Disclaimer: I own nothing. HP belongs to JKR
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Chapter 7: Interrogation
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Harry raced down the hallways towards the dungeons. He was running late because that misguided idiot, Zechariahs Smith, dragged him into a debate, more of an argument, about the importance of blood and what makes pure bloods different than half-bloods and muggle-born witches and wizards. The debate had gotten very heated and it took the paper that Draco stuffed in his pocket to start on fire and burn a hole through his trousers before he realized he was late and there was no time to be fiddling around for burn-healing paste.
No, instead he was stampeding down the hallway, kicking himself for not setting an alarm or something less painful to remind him of his appointment with the youngest Malfoy. At least if he had set an alarm, he would not have already been late.
By the time he made it to Snape's Office, it was seven sixteen and Draco was walking back towards the Slytherin Common room.
"Malfoy!" Harry called, "Malfoy, I'm sorry I'm late. Please wait." He was breathing hard, skin flushed, hair in disarray. Then again, when was it not?
Draco turned. His expression was unreadable, giving away nothing. Harry bent over his knees, trying to catch his breath. "Wait… I really am sorry… I was… well, you probably don't care about excuses."
"No, we don't Mr. Potter,"
Harry whirled around
"S-sir,"
"I would like you and Mr. Malfoy to please step into my office. I have some questions for both of you." Snape turned and stalked back into his office, not glancing back to make certain he was followed. Harry pulled down his shield and looked over his shoulder at Draco.
"Shall we?" His voice sounded breathy to his ears, and he winced when Draco walked past him into the office without a word.
XXXXXXX
"How did you come by this knowledge," Snape interrogated Harry, frustration creeping into his voice.
"I really can't tell you that, sir." Harry looked at the floor, not really wanting to witness the man's anger inevitably boil over.
"This is dangerous information, Mr. Potter," Snape hissed, his face now uncomfortably close, "People will die over this information."
"Not necessarily. I doubt the dark lord would outright kill him. I think he would be more likely to use Malfoy for… well, the guy can't be getting any, at least not consensually… maybe Bellatr-,"
"That. Is. Enough." Snape grabbed his shoulder, hard, and slammed him none too gently into the back of the chair. "I will not have you making light of this situation." Harry flinched away from the touch as Draco watched the show from a seat not far away.
"Then don't let him become a Death Eater!" Harry snapped at the potions master, "It will manifest, whether he wants it to or not. Voldemort will either kill him or use him, because he will never accept a magical creature as his servant."
"But I want to serve him!" Draco challenged.
"You actually want to serve a raving half-blood bent on world domination and finding a cure for mortality?"
"He is fighting for the preservation of our world!" Draco argued, "And he is a pureblood!"
"That's just his pretext for using your family's wealth and resources for his own means. And he is too a half-blood. His real name is Tom Marvolo Riddle," And here Harry whipped out his wand and wrote the Dark Lord's name in the air, as a parody to his memory, rearranging the letters so they spelled 'I am Lord Voldemort' in glaring green script. "Look him up. He went to Hogwarts a little over fifty years ago. He is a Half-blood. You know I'm right."
"Mr. Potter! I demand to know where-,"
"You don't have to change what you believe in," Harry interrupted Snape with a surprisingly soft tone. "I may not agree with your political views, but I won't ostracize you for them. You have a right to your own opinion, and I can only hope that I might someday be able to change your mind. The Dark Lord will not win."
"You sound like you are certain." Draco looked like he was beginning to give in.
"I am."
"Severus?" Draco looked up at Snape with a lost expression, as though he were looking for guidance. Snape merely looked back at him blankly. Draco let his face fall into his hands, "I don't think I can. I'll be disowned… I'll be killed."
"Professor…" Harry ventured, "The note Draco sent me burned my leg… would it be alright if I used some paste from your stores? I'll replace it of course."
"I will get it for you, Mr. Potter." Snape said gruffly, glad to leave to room with the excuse, "No need for you to destroy my cabinets." And he was gone.
"Draco…" Harry said softly, "you are a Slytherin-,"
"Oh! Yes, good observation; you already have everything figured out, don't you. I'm just a slimy snake-,"
"You are misunderstanding me. I'm not insulting you. I was simply speaking in Slytherin terms. Now let me finish. Your parents may or may not disown you, but to stay with the Dark Lord is to sign yourself over for life. He will make living painful, and you will not be able to escape. Dumbledore can offer you protection-,"
"I will not follow that barmy old coot,"
"I'm not asking you to. But you could appeal to him for refuge. I am certain he would not deny you."
