Chapter Eleven
Disclaimer: JKR, blah blah blah. (Say it out loud. It rhymes.)
\\/
"Have a good term kiddo," Kingsley said. They were standing by the barrier at Kings Cross. Hermione, Ron and Neville had already thanked Kingsley for their visit and pushed their trolleys through the brick wall, but Harry had hung back to say a more heartfelt goodbye to his guardian.
"Thanks for everything Kings'," Harry said sincerely. "It's been a good Christmas."
"Strange to be in Britain though," Kingsley commented, as though reading Harry's mind.
"Strange to be in Britain with friends" Harry agreed fervently. They had spent many Christmases in Britain with Mad-Eye, but all had been with just the three of them and Marley. The confusion of visitors over the holiday had been a wonderful change for them all.
"Now you be careful this term," Kingsley warned, resting his hand on Harry's shoulder. "After we released that article, some very important people will be out to get us - and especially you, since they'll see you as a weak link."
"Will you have trouble at the Ministry?" Harry said worriedly
"Undoubtedly - but Alastor is head of department, so any decision to fire me would have to come from him."
Harry sniggered. "Good thing we didn't mention he was responsible for my abduction in the article then."
"Must have slipped my mind," Kingsley winked.
"Don't worry though, I can look after myself," Harry reassured.
"Good. There's actually been a bit of a development in that direction though, but I didn't want to mention it in front of your friends until it was confirmed."
"Oh really?"
"We've been given permission to launch an official application to hold a trial for Black."
"Yes!" Harry exclaimed. "Well done Kings'!"
"It was actually Alastor who engineered it. He claimed that Black was so obviously guilty, it made more sense to give him a trial and then have him kissed, saving money on Azkaban."
"Genius."
"We thought so too."
"So where do we go from here?"
"Well you'll have to be present. As his godson, you're counted as Black's closest relative, and your word counts for a lot."
"Alright, when is it?"
"In about a month I think. I'll be in touch. Oh by the way - you might receive a bit of mail at Hogwarts, as the post wards around Storm Cottage kept a lot of it out. Just send it to Marley, he'll screen it for anything dangerous."
"Mail. Marley. Got it."
"Ready?"
"Yep. I'll see you soon. Good luck with everything."
"Look after yourself," Kingsley said, and embraced Harry. Harry hugged the tall man back, sorry to be leaving again so soon. Then without further ado, he pushed his trolley through the magical barrier and onto platform nine and three quarters, and set off to find his friends.
\\/
The trip back to Hogwarts began in relative seclusion, as the four first years secured themselves in the compartment. Hermione made clever use of a locking charm she had learnt, to jam the compartment door shut. Up and down the train there were parties searching for Harry Potter, and the four didn't want to face them without backup. Harry had seriously underestimated the weight his article would carry, and it seemed every student from first to seventh year wanted to give him their opinion - or worse, their parents opinion.
Ron and Neville left on a trip to raid the trolley, and returned with the news that Draco Malfoy was heading up one of these groups - as , "Sirius Black is a member of my family not Potter's, and we certainly have no doubt that he's guilty."
"Slimy little git," Ron hissed, slamming the door shut and spilling cauldron cakes and chocolate frogs across the seat. "Said that you were meddling in the wizarding justice system, and that's what happens when you get raised by monkeys and don't know any better."
Harry rose to his feet furiously at Ron's last words, and headed for the compartment door. He had a blind spot when it came to racists insulting his family - he had experienced enough supremacism from the white officials in Uganda. "No," Hermione said, blocking his way. "Don't go looking for trouble Harry - it'll find you soon enough anyway!"
"If that little prick thinks he can get away with commenting on my family..."
"Hermione's right," Ron sighed, reaching for a chocolate frog. "Let's face it, you can't walk down a corridor without having an altercation with that prat - and what did Lupin teach us? Don't jump in with a temper - hold back until you have the advantage,and then attack calmly."
