August 31, 1988
England, Cokeworth, Spinner's End, Severus Snape's house
Yeah... We struggled with yesterday's final translation until late in the evening. Sensei didn't even bother cooking dinner. He snapped his fingers and called out, "Hogwarts elf," summoning a short creature with gray skin, bulging eyes, and large ears.
"Trixie is listening to Professor Snape," the creature announced. It clearly belonged to the house-elf species Harry had said old Kreacher belonged to. This one looked younger and tidier, though, wrapped in a clean piece of cloth with a small golden badge pinned to it that looked like a very thick, short yari spearhead. While Snape-sensei ordered dinner for us, I managed to make out that the badge was divided into four sections and had the letter 'H' in the center.
"You weren't surprised to see a house-elf for the first time?" Sensei asked after the elf listened to the order and vanished from the library with a soft pop.
"If you called someone, then that means someone was supposed to come," I shrugged, restraining myself from slapping my forehead. I remembered Harry expecting some sort of surprised reaction from me too when he summoned Kreacher. What had impressed me was merely how easy the summoning was, without blood or special effects like a seal connecting worlds. But in this case, the whole point was that these elves already lived in this world, unlike summoned animals that lived in their own satellite worlds.
"Hmm. Logical," was all Snape-sensei said. "Let's go to the dining room. Dinner has arrived. We don't have time to deal with it ourselves. Under Hogwarts' arrangement, teachers can order food from the school's elves. They cook and keep prepared food under preservation charms so that certain professors don't starve themselves."
Once again Sensei convinced me that many wizards didn't have to think about their daily bread. Food appeared in cupboards by itself through agreements with shops, and elves cooked and delivered meals. Beautiful. You didn't even have to worry about what to cook or what to eat. My probable guardian might not even think to provide money for my support, simply because it had never occurred to him that he was supposed to. At least, for now I would think of it that way. Otherwise, deliberately mistreating an underage Chosen One by placing him with a Muggle family that feared magic and could barely afford a second child looked very unpleasant. I wasn't going to allow any more games in the dark.
After a filling dinner, we continued translating the recipe for the 'everything ointment' and worked on it until almost ten at night.
"Most of the ingredients are realistically obtainable," Sensei shared thoughtfully as he studied the finished translation, rubbing his chin. "Minerals, with rare exceptions, exist here as well. Some herbs grow only on the Japanese islands and are unlikely to have substitutes. In addition, several plants have to be used at different stages of growth and flowering. Still, with great luck, it may be possible to order seeds and grow them here... Even something as absurdly rare as phoenix tears is, hmm... accessible to me. But this recipe uses relic materials such as basilisk venom and scales. These magical creatures were extremely rare even in past centuries and are now considered extinct. Perhaps somewhere in the magical jungles of India one might still encounter a King of Serpents and... I have no idea what one would have to do to take venom from it..."
"Whoa, King of Serpents?" I asked. "Then it should speak snake language too, right?"
Sensei looked at me carefully and nodded.
"You're right. Basilisks are considered intelligent creatures. Only wizards who knew Parseltongue could negotiate with them. Like you."
"Then I promise that if I ever meet a basilisk, I'll ask it for some venom and scales for you, sir," I said.
And this morning, with a fresh head and after meditating before bed, I realized that my joking promise might actually come true. Because I remembered that Harry, in his story, had mentioned killing a basilisk somewhere in Hogwarts.
I simply hadn't connected that basilisk—the 'terror of Mudbloods'—with this 'beautiful relic' whose venom Sensei dreamed of obtaining. Back then, I'd paid more attention to how Harry had been humiliated and persecuted at school and treated as some kind of villain. And to the fact that he'd saved a girl from some book in which a spirit had been sealed... And that spirit was the one who had set the huge basilisk snake on the students.
The story reminded me of that fight with the team of weaponsmith-ninja. The Takumi shinobi had planned to resurrect the mega-powerful guy Seimei using his living weapons. They were so devoted to their Master that their leader didn't hesitate to give his own body as a vessel for Seimei's spirit and for that same 'living weapon'... Yeah... The guy was impressive, too bad he didn't value his subordinates. They gave their lives for him. I hated bastards like that, people who considered themselves superior by definition and treated loyal followers as trash. In any case, Gaara and I turned out to be stronger. We shook that mummy right back into the Pure Land. As I understood it, Harry had dealt with that spirit too. Funny that we had been about the same age in those stories—twelve.
At breakfast, Sensei was thoughtful, and I was thinking too.
