HP: Those Years Sleeping with the Half-Blood Prince

"Or he's hiding something." Severus picked up his glass and took a small sip. "When Dumbledore spoke to him, he was trembling all over, not from nervousness, but more like... pain, or, barely managing to stop trembling."

Ian didn't reply, and the two watched the lively scene in the auditorium in silence.

Dumbledore stood up and announced the opening rules—no entry to the Forbidden Forest, Mr. Filch's list of prohibited items was posted on the bulletin board in the hallway, and Quidditch selections would take place in the second week.

Finally, he smiled and had the class leaders lead the freshmen back to their dormitories.

The students poured out of the auditorium like a tide, and the noise gradually faded away.

The faculty members gradually left, nodding to each other and saying goodnight.

Ian and Severus waited until the very end before getting up and walking down the stone steps to the cellar.

"The Malfoys," Severus said suddenly, his voice barely audible in the empty corridor, "during the Sorting Ceremony, he called out Slytherin without hesitation, the moment his hat touched his hair."

"Lucius will be satisfied."

“Being too satisfied isn’t necessarily a good thing,” Severus said. “When that kid left the auditorium, his chin was practically touching the ceiling, and Crabbe and Goyle followed behind him like two mountains.”

"Like father, like son?"

"Hopefully it's not exactly the same." Severus pushed open the door to the cellar office, and Ian followed him in. The door closed silently behind them.

Severus lit the fireplace and waved his wand to make the lamp on the table glow warmly. "Lucius at least knows how to pretend; that boy can only imitate his father's mannerisms now."

Ian took off his robe and hung it up, then walked behind Severus and placed his hands on his shoulders.

Severus froze for a moment, then relaxed and closed his eyes.

"Tired?" Ian asked in a low voice, pressing his fingers against the back of Ian's tense neck.

"It's the same every year at this time," Severus said, his voice weary. "A bunch of eleven-year-olds, holding wands like sticks, thinking they can change the world."

"You were like that back then too."

"Back then, all I wanted was a place to stay." Severus opened his eyes, his dark pupils appearing deep in the firelight. "Even though I was assigned to an academy that symbolizes 'ambition and shrewdness'."

Ian smiled, bent down, and rested his chin on Severus's shoulder.

"But how does it feel to be the headmaster of this 'Ambition and Cleverness' school now, Headmaster Snape?"

Severus didn't answer, but turned his head and gently kissed Ian's cheek.

Quirrell has class tomorrow, with first-year Gryffindors and Slytherins together.

"It's a good opportunity to observe him."

"Dumbledore assigned him to teach first-year students Defense Against the Dark Arts," Severus said, with a hint of sarcasm. "He started with the very basics, how to identify and deal with Red Hats, Kaba, and Grindelwald. He needed those books, probably to be 'well-prepared'."

“Or, it’s what’s attached to him that needs it,” Ian said, moving his fingers from Severus’s shoulder to his temples and gently massaging them. “Garlic masking other smells, bandages covering… scars? Or something else?”

"I don't know." Severus took Ian's hand, pulled it to his lips, and kissed it. "But we'll find out soon, and—"

He paused for a moment, "Among the books he borrowed, there was one that described in detail how to use magic to temporarily fix a non-physical entity onto a living host, and the effects of this state on the host's physiology and psychology."

"Symptoms include: repression or alteration of the host's original personality, abnormal fluctuations in the host's magical power, the host's subconscious protection of the possessed part of the body, and... a strong aversion to certain magical substances, such as unicorn blood."

"You suspect he'll go to the Forbidden Forest." Ian understood.

"There are unicorns in the Forbidden Forest, and Ferenze recently reported that the magical creatures deep within the Forbidden Forest are restless."

Severus stood up, walked to his desk, took out a piece of parchment from the drawer with a rough map of Hogwarts on it, and pointed to the Forbidden Forest with the tip of his wand.

"Hagrid said that the giant spider's range has expanded, the Thestral population is migrating, and even the centaurs have begun to increase patrols."

"Dark forces are approaching."

"Or they've already come in." Severus put away the map and looked out at the dark night. "Quirok is just a vessel. The main soul... is very weak, but still alive and searching for a way to recover. Unicorn blood can prolong life, even for a cursed life."

Ian was silent for a moment, then walked to his side and looked out the window together.

"So Dumbledore was waiting, waiting for him to make his move, waiting for him to be exposed."

"Wait for him to make a mistake," Severus said coldly. "Quillo is not a strong host; his fear is almost written on his face. The main soul chose him because he is easy to control, but also because he is prone to collapse. A collapsed host will do foolish things."

"Like trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone?" Ian said softly.

Severus turned sharply to look at him.

"Don't look at me like that." Ian raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Dumbledore invited Nicolas Flamel to Hogwarts to 'discuss alchemy security issues,' and considering that Fulve the Cerberus was placed in the restricted area on the fourth floor, it's not hard to guess."

Severus stared at him for a few seconds, then turned back, relaxing his shoulders a little.

"Dumbledore thought it was bait, enticing enough to make that thing take a risk."

"It can also be used to test Hogwarts' defenses," Ian continued, "and, to test certain people."

Both of them fell silent.

After a long pause, Severus said, "Harry in Gryffindor, Potter and Lily taught him... better than I imagined, but not enough."

“He’s eleven, Severus,” Ian said, putting his hand on his shoulder. “You can’t expect an eleven-year-old to be as alert as a thirty-year-old.”

"He needs to be wary," Severus said curtly, "because that thing will definitely notice him. The prophecy may have been reversed, but the scar remains; the magic of that night still leaves its mark on him."

"The way Quirrell looked at him—I noticed it today, during the Sorting Ceremony, Quirrell stared at Harry's forehead, though only for a moment, but I saw it."

Ian took his hand, their fingers intertwined.

"So we're going to watch, just like the last eleven years, except this time, we're in the castle, on Dumbledore's chessboard, but we're also our own players."

Severus didn't speak, but tightened his grip and squeezed back hard.