Harry stared at them both for a long moment, and sighed, and sunk into his seat. "Glad to hear you paid attention to Lupin anyway," he said to Ron.
"It's like chess, but in real life," Ron said by way of explanation, then groaned as he unwrapped the frog. "I've got Dumbledore - again."
"I'll have him," Harry said. "We don't have them in Uganda."
Ron passed the card over to Harry, who eyed the old man in the frame. Dumbledore was a mystery to Harry. He had meddled quite unforgivably in Harry's life and no doubt the lives of countless others - yet it was undeniable that the man had done this all because he truly believed it was the best choice to make - to sacrifice a few in favour of saving the many. There was no doubt he was a phenomenal wizard, but Harry couldn't decide whether he was an ally or a serious impediment.
Turning the card over, he read the writing scribed on the back. "Considered by many to be the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of Dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling."
Harry put it down idly, but something was nagging at his mind, and he picked the card up again to inspect it more closely. Suddenly Harry realised what had caught his eye. He stared. Here it was - further evidence of what Hermione had been trying to convince him of - that the friend Nicholas had referred to when discussing the stone, was none other than Dumbledore himself.
The philosophers stone was at Hogwarts. It had to be - nothing else fit the situation. Silently, he passed the chocolate frog card to Hermione, who read it and gasped out loud.
"You're right" Harry told her. "You have to be."
"Right about what?" Neville asked curiously. Harry and Hermione shared a glance, and Harry wondered how he should explain this. Ron was also looking interested. Harry sighed, and sat back in his seat. It was going to be a long explanation.
"Well, have you ever heard of the philosophers stone?"
By the time Harry and Hermione had finished their explanation, darkness had fallen outside the carriage windows and they could no longer see the forests and rivers they had been travelling past. Ron and Neville were shaking their heads. "Mental," Ron commented. "Absolutely mental."
"But what do you think?" Hermione said.
"It makes sense," Neville said softly. "All the pieces fit."
"It does mate," Ron said. "Reckon we could steal it? I could do with a bit of extra gold."
"Ron!" Hermione said, sounding scandalised.
"Kidding."
"Well at least we know," Harry said. "But it's not like anything can get to it at Hogwarts."
"I wouldn't be so sure," Neville said quietly. "Have you forgotten Halloween? Snape was trying to get past the Cerberus."
Harry stared. It had slipped his mind. "I guess...I guess we know who the enemy is then," he said slowly. "At last."
As the train pulled into Hogsmeade station, Harry's mind was whirling with thoughts and doubts, and at the centre of them all were two men. The ancient and revered headmaster, and his dark, sour-faced protege.
\\/
The first morning back at Hogwarts, Harry lay in bed awake for hours. He found it difficult to adjust to changing sleeping places, and his first few days in a new bed were always wakeful. Being in the dungeons, the Slytherin dormitories had no windows and it was an oppressive feeling. Suddenly feeling suffocated, as though he couldn't bear to remain underground for a moment longer, Harry got out of bed. He dressed silently in loose, comfortable muggle clothes, and crept past Ron, Blaise and Theodore's beds
Once outside of Slytherin, he quietly made his way to the entrance hall and out onto the grounds. The Hogwarts grounds were a breathtaking sight in the early winter morning. Still dark, but with the faintest hint of purple light peeping over the horizon, and mist shrouding the ground. Great swathes of fog hid the outskirts of the forest, and Harry shivered in the chill. Making his way around the castle, he began to jog.
Running had always helped clear his mind when he was stressed, and he wondered why he hasn't taken it up at Hogwarts before. Certainly, it was more enjoyable running in the cool Hogwarts morning than under the scorching Ugandan sun.
As the sun came up, Harry made his way back into the entrance hall. He was surprised and uncomfortable to see the first person he encountered was none other than Dumbledore himself. The headmaster appeared to be engaged in conversation with one of the portraits on the wall - a young woman in fifteenth century dress. As Harry entered the hall, the old man turned to spot him, and his face broke into a genial smile.
