Occlumency Revisted

Three days later, Snape was pronounced well enough to leave the Hospital Wing and return to his duties as Defense Master. His left leg had been permanently damaged, and he would always walk with a slight limp and the muscles would never be the same, always stiff and achy in the damp and cold weather. Poppy had given him a handsome black cane with a brass tip, since he wasn't to put his full weight on the leg for at least a week. He accepted the gift graciously, concealing the grimace that had stolen over his face when he'd first seen it. Still, a cane wasn't quite as bad as those blasted crutches, he thought peevishly, resolving to do more exercises to strengthen the leg as much as possible and so avoid having to use the bloody thing.

Word had quickly spread around the school of what had occurred, and now he often received glances of awe and respect as well as fear and the occasional sympathetic one too when they caught sight of his leg or the white lock of hair. He'd considered dying it, but quickly abandoned that idea. He was no vain peacock, to worry about something so trivial as a white lock. There were much more important things to worry about.

Harry had arrived promptly for Occlumency lessons at six in his office, and unlike the previous sessions, the boy did not allow anger or resentment to cloud his mind, instead arriving with a cordial, "Feeling better, sir?"

"Much, thank you." Snape answered, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. "Do you remember what you need to do from last time, or shall I review it with you, Mr. Potter?"

"I remember, sir," Harry said quietly, meeting his teacher's eyes.

"Very well then. Let us begin. Concentrate, Potter, and see if you can keep me out." Severus pointed his wand at Harry's head and intoned, "One. Two. Three. Legilimens!"

That first time, Harry only succeeded in blocking him out for ten minutes. "You've got to do better, Potter!" he barked, scowling. "Try again and this time concentrate. You keep giving me loopholes."

Still that first lesson went rather well, there were no insults and no sneering and Harry was respectful and determined, listening to Severus's instructions carefully. He found that meeting the perfectionist professor halfway was not as bad as he'd feared, and the session ended without rancor. Severus gave Harry sets of exercises to do before bed each night, mostly concerned with making his mind a blank slate, leaving nothing for Voldemort to pick up on. "You cannot give him so much as an inch in your defenses, Potter," the Defense Master informed him sternly. "Do that and he'll be inside your mind quicker than a hawk on a hare. And then you're finished. Practice those exercises and meditate like I showed you. We'll meet again in two nights. Dismissed."

"Sir?" Harry paused before the door. "Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"How did you manage to keep your true identity a secret all these years?"

"By being very very good at Occlumency, Potter. It's my talent, I suppose you could say. A difficult discipline to master, and not one that you can learn overnight. I can teach you the basics, enough so you can keep Voldemort out of your head for now. There are other ways to defeat him, ways that I will not discuss with you at this time."

Harry nodded, understanding the other man's reluctance. Then he departed.

Severus heaved a sigh when the boy had gone. That session had went better than he had thought. He began to think that perhaps Albus's faith had not been misplaced. He found that he was tired, he had not yet regained all of his strength, and he rose stiffly from his chair, wincing as his leg throbbed.

Right then, a nice hot soak in the faculty bathroom was looking heavenly. He picked up his cane and leaning rather heavily on it, made his way out of his office and through a secret tunnel leading up to the third floor of the castle. He had discovered the secret way soon after he'd become Defense Master, and it was a good deal easier on his leg than the stairs.

* * * * * *
Harry was on his way back to the Gryffindor common room when he heard Ron and Hermione's voices. He slowed, coming around a bend in the corridor to see his friends sitting on a stone bench beneath the portrait of a lady and her baby speaking to Tricia and Kit. Kit was a fellow Gryffindor, a rather private individual, so Harry did not know him as well as he could have, save by reputation. Kit had once been the joke of the school for his inability to master simple Transfiguration spells, but lately he'd seemed to have overcome his handicap. He was also good friends with Snape's daughter, Arista. So too was Tricia, though she was in Hufflepuff. Arista was one of the few people in the school who disregarded utterly the boundaries of Houses and the structures of pureblood versus Muggleborn and made friends with whomever she chose. Her two other best friends were Mel Seton, a Ravenclaw, and Slytherin Drake Lockwood, he recalled now.

