Severus studied the new teacher with interest. He was older than Professor Snape had been, probably in his late fifties, with neatly trimmed grey hair and sharp blue eyes. Sevrus smiled politely and inclined his head as his mother had taught him to in these kinds of situations. "Pleasure to meet you, sir. You're teaching Potions, then?"

The man shot Dumbledore a narrowed-eyed look. "Under duress and protest, yes." Dumbledore just smiled and asked if anyone wanted a lemon drop.

Once Flitwick accepted his and everyone else declined the candy, the new teacher frowned at Severus and asked, "And who are you, boy?"

"Matty Groves, sir."

Dumbledore picked up the introduction from there, "Matty's a recent transfer student from Beauxbatons, and my ward. Matty, we're almost finished up here, so why don't you wait for me in the back room," Dumbledore steered him out of the room and through a door he hadn't even noticed in his previous visits to the office. As the door closed behind him, he could hear the Headmaster's words, "His parents, my niece and her husband, sadly, were killed in a recent Death Eater attack." Then the door latched closed and he heard no more of their conversation.

Instead, he turned his attention to the room he found himself in. It was a pleasant looking sitting-room-type-place, with several comfortable chairs, and a very large fireplace. The rug was soft and plush enough that he felt himself sinking into it even through his shoes. Unlike the office he had entered by, the pictures on the wall did not depict past headmasters, but instead the current one, along with other people he couldn't identify immediately. One of the larger ones, Severus approached, curiously watching the two boys painted there as they broke into an argument. The shorter of them suddenly jumped at the tall, and they were both soon rolling in the painted dirt. When they broke apart for air, they were laughing. The gold plate at the bottom of the frame proclaimed the boys to be "Albus and Aberforth". Severus couldn't even begin to guess which one was which. That Headmaster Dumbledore had ever been a boy was just mind-boggling.

"Ah! I see you found your grandfather."

Matty jumped, and spun toward the voice, finding the Headmaster standing behind him, and smiling fondly at the portrait. McGonagall stood in the doorway from the office, though he saw no sign of any of the other adults. "Which one's Gramps Dumbledore, Uncle Albus?"

"The shorter one," Dumbledore answered, his blue eyes twinkling madly behind the half-moon glasses. "When we have the chance, I must tell you some stories about him."

"We didn't visit him much," Severus admitted.

To his surprise, Dumbledore laughed. "I imagine your mother would have never visited, given the option. Your grandfather is not the sanest of men."

From the doorway, he heard McGonagall try to stifle a snort. The Headmaster looked at her mildly, "Something amusing, Minerva?" he asked, blue eyes still dancing with mirth and mischief.

McGonagall made a dismissive gesture, wisely deciding not to touch that one with a ten foot pole. "No, I just wanted to ask if it was a conflict of interest for the same man to be holding Severus's job and looking for his cure."

"Certainly not," the Headmaster declared, "It is incentive. The sooner he finds the cure, the sooner he can leave. Which rather reminds me. Could you tell Flitwick to inform Mr. Tragyl that he has been recommended as the potion's professor's assistant while Professor Zmiya is at Hogwarts and that he should report to Severus's office after breakfast tomorrow?"

"Clarence?" McGonagall clarified. With seven 'Mr. Tragyl's over the last few years, asking made a lot of sense, even if Clarence was the only Tragyl in Ravenclaw with a reputation for potions.

"Yes, yes," Dumbledore confirmed. "Was there anything else?"

The Deputy Headmistress shook her head. "No, that's all. Good night, Albus."

When she had gone, the Headmaster turned to Severus. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Severus?"

Severus shrugged, "Just thought you'd like to know that Severus has been talking to Katryna Tragyl lately."

"Yes," Dumbledore mused, "Mundungus mentioned it."

"Yeah, well, he missed most of today's conversation, and part of the one over dinner the other day. Did you know her Grandmother Tragyl is a Death Eater?"

By the lift of the old wizard's eyebrows, Severus knew that he had not. "Miss Tragyl told you this?"

Severus nodded, wondering why he felt like he was breaking a confidence. He was a spy he was supposed to report what he found.

"We knew of her grandfather," the headmaster began, but then stopped when Severus shook his head. "What?"

