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Chapter 38

Snape has always been quite ambigious, Remus' letter read. To your father and Sirius he has always been evil impersonated, which is the imageDumbledore expects us to play up, for Snape's sake. However, I think you have the right to know the truth, even though it might not make a difference in the long run. I have told you, I am siding with you, not with Dumbledore.

What you have been unaware of so far is that he was a childhood friend of your mother. She has always defended him – the main cause for her ongoing arguments with your father. Their friendship ended rather abruptly in their fifth year at Hogwarts though. I am not privy to what exactly happened; your mother only said it was unforgivable. He had started hanging out with the more shady members of Slytherin house even before that (Avery, McNair, Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy).

He had always been quite the loner before, which was why he mainly had to face Sirius and James alone. The only one he kept rather close to was Sirius' brother, Regulus. While Sirius disliked his brother rather fiercely, he really was not that bad – rather stuck up, but he, as well, mostly kept to himself and out of conflicts.

Hope to hear from you soon.

Yours

Remus

Laura has started working as an assistant for the Weasley twins. Seems they are getting along very well.

Harry stared at the letter. His mother! His mother had been friends with the greasy g – with Snape. And Harry had never known. How could his mother have been friends with Snape? But then Harry knew next to nothing about his mother. He had seen a photo, knew she had been head girl, had according to Slughorn been good at potions, he'd heard she'd been good at charms as well, but he knew next to nothing of her character, her likes, dislikes, her friends. All this time there had been a childhood friend of her close by and he had never known. Snape had gone out of his way to make him miserable.

Harry felt determined more than ever to talk to him. What had Snape done that had irrevocably destroyed their friendship? How had Snape ended up a Death Eater – a spy? Dumbledore had refused to say and had puposefully hidden Snape's former friendship to his mother. Maybe there was a connection? With Dumbledore the answers usually lay in what he kept secret, rather than in what information he disclosed.

He definitely needed to talk to Snape but that would prove to be difficult – they had never held a civil conversation. He could not simply knock on Snape's office door and ask about his loyalty and reasoning. They could not speak openly – could not trust each other. Nevermind Snape's loyalty they would both take great risks, likely more risks than either of them would be willing to take.

Draco was bound to know something about Snape. He'd love to talk this over with him. However, could he risk uncovering a potientiel spy to Draco? Spying was a dangerous business and while Harry severely disliked Snape, he would not risk the man's life by letting Draco in on his doubts. He liked Draco, trusted him even, but Draco seemed convinced that Snape was a loyal Death Eater. Maybe he should use his friends as a sounding board? Their loyalty had far less potiential to become conflicted at some point. However, the more people knew, the more Snape would be at risk. No, this was something Harry had to work out alone.

Maybe Snape was loyal only to Snape. That would not be the worst case scenario, might give more solid ground for a working relationship between him and Snape than if the man's loyalty belonged to either Voldemort or Dumbledore. It certainly would make both their lives easier, if they could come to some kind of understanding.

Snape had saved his life numerous times, but that had been before Voldemort's return – a means to curry favor with Dumbledore or something else? Just how close friends had Snape and his mother been at one time?

Maybe Snape was really loyal to Dumbledore but Harry doubted he appreciated Dumbledore's manipulations. Whatever else Snape might or might not be, he was intelligent and must have caught on how much Dumbledore manipulated those around him. Surely, that was a trait a Slytherin admired but not when subjected to said manipulations himself.

Harry was convinced that when it came down to it Snape was only loyal to Snape. There had to be some common ground to both their goals, some starting point from where there could form at least a partial alliance.

Once again Harry was absentminded in class that day, as he mulled everything over, even though he did take notes dilligently.

Then after dinner Daphne Greengrass finally held her introductional tutoring lesson on healing. Rows of chairs had been lined up in the new common room. Harry eagerly pulled Draco to the front row where he was joined by Hermione, Blaise and Ginny. He grinned at Daphne who waited at the front for the students to arrive.

"Welcome to the introductory tutoring lesson in healing." Daphne finally said, when the last students had trickled in. Her voice sounded a little faint and Harry guessed that those in the last row might have trouble to hear her.