He wondered what the four of them were discussing so animatedly, he had planned on studying some more for Potions with Hermione before going to sleep. Lately, he'd been doing much better in Potions thanks to the battered copy of Advanced Potion Making Professor Slughorn had given him. The book included notes made by a previous student, notes that had enabled Harry to make first class potions, and he almost wished he had Snape as a Potions instructor again, just so he could show off his new expertise.

Then again, maybe not. He found he much preferred Severus as a Defense teacher, the man was much less abrasive since gaining that position, though not one bit less demanding. Once a perfectionist always a perfectionist, Harry thought with a soft sigh.

As he drew closer, he could make out bits and pieces of the conversation between the four students. They were discussing Snape, of all people.

"I still can't believe Snape, of all people, would actually be willing to suffer and die for our sakes," Ron was saying.

"That's because you don't know the real Severus Snape," Trish answered shortly. "Right, Kit?"

"Yeah," Kit agreed, much to Harry's surprise. "He ain't always the snarky git he pretends he is here. You never saw him outside of Hogwarts. He's a lot more relaxed at home."

"You've been to his house?" Ron gaped.

"Sure, loads of times," Kit chuckled.

"But you're a Gryffindor."

"So what? I'm also Arista's friend, and that counts for more in his book," Kit said calmly.

"Really? Since when?" Ron snorted.

"Since always," Trish said sharply. "He only seemed to favor Slytherin, to keep up his cover as a double agent. It would have looked awfully strange if he didn't, considering he was their Head of House. But I know for a fact that he loathes Marsh, Hathaway, and Malfoy. He thinks they're good-for-nothing spoiled rotten brats who need a good lesson in manners. He told me so himself."

"Is it true that you live there, Trish?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," the other girl nodded, ignoring Ron's gasp of horror. "And let me tell you, Hermione, living at Snape's house is better than living with my mum any day of the week." She laughed at Ron's pop-eyed expression. "Don't look so shocked, Weasley. Severus treats me decent, I'm as much his daughter as Arista. Like I said before, you don't know him the way I do. You only see the mask, but I see the man under it."

"You're telling me he's not such a greasy git after all?"

"Don't call him that!" Trish snapped. "Let me tell you, Ron, what that so-called git did for me. You may not know this, but my mum, Glinda Greenbough, used to be a teenage model for Witch Weekly and Sophisticated Sorceress. Now she's a fashion consultant, since she couldn't model much after she had me. Claimed I ruined her figure, or some bloody nonsense like that. She thought since I was a girl and her only daughter, I'd be content to follow in her footsteps and become her clone. But her life never interested me and I refused to be what she wanted. That's one of the reasons I look like this," she gestured to her rather plump figure. "I eat when I'm unhappy and I was miserable with her. She's a nasty harpy, especially when she doesn't get her way. Rather like Marsh, come to think of it. Last summer, she tried to make over into a mini version of herself, dragging me to all these fashion exhibitions and forcing me to hang out with all these snooty model types and keeping me from seeing my best friends. She kept me a prisoner in my own home. It got me so depressed that I wanted to fly into a cliff."

"That's terrible!" Hermione cried.

Trish smiled bitterly. "Wait. It gets better. That summer, Arista was away in America visiting her Amarotti relatives and so was Drake. Kit was away in Ireland, and the only friend I had here was Mel, whom I was forbidden to see. By the time Arista got back here, I was falling apart. Bit by bit, I was losing myself, and I knew if I stayed with her anymore, I'd go mad. So I came over to Spinner's End to talk to Arista, to see if she could help me. I was so depressed and miserable I wanted to die, but Severus saved me. He talked to me, listened to my problems, and then he let me stay there until he spoke with my parents. They've been divorced since I was little, but my dad's remarried and him and my stepmother were expecting a baby. Severus tried explaining to him that I really shouldn't stay with my mum, but my dad's a classic jerk, and he blew him off. He had a new family, see, and he didn't want any problems with his old one. Both him and my mum are selfish gits, they only give a damn about themselves and they threw me away like so much rubbish. If it weren't for Severus, I'd be in some orphanage or something right now. He took me into his home, made me a part of his family, him and Arista. He told me I was worth fifty of my mum and that I could be whatever I wanted to be. Nobody has ever said that about me before, and he meant it. He didn't have to do anything for me, what was I to him? My own blood had cast me out. He took what they left and gave me a second chance at a new life, and he's a better parent then either of my real ones. He really cares about me, just me, and it doesn't matter to him if I'm a Hufflepuff or whatever. To him I'm his adopted daughter, and that means more than anything to me. Does that answer your question, Ron?"