"Telling me to take the coward's way out?" Draco mocked, "What kind of Hufflepuff are you, anyway? Aren't you supposed to be all for loyalty?" Harry shrugged.
"You have not given your self to Tom yet, you haven't picked your side. But now that you know… about your new blood status, it might be a good idea to plan ahead and choose a path that you might at least survive, mind and body intact. The question is really your life or the Dark Lord, I think. And you will have to think carefully about what your family's reaction will be to your manifestation. Do you think they would disown you anyway? Do you think your mother will be murdered as well, for lying?"
"She would never lie about something like that!" Draco defended his mother rigorously.
"To keep her self alive?" Harry challenged, "Or maybe she doesn't know…" He conceded, "Either way, you must choose."
"Severus… he'd kill me if I told him I didn't want to serve," Draco was pulling at his hair.
"I think you might find that he would do no such thing. His position is one that does not allow him to move so freely. He can do nothing to you here. I promise you that." Harry would not outright tell Draco that Snape was working against the Dark Lord, just in case he turned back to Voldemort later. "I know you aren't ready to make such a large decision, but life doesn't… it is not always fair. Rather than ignoring the problem, I think you should try to make a choice."
"You want me to follow that right old codger-,"
"Yes, because I'd rather see you safe than hurt."
"Why do you care what happens anyway?" Draco narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"I don't believe you are a bad person. I don't think you are a Death Eater who kills and torments innocent people."
"They're not innocent-,"
"Of what crime are they so egregiously harming you that you must torture and murder them?"
"They are ruining our way of life! They are destroying our traditions."
"No, you, and all of the purebloods are destroying your own traditions, by wasting your time worrying about muggleborns and half-bloods, and by committing crimes and being sent to prison, by wallowing in your self-importance and arrogance and superiority. Your power struggle is going to send pureblood society into ruins on its own." Harry's fingers curled tightly into the palms of his hands, nails digging in to his skin. "There are better ways to get what you want, Draco. You are smart, find a way to preserve your traditions without the addition of torture and murder, and I think you will go farther than Voldemort will ever go." Draco flinched at the name, "You are better than that."
"If… Are you on Dumbledore's side?" Draco asked hesitantly.
"Well… I…" Harry thought about it. Did the Dumbledore in this time count? He wasn't sure yet if he trusted the man like he used to, and the fact that Harry had been living for the past few years with nothing but his memory for guidance, he had grown independent of his influence. "Well, I don't know. He isn't infallible… but he does his best, and I agree to most of what he believes in…"
"Are you on his side? Would you die for him?" Draco asked seriously, "Would I be expected to bow to him? Are you? Are you in a formal alliance with the Headmaster?"
"Formal-?" Harry balked, "Hold on a minute. Dumbledore isn't going to ask you to-," he sighed, trying to figure out what Draco was on about. Harry had never needed to consider alliances before. At least not in political terms… "I am under no oath to serve him, if that's what you are after. I haven't been under circumstances that would force me to take a side."
"If I do… If I go to Dumbledore… he would help me? Even if I'm disowned, I would still be safe, right?"
"Yes."
"I'll be poorer than a Weasley." Draco ran a hand through his hair.
"You will be provided for." Harry reassured him.
"What about the Slytherins?" the boy looked scared, "A lot of them have parents who-,"
"I know," Harry said, "None of them need to know right away… and if… if you are able, you might try subtly convincing them… that Voldemort-,"
"Don't say his name!"
"-is a madman, and not worth their effort." Harry grinned at the resigned expression on the boy's face.
Suddenly, the door to the office creaked open, and Snape walked in, carrying a jar of burn-healing paste. Draco nodded to him, but did not look directly at him, Harry noted this, and Snape probably did as well.
"Let's see that burn, Mr. Potter." Snape looked at him, with something like interest, or maybe perplexity.
"Er… it's… it's on my upper leg… I can do it myself-,"
"Where you will no doubt apply it wrong and destroy something of value in the process." Snape interrupted, "Pants off, Potter, or you can have Madame Pomfrey take a look."
"No way, she'd just try to keep me over night!" Harry complained.
"Then, I suggest you removed those garments and let me take a look."
"But Malfoy-,"
"I'm a guy, Potter."
"And I need to speak with Mr. Malfoy after you leave, so he will be staying."