"For those of you, who don't know me, yet, my name is Daphne Greengrass," she curtsied lightly and continued in a stronger voice, "Healing has always been a private passion of mine and I've invested a lot of time into private study on that subject. In this course I will provide you with basic knowledge on how to effectively heal yourselves and others, when no healer is available. You will learn to counter bruising, stop bleeding, mend bones and postphone concussions.

"Why postphone – why not heal them?" someone asked.

"A concussion has to run its course," Daphne answered confidently, "Aided with potions and bed rest it will be faster, but the patient also has to be immobilised. We can obviously go over useful potions as well, but hardly anyone carries potions with them all the time."

Harry frowned. It would be a good idea to constantly have basic healing potions on hand. He would discuss this with Daphne after the lesson.

"We will start with the charm to stop bleeding. However before you use that charm you will have to clean the wound or you might drive dirt into the blood stream."

Her wand moved in an upward spiral,

"Emundo" she intoned clearly.

Then she went through the incantation step by step.

"Keep your mind firmly set on what you intent to do. You want to heal – meaning you only want to clean the wound. Don't let yourselves get carried away by the gruesomeness of the wound or you might vanish too much." She paused to let that idea sink in, "You only guide the patient's body through the healing process, which aided by your focused magic will ease the way. The patient's body is usually quite capable of doing the rest."

"The upward spiral wand movement directs the direction of the foreign particles. Any questions?"

It seemed that for the moment everyone had at least a vague idea on what to do and no questions came forward.

"Fine," Daphne smiled kindly but her eyes were glowing delightedly. She truly was in her element when it came to healing, "I have brought a puppet for each of you. They are what healer apprentices practice their spells on. They are charmed to glow white whenever your spell has been successful." she held up a small stone figurine, "I've got the master puppet, meaning that any spell I'll feed it, will be added to your puppet as well."

Suddenly everyone came to the front at once to pick up their puppet and slight chaos ensued. Everyone was eager to select a puppet. Finally, Daphne had enough. She raised her wand which suddenly emitted a loud bang.

"Please, take a puppet and get back to your seats. They are all exactly identical, seeing as everyone of them is a duplicate of the master puppet."

Then when everyone had settled down again, Daphne guided them step by step through the spell casting again.

Harry frowned at his puppet. It was difficult to keep in mind that he wanted to heal, when his patient was a small stone figurine, but then it would probably be even more difficult to focus with a patient of flesh and blood that had a nasty flesh wound.

"It might help to name your puppet," Daphne said, as she watched over everyone's spell casting from the front.

After that suggestion the first hurdle was taken. Harry secretly and silently named his puppet Adrianna after his mother's probable squib ancestor.

Then Harry cast the spell for the first time, intently focused on cleaning the gashing flash wound he imagined poor Adrianna to have on her right leg. He was so intently focused on his intention and the wand movement that he forgot to say the spell out loud.

Next to him Draco quirked an eyebrow, "Seriously, voiceless casting on the first try,Harry?"

"I did?" Harry blinked, "I simply forgot," he admitted and Draco shook his head.

"So guide me through it?" he implored.

"Uh, okay," Harry frowned, "Does your puppet have a name?"

"Yes," Draco smirked but did not elaborate.

"Where is it hurt?" Harry inquired further.

"Don't know," Draco shrugged, "It's a stone puppet."

"No, it's not. He or she's a living and breathing human being, who's hurt." Harry said.

"Right," Draco stared dubiously at Harry, then he sighed and stared pensively at the puppet. Finally he moved his wand.

"Emundo," he intoned clearly and the puppet glowed white.

"You've got it," Harry grinned.

"You can take those puppets with you and practice this spell on your own. Now we move on towards the simple blood stilling charm. Again, focus on what you intent to do. You want the flesh and skin to regrow as it should. Let the magic flow, let the body do its work. Don't be too forceful." Daphne directed.

"Evalesco," she said, while making a sideways circle in front of the puppet which ended in pointing the wand at the puppet.

The puppet glowed white and everyone turned to their own puppet to try the spell.

"With healing spells the mistake most commonly made is that people put too much force into them and thus contradicting the patient's own healing abilities. The consequences can be very dreadful," Daphne said.

Daphne effectively guided them through the stitching course next and then she handed out a paper with the instructions for every spell she had taught that day. Everyone clapped enthusiastically.