"Mr Potter," he said, as though nothing could have pleased him more than to encounter Harry. "Up for an early morning stroll?"
"Yes headmaster," Harry said uncomfortably. He felt at a distinct disadvantage, hot and sweaty in muggle clothes, with no witnesses.
"Very good," Dumbledore beamed. Harry said nothing. There appeared to be nothing to say. Dumbledore however, seemed quite keen to chat.
"Did you have a pleasant Christmas?" The old man asked.
"I did thank you," Harry said. "Yourself?"
Dumbledore seemed to consider the question. "Well, no, I don't suppose I did." He said slowly. "The minister of magic bursting in on my boxing day and demanding that I help denounce you to the public - well I'm afraid it rather put a damper on my holiday."
"Oh."
"Yes, he was quite...irritated, by the appearance of a certain article in the Daily Prophet."
"Well, we warned you what would happen if you didn't answer our questions," Harry said, feeling he was on safer ground here.
"Yes you did, didn't you?" Dumbledore twinkled. "You said if I didn't assist you, you would go the the press. And now I believe there's to be an inquiry for Sirius Black? Very good. As head of the Wizengamot I am naturally required to remain impartial. Happily, you can all now testify that I refused to answer your questions or help in any way, and then perhaps I shall have the pleasure of overseeing the trial. Good luck!"
And with that, the silver bearded old man turned,and walked away, drawing his long grey robes around him. Harry was left standing in the hall feeling very confused, and completely unsure whether he had been played or not. Not for the first time, he wished the cryptic old headmaster would be a bit easier to decipher.
"He's clever, that one." Harry turned to see the young woman in the portrait smirking at him.
"Shut up you, you're just a painting," Harry muttered.
\\/
They entered the Great Hall for breakfast at exactly the same moment as the post owls later that morning. Hermione was eagerly awaiting the Daily Prophet, having been fascinated by the first article, and waiting to hear how the Ministry responded - as they all were. She gave the delivery owl a Knut and sat down casually at the Slytherin table, unfolding the newspaper eagerly while Harry helped himself to orange juice.
"Look! They're allowing an inquiry into the lack of trial for Black!" Hermione exclaimed excitedly. Harry tried to look surprised at this news, but didn't think he managed it.
A large screech owl fluttered down in front of Harry, sticking its leg out self importantly. "Who're you after?" he asked it, languidly removing his orange juice from underneath its beak and leaning forwards to see the recipient's name and address:
Harry Potter
Great Hall
Hogwarts School
Frowning as he remembered Kingsley's words, he made to take the letter from the owl, but before he could do so, three, four, five more owls had fluttered down beside it and were jockeying for position, treading in the butter and knocking over the salt as each one attempted to give him their letter first.
"What's going on?" Ron asked in amazement, as the whole of Slytherin table leaned forwards to watch and another seven owls landed amongst the first ones, screeching, hooting and flapping their wings.
"There are post wards up at Storm Cottage," Harry explained, stripping owls of their letters as fast as he could. "It stops anything incoming from people the wards aren't tuned too - all the mail didn't have anywhere to go until now."
"Pathetic," said Draco Malfoy in a loud voice. "So desperate for attention he makes up lies about murderers and prophecies."
With his arms full of envelopes, Harry was hard put to respond. But before he could draw his wand, Neville spoke up. "Shut up Malfoy," the pudgy boy said bravely.
"Or what?" Malfoy sneered.
"I'll..I'll duel you!" Neville stammered.
Malfoy burst out laughing, as did Pansy Parkinson, Crabbe and Goyle. "Longbottom you can barely hold a wand."
Neville turned crimson, but drew his wand. Malfoy laughed even harder, pulling out his wand in return. But before either of them could make a move, and soft voice hissed behind them. "Just what do you think you are doing?"
