No Malicious Haunting 2/?

Summary: Sequel to Lost Boys. When Snape and David visit the Potters for the holidays, they find that the past is neither forgiven nor forgotten. FRT, genfic.

DISCLAIMER: The characters are the property of J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, and whoever else may have a hold on them. I own nothing in the Potterverse, or anywhere else, for that matter. Strictly for entertainment, and noprofit is being made. Please sue somebody else.

A/N: Beta thanks again to sahiya and research-girl for looking at this a very long time ago. All mistakes introduced after the fact, or good advice of theirs not taken, is entirely my own responsibility.

David smiled as he saw Rose and the ghost standing together on the platform. He joined them casually, his overt greeting to Rose taking in the Professor as well. “I have a note from the headmaster to be allowed to board first, so we’ll grab a compartment. You herd the Potters and your brother and that git of a Malfoy to us, okay?”

“You haven’t told them about me yet, have you?” Snape asked.

“Nah. That’s still your choice. They still think I got sick because of seeing old battles and stuff. If you’re not ready to show yourself after you’ve seen them, you don’t have to. There’s plenty of time for that. And never is okay, too.”

The conductor came over to them then and said, “I believe our instructions were to let you on first, Mr. Dursley.” He glanced briefly at the ghost, but made no other comment.

“Um, yeah,” David replied uncertainly.

“Well, follow me, then.” He said more quietly. “I can feel your ticket from here, Spirit. Welcome. Your presence honors us.”

“Thank you,” Snape replied, a little nonplussed.

“Yes, come along Mister Dursley,” he said in a loud voice. “Out of the way, there.” He pushed through the crowd and soon David and Snape were seated in an empty compartment near the end of the train.

“Would you like something to drink, Mister Dursley?” the conductor asked. “I understand you have been ill.”

“Um, yeah, I was. But I’m fine now, thanks.”

“He would like a cup of tea,” Snape said firmly, and quirking an eyebrow at David when the boy opened his mouth to protest.

The conductor grinned. “Right away, Sir,” he said. “And I can see you’re cloaked. Not to worry. I’m the only one who can see even your shape, and I will not tell a soul. I’ll send someone by with your tea in a moment, young man.”

“Thanks,” David replied. As soon as the man left them alone he turned to the ghost. “I am not an invalid, you know. Why does everyone keep treating me like one?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps because you have lately developed the alarming habit of nearly passing out on the stairs? Give yourself time, Boy. Dark Magic takes more than a few weeks to recover from. And in the meantime, let your friends take care of you. It will build your character, if nothing else.”

David glared at him, but he could not match the ghost’s several decades’ more experience at it. He sighed and broke into a tired grin. “Yeah. All right. Thanks.”

David accepted his tea a few minutes later from the cheerful witch pushing the trolley. He sipped at it, feeling better but not willing to admit it aloud. It wasn’t long before Rose arrived, and then the other members of their circle of friends and family. Scorpius slouched into the compartment and drawled, “Tell me again, Potter. Why do we have to sit with these wankers?”

Rose answered before Al could draw a breath, patiently, but just as bored, “Because you’re going to be a guest in the Potter household, and there are certain facts you need to know before you arrive.” She did not so much as glance in Snape’s direction.

David added, “Yeah. I wanted to warn you about my Dad’s parents. They’re going to be there Christmas Day and....” He trailed off, horribly embarrassed.

“And they’re gits,” James supplied helpfully, with his usual lack of tact. He did have the grace to look chastened when Lily leaned over to smack him on the shoulder rather harder than was necessary.

“Yeah,” David sighed. “They’re family, but....”

Scorpius was eying him with something akin to understanding. “You can’t pick your family. How well I know it.”

Al gave his friend a tentative pat on the shoulder, but Scorpius did not seem to notice. David said, “Look, they’re Muggles, and they hate everything to do with magic. They always have. They just... tend to say things, sometimes....”

Scorpius nodded. “I shall take no offense at anything my elders say. And I’ll promise that what happens on hols stays there. Happy? Can we go?” He addressed this last to Al, who was looking at David thoughtfully. David was looking at a spot by the window, apparently at nothing. And then, he nodded.

