Harry couldn't sleep. He had tried everything, but no matter which way he turned or how many sheep he counted, sleep just wouldn't come. His head swirled mercilessly with the words that his future self had said.
So unless you want to be responsible for Sirius's death and many others...
He shivered under the blankets. The dire seriousness of the situation hadn't hit home until an hour later, and now he couldn't stop himself from thinking about it. If he didn't learn Occlumency, people would die. The lives of many rested on his scrawny shoulders. It was enough to keep anybody from falling asleep. He turned over and glared at Ron's back, but the heavily sleeping teen never noticed.
Harry's mind felt disconnected from the rest of his body. His eyes were heavy, but he couldn't close them. Why couldn't his future self have given him some help? Or at least advice on how to deal with Snape?
A huge snore from Ron made Harry jump so violently that he fell out of his bed. He groaned from his new position on the floor and laid his head on his crossed arms. He was too tired to get up and the cool carpet felt nice against his hot flesh. He sighed a little. What in the world was he going to do?
Well, Snape liked respect.
If Harry wanted to show respect for Snape, he would have to apologize for poking around in what wasn't his to see. But how should I he go about it?
"Professor, I need to apologise," he said quietly, trying the words out. They seemed too loud in the quietness of the dormitory. No, that won't work, he thought to himself. He didn't want to sound like he was being forced to apologise, even though he was, really.
Very Slytherin, he thought with a grimace.
He tried again, "Professor, I want to apologise." That sounded better, because now he seemed as if he wanted to apologise; as if he was doing it of his own free will. With the opening taken care of, the task of apologising to Severus Snape didn't seem too hard. Harry was satisfied several hours later. He had a draft of the apology in his head, and now all he had to do was smooth the edges.
He fell asleep soon after, his mind was more at ease and for once he didn't have nightmares.
Sniggers and sunlight surrounded Harry as he woke up. Briefly, he wondered why his bedspread smelled like dirty socks. When had it become so hard and cold? It was then that he realised the position he had taken sometime during the night. He was lying face down on the carpeted floor.
Well, he thought dryly, that certainly explains the sniggers, but why am I on th….
Suddenly, he remembered what had happened the previous evening, and if it wasn't for the smell of the carpet, he would have been quite happy to lie on the floor for the rest of the day.
"Were the carpet crawlies lonely, Harry?" Seamus asked innocently. Ron, Dean, and Seamus burst into laughter.
"Since when do you sleep on the floor, mate?" Ron asked when he was done laughing.
Harry's answer was slightly muffled because he still hadn't picked himself up off the floor, but nevertheless, everyone heard him say, "Why do you care? Is this your spot?"
Ron grinned as the other boys laughed again. Then Ron told Harry to hurry up and headed out to the bathroom.
Gradually, Harry got up and dressed himself without bothering to take a shower. He gathered his scattered homework and made his way down to the Great Hall. The table was set, but there weren't many students in the hall yet. Harry sat down. He was staring at his empty plate, lost in his thoughts, when Hermione and Ron entered the Great Hall and rushed over to him.
"Why didn't you wait for us?" Ron asked as he plopped himself down at the opposite side of the was moving to sit beside the red-haired boy, but she suddenly stopped to stare at Harry.
"You...you look terrible!" Hermione declared as she stood over him, arms laden with her usual ten or twelve books.
"Thanks," Harry said dryly, but neither of them smiled. He sighed. "I just didn't sleep well, that's all," he said to her and feeling rather worried about the suspicious look in her eyes.
Ron snorted, "No wonder, mate. You did sleep on the floor." Thankfully, bushy-haired girl didn't seem to have heard.
"Hmm," she said as she sat down, and Harry hoped that she would leave it at that.
The mail arrived and Hermione quickly grabbed her copy of the Daily Prophet, unrolling it eagerly and glancing through it.
"Nothing," she announced a minute later. Ron grunted and Hermione frowned at him before casually asking: "So, how did Remedial Potions go?" She started loading Harry's plate with food.
"I'm not two you know," he declared indignantly, ignoring her question as he quickly pulled his plate away. She glared at him and Ron sniggered as a heap of eggs landed on the table right were Harry's plate had been.
