Wow! What a response! I am very flattered. Many thanks for all the
lovely reviews! (*Gets a big goofy grin on face*)
I will try to be prompt in updating; my goal is to post at least one new chapter per week, as my schedule allows. Thanks for your patience.
And now, back to the story…
1.1 Bellum Domesticum
Chapter 2
Ron and Hermione turned and left the classroom, shooting a last anxious glance at Harry before disappearing from sight. Again, Harry wondered why Snape had asked him to stay behind. I haven't done anything wrong, he told himself firmly.
Relaxing somewhat, he even began to feel slightly annoyed. He was going to be late for Defense Against the Dark Arts. With Professor Lupin teaching this year, the class was bound to be an interesting one. And frankly, Harry thought, the sooner I'm out of this miserable old dungeon the better.
The potions master's back was turned to Harry as he wiped the board clean. Snape had changed little over the past four years, a tall, sallow-skinned man with long dark hair that perpetually looked as though it could use a wash. But the most striking thing about Snape was his voice. The man wielded it like a beautiful but deadly knife.
Giving the board a final wipe, the potions professor set down his rag and turned to face Harry. The young wizard nervously ran a hand through his unruly black hair, realizing with a start that Snape's thin face was free of its usual malice.
"So, Potter."
Harry would have dearly loved responding with "So what?" but decided prudently against it. Snape had already taken more than enough points from Gryffindor during the last class, it was best not to risk provoking him into deducting still more points.
"Sit,"
Harry sat.
"Perhaps you'd care to explain the rather uncharacteristic behaviour you exhibited in class today."
Now Harry was beginning to feel a bit nervous again. He tried hard to school his face into one of polite confusion.
"I'm afraid I don't quite follow you, Professor."
Snape gave a soft snort of impatience.
"Don't be daft, boy! The level of skill in preparing potions that I saw you use today was that of at least a seventh year student. When compared with the usual mediocre effort you put forth, the change in the quality of your work was blindingly obvious. I was also astounded to observe that you weren't jabbering away as you usually do to Weasley and Granger."
"Then," Snape continued, his voice growing softer, but still free of malice, "there is the matter of your rather peculiar reaction to when Longbottom's cauldron melted. Having several people bump into you at once is not as painful as the expression on your face indicated."
Harry thought that Snape's black eyes were boring holes into his head. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding Snape's piercing gaze.
"I would wager that you've got some injuries you've taken great care to conceal. I would further wager that you didn't inflict them voluntarily upon yourself, but that a second party inflicted them upon you."
Harry fought to keep himself from squirming uncomfortably.
"I'm not hiding any injuries! I mean, erm, Goyle- accidentally trod on my foot when we were moving away from Neville's cauldron, that's why I grimaced. That's all it was," said Harry quickly, hoping desperately that Snape would believe him.
"Is that so? I seem to recall Goyle being on the other side of the classroom, well away from both yourself and Longbottom's cauldron."
Harry flushed.
"Why not tell me what caused you such an amount of pain, Potter? The truth this time," said Snape, leaning forward to stare at Harry directly in the eyes.
"It was nothing, Professor! You must be imagining things!"
The young wizard hoped his voice sounded firmer to Snape than it sounded to him.
"I am not imagining things, Potter. You are deceiving yourself if you think I don't know you're lying to me, something you've done before on numerous occasions. Don't think I'll tolerate any rule breaking from you this year. Dumbledore may feel fit to turn a blind eye, but I will do no such thing.
"You know, Potter, it never ceases to amaze me how like your father you are. He too thought he could get away with whatever he wanted. Didn't care much for rules, your father. Oh, no, rules were for ordinary people, not Quidittch Champions. He was so full of himself- I wonder what your mother ever saw in him."
"Leave my dad out of it!" growled Harry, rage beginning to well deep inside him.
"I'M NOT MY FATHER, DON'T YOU GET IT? You know, I can't believe you'd hate me like you do just because I'm his son. That's a pretty flimsy excuse, Professor. I had TWO parents, you know. Tell me, did you hate my mother as well? I think it's about time I knew why you REALLY hate me. Is it because I'm famous? I can't help that; I never asked for or even wanted fame. What's the real reason?"
When Harry finished speaking, he found himself on his feet, fists clenched tightly by his sides. His brilliant emerald gaze was directed fiercely at the man before him.
A myriad of emotions could be seen chasing after one another on Snape's sallow face. Anger initially, then alarm, which faded into indignation, grudging respect, and finally, an odd, closed expression.
Snape exhaled slowly, clearly attempting to calm himself.
"Very well, Potter. I'll make you a deal. You tell me the truth about your injuries- yes, boy, I know they're injuries you had before entering my classroom today. In return, I'll tell you why I've singled you out for the past four years. But I won't tell you that I hate you, because I don't."
"Erm, professor- it's sort of a long story, and I'm already late for Defense Against the Dark Arts…"
Snape seemed to take this answer for implied agreement and pressed his advantage.
"Then come by my office this evening at eight o'clock. We'll talk then."
Harry swallowed. He wasn't keen on the idea of telling Snape something so personal. At the same time, though, he was burning to know what Snape had to say.