Slowly Ron nodded, too shocked by Trish's frank revelation to say anything more. Harry himself was frozen, for he like Ron had always been willing to believe the worst of the sharp-tempered Potions Master. He'd judged the book by its cover and look where it had gotten him.

"I told you he wasn't all what he seemed, Ron," Hermione said in her best know-it-all tone.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure, Hermione. Like I was going to believe you. How'd you know anyhow?"

"I just did." Hermione shrugged, looking unbearably smug.

"Women's intuition," Trish offered with a grin.

Ron groaned. "Give me a break!"

"Oh, just admit you were wrong, Ron. It won't kill you," Hermione said.

Ron glanced away, scowling down at the ground. Harry sympathized with him. It went against his pride to admit he'd been shown up by two girls.

"Leave off, you two," Kit ordered gruffly. "It's a lot for him to take in all at once."

Ron shot him a grateful look. "Thanks, Ambrosius."

"Kit," he corrected softly.

"You never had doubts about him then?"

Kit shrugged. "Not really. See, I was always careful to behave around him, so he never had an excuse to get snarked off with me. Potions was never my worst subject and I always got good marks in it. And once I became friends with Arista, I saw a totally different side of him than before. He's actually nice when you get to know him. I spent some time at his house this summer, and he tutored me a bit in Transfiguration, helped me with some concepts I'd had trouble with. It's hard when you've got the perfect older brother and your parents wonder what went wrong with you."

"Yeah, I know the feeling." Ron said sympathetically. "Percy was always the example to all of us younger ones, least until he went to work for Fudge and turned into a first class jackass."

"Makes me glad I'm an only child sometimes," Hermione said to Trish.

Trish nodded. "Makes me glad that Severus doesn't compare Arista and me like that. Except when we misbehave. Usually he asks Arista why she can't be more like me, 'cause she's got a smart mouth with him when she gets mad."

"Like father like daughter," Ron pointed out.

"Yeah. Me, I'd never dare answer him back, I'm too afraid he'll tell me to take a walk," Trish said. "He never would, probably, but still . . .why ruin a good thing?"

"Is he, like, real strict with you?" Ron asked.

"No, not really. Only about some things, like schoolwork and keeping our room neat, stuff like that. We do the housework with magic, unless we're in trouble, and he gives us an allowance too."

Ron and Kit sighed enviously. Then Ron yawned and said, "Well, I'm for bed, got Quidditch practice tomorrow. Good night, Hermione, Trish, Kit." He rose and started to walk back to the Gryffindor portrait hole.

"It is getting late and I still have some studying to do for Herbology," Trish said, only then realizing the time. "Good night, all."

Harry waited until they'd parted before coming up behind Kit and Hermione. "Hi, Hermione," he said, laughing when she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"HARRY!" she yelled, frowning at him. "Don't ever scare me like that! I thought you were a Death Eater or something."

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself." Harry said, smirking. Kit was laughing quietly. "Besides, no Death Eater can get past the dark detectors, so the school's perfectly safe. They can't get in unless someone lets them in."

"What if someone did?" she demanded, fear in her eyes.

"Now who'd do a crazy thing like that?" Kit asked.

"Someone with ties to the Death Eaters," Hermione suggested darkly.

"Like Malfoy," Harry said. Ever since that night he'd caught Malfoy lurking about the Headmaster's staircase, he'd had his suspicions. Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater through and through, what if he were grooming his son for the position as well?

"Exactly." Hermione shivered. "I keep getting the feeling that something bad's going to happen."

Harry did not bother to answer, for he knew all too well just how right Hermione was. Professor Dumbledore had told him of the army Voldemort was gathering, planning to march it down and take over everything, including Hogwarts. Snape's mission had been to gather information about it, and Harry wondered what, if anything, Severus had learned before he was taken in for questioning. But he did not think he would ever have courage enough to question the Potions Master about it. That was better left to Dumbledore, whom Snape trusted implicitly.