Neville and Malfoy turned to see Professor Snape bearing down upon them, his hook-nosed countenance a frightening visage."He started it Professor Snape," Malfoy said immediately.
"Of that I have no doubt," Snape said, his lip curling. "Return to your house table Longbottom. Ten points from Gryffindor."
"That's not fair!" Hermione protested.
"I don't recall asking for your opinion, Miss Granger. Please return to your house also. Five points for cheek."
Behind Snape, Ron groaned, and Snape turned to see Harry and Ron with their arms full of letters. "Just what do you think you are doing?" He hissed. Harry had never seen the man look so unfriendly, as he glared at Harry. Suddenly he remembered what Lupin had said about Sirius bullying Snape. Harry supposed that his Head of House might not be very happy that one of his Slytherin's was attempting to engineer the release of his most hated enemy.
"Just sorting some letters, sir." Harry said quietly.
"Stop making a spectacle, and deal with this elsewhere." With that, Snape drew his robes around him and stormed back to the head table. Malfoy smirked at Harry and Ron as he buttered his toast, and Harry gritted his teeth.
Dumbledore was absent from the breakfast table that day, and indeed did not return for several days. When he did, his eyes lingered on Harry, making him uncomfortable. It was as though the man could see straight through him. The post also continued for several days, and although he was curious, Harry knew better than to touch any of it. He sent it all straight on to Marley, and hoped the little elf didn't encounter anything more sinister than a howler.
\\/
As term began properly, Harry had little time to worry about the philosopher's stone, Snape, or letters. With his new wand he could take part in all his lessons without difficulty, and was enjoying himself for the first time without the stress of malfunctioning magic. Every Friday they met by the lake, and practised the spells Lupin had taught them. Hermione had found a book on beginner defensive magic, and they practiced the spells they found in it. Sometimes Hagrid would pass them, and they would greet the giant with their usual enthusiasm. Alongside her own spell research, Hermione was also writing frequently to Lupin about the spells they should be continuing onto, and seemed to relish the challenge of practical application. As they practiced, they could often watch the quidditch teams practising in the skies above the distant quidditch pitch. Sometimes Ron spotted his twin brothers, and sighed with envy - before Hermione brought them all back to the task at hand.
The first quidditch match of the term was fast approaching as the term continued - a playoff between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor that would decide who came second in the quidditch cup. Neville had caught the quidditch bug from Ron and his housemates, and was eagerly looking forward to the game. Harry and Ron joked with him about the outcome, but as Slytherin was assured a cup win, felt they could be magnanimous towards Gryffindor. However, a letter soon arrived that drove all thoughts of quidditch out of his head.
In late January, Kingsley wrote to Harry to tell him that the Wizengamot were meeting to discuss holding a trial for Sirius the following week, and he would need to attend. You will have to make arrangements with your Head of House, Kingsley wrote. I enclose a letter of permission. Harry was reading the letter under the table in Defense Against The Dark Arts, the only class they shared with Ravenclaw. Hermione was hissing in his ear that he ought to be paying attention, but Harry was having difficulty concentrating when the thought of asking Snape for permission was hanging over his head. Professor Quirrell was stuttering his way through an explanation on Vampire and Wizarding relations.
"F-for the p-past centuries v-vampires and w-wizards had been at odds with each other," he stammered, while they took notes. "V-vampires are h-hot-blooded c-creatures of the night, and so best th-thrive in a c-climate away from the sun, b-but in extreme heat"
"Do they sp-sp-sparkle too?" Harry muttered to Hermione.
"Th-they have n-never drunk wizarding b-blood, preferring to f-f-feast on muggles. However the M-ministry of M-magic believes they are a threat to the S-s-statue of S-secrecy, and therefore there is a b-ban on them residing p-permanently in Britain. They are also n-not allowed to carry wands."
Hermione, who had pointedly ignored Harry, raised her hand. "Professor Quirrell, why would vampires want to carry wands? According to Sentient Magical Species of the World, Vampires possess innate qualities of magic, allowing them enhanced strength and speed, and also allowing their allure to attract humans - similar to veela. Do they even care about a wand ban?"
