Thank you all for reviewing as fatefully as you have. I'm glad you liked the Occlumency because there's going to be a whole lot more where that came from.
Chapter 17
School had scarcely begun and already Harry felt as if he was very behind on his schoolwork. Between Umbridge's detentions and Snape's Occlumency lessons, he wasn't left all that much time to study and write essays about senseless Goblin wars that happened because Flux the Flatulent had rather not married into the family of the Napperberry's. That meant he had to finish his work during breakfast and lunch as well as use his free periods to catch up on his studying.
It was a good thing that Hermione was willing to lend him her notes from History of Magic, giving him at least one more hour a week in which he could catch up on his homework. After all, with neither him nor Umbridge budging on the matter that was Voldemort's revival, he didn't think it feasible that he would ever see the end of her detentions. Quietly he wondered just how deep the quill could cut.
"Your dinner plate seems decidedly unchanged to me, Mr Potter," Harry heard. He had been staring at the white porcelain plate on his desk for quite a while now.
"I'm sorry, Professor," he said sheepishly. "I just wasn't sure what kind of mushroom you wanted?"
From the corner of his eye, he saw that Hermione had already gathered an abundant collection of mushrooms of all sorts.
"It really doesn't matter," McGonagall replied sternly. "Any mushroom will do. I suggest that you stop daydreaming and hop to it."
"Yes, Professor," Harry replied. When McGonagall walked away, he sighed in relief and tried focusing on turning his plate into a mushroom. It was no use, though. He couldn't stop thinking about what Crabbe and Goyle could possibly be up to. His gut was screaming at him that it had something to do with Malfoy and his bizarre behaviour lately but he had no proof. And without proof, he sure as hell wasn't going to tell either Snape or McGonagall about his suspicions. He knew better than that.
By the end of the lesson, his plate had become brown and had curled inward but other than that he hadn't made much progress.
"For those of you who haven't managed, I suggest you keep practising," McGonagall said. "There will be a practical test next week."
Harry groaned inwardly. Of course, there would be. It was a good thing that he was friends with Hermione. She would, no doubt, be able to show him how it was done. Judging from Ron's plate on a stem, he too would need her help.
"Transfiguration is too hard this year," Ron complained as they went to lunch. "it's almost as if they skipped a year between this one and the last. How am I supposed to know how to do this?"
"By reading the material," Hermione suggested scathingly. "You were supposed to read the first chapters before coming to class, remember?"
"I don't have time for that!" Ron exclaimed. "It's only the first week and already we've got heaps of homework from everyone. It's inhuman!"
"They're preparing us for our O.W.L's," Hermione said importantly. "I, for one, think it's brilliant that they're giving us so much to do."
"Oh, brilliant is it?" Ron challenged. "We'll hardly have time for quidditch this way."
"Don't be so dramatic," Hermione replied. "As long as you do your homework from the moment you get it instead of postponing everything until the last minute, you'll be fine. Right, Harry?"
Harry didn't think he was really one to talk. "Er… right," he replied. "I'll try. But with Occlumency thrown in the mix, it's really hard to keep up."
"Those detentions aren't helping either, I imagine," Hermione said slyly.
Harry sighed. "What do you want from me?" he asked. "You know those are completely unfair."
"The smart thing to do would be to say what she wants to hear," Hermione pointed out.
"Good thing I'm not a Ravenclaw, then, isn't it?" Harry snarled. "They would probably have kicked me out by now. Look at that stupid Harry Potter. Won't even deny the return of Voldemort to save his own skin."
"I didn't mean it like that," Hermione murmured. "You know that. I'm just worried about you."
Harry ran a hand through his hair and forced himself to take on a more gentle tone of voice. "I know," he said. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be mad at you. It's just… hard, you know?"
"I know," Hermione said, smiling reassuringly. "I just wish she would at least teach us how to defend ourselves. Denying his return is one thing but effectively stopping us from learning how to defend ourselves is just… well… wrong!"
Ron gasped. "Are you saying that you actually disagree with a teacher?" he asked in mock horror. "You? Hermione Granger?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I don't always agree with everything, you know?" she said. "And this we definitely need to do something about. And soon."
"Yeah…" Harry said carefully. "But what?"
"Hmm…" Hermione responded. "I'll need to think about it for a while. I'll let you know once I figure something out, okay?"
Harry shrugged. He didn't know what Hermione had in mind and he wasn't sure that he even cared all that much. In the end, he wasn't all that sure if it would even matter. But hey, it was as they said. If you don't drink the potion, you won't know its effect.
Over dinner, Hermione went over Harry's mandatory Occlumency reading with him, much to his consternation. She seemed more interested in learning the art herself than she was in helping Harry study and quite honestly, Harry didn't really feel like revising right now. He had done as he was told and read the chapters. It's not as if Snape had demanded he remember them by heart.