“Well, we did have another secret to tell you. One you’ll probably find more interesting.”

Scorpius looked dubious, but settled back in his seat as if resigned to an extended stay. He was hard pressed, a moment later, to contain his surprise when a severe looking ghost, dressed in old fashioned black teaching robes, was suddenly sitting next to him in the cramped compartment.

David suppressed a grin with some difficulty. He had long suspected his friend had a bit of a flare for the dramatic. “I’d like you to meet a friend of mine. Professor Severus Snape, late Potions Master of Hogwarts.”

Scorpius recovered quickly. “My father has always spoken well of you, Sir. I’m Scorpius Malfoy. Draco Malfoy’s son.”

Snape had an unreadable expression on his face. “I might have guessed. I am pleased to meet you, Mister Malfoy.”

Al was looking at the ghost in wonder. “My dad’s told me about you. You were in Slytherin too. I’m Al. Al Potter.”

Snape quirked an eyebrow at the boy. “A Potter sorted into Slytherin? It’s a wonder your father did not die of apoplexy.” David thought he looked a little pleased at the idea. But Al was shaking his head.

“Actually, he was proud. He said one of the bravest men he ever knew had been Head of that House, and a headmaster of Hogwarts. Besides, we beat the loser Gryffindors for the House Cup last year.” He directed this last, with a stuck out tongue for good measure, at the taller boy sitting next to David.

“And we will trounce you so bad this year, you will wish you’d sorted to Hufflepuff,” the boy shot back. Then he smiled at the ghost. “James Potter. I believe I’ve heard you didn’t get on so well with my namesake.”

“No, I did not get on well with the elder James Potter. But I shall endeavor not to hold it against you, Mister Potter,” the ghost replied evenly. He turned his eyes to the boy sitting on Al’s other side. “Let me see. Red hair, freckles, marked resemblance to the fair Rose Weasley. You must be her brother. Hugo, I believe?”

The boy’s eyes widened in surprise, and then he grinned. “Wicked!”

“Indeed, Mister Weasley,” the ghost replied. That left only the quiet girl in the corner of the compartment, by the door. David saw a flicker of sadness in the dark eyes for a moment. “You must be Lily Potter. You favor your father’s mother to an astonishing degree.”

“Yes, I know,” the girl replied quietly. “David’s Grandmum says so, too. She showed me pictures, once.”

David said, looking at each of his friends in turn, “Well, here’s the deal. Professor Snape is a Hogwarts ghost, but he doesn’t want to be overrun with old friends, or enemies, for that matter. So, for now, he is our secret. And he is spending the holidays at my house, and coming to the Potters’ for Christmas day with me. Don’t talk to him unless he talks to you, and then only if nobody else is around.”

Scorpius nodded. “A wise choice, Sir. Some of my grandfather’s acquaintances would dearly love to have words with you.” He took in the shocked looks around him and added, “I won’t tell any of them, of course. They’re all gits anyway. But, if you ever wanted to talk to my dad, I know he’d be pleased. And honored.”

Snape was looking a little overwhelmed again, so David said quickly, “There’s plenty of time for him to think about that later. He’s been alone in the dungeons a long while, so let’s give him some space. Hugo, fancy a game of chess? Got your set? Mine’s in my trunk.”

Hugo grinned and pulled a battered wizard chess set from his book bag while David hit the switch to cause a tabletop to appear in the space between their seats. Rose pulled a book from her bag, and James, Al and Scorpius moved to the corner and began playing a Muggle card game David remembered teaching them a few years back. Lily just watched everyone with wide intelligent eyes. Snape moved to sit next to her, leaving the boys more room for their somewhat exuberant game.

“Could your enemies do anything bad to you now? Being a ghost and all?” she asked so quietly Snape barely heard her. He considered a moment.

“I am not sure. Not without exceedingly Dark Magic, I imagine. But of course, most of my enemies were more than adept enough at the Dark Arts. Which house did you sort into, Miss Potter?”