"Well, Potter?" Snape queried when Harry did not respond for several seconds.
"Okay," said Harry reluctantly.
Standing up slowly, he picked up his bag and hurried off to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Snape's dark eyes followed him as he left the room.
* * * *
By the time Harry reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, the class was halfway over.
"Ah, Harry. There you are," said Professor Lupin. "I was beginning to worry about you."
"I'm okay, Professor. I just- had to stay behind in Potions to schedule a detention."
Lupin gave him a sympathetic smile.
"That's all right. Go ahead and take a seat, then."
Harry moved quickly towards Ron and Hermione, who had saved him a seat next to them.
Hermione finished writing something on her notes, and then shoved them in Harry's direction.
"Here, Harry, you can copy my notes."
Harry gave her a grateful smile as he got out his quill and began to copy down the notes Hermione had written in her precise, neat hand. At the top of the parchment, she had written, "What did Snape want to talk to you about?"
"I'll tell you later," Harry wrote underneath.
During this exchange, Professor Lupin had turned back to the board, where he had been writing notes for the class.
"So, can anyone tell me how to distinguish Light magic from Dark magic?"
To Harry's surprise, Ron raised his hand.
"Dark magic- most of it, anyway- has been outlawed by the Ministry of Magic. That's because, er, Dark magic nearly always involves trying to harm someone else."
"Very good, Ron. Five points to Gryffindor."
"But Professor, what about Light magic being used to bring harm to someone else? Like the Disarming Charm. If it's done too forcefully, it could knock your target out," said Hermione.
Harry and Ron fought to conceal smirks at Hermione's last remark. The three of them had once knocked Professor Snape out when they simultaneously cast Expelliarmus on the professor. Lupin had been there at the time, so he also knew what Hermione was alluding to.
"An excellent point, Hermione. The reason you're all here is to learn to control your magic so that you can avoid bringing harm to others. But you're right; all magic has the potential to harm. So use it wisely."
The remainder of the class involved an interesting discussion on the ethics of magic. When class ended, the students filed out, chatting animatedly.
"Come on, let's get some lunch. I'm starving," said Ron.
Harry wasn't very hungry; he was too apprehensive about his meeting with Snape that evening. Maybe this bargain wasn't such a good idea. But then, maybe Harry could convince Snape to tell him what Lily Potter had been like. Coming from Snape, he doubted that it would be anything complimentary. But still, it was better than knowing next to nothing about her.
End Chapter 2
I had planned to make this chapter a bit longer, but I decided I'd give you all what I've written so far.
*Next chapter: Harry meets with Snape; secrets are revealed.
I will try to be prompt in updating; my goal is to post at least one new chapter per week, as my schedule allows. Thanks for your patience.
And now, back to the story…
1.1 Bellum Domesticum
Chapter 2
Ron and Hermione turned and left the classroom, shooting a last anxious glance at Harry before disappearing from sight. Again, Harry wondered why Snape had asked him to stay behind. I haven't done anything wrong, he told himself firmly.
Relaxing somewhat, he even began to feel slightly annoyed. He was going to be late for Defense Against the Dark Arts. With Professor Lupin teaching this year, the class was bound to be an interesting one. And frankly, Harry thought, the sooner I'm out of this miserable old dungeon the better.
The potions master's back was turned to Harry as he wiped the board clean. Snape had changed little over the past four years, a tall, sallow-skinned man with long dark hair that perpetually looked as though it could use a wash. But the most striking thing about Snape was his voice. The man wielded it like a beautiful but deadly knife.
Giving the board a final wipe, the potions professor set down his rag and turned to face Harry. The young wizard nervously ran a hand through his unruly black hair, realizing with a start that Snape's thin face was free of its usual malice.
"So, Potter."
Harry would have dearly loved responding with "So what?" but decided prudently against it. Snape had already taken more than enough points from Gryffindor during the last class, it was best not to risk provoking him into deducting still more points.
"Sit,"
Harry sat.
"Perhaps you'd care to explain the rather uncharacteristic behaviour you exhibited in class today."
Now Harry was beginning to feel a bit nervous again. He tried hard to school his face into one of polite confusion.
"I'm afraid I don't quite follow you, Professor."
Snape gave a soft snort of impatience.
"Don't be daft, boy! The level of skill in preparing potions that I saw you use today was that of at least a seventh year student. When compared with the usual mediocre effort you put forth, the change in the quality of your work was blindingly obvious. I was also astounded to observe that you weren't jabbering away as you usually do to Weasley and Granger."
"Then," Snape continued, his voice growing softer, but still free of malice, "there is the matter of your rather peculiar reaction to when Longbottom's cauldron melted. Having several people bump into you at once is not as painful as the expression on your face indicated."
Harry thought that Snape's black eyes were boring holes into his head. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding Snape's piercing gaze.
"I would wager that you've got some injuries you've taken great care to conceal. I would further wager that you didn't inflict them voluntarily upon yourself, but that a second party inflicted them upon you."
Harry fought to keep himself from squirming uncomfortably.