"I feel like I'm being set up," Harry grumbled, standing up to unbutton his trousers. Cool air hit his knees, and he shivered, pulling the hem of his boxers up just blow his hip, exposing the larger than expected burn. There was very little blood, as the wound had been cauterized, but the burn looked as though it were spreading slowly. The holes in his robe pocket, trousers, and boxers were no bigger than a grape, but the burn on his leg was at least the size of a snitch, maybe even a little larger.
"This is unusual." Snape pulled the hem of his boxers down to observe the damage to the cloth, "Draco, what spell did you use on the paper?"
"Um… I used a normal reminder charm."
"Which one?"
"The pin pricking one, so it pokes you if you are late."
"Then, there should have been no burn in the first place. You are certain you correctly incanted the spell-,"
"Professor, it's okay, it's not that big of a deal." Harry frowned at the burn. Had it gotten larger? Gently, he let his fingers trace the outer edges.
"Don't aggravate it, Potter." Snape removed the hand and allowed his own to repeat the action, his cool finger traced the outer edge and the man's hand stopped, "I don't recognize this magic."
"Sir?" Harry shifted his weight.
"It isn't… it has a strange feel."
"Ah." Harry knew then what had happened. He had been neglecting the fire element quite a lot, and perhaps it was feeling jealous? 'I was not aware the fire element cared so much' he thought ruefully. It wasn't like fire to feel left out. Fire was a difficult element, and in Harry's experience, which was not much, it had never paid him much attention before. Why now? The burn throbbed, eating away the layers of skin. "The paste sir?" Harry urged, not taking his eyes away from the burn.
"I am not certain if that is a wise decision. It might react badly."
"It will be fine, sir." Harry sighed impatiently. This meant that he would be plagued with fire if he didn't find some way to calm it, or persuade it into indifference.
"I remember you whining about boils just last year." Snape hesitantly applied the paste, and Harry sighed in relief.
"Yes… well, I've been trying to be less of an obnoxious child, if you will. I think I learned a few lessons… over the summer." And by 'summer' Harry meant his life back in his world. Snape said nothing and quietly closed the jar, allowing Harry to redress him self.
"I am looking forward to seeing what you have learned." He looked at Harry oddly, with an expression completely devoid of hate. He looked much nicer than Harry would have thought possible, but then when ever his Snape looked at him, there was always the subtle loathing in the nearly always prominent scowl. This Snape was kinder looking, without the veil of hatred and bitter resentment focused on his father's memory. It was like a miracle. "You may leave."
"S-sir?" Draco interjected quietly, and flushed when it came out a stutter. A Malfoy never stutters. "Can Potter stay?"
"I do not think the information I am about to share with you is appropriate for his ears." Snape said smoothly. Harry snorted, and cleared his throat as if to cover up the slip of laughter. The glare Snape leveled him with was mean enough to make Harry wistful.
"I think… Malfoy believes that if he is left alone in a room with a Death Eater when he is wavering in his loyalties, said sycophant might decide on… rather more Unforgivable methods of persuasion."
"I do not appreciate the terminology, Potter." Snape warned, "Be very careful about what you are insinuating."
"Oh. My apologies," Harry held up his hands in surrender, but didn't sound sorry at all, "I was simply explaining what Malfoy is too proud to admit. He's scared, because he-,"
"Shut-up, Potter." Draco growled.
"Well, if you don't want me here, I can certainly leave," Harry stood, watching Draco's eyes widen fractionally in fear. It always brought joy to his heart to torment him; just a little. As Draco was about to start fretting again, Harry interrupted before furthering the boy's embarrassment, "Don't worry. He wouldn't hurt you."
"I would hope you do not consider me harmless, Mr. Potter." the man sneered, "I can certainly convince you otherwise." Harry just grinned, as if the entire world were a game.
"I don't think I'd like you for an enemy," Harry shrugged, "But, you aren't, so there's nothing to worry about is there."
"Where are you getting your information?" Snape snapped, suddenly showing his anger. Harry hesitated, glancing at Draco. Some things Draco could be allowed to over hear, but in this case, Harry did not think it wise to speak freely, "I can not say, sir." Harry glanced at the far wall where it met the stone floor. He was taken by surprise when his arm was wrenched and his body was tugged hard to the side. Almost immediately, his magic flared around him, repelling Snape's presence like a magnet, and then holding his body still as if in a standing body bind.
"Sir, please don't… grab me like that." Harry rubbed his arm and released his hold on the professor. "You need only ask me to accompany you." Snape was glaring at him wide eyed, as if seeing him for the first time.