"W-well nobody really kn-knows Miss Granger," Quirrell said, twisting his hands nervously. "Y-you'd have to a-ask them y-yourself."
Hermione nodded, and made a note on her parchment. "Please don't go looking for a vampire to question it about wands, for extra credit," Harry whispered, and she giggled.
In the corridors, Harry was hounded constantly by students questioning him about the upcoming inquiry, which was being hotly discussed in the Daily Prophet. Draco Malfoy in particular seemed to take pleasure in mocking him, and Harry was tired of people asking if he was just doing it for attention. Half the school seemed to think he was mad, the other half thought he was attention seeking, and a fair few racists had come out of the woodwork to comment on his Ugandan history. Nobody seemed to think Sirius Black might be innocent.
All in all, Harry was quite grateful when Daphne Greengrass collared him one Saturday morning in the Slytherin common room, as he and Ron sat completing a particularly difficult transfiguration essay by the fire. "We want to talk to you," she said grimly. "After the quidditch match this afternoon, down by the lake."
Hufflepuff would be playing Gryffindor that afternoon, and Harry and Ron had already wished Neville good luck for his house.
"I'm bringing friends," Harry told her immediately. It wasn't a request - only an idiot walked into that situation alone. Harry had done a bit of digging on the Greengrass family over the holiday, and felt he had a bit of leverage if Daphne turned nasty.
"Suit yourself," Daphne shrugged, and returned to the table she had been sharing with Tracey Davis and Millicent Bulstrode. They put their heads together, muttering darkly and shooting an occasional glance at Harry and Ron.
"What d'ya reckon?" Ron muttered.
"I think," Harry said slowly. "That it's time to pay a visit to Fred and George."
\\/
Ron still had a substantial amount of parchment left to cover for his transfiguration homework, so Harry set out to find the Weasley twins alone. After a moment's thought, he brought the cloak with him - had hadn't had a proper opportunity to use it yet, and was on the look out for one. It was mid morning though, and with the match due to start in a few hours the corridors and halls were packed with people. Reluctantly, Harry stowed the cloak in his bag again.
After checking the Gryffindor tower, the Great Hall and a couple of other lurking places, Harry eventually made his way down to the quidditch pitch, where he finally located Ron's brothers. They were flying laps of the pitch, taking turns at juggling a pair of beaters bats between them. In spite of himself, Harry was impressed at their dexterity and skill in the sky. Spotting Harry, the two redheads soared to the ground.
"What do we have here Fred?"
"It appears to be a Slytherin George."
"A Slytherin spy perhaps?"
"A little late, the match is this afternoon,"
"Can't tell them much then,"
"He'll just have to report back the usual about us,"
"Stunning looks,"
"Incredible talent,"
"Going to beat Hufflepuff,"
"Just the usual," they chorused, smirking at Harry.
"Sorry to interrupt your training," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "But there's something I need your help with."
"Help?"
"Help a Slytherin?"
"Better not be anything to do with quidditch."
"Its nothing to do with quidditch," Harry sighed. "Can we sit down?"
They made their way over the the stands, where the three boys sat overlooking the pitch. The forbidden forest swayed eerily in the distance, and beyond that, wild mountains rose into the sky. Harry made short work of explaining the deal he had with the other Slytherin first years, and how he was aware of the possibility they might double cross him. He didn't go into specifics, only mentioned it was information gathering. "But Ron said you might be able to source some Veritaserum," Harry said carefully.
The twins looked at each other carefully. "We might," one of them conceded.
"Maybe."
"Possibly."
"But not right away."
"You don't have any?" Harry asked, disappointed. He knew it had been a long shot.
"Not right now."
"Have to make some more,"
"We'll let you know when though."