Harry headed upstairs to his familiar four-poster in Gryffindor Tower, feeling extremely tired. He just remembered to do his meditation and Occlumency exercises before drifting off to sleep. That night he slept without dreams.

* * * * * *

Before Harry knew it, it had been two nights since his first Occlumency lesson. He had practiced the exercises Severus had set him faithfully, and therefore felt much more confident entering this session. He found Severus pacing about his office rather like a restless cat, limping grimly with his new black cane.

Harry halted just inside the door, not wanting to interrupt his teacher's musings. He'd heard reports that Snape's left leg had been damaged permanently by the torture he'd endured, but this was the first time he'd ever seen the professor use his cane.

Snape limped over to his desk, his mouth set in a grim line. Abruptly he whirled and looked towards the door, scowling when he caught sight of Harry. "Well, come in, Potter, don't stand in the doorway gaping like the village idiot." He sat down in his chair, gesturing for Harry to sit across from him.

Harry obeyed quickly, shutting the door behind him and grasping his wand.

This session went better than the last one, Harry was able to keep Snape from invading his mind for twenty minutes, then his defenses collapsed and the professor was able to see inside his head.

"Again, Potter! Make your mind a blank, so I can't sense anything." Severus ordered.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, and concentrated.

Snape was a hard taskmaster, he kept Harry practicing for two hours, until the boy was nearly too tired to see straight. Then he called a halt and poured Harry a cup of what looked like Oolong tea from a pot on his desk. "Drink that, Potter. It'll take away that headache."

"How did you know?" Harry gaped at him, blinking in shock.

"Because headaches are a side effect of practicing Occlumency," Snape replied. "Especially in the beginning." He gestured at the cup. "Go on, drink that. It's a Headache Remedy, it'll keep you from developing a migraine. It's not poison," he added with a wry smirk.

Harry eyed the cup with some trepidation before picking it up and smelling it. Once, he'd not have put it past Snape to poison him. But after what had happened, he knew such thoughts were unfair and unworthy, and so he put the cup to his lips and sipped. The tea tasted faintly of cinnamon and some other spice, cardamom he thought it might be, as well as a hint of jasmine and lavender.

Almost immediately, he felt the throbbing behind his eyes cease. He sighed in relief. "Thank you, sir," he said.

"You're welcome," his teacher said, pouring himself a cup as well and drinking it. Then Severus leaned forward and said softly, "Has Professor Dumbledore discussed the ways in which you can kill Voldemort with you yet?" Dumbledore had promised Severus he would do so after Harry had begun Occlumency lessons again.

"He did, Professor," Harry replied, drinking the rest of his tea quickly. "He said the reason Voldemort was able to survive his own curse rebounding on him was because he had split his soul seven ways. He had placed a portion of his soul into seven objects called Horcruxes. He said that in order to create a Horcrux, you had to kill an innocent, because that was the sacrifice the dark magic required. Only by taking the life of another could you gain enough power to split your soul."

Severus nodded. "The creation of a Horcrux is necromancy of the worst order. Only those skilled in the Dark Arts and without remorse would even consider attempting it. To split your soul even once leaves a black mark upon it. Voldemort believed it would gain him immortality, however, and that was why he made seven Horcruxes, so his chance at immortality would be assured."

"He also told me that Voldemort destroyed his humanity when he did that, and that's why he can kill without feeling anything."

"Humph! Personally, I think Riddle never had much humanity to start with, maniacs like him usually don't have anything resembling a conscience or compassion. Making the Horcruxes only accentuated what was already there."

"I'd have to agree with you. The one time I saw him in the diary, he'd just framed Hagrid for the basilisk killing Myrtle, and he didn't care a bit that he'd just got an innocent student expelled, so long as his secret was kept safe."

"That's the nature of the beast, Potter. It's look out for yourself first and devil take anyone who gets in your way."

"Professor Dumbledore told me that the only way he could be killed forever was to find all the Horcruxes and destroy them. Only then would he be vulnerable to a true death, like a normal person."