"Her grandfather was innocent, according to Katryna."

"Oh. Oh, dear."

"Innocent being a relative term," Severus qualified, "Katryna's opinion of him seems to be pretty low." And that was saying something. As Ron said, everyone likes Katryna, and she, in turn, seemed to like everyone back. She even spoke warmly of her grandmother.

The Headmaster made a thoughtful sound.

"Are you going to do anything about Mrs. Tragyl? Katryna's grandmother?"

"Not immediately. I'm assuming you're the only one who found out about her loyalties, and I would rather not yet show our our hand. I find it disturbing that Miss Tragyl knew this."

"She's going to write back again, this time to ask what her grandmother knows about the potion they gave to me."

"That will certainly be helpful," the Headmaster smiled, "Good work, Severus."

Severus nodded, and looked back at the 'Albus and Aberforth' painting, watching the two young boys roughhousing again.

"What is it, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, concerned.

Severus jumped nearly a foot into the air. "Nothing!" Fighting for calm, he repeated, "Nothing's wrong." The headmaster only looked at him with knowing blue eyes that seemed to read straight into his soul. "It's just that Katryna wants me to find out how my parents died."

"And you?" the old wizard asked softly.

Severus shook his head, looking at the painting again. "I don't want to know. That would make it real."

He felt hands on his shoulders. They squeezed once, then the Headmaster was kneeling beside him, taking him into and embrace. "It is real, Severus," he said gently, but firmly.

Severus shook his head, denying the words and the tears that the words must bring.

"Severus, you do want the truth, yes?" Dumbledore asked, placing an odd emphasis on 'truth'.

Truth. Truth is something that is . . . well, true. As opposed to lies. Lies were bad. He didn't want to hear lies, even if they were pretty. Lies weren't the truth. Lies weren't real. Lies were false and could be used against you. Besides, he already knew his parents were dead. Denying it wouldn't make the fact disappear. That was a truth. "Yes," he whispered, terrified that the headmaster would comply with the implicit request.

"Your parents were Death Eaters."

"No!" Severus denied immediately. Truth was in the eye of the beholder, and this he could not accept as truth. Dumbledore had it wrong. "No! Mum and Dad are teachers! Teachers!"

"Severus," the headmaster said calmly, looking sad and pained. His twinkle from a few minutes ago was no where in evidence. "What did your father teach?"

Stricken, Severus froze. Nobody was supposed to know what his dad taught. How did Dumbledore? But Dad was dead now, wasn't he? What did it matter who knew? "Hexes," he whispered, "and curses." The Headmaster waited for more. The old wizard was far more patient than Severus. "Dark Arts," the boy finally admitted.

Dumbledore nodded solemnly, continuing to wait. But Severus was not ready to make the jump. "Just because he taught them doesn't mean he was Death Eater."

"His students almost invariably joined Voldemort's ranks," the Headmaster told him sorrowfully. "He was very likely a recruiting agent."

Severus shook his head. "No. I'd know about it. I took his classes since I was little. And what about Mum? Mum teaches ettiquette! You can't say that's at all like a Death Eater thing!"

Dumbledore shook his head, and sighed. "No. No, I can't. But the fact remains that your mother was killed by aurors, and your father sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss."

Severus felt the blood flee his face, and he felt cold all over. He shook his head in numb denial. He was pulled into another embrace, but he hardly noticed that. "I am sorry, Severus," Dumbledore told him quietly, the soft rumbling voice seeming to come from everywhere.

Katryna's grandfather was innocent, but he got sentenced to Azkaban anyway. The same must have happened to his parents. Because they couldn't be Death Eaters. Not his Dad, and certainly not his Mum. As the shock wore off, anger rose to replace it and he pulled violently away from the old wizard. "Your side killed them!"

Dumbledore regarded him sadly, "Severus, they had Marks on their arms."

Severus just shook his head, refusing to believe his parents would do that. "You're wrong."

"I wish I was, Severus."