"Could've fooled me," she muttered to her plate and Ron laughed aloud. Harry took a bite of his eggs just as she repeated her question. But thanks to Fred and George, he didn't have time to answer as he changed into a giant canary. Apparently being the twins financial backer wasn't enough to stop them from playing pranks on him.
"Fred! George!" Hermione warned the laughing twins as Harry's feathers molted. "One day somebody's going to give you a taste of your own medicine!"
"Relax Hermione, it's just a joke!" Ron said as he brushed feathers out of Harry's food.
"Ugh!" Harry exclaimed, after he was fully human again. He was looking at his feather covered food. "I don't think I'm hungry anymore."
"Aww, Harrikins isn't angry is he?" Fred asked with a playful grin.
"No, I'm not angry," he replied. "And don't call me that."
"Don't call you Harrikins?" George asked in fake puzzlement. Ron and Fred were grinning at there friend's unfortunate position. Hermione on the other hand rolled her eyes and buried her nose in one of her books.
"Yes, don't call me Harrikins!" he burst out loudly. Draco Malfoy was passing by the Gryffindor table when Harry's announcement stopped him in his tracks. The blond Slytherin laughed out loud and then moved on to spread the embarrassing nickname.
"I'm getting out of here," Harry said gruffly.
"But Harry…" said Hermione after sending a glare to the now subdued Weasleys.
"It's okay. I need to work on my Potions project, anyway." Hermione frowned but told him that she and Ron would meet him shortly for their Charms lesson.
*~*~*~*
The rookwood creates a chain reaction. If there is too much or too little…
That just didn't sound right. Harry sighed and shifted in the library chair, then he looked at the clock. He had fifteen minutes before Charms started. Well, he always got bad grades in Potions. One more wouldn't matter.
But even though one more bad grade wouldn't matter, he couldn't stop thinking about Potions.
All through Charms, he thought about what Snape could do to embarrass him, and therefore missed Professor Flitwick's warning about their new charm's peculiar side effect. When Flitwick asked him to demonstrate the charm, Harry cast the spell, and his hair turned a deep shade of purple. Apperently, it wasn't supposed to be a hair-colouring charm.
So Flitwick proceeded to lecture the entire class - and him in particular - on why Harry's spell had failed. As if that weren't enough, he even assigned him extra homework. Ron, the git, was still laughing as he, Harry, and Hermione left class.
"Harry! Would you stop dragging your feet?" Hermione exclaimed. It was after lunch, now, and they were making their way to the dungeons for their Potions class. Harry had been dreading this moment all day.
"Can't we just skip this class, Hermione? Just this once?" Ron asked whiningly.
Hermione started a lecture in her exasperated voice. This wasn't the first time she had had this argument, so Harry didn't pay too much attention. He was too busy imagining how his talk with Snape would go. Even in his imagination, the outcome didn't look good.
He looked at the Potions classroom door with dread as it loomed before him.
Still, at least his hair was back to normal.
The Slytherins shoved there way in first, leaving the Gryffindors to have the worst seats up front. Both houses were pairing up. Harry sat down quickly next to Hermione, leaving Ron, who was left standing in the isle, to take the last empty seat next to Dean.
Sorry Ron, thought Harry, but I need to get this lesson right and I can't do that without Hermione's help.
Snape silently swooped out of the shadows in the back of the room, leaving Harry with a feeling that the man had been watching him. The Head of Slytherin looked around the room with distaste. "If you did your assignment, you should have no trouble making this potion," he said in his quiet, dangerous tone. "If not…." Snape let ominous silence hang in the air.
Harry shivered slightly even though the dungeon wasn't cold. Snape threw one final glance around the room. "You have thirty minutes."
The instruction for the potion appeared on the board. For a second, all the students were still. "Well, what are you waiting for?" Snape snapped and students from both houses scrambled to get the ingredients they would need.
The Potions Master hadn't looked at Harry once and it was making him nervous.
He paid close attention to his and Hermione's potion. The last thing he needed was for it to blow up. Snape had already taken twenty points from poor Neville for letting his cauldron boil over.
Hermione was stirring the potion counter-clockwise when Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise up. Snape was watching him, he was sure of it. Hermione glanced at Harry when he stiffened beside her, but quickly turned her attention
back to their needy potion.
"Time's up," Snape said from the back of the room and the feeling that he was being watched finally left Harry. He peered into the cauldron. Thankfully, it was violet, just like the instructions said it should be.