"The next lesson will be next week at the same time," Daphne said over the noise, "Those of you who have still trouble mastering any of those spells by that time, may come an hour early, so we can go over them again in a smaller group."

"That was an inspiring lesson," Harry said truly delighted.

"Why aren't our regular lessons more like the tutoring lessons we've had so far," Ginny wondered aloud, "I feel, I've learnt so much more – more useful thinks anyway - than in usual lessons,"

"It's probably because usually there is much more theory involved," Draco suggested, "Tutoring lessons concentrate much more on the practical application. Our Hogwarts curriculum is supposed to prepare us for the study of more complex fields of magic. Besides, the younger years will probably need much more practise and guidance till they master those spells."

"Maybe, but younger children usually have a more vivid imagination," Harry said, "With those spells it will help immensly.

"Anyway, lets move to the Room of Requirement for training," Neville suggested.

"Will you join us?" Harry looked at Draco, who gave a curt not and fell into step besides Harry.

They went through their training routine for an hour and left feeling absolutely drained. Draco's gaunt face had a rosy tint to it and appeared less stressed out than usual these days. Then they had to hurry to arrive in their common rooms before curfew.

Harry tiredly sank into bed and again thought about his day. Training had felt wonderful. Healing lessons were promissing. At the rate they were going through spells and actually mastering them, there was an actual chance he might get the hang of basic healing before the war started in earnest and all hell broke lose.

Becoming a proficient healer took years, but magical first aid could save his life and that of so many others. Sadly enough those spells would prove very useful, very quickly. Just why didn't the ministry offer courses on magical first aid? It would be so much more effective than useless articles on self defense in the Daily Prophet.

Then Harry's mind drifted to that morning and Remus letter – Snape. Snape had been his mother's childhood friend. He had to talk to him. If only he knew how. He could not simply ask him about his loyalties and then it was obvious that Snape could not answer him honestly. The whole conversation was doomed to fail before it really started.

It did not help to lose sleep over that. Harry sighed and immersed himself into the sensation of flying on a broom. He felt light, having left his worries behind.

The next day after dinner Harry decisively knocked on Snape's door. Snape opened the door and sneered at the seemingly empty space. However, he silently stepped aside to let Harry pass through, before he closed the door, again.

"Potter," Snape sneered.

"Professor," Harry acknowledged after he had thrown off his invisibility cloak.

"What gives me the dubious honor of your presence?" Snape sneered.

Harry had to purposefully refrain from pulling his hair. He had thought everything over again and again but now in front of Snape, he was lost for words.

"I've found out you've been friends with my mother," Harry finally said and watched Snape's face carefully.

His eyes widened slightly, hardly noticable had Harry not looked so closely for any sign that he was onto something, before they narrowed narrowed into tiny slits.

"And where pray tell did you come up with that idea?" Snape sneered.

"That's besides the point," Harry said defiantly. There really was no reason to get Remus in trouble and he did not want to give away that Remus had chosen him over Dumbledore, not yet anyway.

"What do you perceive to be the point of this conversation?" Snape asked silkily.

"Is it true?" Harry asked bluntly.

"I would hardly think your mother would have called me a friend," Snape stared down at him.

"No, not anymore. You've had some kind of argument, while still at school and never made up," Harry said.

"You're well informed," Snape stated, "How is that of any significance though?"

"I had hoped you could tell me something about her," Harry said wistfully.

"Like what?" Snape sneered loathingly.

"Just random things to remember her by. No one's ever told me about my mother. The only memory I've got of her is her death." Harry said.

"What in my attitude has ever given you the idea you could invite yourself over for a round of story telling?"

"Nothing at all, Sir," Harry said, "However, while poking around, I found out that my mother's friendship with you has been purposefully hidden from me."

"Get out," Snape whispered lowly, threateningly.

"I owe you an appology. Looking into your pensieve was wrong. However, I assure you, I derived no pleasure from what I saw. In fact, I've been thoroughly ashamed of my father's behaviour and it shattered the illusion of everything I thought I knew about him, which admittedly wasn't all that much," Harry said sincerely.

Snape nodded stiffly in acknowledgement. Forgiveness did not come easily to Snape, but at least he was hearing him out. Harry repressed the urge to card his fingers through his hair.

"Things are going to get rough soon. I think, it is time we came to some kind of understanding," Harry said, determined to at least appear calm and collected.