The conversation about money and my bank account or guardian still hadn't happened. Sensei hadn't asked me, and I didn't want to spoil our relationship or suddenly dump my problems on a man who had already taken me in for almost an entire month, fed me, taught me, and worked with me. Formally, I'd more or less paid everything back, but I didn't want to... From the fact that I couldn't find a local word for it, I gathered that English had no concept equivalent to 'giri',* but that didn't mean I didn't feel it. Which meant my debt to the Dursleys would keep growing until I received official access to the Potter vault.
Of course, the cosmetic potion for Aunt Petunia would reduce that debt a little. I'd earned it honestly by helping Sensei in his laboratory. Over these three weeks I'd acquired a small first-aid kit. A whole two vials of 'Rowan Decoction' and a jar of ointment made from it for healing small wounds and scrapes, three bottles of 'Skele-Gro', which we'd brewed three times the previous week. Then there was the cosmetic preparation for Aunt Petunia called 'Beauty Potion'. Sensei said potions like that worked on Squibs too. The important thing was for Aunt Petunia to drink only tiny amounts, and then the effect would become permanent: smoother skin, prettier and thicker hair, small wrinkles disappearing. After all, she didn't need to become 'Miss Universe' for a single day, and if used sparingly, one bottle would last half a year and make the effect stick. I wrote all of that down so I could pass the instructions to Aunt Petunia. All women wanted to look good; I thought she'd be happy.
Our silent meal was interrupted by a knock at the window. A small owl sat behind the slightly cloudy glass, holding an envelope in its beak.
Sensei opened the window, took the letter, and before opening it, cast several spells over the paper with his wand.
"It's from your aunt," he informed me. "Yesterday I sent her an owl to find out how best to return you to your relatives. Petunia knows how to use owl post."
"What's in the letter, sir? It looks pretty long..."
"We'll meet her and your uncle in London. Petunia wrote that your cousin and his friend were away at a children's summer camp, and apparently you were there with them. That is to keep the neighbors from asking questions. A certain Miss Figg asked about you several times. Hmm... They also want to do your and your cousin's school shopping in London. Your uncle took a day off work. So I need to hand you over to your relatives at three in the afternoon. I know the place; the Ministry of Magic is nearby..."
"All right. My things are already packed, sir," I nodded. I didn't have many 'things' anyway. Only a few potion bottles had been added to them.
"I could give you several books to study," Snape-sensei said after a pause.
"Really?! That would be very useful, sir." I smiled and cautiously clarified, "Does that mean we'll see each other again? Before they take me to wizard school?"
"Education should be systematic, Mr. Potter," Sensei said instructively. "In three years before Hogwarts, you may forget everything you've read here. But during the school year I am extremely busy and have many duties at the school. So the only time I may have available for you is next August."
"You're a very good person, sir," I said quietly.
Emotion hit me all at once, and in a completely childish impulse I jumped up, hugged him, and buried my face in his shoulder. Apparently I'd reached my emotional limit. The tears kept coming. This body. This damned world. The deaths of my friends. Losing Ku. The constant strain of not knowing what I could say and what I couldn't. And now—parting with someone who had become close to me, who resembled Sasuke, an excellent teacher and a spy—Snape-sensei. I really had become attached to him.
He exhaled and placed a hand on my head, running his fingers through the hair at the back of my neck.
"S-sorry, sir," I mumbled nasally, trying to get the wave of emotion under control.
"Go wash your face," Sensei advised after my sobbing stopped. I fled to the bathroom at full speed.
Yeah, what a hero... Red nose, swollen eyelids, salty tracks tightening the skin on my cheeks. Harry Potter, bawling his eyes out. I hoped Sensei wouldn't change his mind about taking such a crybaby next year. Embarrassing. I filled the basin and plunged my face into ice-cold water.
"Don't even think about drowning yourself in there, Harry," Sensei's voice came from behind the door. "I still have to return you to your relatives."
I fiercely wiped my cheeks with the slightly rough towel and did breathing exercises to cool my face. There was nothing shameful about showing tears of grief, but Sensei might think I was weak and feeling sorry for myself. Bad timing for a breakdown. Maybe magic affected the psyche too. Sensei had mentioned the nerves, after all. Well, nothing for it...
I decisively left the bathroom and met my teacher's black-eyed gaze.
"There is still time before three," he said as if nothing had happened. "We'll have time to cut the ingredients and prepare the base. I wanted to try brewing that potion from the Japanese scroll against dragon pox and compare it with Gunhilda of Gorsemoor's remedy."
"I don't mind, sir," I breathed out with a smile. It seemed he wasn't angry with me, and that made me very happy.
Author's Note to Part 1, Chapter 14. Almost Goodbye
* Giri (Japanese: 義理) — 'a sense of duty/obligation'.