So did Hermione look so nervous and suspicious? The professor came over to their potion last and lifted the ladle. Harry felt his heart sink as the potion stretched like glue.
Snape tsked in mock symphony as the Slytherins sniggered behind him..
"Mr. Potter, read the thirteenth instruction now, since you obviously didn't read it earlier."
"Add the simeon powder before adding the murkose root," Harry read out loud.
"Next time, read the instructions thoroughly before you attempt to brew a potion in my classroom, Potter. Is that clear?" Snape asked loudly. The Slytherins continued to snigger in the background.
"Yes, sir," Harry muttered. What else could he do? He hated the feeling of helplessness that was overcoming him. He was positive that he had added those in the correct order. But now wasn't the time to fight; he could do that later.
"It looks like Granger can thank you, Potter, for her first failed potion." declared Snape victoriously as he left them and walked to his desk.
Through his rage, Harry could faintly hear Draco Malfoy laughing. It took everything Harry had not to storm out right then and there.
Responsible for Sirius's death...Those words would haunt him for the rest of his life if he failed.
"It should have been perfect," Hermione muttered to herself as he glumly wrote down the homework Snape was assigning. He felt responsible for Hermione's newly broken record.
She was still staring into space dejectedly when Snape dismissed them. The Gryffindors tried to beat the Slytherins to the door. Everybody was eager to get away from Snape.
"You two go on ahead. I need to do something first," Harry told Ron and Hermione.
Ron didn't want to stay any longer in the dungeons than necessary, so after giving Harry a quizzical look, he fled. Hermione, however, was harder to get rid of.
"Harry," Hermione said so softly that Harry had to bend his head just to hear her.
"Gryffindor has already lost twenty points today because of Neville. This is not a good time to do something stupid."
"I don't plan on losing any points," Harry responded reassuringly. "I just need to ask a question."
She let out a huff of air before leaving the dungeons to catch up with Ron. This was it.
Come on, Harry, you can do it, he told himself in encouragement. Just muster some of that Gryffindor courage and ask him.
Setting his jaw, he approached the teacher's desk where Snape was busy marking pointedly ignored him.
He stepped closer to the desk, but the professor still didn't look up, so Harry cleared his throat.
Without looking up, Snape said, "Others might have time to waste on you, Potter, but I do not. Say what you want and then leave my presence."
Harry gulped and tried to gather his wavering courage.
"Professor, I want to apologise…"
"Don't waste your time."
Harry stared at him. The man wasn't going to make this easy. He took a deep breath and hoped that Snape hadn't heard.
"I wish to apologise to you for my conduct," Harry said, "especially this year. Honesty compels me to admit that at least a portion of the fault for our...uh, poor relationship falls on my shoulders. Whatever the original causes, I know I have given you ample reason to dislike me, particularly in the last few weeks. I want to apologise for not doing my best in your classes, particularly our remedial potions lessons."
He took a breath and hoped that Snape was actually listening. It had taken him hours to come up with this speech and even longer to memorise it. Without looking at the man, he continued.
"Whatever misconceptions I might have held, you were attempting to teach me, and I was not particularly receptive, nor did I do my assignments properly. I fear that if I fail in this, it will have dire effects on my life later, and I am well aware that I will have only myself to blame."
He dared a quick look at Snape, who had stopped writing and was now staring without emotion at his desk.
"It has also come to my attention that you might have some concerns for the information I inadvertently discovered while in our final session of remedial potions. Please believe me when I tell you that I do understand your situation, and I have no intentions of using the information in any way. Moreover, I feel compelled to apologise, as the only living Potter, for the actions of my father. Please accept my apologies, numerous and belated as they may be."
Harry sighed. There, I apologised. Well, that wasn't so bad.
"I do not have time for the witless verbal meanderings of sentimental Gryffindors."
Ouch.
"Profes--"He was cut off as Snape stood up and he gulped. He had forgotten how tall Snape was. Pointing at the door with one pale hand, the professor shouted.
"Get out!" When Harry didn't move fast enough, Snape stepped towards him menacingly and Harry stumbled backwards into a desk.
Again, the wizard pointed at the door and yelled, "Get out of my sight!"
Harry turned and ran. He ran all the way to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, and he was tempted to keep running past it. He really didn't want to deal with Umbridge right now, but he didn't have a choice. With a heartfelt sigh he entered the room.