"Thanks guys," Harry said, getting up to leave, resigned to having to deal with the Slytherins alone. He should have just waited until Ron was free to accompany him - he suspected the twins would have been more forthcoming with their brother.
\\/
"Have you heard? Snape's refereeing the match," Ron grinned as they made their way to seats in the stands.
"Brilliant!" Harry smirked. There was nobody to reprimand them, as Hermione was sitting with Neville and the Gryffindors, to show solidarity. The whole school had been talking about Hufflepuff vs Gryffindor for weeks, as it would decide whether the Lions or the Badgers came in second behind Slytherin in the quidditch cup. There was an air of cool superiority about the Slytherin crowd, Harry concluded as they sat down.
Daphne and Millicent were sitting in front of Harry and Ron, and Daphne gave them both an appraising look and a short nod at Harry, before turning to face the front. "Look, even Dumbledore's come," Ron exclaimed, watching as the Gryffindor team walked onto the pitch.
"Probably to check Snape doesn't cheat."
Perhaps that was why Snape was looking so angry as the teams marched onto the field. "I've never seen Snape look so mean," Ron told Harry. "Look — they're off. Ouch!"
Someone had poked Ron in the back of the head. It was Malfoy.
"Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there."
Malfoy grinned broadly at Crabbe and Goyle.
"Wonder how long until the Weasley's can't afford brooms anymore? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?"
Ron didn't answer; Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George Weasley had hit a Bludger at him. Harry squinted up at Diggory, the Hufflepuff seeker who was circling the match like a hawk.
"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?" said Malfoy loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty for no reason at all. "It's people they feel sorry for. There's there's the Weasleys, who've got no money. Then there's that Johnson girl - she's an ethnic minority like your new family Potter. Maybe you could play for Gryffindor next year."
"One more word Malfoy," Harry hissed. Ron was turning red.
Suddenly the Gryffindor seeker went into a dive. "Maybe you'd better play for Hufflepuff instead," Malfoy drawled. "They like losers there"
Ron snapped, and swung a punch at Malfoy. Taken by surprise, the blond boy collapsed to the ground howling, as blood spurted from his nose. Then a horror struck expression appeared on his face, and he began to squirm uncomfortably. He let out a great wail, and clutched the front of his trousers, writhing on the ground.
"Testicle squeezing spell?" Ron muttered to Harry. "Nice one mate."
"It wasn't mine," Harry said slowly. Then he noticed Daphne sitting in the row behind, eying Malfoy with a particularly nasty smirk as she stowed her wand. He raised his eyebrows, and she shrugged.
Up in the air, Snape turned on his broomstick just in time to see something scarlet shoot past him, missing him by inches — the next second, the seventh year Gryffindor seeker had pulled out of the dive, his arm raised in triumph, the Snitch clasped in his hand.
The slytherins groaned and booed, as Gryffindor erupted into cheers. Snape spat bitterly on the ground.
"Five minutes!" Ron exclaimed. "That's barely a match!" Behind him, Malfoy whimpered, clutching his groin.
"What happened to 'hold back and attack calmly?'" Harry said to Ron.
\\/
It was still light by the time Harry, Hermione and Neville made their way down to the lake. As soon as Malfoy could stand up, he had run to Professor Snape to tell him how Ron had attacked him - and the already angry potions master had dragged Ron down to his office for a dressing down on fighting like a muggle. Without Ron for backup, Harry had explained his deal with the other Slytherins to Neville and Hermione. The three of them had their hands in their pockets, grasping their wands as they made their way down the the lake - prepared for anything.
Daphne, Blaise and Theodore stood in a semicircle by the willow tree. They made no pretence - their wands were in their hands. "Potter," Daphne greeted him. "I didn't think you'd be bringing other members of other houses."
"Does it matter? I trust them," Harry countered.
"This is sensitive information, so I hope your trust is not displaced," Blaise said in a surprisingly deep voice for an eleven year old.
"It's not. Now what can I do for you?"