Snape fixed his gaze expressionlessly at Harry. Harry recognized the silence as the same interrogation method Blaise employed frequnently. Most people avoided silence and felt prompted to fill it with very telling babble and thus giving away more information than they should. Harry took a deep breath instead.

"Dangerous times are ahead – for both of us," Harry began, "I think, we need to come to some kind of understanding on where we stand with each other. I can't be sure of your loyalties. I used to believe you were a loyal Death Eater, while Dumbledore insists you are loyal to him. I have tentatively come to the conclusion that you are neither."

"Foolish Gryffindor," Snape sneered, "Always jumping right in. No subtlety whatsoever."

"I've been attempting to come up with a more indirect approach, but nothing came to mind. While I recognize the value of subtlety, in this case it would only cause even more confusion. So I'll stick to Gryffindor bluntness," Harry admitted.

"Indeed," Snape looked disdainfully down his nose at him, "Lets see then how you muddle through this. Have a seat." He gestured to the plain looking chair in front of his desk

When they were both seated, Snape remained silent, piecring Harry with his mocking gaze, while Harry took care to avoid looking into his eyes.

"You wanted the opportunity to talk," Snape said after a couple of uncomfortable minutes, which was nothing but a statement of facts and did not give Harry any lead on where to start.

"The mask you show to the public is vicious enough for a Death Eater, but then were you really a loyal Death Eater you'd take care to appear more amicable. And while Dumbledore has his blind spots, I think, his certainty that your loyalty is not with the Dark Lord, is based on something he knows rather than believes. I think, he's got something on you.

"So what gives you the idea, I'm not loyal to Dumbledore?" Snape sneered, of course. "You don't like to be manipulated, for one," Harry said, "That is not to say that you actively work against him, but rather you work for him where it fits your purposes, whatever they may be."

"So you have finally caught on to those manipulations," Snape sneered.

"Better late than never," Harry said with a sneer of his own, "I think, he's holding something over your head. He won't tell me what, but I think it's got something to do with my mother."

"Not everything in this world revolves around you Potter," Snape snarled.

"Your past friendship should have been an insignificant detail. However, the effort taken into covering it up, makes it stand out," Harry said.

Snape inclined his head but said nothing then finally he said.

"Your mother was an amazing person and the best friend anyone could wish for. She was my friend and I messed it up irrepairably. It's as simple as that."

"I'm sorry, Sir," Harry whispered.

"Don't you dare say sorry," Snape snapped, "Not for that."

"Yes Sir," Harry said cautiously, feeling it was not quite as simple as that.

"You've got her eyes," Snape said.

"I know," Harry whispered.

"Initially, my loyalty lies with Lily's son, make no mistake it's nothing personal," Snape snapped.

"Of course not, Sir," Harry said quite overwhelmed. He had not been prepared for anything remorely like that, when he had sought out Snape at his office.

"You feel guilty for her death," Harry realized.

"Yes," Snape sneered, "I've been still a Death Eater at the time."

"He gave her the choice to step aside, let him kill me. He offered to spare her life," Harry looked at him in amazement, "It has been because of you. Voldemort had no reason to spare the life of a muggleborn."

"Yes," Snape did not look up, "But she died anyway."

"But at least it made her death worth something. She choose to die for me. Otherwise, she would have died anyway. Her choice ended the war."

"The Lily I knew would have always died for her loved ones. It's who she was," Snape stated sadly.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said sincerely, "for talking to me."

"Nothing can change between us, Mr Potter," Snape said sharply, "I hope you realize that. It's too risky.

"Of course, Sir" Harry inclined his head.

"You are right to be suspicious of the headmaster, Mr Potter," Snape took a deep breath, "You might also take a closer look at that scar of yours and ponder a little more about the sinificance of certain objects."

"Sir," Harry gazed questioningly at him.

"I've sworn not to tell you," Snape said, "You'll have to figure that out yourself."

"Thank you, Sir" Harry said sincerely.

He could not allow himself to trust Snape, not really, he knew that, because whether or not he truly intented to protect the son of his former friend, he was also a spy and it was only reasonable to assume that Snape would value his own life more than that of 'Lily's son'.Also Harry had a hard time coming to terms with what he had learnt. He had spent too much time despising the man for things to suddenly change.