"True. But finding those Horcruxes is not an easy quest. He wouldn't just leave them anywhere, he'd hide them in a spot where no one would think to look, and put protections and curses on them stronger than anything you've ever seen. Even I never knew where he kept them, or what they were. Although I think he might have hidden one in his familiar, Nagini. That snake doesn't behave like an ordinary animal, and he never allows her to stray far from his side."

"But I thought a Horcrux had to be an object."

"That's so, but Voldemort was fond of breaking the rules and I wouldn't put it past him to have experimented with the snake. Did Albus also tell you that Horcruxes can't be destroyed by ordinary means? You need a powerful magical object or spell to break one."

"I destroyed the diary with a tooth of a basilisk," Harry told him.

"Basilisk venom is one of the deadliest poisons in the world. Another way is to immerse the object in dragon fire, which burns hotter than a volcano. There's a spell that can simulate such fire called Draco Inferio. Otherwise you need something with a powerful enchantment, like the sword of Godric Gryffindor."

"I know that, sir. The Headmaster explained it to me. He also said that it was my task to find the Horcruxes. He said I needed to find them before Voldemort grew too strong."

"Alone?"

"No, he said I could have help. He would go with me for most of the way, but in the end the final battle was mine to fight."

"So runs the prophecy, Potter. You and you alone are to be Riddle's doom. That is why I'm teaching you Occlumency, Potter. So you can shield your thoughts from him and take him by surprise for once. For he will be hunting you once he realizes what you're about. Your greatest strength is secrecy and swiftness. Play hide and seek, Potter. But do it quickly and do it well, we're running out of time. His army was nearly ready to march when I arrived at the base that last time. In another month he'll have them trained up enough to attack, and one of the first places he'll come is the school. First the Ministry, then Hogwarts."

Harry felt sick at the mere thought of Voldemort and his minions descending on Hogwarts. "But no Dark forces can enter the school grounds."

"Maybe once that was true, but I'm sure Riddle has found a way to circumvent such protections." Severus said grimly.

"What can we do then?"

"Find the bloody Horcruxes before it's too late. That's your task, Potter. Fail and we're lost. So be ready. When the Headmaster summons you to his office again, you'll know it's time to begin. Until then, we'll have lessons every other night."

"But what about Hogwarts?"

"Leave the defense of the school to those who are best suited to it, young man," Severus said sharply. "Your only concerns right now should be schoolwork, practicing the Occlumency disciplines I've shown you, and figuring out what and where the Horcruxes are."

"You don't ask much do you, sir?" Harry snapped peevishly.

"The price you pay for being a hero, Potter," Snape said sternly. "Something you Gryffindors are eminently suited to, apparently."

"So are some Slytherins," Harry shot back.

Severus snorted. "Regrettably, some of us have been known to display some heroic tendencies on occasion. Then we come to our senses."

"Have you . . .sir?" Harry asked, greatly daring.

Severus shot him a glare that could have melted stone. "That'll be enough cheek from you, boy! One more remark like that out of you and you'll serve detention with me, am I clear?"

"Yes, sir." He rose to his feet. "May I go now, Professor Snape?"

"Yes, leave before you irritate me past bearing." He waved Harry off, still scowling.

Harry was out of the door as quick as a shadow, anxious to escape Snape's temper. He knew it was wrong of him to bait the older wizard that way, but the temptation had been too great to resist. He'd spent too many years annoying Snape to abandon the practice overnight. Still, he knew he'd better not provoke the professor too much, or else he'd end up in detention, and Snape's detentions were no joke.

Funny, though, Snape could have deducted House points for Harry's smart comment, and hadn't. Harry was still pondering this unexpected bit of mercy when he banged right into Malfoy, who was lurking in the corridor.

"Watch where you're going, Potter, you clumsy idiot!" the blond haired boy snarled.

Harry backed up, frowning at Malfoy suspiciously. "What are you doing here at this time of night, Malfoy?"

"What's it to you, Potter? I've as much right as you to be here, more even, since I'm a prefect," Malfoy stated, and he flashed his prefect's badge at Harry gloatingly.

"The only reason you're a prefect, Malfoy, is 'cause you bribed your way in," Harry sneered.

"Whatever, Potter. But if that's so, then how come you aren't a prefect too? With all the ass-kissing you do to Dumbledore and Snape, you ought to be Head Boy by now."

"Shut up, Malfoy!"