"Mr. Potter," Umbridge purred. "You're late. What a pity. I'll just have to assign you another detention."
Feeling too worn out to argue, Harry flopped down beside Neville, refusing to meet Ron or Hermione's worried eyes as he opened his defence book. As Umbridge droned, he let his mind wander back to the recent events in the Potions classroom.
What had he done wrong? The speech had seemed alright to him. What had Snape not liked about it? Or better yet: was there anything that Snape did like? All Harry could think of during the lesson were austere black clothes, so he missed the question directed at him by Umbridge until Neville nudged him.
"Mr. Potter, I asked you a question. Do I need to add another detention for lack of attention?" He sighed deeply. Was the whole school out to get him?
"Harry, you really need to start paying attention!" Hermione scolded him later as they walked to dinner. "Umbridge has no limitation to how many detentions she will assign. You won't have time to do anything else!"
"She's right, mate," Ron said unexpectedly.
Hermione stared at him in amusement. "You've finally worked that that out, have you?"
Ron looked away and she smirked. There was a bounce in her step all the way to the Great Hall. She didn't ask her question again and Harry didn't remind her.
Worrying about the future had made Harry extra hungry, and as he set about heaping his plate and stuffing his face, his mouth was so full he couldn't even talk. Which, of course, set Hermione off on a lecture about manners...
*~*~*~*
At twenty minutes to eight that evening, Harry left the Gryffindor common room and made his way to Umbridge's office for his detention.
The halls were empty and the walk to the toad-like professor's room was quiet. He sighed wearily as he reached her office door. If he had any more encounters with Umbridge's quill, his hand would probably fall off. Resignedly, he knocked on the door and entered.
Umbridge was waiting for him and smiled wolfishly at his appearance. From a side drawer in her desk, she pulled out a long white quill. Lines again.
"Ah, Mr Potter, there you are. I want you to write with your left hand this time," she announced. "We don't want these lines to overlap the ones on the other hand, now, do we?"
It wasn't really a question, so instead of answering, Harry thought up slow, painful tortures to inflict on a certain toad wearing a pink bow.
"Write 'I must not be late.'" she informed him contentedly, placing the blood quill in Harry's hand, before returning to sit at her desk - leaving him to the dreaded task.
He found that writing with his left hand was not at all easy and the first red sentence that appeared on his hand was very messy. But, just like the first time he had used a blood quill, the cut healed immediately. That won't last long, he told himself grimly. And indeed, an hour later, although his left-handed script was much better, the cut wasn't healing itself at all and he had to bite down hard on his tongue to keep from making a sound. Umbridge came over and took his injured
hand in her chubby, uncaring ones.
"That seems good enough," she declared in satisfaction. "I'm sure you won't be late again anytime soon."
He looked at her without any revealing emotion on his face. She smiled. After she dismissed him, he made his way to the Room Of Requirement.
His future self was already there, twirling a time-turner in his hands.
"Sorry, I had detention." His future self's eyes went immediately to his right hand, but Harry held up his left. "She made me use the other one this time."
His future self nodded. "Just what we need, another scar." He looked worse then he had yesterday. The paleness of his skin clashed horribly with his dark hair and the dark smudges under his eyes could have been drawn with a marker.
"Tell me about Snape."
Harry related the manner of the apology and the predictable response he had received.
"Well, he either thinks that your not being truthful, that Dumbledore set you up to this, or possibly that you're mocking him," said his older self, enumerating carefully.
"He sounded sort of..."
"Cagey? Pensive? Guarded? He is all those things." The older Harry sighed. "Tell me, what do you know about Snape?"
Harry racked his brains. "Eh…he likes black?"
His older self sighed again and Harry really couldn't blame him. "Okay, I have a little over an hour. After tonight I won't be able to see you again."
"Why not?" Harry's eyebrows were creased.
"Last night I used a potion to come back in time, but the ingredients are so rare that I won't be able to make it again. So tonight I'm using this time-turner." He waved the small object in Harry's direction. "It's the same one you and Hermione used in third year. But these things only last for so long before their magic runs out and this one has almost had enough. Soon it won't work and I don't want to be stuck somewhere in time."
His older self sat on the floor and after a second of hesitation, Harry followed suit.
