free day . . . and so Severus could wrap his mind around the information the Bloody Baron had given him the night before.

Currently, Potter sat on a chair he had occupied a number of times before in Severus' office. The book by Keating was in his lap. He was biting his lip and looking nervous, and it was all Severus could do not to yank that lip out from between the boy's teeth. Really! Could he be more blatant!

Instead, he said, 'How much did you manage to read after indulging in holiday sweets and idleness all day?'

The boy swallowed, gripped the book a bit tighter, and said, 'I only got to really study the first half. I read the whole thing, though.'

'Did you,' Severus said, maintaining his blank expression, though he was secretly pleased. He had no real cause to think Potter was a slacker in his studies -- he had shown no such tendency in any of his classes -- yet he could not quash his immediate assumption that all children, when given the chance to loll about idly, would do so.

'Yes, sir.'

'We shall see.'

He proceeded to question the boy on various theories and stratagems Keating had presented in the first half of his book, especially on the matter of hiding thoughts as opposed to layering thoughts. Potter was able to answer intelligently, if more hesitantly than Severus might have liked. In addition to learning self-control to master his power, Potter obviously needed to acquire a greater measure of self-confidence. Without it, he was far more