So, on my last time seeing OotP in the theatres, the scene after Trelawney's sacking really stuck out to me. This is my idea of what was going through their minds.
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"Professor! Professor, wait!"
The boy's cries echo to me through the stone halls, but I continue on my way, mind still reeling from my conversation with Dolores.
"PROFESSOR!"
I force my feet onward, though my instincts are screaming for me to turn around, to answer the orphan's pleas, but I cannot. I think of his Ministry hearing, I think of the welcoming dinner, and think of how I avoided him at all costs, how I refused to stare back into those tragic green eyes, the eyes of his mother.
"The Dark Lord's connection with the child grows stronger," Snape said to me during one of our many rendezvous. "He will use this against us. The boy must be taught."
"He has a name, Severus, one that his mother gave him. You can use it."
A moment's silence followed this. I could feel Severus' resistance.
"The boy," he said, sneering a bit, "must be taught Occlumency."
"Yes, Severus," I nodded, sighing. "Harry must learn to control himself. But I am not the one to teach him." I looked at the potion's master meaningfully.
"Me? No, I refuse," Snape said sharply. "I have to deal with that insolent boy enough as is. He's arrogant, just like his father… No, I will not spend more time with him. You find him engaging, why do you not do it?"
I sighed, expecting this.
"Severus, I know too much. The information I hold between these withered old ears is enough to frighten the lad, and if Voldemort were to discover this connection..." I ignored how Snape shuddered at the mention of the Dark Lord's name.
"I will not teach him," Snape said adamantly. I turned around and came to Fawkes' perch and stroked his smooth feathers.
"The boy will not know how to control himself at first," I said, listening to Fawkes coo with delight. "He may even allow you to glimpse memories of his life… memories of her."
Though my back was turned to Snape, I knew my words had taken effect.
"I will teach him… once a week… and only when the Dark Lord becomes a more imminent threat…" Snape said, choked with anger, frustration and sorrow. He stormed to the door.
"Severus, wait," I called as he flung open my office door.
"Yes, headmaster?"
"You can tell Harry that he must refer to these lessons as remedial potions," I said, a glint in my eyes.
Snape smiled cruelly. "Yes, Headmaster."
"Professor, please, WAIT!" Harry's agonized cries brought me from my memory. I reluctantly turned with a flick of my robes and darted into the nearest passageway, gone from sight.
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Harry stood in the hall, watching the stairwell for some time. He didn't know why he was waiting, he remembered Dumbledore saying he didn't need an invisibility cloak to become invisible, but still he waited, hoping to see the batty old wizard he so looked up to smiling back at him. But the headmaster never came. With heavy feet, he left the entrance hall, going not to the common room, but to the trophy room. He sat down next to his father's Quidditch trophy, looking up at the name, reading it over and over.
Tears came to him unbidden. He was sure his father would at least look him in the eye.