"Struck a nerve, Potter?" the other taunted mercilessly. "I heard all about your little midnight confession with Snape, how you cried like a little baby and begged his forgiveness. It's all my fault, sir! I told You-Know-Who your secrets and that's why you're a battered wreck. I'm so sorry, professor, I deserve to be beaten for being such a naughty boy!" Malfoy sneered.

Harry's eyes blazed. "I said, shut up, Malfoy! Why are you up here anyhow, doing some spying for your father?"

Now it was Malfoy's turn to flush and bristle. "None of your business, Potter. Why? You worried I'll find out your guilty little secret?"

"What secret, Malfoy?" Harry demanded, wondering frantically if the other boy had been listening at the office door. How much had Malfoy overheard?

Malfoy laughed nastily. "What you and Snape are really up to in his office. Do you ask him to beat you with his cane, Potter? Mortifying the flesh is good for the soul, right? And I'll bet he knows just how to make it hurt, seeing as how it was done to him too, the poor useless bastard. He isn't good for much else now, is he, the old cripple? My father says he should retire, he's unfit for teaching Defense now. How did he put it? Oh, yes—Snape's like an old toothless mongrel, who ought to be put out of his misery."

"Someone ought to put your father out of his misery, Malfoy!" Harry growled, incensed at the other's words. "If he doesn't watch what he says, maybe someone will!"
Malfoy drew his wand. "Is that a threat, Potter?"

"It's a promise, you filthy sneaking ferret."

"Eat this, Potter!" Malfoy snarled. "Reducto!"

But Harry blocked the curse just the way he'd learned in Defense. Malfoy's vicious comments so enraged him that he didn't stop to think, he cast the first curse that came to his mind, a new one he'd learned from that Advanced Potions book. It had been scribbled in the margin of the book, and after it was the warning For Enemies! Well, Malfoy was surely an enemy to Harry's way of thinking, and the spying brat had started this, so serve him right.

Harry pointed his wand and cast the unfamiliar curse nonverbally. "Sectumsempra!"

There was a flash of silver light and suddenly Malfoy was bleeding from three huge slashes in his chest and stomach. He fell to the floor with a loud scream, his hands clutching his stomach. Blood was spurting everywhere.

Harry stared down at Malfoy in utter horror. He'd wanted the smug boy to pay for his insults, but he'd never dreamed the spell would do such damage.

Drawn by the sounds of the quarrel, Severus came out of his office. "What in blazes is going on out here?" he cried, then his eyes took in the scene before him. Harry standing over Malfoy, wand drawn, and the other bleeding from what appeared to be three sword slashes.

Snape did not bother to ask questions, he simply hurried over to Malfoy, kneeling down beside the stricken boy and chanting a phrase over and over. Slowly, the gaping slashes began to close, enough so that Malfoy wasn't in any danger of dying.

Harry noted in faint astonishment that Snape could still move pretty quickly, cane or no cane.

At last the professor straightened and gave Harry a furious glare. "Where did you learn that spell, Potter? It wasn't one I taught you."

"Sir?"

"Don't play innocent with me, Potter!" Severus barked. "I want to know where the hell you learned Sectumsempra." He glanced down at Malfoy, who was moaning. "My office, Potter. I'll be back to have a long talk with you, after I take Malfoy to the Hospital Wing." He conjured a stretcher and then he floated it down the corridor, limping after it muttering balefully.

For one minute, Harry considered making a break for it. The look in Snape's eyes could have slain a dragon. But he feared that running away would only make things worse, and besides he'd been provoked when he'd cast that spell. He silently cursed Malfoy for his nasty mouth and his dreadful timing. This was all he needed. He walked back into Snape's office glumly, wondering how many points his rash actions had cost his House this time and what kind of detention Snape would give him.

Snape returned five minutes later, his eyes still shooting sparks. He slammed the door to the office so hard some of the potions on his shelves above the desk rattled and nearly fell over. Harry winced, not daring to meet the other's gaze.

Snape came to loom over him, gripping his cane in one white-knuckled fist. "Start talking, Mr. Potter. I want to know where and how you learned Sectumsempra. And don't bother lying, we both know it won't work. So spare yourself the effort and tell me the truth."