"You will come with me, then." Snape felt a shiver run down his spine as he felt Harry's power. It was not at all like any normal wizard's, almost cognizant, aware of itself. As though Harry did not command with only his will. "In fact Draco, we will speak of this later, perhaps with the Headmaster. You are not to discuss anything that's happened here this evening with anyone but my self or Dumbledore. Is that clear?"
"Yes sir."
"Then please see me after breakfast tomorrow morning."
"Yes sir." And Draco stood to leave, giving Harry a look that asked if he'd be alright alone. Harry nodded almost imperceptivity, but he knew Snape would have noticed the exchange.
"I'll be fine." Harry smiled a grimace, "Maybe we can talk later too?" Draco nodded and then left.
"How are you getting your information?" Snape began to drill him once again. The man would not stop asking that question, repeating it like a broken record.
"I have told you, I can not say. I can tell you that the information I have is from a dead man," and depending on how you look at it, it could be considered completely true. Dumbledore, Snape, Moody, Shaklebolt, Sirius, Lupin… everyone from the Order Harry knew, was as good as dead, gone from him and this world at any rate.
"What exactly do you know of my… position?" He spoke cautiously.
"I know you are loyal to the Order, to Dumbledore. I know you spy on the Dark Lord. I know that you will do everything you can to protect Draco."
"Who have you told?"
"I will tell no one," Harry said gravely serious, "I do understand the importance and the danger to you and to others. I understand that many people will die if that knowledge passes my lips." Snape looked at him, and Harry could almost guess what was going through his head, and though Harry could not discern his thoughts from his expressionless face, he had known the man long enough, he supposed, knowing how paranoid he was, his mannerisms, his biases, his motivations… He was probably wondering how he could force Harry to swear an unbreakable vow, but since Harry was fourteen, that was against the law. Now he was probably considering an obliviate or trying to use legilimency to mess with his memories. Not that Harry would ever allow that. But Snape must have realized there was nothing legal he could do at the moment.
"How did you perform that repelling magic earlier?" He asked then.
"Reflex… Sorry, sir" Harry nervously scratched the back of his head. He really didn't want Snape to pry into his magic. But of course that was just what he was going to do.
"Why is your magic different? I barely recognize it as your own."
"That is because… it is not completely my own anymore."
"Explain," Snape took a seat behind his desk, and gestured for Harry to also take a seat.
"I suppose I can tell you, if you keep it mostly to yourself. It isn't something that people can't know about, but rather if they did… I might not… um…it's a bit hard to explain." Harry sighed, "I am not exactly a wizard anymore… More of a…mage really. But maybe that's not the right word… a… listener, ausculto or something? But most people call it a mage. My magic is not the same as yours. Mine isn't really all mine. The magic is… conscious. I can command it as a wizard does, but it can need a bit of persuasion, say, if I were to call on more magic than what I have. Or, if I neglect it… it may leave me, or punish me as it wishes, leaving me a squib, suffocating me, burning me… So far I've managed not to bore it, or anger it over much."
"The burn." Snape said. Harry nodded.
"I think the fire element is more jealous than angry. At least, I hope so. I may find myself getting burned more often until I calm the magic."
"Could this potentially hurt another student?" the man asked.
"If the magic wished it, I suppose it could do anything. I don't know for certain," And Harry thought that the magic had probably been how he had arrived in this world in the first place. "I do not believe the magic holds much interest in those that do not find interest in it however. So… I'd be the most likely target, but truly, the water and earth are quite content at the moment, and the air rarely pays mind to me. I think fire is disappointed that I don't use it. It's just that it can be so fickle, and it's much stronger in its… emotion sometimes."
"It is really odd to be speaking of magic as though it is another living being." Snape leaned back in his chair, gazing at Harry. "You have gained quite a lot of power then… why don't other wizards and witches become… mages?"
"The costs are high, and very few wizards have enough power to begin with. Quite a bit of my magic was given, and most people find it difficult to part with. And then there is the task of actually getting the elements to pay attention…" Harry smiled at a secret memory. "That's really all I can tell you."
"You are not Harry Potter." Snape said seriously, and Harry felt his heart drop in his stomach.
"Yes I am, sir."
"I mean, that I do not know you. You have changed beyond my recognition."
"I see." Harry stood warily, hoping Snape would dismiss him soon.
"Does… using the elemental magic have a connection with how you know so many things about… my position, for example?" And Harry thought for a moment, and decided that yes, in a way it did, not that Snape needed the details. He nodded affirmative.
"May I go, professor? I have a study session with some of the other Hufflepuffs at nine, and I would like to be able to get there on time." Snape waved him away and summoned a stack of second year essays onto his desk with a scowl on his face.
