Harry wasn't sure what to do. He didn't want to get Hagrid in trouble, and since they hadn't learned anything new about the possible thief that Snape didn't already know, he decided to play it by ear.
The next few weeks went by fairly quickly as winter holidays approached. Harry continued to meet with Snape to look at photographs of his mother. Sometimes she was by herself, sometimes with Snape, and sometimes with the friends she had made at school. He noticed, but never mentioned, that Snape had no pictures at all of her with James Potter. Snape had already explained his extreme dislike of Harry's father, and had even apologized for when that dislike had spilled over onto Harry himself, so Harry didn't see any point in bringing up the issue of who she had posed with.
In these meetings, they sometimes talked about school work, and sometimes about other things . . . like when they would start Occlumency lessons -- over winter break, Snape told him, assuming he was staying at Hogwarts -- or how Harry was sleeping and eating -- better, Harry told him, which was not quite a lie -- and how he was getting along with the upper years nowadays, with Gaius gone: Few of them ever spoke to him at all, he reported, except for those on the Quidditch team, and he liked that just fine.
They rarely talked about what had happened with Gaius, except for when that overlapped with Harry's nightmares and he couldn't get away with non-answers, and they spoke even less frequently about Harry's life with the Dursleys. Harry could tell -- and Snape had told him outright, several times -- that Snape wanted him to talk about them. Snape claimed it was so he could present evidence against them to Dumbledore, as proof Harry should not be sent to live with them again. But ten years of living under his uncle's iron rule had taught Harry some (occasionally hard earned) lessons, the first of which was: Don't Tell.
Harry knew with absolute clarity that, if he told, he would be in deep, deep trouble, and would likely spend an eternity in his cupboard, regardless of whether anyone was "watching" the Dursleys or not. There was no way in the world he would test Rule One, no matter how many promises Snape made that nothing bad would happen to him if he told.
Harry figured he was probably already doomed for saying as much about them as he had. Which is why, when the sheet went up on the bulletin board in the Slytherin Common Room, for those who would be staying at Hogwarts for the holidays, Harry signed it immediately. He was the first one, and he knew already he'd be the only one from Slytherin first years, at least.
Within fifteen minutes of him putting name to paper, of course, Blaise Zabini had started to take the mickey. "Awww, that's so sad. Don't you think that's sad? Not even Mugglescum want poor widdle Potter in their home," he teased in a sing-song voice from across the room, then topped it off with a sneer. "Not that I'm surprised . . ."
"Shut it, Zabini," Teddy said tiredly from his seat at the corner table, where a bunch of them were revising for a Transfiguration exam the next day. "No one cares about what surprises you. If they did, they would have cared about your mother on the day you were born."
Zabini's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Mudblood-loving, ball-sucking pig!" he snarled. "Just wait--"
"Till your bollocks drop?" Teddy interrupted in the same bored voice. "Let us alone to work in the meantime, will you?"
Harry's face grew hot in embarrassment, even as Draco and his two goons sniggered, and Millie raised a hand to her forehead in a mock swoon. "Gracius, Theodore, such language!"
"So sayeth the Queen of Vulgarity," Teddy shot back, and Millie stuck out her tongue at him. With a snort and a leer, Teddy offered to show her where to put "that bulbous thing," and in the laughter that followed, Blaise Zabini stomped out of the room, forgotten. For now.
Harry was just as glad; he was tired of Zabini's lowbrow remarks about his family and his heritage, no matter how true they might be. He was glad he had friends like Millie and Teddy, but he wished they didn't need to stand up for him quite so often.
Over the last few months, Harry had learned that inside Slytherin House, the Snakes could be callous and cruel. He'd had to stand up for Millie a few times against some of the other girls, Firsties as well as upper years, who teased her about her weight and her looks, and said how she'd never have a husband except that her parents could afford to arrange a marriage for her. And Teddy had come under fire from other Slytherins, as Draco had, too, for the choices their fathers had made after the war which ended in 1981, when Harry survived the Killing Curse and Voldemort had vanished. One of the sixth year boys in particular, Oskar Dolohov, seemed to hold a special grudge against Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father, because his own father had been in Azkaban for ten years, whereas the elder Malfoy had escaped prosecution by saying he had only done the Dark Lord's bidding whilst under the Imperius Curse.
On the other hand, outside of their common rooms and dorms, Slytherins stood together as one when faced with the slander, mockery and occasional bullying from the other Houses; there was no denying that.
After the laughter died down, Teddy nudged Harry's side with an elbow and, without looking at him, murmured, "You know you're welcome to join me and my father for the holidays."
"I know," Harry replied just as quietly. "But I told you, I'm meant to do some new training with Professor Snape."
"I wish you'd tell me what that was, so we could get some books or something, to prepare you."
"Can't," Harry started, and Teddy joined in for the rest of his statement, knowing it by rote by now: "It's a secret." Harry grinned. "Well, it is. And I promised not to tell."
One corner of Teddy's lip went up as he gave Harry a sly, yet casual look, then nodded. "Seems like you can learn, after all."
"Learn what?" Harry asked, frowning.
"To trust an adult. A professor, too!"
"Yeah, well . . ." Harry shrugged, embarrassed again.
"Hey, don't worry, Harry," Teddy said, grinning at him. "I won't tell Bulstrode. You know she'd have a coronary."
"Never tell me what?" Millie called out from across the table.
"Never mind," Harry and Teddy said in unison.
Millie crumpled up her Transfiguration notes and threw the wad at the two of them, then sighed dramatically. "Boys!"
Later, when they were getting ready for bed, Teddy pulled a book out of his trunk and, after checking to make sure no one else was in their dorm room, handed it to Harry. The book was heavy, as thick as Harry's hand. The red leather cover was embossed with gold lettering that read Protection from the Earth Up: The Elements and You.
"What's this?"
"A book."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Very funny. What's it for?"
"Reading." At Harry's look, Teddy held up his hands. "Okay, okay. After we talked a while ago, about you being able to protect yourself better, I've been doing some research, to figure out what we could do so you wouldn't have to worry every second that you were going to be attacked. But then that shit with Avery happened," Teddy eyed Harry as if he might bolt from the room, and it was an act of sheer will for Harry to not flinch at the sound of that bastard's name, "and I didn't get a chance to look more into it until recently." Teddy worried his lip briefly then said, "Anyway, I found this book, and it has some . . . interesting ideas in it for how you might better protect yourself. Just read it, okay? But don't let anyone else see it; it's not exactly Firsties material. We can talk more after the break, if you want."
Harry stared at his friend, not knowing quite what to say. Finally, he settled on, "All right. Thanks."
Teddy nodded, and headed over to his bed, so when Draco entered the dorm, Harry slid the book into his own trunk, to examine later.
For a long time, Harry lay awake thinking about the book, thinking about the upcoming holiday break, and thinking about the people he needed to protect himself from, if he didn't want to end up as dead as a unicorn. Thus, it was no surprise that he found Professor Snape at his bedside in the deep of night, telling him he had suffered another nightmare, even if it was one he could not recall.