"I'm not hiding any injuries! I mean, erm, Goyle- accidentally trod on my foot when we were moving away from Neville's cauldron, that's why I grimaced. That's all it was," said Harry quickly, hoping desperately that Snape would believe him.
"Is that so? I seem to recall Goyle being on the other side of the classroom, well away from both yourself and Longbottom's cauldron."
Harry flushed.
"Why not tell me what caused you such an amount of pain, Potter? The truth this time," said Snape, leaning forward to stare at Harry directly in the eyes.
"It was nothing, Professor! You must be imagining things!"
The young wizard hoped his voice sounded firmer to Snape than it sounded to him.
"I am not imagining things, Potter. You are deceiving yourself if you think I don't know you're lying to me, something you've done before on numerous occasions. Don't think I'll tolerate any rule breaking from you this year. Dumbledore may feel fit to turn a blind eye, but I will do no such thing.
"You know, Potter, it never ceases to amaze me how like your father you are. He too thought he could get away with whatever he wanted. Didn't care much for rules, your father. Oh, no, rules were for ordinary people, not Quidittch Champions. He was so full of himself- I wonder what your mother ever saw in him."
"Leave my dad out of it!" growled Harry, rage beginning to well deep inside him.
"I'M NOT MY FATHER, DON'T YOU GET IT? You know, I can't believe you'd hate me like you do just because I'm his son. That's a pretty flimsy excuse, Professor. I had TWO parents, you know. Tell me, did you hate my mother as well? I think it's about time I knew why you REALLY hate me. Is it because I'm famous? I can't help that; I never asked for or even wanted fame. What's the real reason?"
When Harry finished speaking, he found himself on his feet, fists clenched tightly by his sides. His brilliant emerald gaze was directed fiercely at the man before him.
A myriad of emotions could be seen chasing after one another on Snape's sallow face. Anger initially, then alarm, which faded into indignation, grudging respect, and finally, an odd, closed expression.
Snape exhaled slowly, clearly attempting to calm himself.
"Very well, Potter. I'll make you a deal. You tell me the truth about your injuries- yes, boy, I know they're injuries you had before entering my classroom today. In return, I'll tell you why I've singled you out for the past four years. But I won't tell you that I hate you, because I don't."
"Erm, professor- it's sort of a long story, and I'm already late for Defense Against the Dark Arts…"
Snape seemed to take this answer for implied agreement and pressed his advantage.
"Then come by my office this evening at eight o'clock. We'll talk then."
Harry swallowed. He wasn't keen on the idea of telling Snape something so personal. At the same time, though, he was burning to know what Snape had to say.
"Well, Potter?" Snape queried when Harry did not respond for several seconds.
"Okay," said Harry reluctantly.
Standing up slowly, he picked up his bag and hurried off to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Snape's dark eyes followed him as he left the room.
* * * *
By the time Harry reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, the class was halfway over.
"Ah, Harry. There you are," said Professor Lupin. "I was beginning to worry about you."
"I'm okay, Professor. I just- had to stay behind in Potions to schedule a detention."
Lupin gave him a sympathetic smile.
"That's all right. Go ahead and take a seat, then."
Harry moved quickly towards Ron and Hermione, who had saved him a seat next to them.
Hermione finished writing something on her notes, and then shoved them in Harry's direction.
"Here, Harry, you can copy my notes."
Harry gave her a grateful smile as he got out his quill and began to copy down the notes Hermione had written in her precise, neat hand. At the top of the parchment, she had written, "What did Snape want to talk to you about?"
"I'll tell you later," Harry wrote underneath.
During this exchange, Professor Lupin had turned back to the board, where he had been writing notes for the class.
"So, can anyone tell me how to distinguish Light magic from Dark magic?"
To Harry's surprise, Ron raised his hand.
"Dark magic- most of it, anyway- has been outlawed by the Ministry of Magic. That's because, er, Dark magic nearly always involves trying to harm someone else."
"Very good, Ron. Five points to Gryffindor."
"But Professor, what about Light magic being used to bring harm to someone else? Like the Disarming Charm. If it's done too forcefully, it could knock your target out," said Hermione.
Harry and Ron fought to conceal smirks at Hermione's last remark. The three of them had once knocked Professor Snape out when they simultaneously cast Expelliarmus on the professor. Lupin had been there at the time, so he also knew what Hermione was alluding to.
"An excellent point, Hermione. The reason you're all here is to learn to control your magic so that you can avoid bringing harm to others. But you're right; all magic has the potential to harm. So use it wisely."
The remainder of the class involved an interesting discussion on the ethics of magic. When class ended, the students filed out, chatting animatedly.
"Come on, let's get some lunch. I'm starving," said Ron.
Harry wasn't very hungry; he was too apprehensive about his meeting with Snape that evening. Maybe this bargain wasn't such a good idea. But then, maybe Harry could convince Snape to tell him what Lily Potter had been like. Coming from Snape, he doubted that it would be anything complimentary. But still, it was better than knowing next to nothing about her.
End Chapter 2
I had planned to make this chapter a bit longer, but I decided I'd give you all what I've written so far.
*Next chapter: Harry meets with Snape; secrets are revealed.