To Harry's surprise, it was Theodore who spoke up. The boy was usually exceptionally quiet - but not in a way that made you think of shyness. More in a way that gave the impression he was studying you, trying to predict your next move.
"Why are you meddling about Sirius Black?" Theodore said threateningly.
Harry looked surprised. "I think it has been well-reported in the press why I'm 'meddling' in the matter. Surely you didn't drag me all the way out here to ask that?"
"Cut the crap," Theodore hissed. "My father has told me he wants you stopped before you do too much damage to our side. The last thing our side needs is that man back out on the streets."
Harry's voice turned cold. "He might not be innocent," he reminded them. "And whats this about our side? Last time I spoke, you indicated you were on mine - albeit quietly."
"You know as well as I do that he's innocent Potter!"
Harry blinked. "He is?"
"Don't be dense. All that crap about having him kissed - you know he'll be acquitted."
Harry did his best to act unsurprised, but his heart was pounding. "What do you know Nott? You weren't there."
Theodore glared at harry, as though deciding whether or not to believe him. "I might not have been. But my father belonged to the inner circle of the Dark Lords followers. He was privy to every plan - and Sirius Black was never working for the Dark Lord."
Harry stared. He was desperate to believe Theodore, but didn't want to get his hopes up without truth serum. "Why are you telling me this?" He asked carefully.
"We had a deal Potter. This is me keeping it. My father and some friends intend that Sirius will never make it to trial - and I'm the only warning you're going to get. If you go ahead with this enquiry, Sirius Black will be dead before he makes it to the courtroom."
The afternoon sun suddenly felt very cold.
\\/
Harry wrote to Mad-Eye and Kingsley immediately with the new information, and they wrote back thanking him for the intelligence, and informing him that they were proceeding with the enquiry, but had taken steps to ensure no harm would come to Sirius. Harry trusted the men absolutely, but couldn't shake the feeling of dread that followed him.
The inquiry still taking place meant that Harry had to ask Snape for permission to leave the school grounds. He put it off for as long as he could, but with the date of the inquiry looming, it was with reluctant steps that he made his way to Snape's office one February morning. He knocked.
"Enter," came the sibilant voice.
When Harry pushed open the door, the dark man was standing behind a steaming cauldron, stirring carefully as he dropped crumbled leaves into it. "What do you want Potter?" He snapped. Snape had been unfriendly ever since term began, and had become worse as the date of the enquiry approached.
"I need to leave school for a day next week. Could you sign my permission form?" Harry asked quietly.
Without a word, Snape placed a stasis charm on his cauldron and snatched the piece of parchment from Harry's hand. He scanned it, a sneer coming to his face. "Can't stop meddling, can you Potter?"
"Why does everyone use that word," Harry muttered.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing professor."
Snape sniffed. "Unfortunately I have no good reason not to sign this...but if I could object...believe me I would."
"I know sir,"
"You what?"
"I know you would object. I'm sorry sir."
Snape looked at Harry through the cauldron fumes incredulously, a scowl appearing on his face. "What new insolence is this?" He hissed.
"I know about what Sirius Black did to you sir. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry for my father too."
Snape stared at Harry for a long moment, and then fury suffused his face. "OUT!" He bellowed, his cheeks flushing an unpleasant shade of red. "GET OUT!"
Harry ran for cover. It was only when he arrived back at the Slytherin common room, that he realised he had forgotten his form. Berating himself for a foolish, heavy handed approach, he expected to have to return to the potion masters office the following day. However the form was returned to him - completed - by a glossy-feathered raven the following morning at breakfast, who swooped down the the Slytherin table with disdainful ease, knocking over Harry's breakfast deliberately as it landed. No note accompanied the form, but it could only have come from Snape.
\\/
No comments about sp-sp-sparkle please, I'm fully aware of the impossibility of the comment given the year we are writing in, but I simply couldn't resist the opportunity for a dig at Meyer.
Thanks for taking the time to read my ramblings.
-Cas