"Because I knew we wouldn't have a lot of time I wrote some things down." He handed him a rather worn book and pointed a finger at him. "Don't lose it and don't let anybody see it. In fact, once you're done with it, you should burn it." Harry looked down at the book, itching to open it, but a bit afraid of what it may say. It was brown and his initials were embossed on the cover.
"Do you have any questions?" the elder Potter asked.
Duh, Harry thought, but what he actually said was something that had been bothering him.
"Eh... how does Sirius die in your time?"
"He falls through a veil in the Department of Mysteries."
"A veil?" he asked in disbelief.
"It divides the dead from the living."
".....Oh."
Harry's future self raised one eyebrow humourlessly. "'Oh' is right. Now listen, Snape might test you to make sure you're sincerely sorry. The test could be anything. But whatever it is, don't start yelling,"
"Hey!" Harry was indignant. He didn't yell.
"I know what you're like. And don't interrupt me again."
"Sorry," he muttered in a voice that clearly said he wasn't.
"Whatever you do, don't listen in on conversations. Learn some spells that will actually cause some damage. You can't go around forever shooting disarming spells against a heard of Death Eaters, that just won't work all the time."
He nodded and hoped that he could remember all this.
"I wrote all this in that book so you wouldn't forget." This was uncanny - it was almost as if his future self had read his mind.
"There's something else that's bothering you. What is it?" Was he really that easy to read?
"Er…Well, last night you said that I…um, 'threw somebody to the dogs.'" Who was it?"
His older self glanced at him, "Dudley."
Harry almost choked in surprise and his future self rolled his eyes.
"Dudley! You're joking!" He couldn't believe that. Why would his cousin need him? Dudley hated him, why would he ever come to him for help?
"I don't joke anymore," his future self said seriously. There was an uncomfortable silence before the elder Potter broke it,
"Make sure you read that book and make sure to tell people if you start having visions - I don't mean just Hermione and
Ron. And don't be offended if Dumbledore doesn't look you in the eyes this year."
"Okay," Harry nodded, somewhat bemused.
"Right, then. Let's see, I think that's all. Oh, and don't use too many Quidditch analogies in your homework." Older Harry said dryly.
The younger Potter ignored that. "What if Snape refuses to teach me Occlumency?" he asked worriedly. What if it was all for nothing? What if Snape didn't decide to teach him and people he loved still died?
"Teach yourself," he future self said. "That's what he did. You might also think about getting in shape physically. You'd be surprised by how much it helps."
"Okay, I'll try that," Harry said, trying not too sound offended.
"'Bye then. I suppose the next time I see you, I'll be looking in the mirror."
Harry laughed as he watched his future self spin the time-turner and disappear. Looking down at the worn book, he took a deep breath. Maybe there was hope yet.
*~*~*~*
Severus Snape was a very good judge of character. He could generally tell what his students and colleagues thought or felt even without the aid of Legilimency. In fact, so good was he, that at this very moment there were only two people in Hogwarts he didn't think he had completely figured out.
Albus Dumbledore and Harry Bloody Potter.
He didn't think he would ever understand Albus and his strange ways. Everything about him was a riddle. Every miniscule action Albus took had hidden meanings. It was infuriating, but Severus was used to it by now.
But he was disappointed to find out that there might be something else to Potter, as well. Grudgingly, he admitted to himself that the speech was very well thought out and something about the way Potter had said it did seem…sincere.
One thing was for certain: throwing Potter against a wall did wonders for his vocabulary.
Since when did the boy use words like conduct and misconceptions? The boy couldn't possibly conceive that he might have done something wrong.
No, perfect Potter would never admit to doing anything wrong, Snape thought, his dislike for the boy rising like boiling water. Potter couldn't be alone in this. The speech was just not the boy's style.
The Gryffindor had undoubtedly came to him straight from Albus.
It made sense, really. Though he had mountain of respect for the old wizard, that did not change the fact that Albus Dumbledore could be a meddling old nuisance at times. And that led to what was truly offensive about the whole thing: Albus's insistence that he must work with Potter. Never mind that Snape found the boy utterly insufferable.
He sighed. He would just have to show both Albus and Potter that he would not be trifled with. But how?
A potion, of course! That was the answer. He'd just have to give Potter a taste of his own medicine.
With that happy thought, Severus Snape went back to reading the mindless essays of second year Hufflepuffs.