"Not my parents," Severus denied. But his traitous memory brought back scenes of family dinners where that thrice-cursed phrase 'like-minded wizards' came up in the same sort of context as Lucius used. He dared not examine his father's Dark Arts lectures too closely, for fear of proving the Headmaster right. After all, in his second year, the term 'Death Eater' hadn't been coined yet. If Father had been involved with Voldemort, it would explain Lucius's occassional conversations with him, even as a mere first year. The older boy had never sought out any of the other kids in his class.

It was all adding up to a very disturbing picture.

Ok, so. His father was a Death Eater. He could almost concede that. But, "Not Mum. Dad, I can picture, but not Mum. She's a Ravenclaw." At the confusion evident in the Headmaster's face, he added, "Unofficially. She made the Hat put her in Slytherin to make my grandparents happy. But as far as she, Dad, and most of their friends were concerned, she was a Ravenclaw." Then, because he saw it as relevant, he repeated his first argument, "She teaches ettiquette and politeness and manners! What does she do as a Death Eater? Go up to prisoners and asked them to please tell them all their secrets? Or perhaps offering tea, and making her apologies about the inconvienance before she kills someone? No, I figured it out, she writes the invitations to the meetings. That is, she did, before she died, and Voldemort had to resort to the crude method of burning people's arms off to tell them that they were expected."

"Severus." Just his name. That's all the Headmaster had to say to crumble the wall of anger Severus was building. He dropped to a sitting position on the floor, not wasting the energy to find a chair to flop into. Instead he just curled up, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his head on his knees.

"I hate him," Severus said, speaking into what would have been his lap, if his legs weren't tucked up against his face.

A rustling sound indicated the Headmaster's progression toward him. Then more noises, and the wooden floor shifted slightly under him. By the nearness of the other's breathing, the Headmaster had joined him on the floor. "Hate is a very strong word, Severus."

"I hate him!" Severus repeated, even more vehemently, though he did not change his position.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Who?"

"Him! It's all his fault!"

The hand began to rub his back. "Whose fault?"

"His," Severus hissed. It wasn't that he didn't want to speak his name, like so many others. It was just that he didn't know how he was supposed to address the creature that had claimed him as his own. "I hate him. I will kill him, Headmaster."

Dumbledore sighed, continuing the circular motions of his hand. Severus guessed the old wizard had figured out who 'him' was, because he didn't remark on the morality of killing. Or lack thereof. Even if she didn't have moral objections to it, which he wasn't convinced of, Severus was sure his mum would have found killing to be 'rude' at the very least. But Voldemort was more than a little deserving of that kind of rudeness. Because if his parents hadn't idiotically followed him, they wouldn't be dead now, now would they?

And to kill Voldemort, he had to spy on him. And to spy on him, he had to act submissive. And to act submissive, he had to bury that anger, and bury it deep, where no one could ever see it. He waved a hand, turning momentarily into Severus, then waved it again, swapping back to Matty. The anger had to be buried in Severus, after all. When he uncurled from his tight fetal position on the floor, he was smiling. "Did I tell you what happened in Charms today, Uncle Albus?"

Uncle Albus looked at him in worried concern, but shook his head in answer to the question. "No, you did not."

Albus watched the boy leave through his office, and step onto the rotating staircase. The child's transformation in his office today was disturbing in two respects, and astonishing in a third. What had been astonishing was that Severus had changed his appearance without the assistance of a wand. Adult Severus had been capable of some small amounts of wandless magic, but child Severus had never been taught how to channel magic without using one, particularly without speaking either. It was a difficult process, and one many adults never mastered. Child Severus had performed the wandless, wordless self-transfiguration, a difficult spell in its own right, with hardly a thought, twice, in the space of less than a minute.

Taking the seat behind his desk, Albus looked at, without seeing, the mounds of paperwork he, as Headmaster, was expected to fill out. Had the potion, meant to mantain Severus's original magical age, actually advanced it instead? His ability seemed to imply it. When the opportunity arose, Albus made a note to himself, he and Severus should test the child's true magical age, and pehaps give him some excersises to stretch his limits.

The disturbing bits were less easily filed away as interesting trivia to test at some later time. The first was that Severus had felt the need to flipflop between the two idententies as he had. The second was that he was very obviously 'Matty' afterwards, and he acted as if the stressful Severus conversation hadn't happened only moments before. This would bear watching. Perhaps he should even have a word with Harry about it.