“Ravenclaw,” she answered.

“Unusual,” he said. “Though of course, it is even more unusual to have a child of the two students who most exemplified Gryffrindor House to sort to Slytherin.”

“I think the Sorting Hat has been using some kind of random number algorithm to sort students into houses for at least the past ten years. I did a research project on it in Arithmancy. But when I asked the Sorting Hat about it, it got all huffy and wouldn’t talk to me anymore.”

Snape gave a quiet laugh at that. “I imagine so. That blasted hat has always had too high an opinion of its own cleverness. My compliments, Miss Potter.”

“I didn’t get as high marks on it as the paper deserved, though. Because there are just enough ‘typical’ students in each house to justify believing there’s a set ‘House type’ in each year. Even though many of them seem to more conform to that type after the sorting than before. And how many 11 year olds have their basic personalities completely set in stone to begin with?”

“They live up, or down to the expectations around them,” Snape agreed, looking at her in surprise. “Though I must say, that bit of reasoning is certainly worthy of your own house, Miss Potter.”

She smiled a little. “Yes, but I have an Aunt who sorted into Gryffindor who was, according to everyone who knew her then, the brightest witch of her age. Why did she not sort to Ravenclaw?”

“I often wondered that, at the time. Certainly, her earliest days at school would have been more comfortable if she had-- her fellow Gryffindors resented her terribly. I suspect Albus had something to do with that,” he added darkly. “It would have been just like him, to stack the deck in Potter’s favor, to make sure he had at hand the people he most needed to help him defeat the Dark Lord.”

Al glanced up from his game at that. “Albus Dumbledore? Yeah. I’m named for him, you know. For both of you. Two best headmasters Hogwarts ever had. My dad says so.”

Snape blinked at him in surprise. “What?”

“Oh, sorry. Everyone calls me Al. Because Albus Severus is kind of a mouthful.”

“And because after I hexed Jimmy McLaughlin’s ears into donkey ones and it took Madam Bright a week to undo it, nobody wanted to take the chance I might think they were teasing Al about his name,” Scorpius added in a bored voice, studying his cards carefully and laying one down.

Snape continued to stare. Lily asked him quietly, “What’s wrong, Professor Snape?”

“I shall kill your father when next I see him. He named his son after me?”

“I hope you don’t kill him, Sir. We’re rather fond of him,” Lily remonstrated mildly.

“Besides,” Rose offered, not looking up from her book, “I believe I read somewhere that ghosts were forbidden to engage in malicious haunting. I imagine murder might be considered malicious, at least by the more unimaginative representatives of the Ministry. I’ll teach you the ears hex, though, if you like.”

Snape glared at her gratefully, his equilibrium restored. “I believe I am quite capable of performing that hex, Miss Weasley, even in my present state.”

Hugo looked up from his chess game to grin broadly, looking very much like his father in that moment, if only he had known it. “Wicked. Just make sure you wait to do it when I’m around. That I would dearly love to see.”

“I thought you liked Uncle Harry,” David said, making his move.

“Oh, I do. But donkey ears? That would be brilliant.”

Lily sighed. “You are really a terrible influence on youth,” she observed wryly. “And they made you a teacher?”

Snape glared at her, too. “Your father hated me all the time we knew one another, and yet....”

The girl was shaking her head. “Dad told me once that he never really knew you. And that he’s always regretted it. He named Al for you because he got sick of people saying terrible things about you. It shut them up, he said, when Harry Potter named his son after Severus Snape. And,” she leaned closer, “I am unsure what alterations Dad could make to you in your ghost state, but you should be aware that he knows that hex, too.”

Snape heaved a martyr’s sigh, but his eyes glinted with amusement. “Thank you for the warning, Miss Potter. I will certainly keep that in mind.” Then they both turned their attention to the chess game, where Snape’s whispered hints to David helped him manage, just barely, to best Hugo, aided by Lily.

“Here,” David said, rising. “Swap places with me, Professor. Maybe you and Lily should play the next game. I’m going to take a nap.”