Harry hesitated for a long moment. A few months before, he would have lied to the Defense Master's face without a qualm, for he knew Snape was out to get him. Now, however . . .after what the man had endured for his sake and the way he'd helped Harry, he found himself strangely reluctant to break Severus's trust in him by lying.

So he took a deep breath and told his teacher the truth.

Snape then demanded to see the potions book, and Harry summoned it from his quarters, wishing he'd opted for lying instead, because he knew that Snape would confiscate it and then Harry would lose his secret edge for good and all.

Severus took the book and opened it, staring at the inside front cover. He paged rapidly through it, obviously familiar with its contents, came to the page where the Sectumsempra spell was written, then looked up at Harry with a severe frown.

"Mr. Potter, would you care to tell me why you chose to use this particular spell on Mr. Malfoy, when you can clearly read that the spell is to be used for enemies only?"

"Malfoy is my enemy, sir!" Harry defended himself. "I found him snooping about the hallways after my lesson with you, acting unbearably smug, and when I asked him what he was doing he said . . ." The whole story came tumbling out, almost as if Severus had given him Veritaserum, until at last Harry concluded with, "I don't know why I used Sectumsempra instead of another spell, but it just popped into my head at that moment and I was so mad I just said it without thinking. I didn't know what it was going to do to him, and frankly, I didn't care."

"And afterwards?"

"Well, sure I cared, I mean I didn't want him dead or anything like that."

"Sectumsempra is a very powerful offensive spell, to be used only when you intend to kill an enemy. That is why it is not widely used and why I never teach it to students until I'm sure they can be trusted to use it only when necessary."

"I never heard of it before, it's not in The Standard Book of Spells, Volume Six," Harry pointed out, hoping to get Snape in a better mood before he delivered his punishment.

"That's because it was invented after the book was published. Most of the spells in this potions book are unique, invented by the person to whom this book belonged."

"The Half-Blood Prince."

"Correct."

"Did you know him then, sir?" Harry guessed. "Did he teach you the Sectumsempra spell?"

Severus was silent for several long minutes, considering something. Harry prayed it wasn't some God-awful detention. He waited nervously. At last Snape shook his head and said, "He had no need to teach me any of those spells, Potter, because I already knew them. For I am the Half-Blood Prince."

Harry nearly fell out of his chair. "Then this was your potions book?"

"The same. I used it often, and bought it secondhand, which is why it's so worn."

"But what's with the nickname?"

"I gave myself that name to remind myself of my origins. I am a half-blood, my father was a Muggle and my mother was a witch. Her name was Eileen Prince. I dared tell no one in my House my true origins, you know what they would have done to me then, and I had enough trouble with your father and Black to go looking for more enemies."

"Was that why you invented Sectumsempra then? To use on Sirius and my dad?" Harry asked angrily.

"No, I invented that spell as a last resort to protect myself from Lucius Malfoy and the others who would later become Death Eaters. Though they called themselves my friends, I knew deep down they weren't and thus I was prepared should the day come when they turned on me, or I them." Snape's eyes narrowed. "Have I answered all your questions, Potter? Or would you like to ask a few more and keep trying to stall me giving you detention?"

Harry shook his head. He knew it was useless to protest, Snape would not relent after this, and in a way Harry knew Severus was right, he deserved to be punished. But he did make one last bid to keep his potions book.

Severus agreed, reluctantly, only after extracting a promise that Harry not use any spells he found in it without consulting him first. Then he said, "You can meet me here tomorrow morning for your detention, Potter."

"Tomorrow?" Harry repeated in dismay. "But Professor, I was going to hold Quidditch tryouts tomorrow morning."

"Too bad. Maybe next time you'll think twice before casting unfamiliar combat spells." Harry groaned. "If you don't like it, stay out of trouble," he added, using an expression he often said to Arista when she got in trouble. He handed the text back to Harry and dismissed him.

Harry left the Defense Against the Dark Arts office for the second time that night, wishing he'd strangled Malfoy instead of cursing him. Then again, at least he had told Snape what Malfoy really thought about him, the sly little ferret. Now the former Potions Master could be on his guard. Forewarned was forearmed.

So, how did you like that little twist? And just so you know, one detention won't be all Harry's getting.