"It'll be fine, Hermione," Ron said when she asked for the umpteenth time just how Harry thought he would push out Snape this time. "You don't need to keep drilling him."
"Don't I?" Hermione asked. "It seems to me that this is very important. Perhaps even more so than regular schoolwork. At least for Harry."
"Your point?" Harry asked tiredly.
"My point is that I just thought you wanted to be prepared," Hermione said.
"And what makes you think I'm not?" Harry asked, mildly annoyed. "I know we can't all be as brilliant as you but I'm really trying here."
"I just want to help," Hermione said in a smaller voice.
"I'll ask for it when I need it," Harry grumbled as he speared one of his tomatoes. "But right now, I don't."
He thought he saw a flicker of hurt on Hermione's face but was just too annoyed to deal with that right now. Sometimes, she just needed to learn to back off a bit.
"Would you look at that," said Fred from a few seats over.
"Yes, my dear brother," George replied happily. "It would appear that –"
"Love is in the air?" Fred finished. "Quite so. Do you think that –"
"It's unrequited? He doesn't look very happy about it, does he?" George said.
When Harry looked at them in surprise, he saw that their attention was directed towards the high table. Before he knew it, he was gawking at the objects of the twin's dialogue in unison with the entire Gryffindor house.
"I don't know who to feel more sorry for, really," Fred commented when Umbridge was moving her chair just a tad closer to Snape. The Potions Master seemed to try his very best to ignore her and focused on the lamb pot pie on his plate. Umbridge twirled a strand of loose hair around her index finger in what Harry presumed was supposed to be a flirtatious motion.
"For Snape of course," George replied easily. "You-know-who himself doesn't deserve to be approached like that –"
"By the likes of her," Fred said empathically. "You're right, of course."
Harry watched in astonishment how Umbridge took one of the potatoes on Snape's plate, then giggled about it before putting it in her mouth. Clearly having had enough, Snape snapped upright and stalked out of the great hall without finishing his meal.
Fred and George laughed heartily in response, not even stopping when Umbridge looked their way.
"Now we'll never know –"
"If the toad will turn into a princess –"
"After a kiss from a magical prince."
"Wasn't it the other way around?" Ginny asked them, frowning a bit.
"Equality, dear sister," they said in unison.
Harry didn't really see the humour in all that, though. Groaning, he hung his head in his hands. "Now he's going to be in an even worse mood than usual!" he complained. "Why can't Dumbledore ever hire someone normal for defence?"
"Oh, Harrykins, what would be the fun in that?" Fred asked.
"Yeah," George added easily. "What would Hogwarts be without her werewolves, Dark Lords and dragons?"
Safe.
"You're right, I guess," Harry said with a small smile. "But I'm still in deep trouble. I need to go see Snape right after dinner."
"Bring him a dinner roll or something," Fred suggested cheekily.
"Or some pie for pudding," George offered.
"I'm sure he can order more food to be delivered to his office," Hermione said nosily, apparently already forgotten her minor altercation with Harry.
"It's the thought that counts," Fred and George said.
"Even vampires have a heart," Fred added.
"Where else would you jam the stake?" George asked cleverly.
"Good point!" Fred said.
"You two are incorrigible," Ginny chided but Ron couldn't help but chuckle.
"Yeah," Harry said. "You guys have been really helpful and all. Really, you have…" he rolled his eyes good-naturedly at Hermione who smiled slightly in response. "But I really have to go now. Snape won't appreciate me lingering here much longer."
He slung his bookbag across his shoulder and turned to leave when the twins called after him.
"Harry!"
Harry turned around just in time to catch a dinner roll thrown at his head.
"Give him that," George said, winking slightly. "It might make him less cranky."
Harry chuckled and walked away, leaving the great hall behind. On his way to the dungeons, he tossed the roll in a bin somewhere. There was no way in hell that he was going to offer Snape any kind of food after that debacle he just witnessed. It would probably be a lot wiser if he would just pretend that he didn't see anything of that. Although they both knew that was a lie.
He didn't encounter a single stray Slytherin on the way to Snape's office. But that was only to be expected, really, seeing how they were probably all still at dinner. His footsteps echoed across the dungeon halls as he walked and many a disturbed portrait looked at him in annoyance as he passed them.
And then his feet had carried him all the way to Snape's office again. A bit apprehensive about Snape's current state of mind, Harry raised his fist and knocked tentatively.
"Enter," sounded Snape's voice. He didn't sound any different. Maybe he hadn't let Umbridge get to him all that much after all.
Before Snape could accuse him of dawdling, Harry entered and closed the door behind him. "Professor," he said in greeting. Snape inclined his head in response.
"I presume you read the assigned chapters, Mr Potter?" he asked.
Straight to the point, I see.
"Yes, sir," Harry said.
"And did you understand them?" Snape asked.
Harry thought that question could have come out with a lot more bite to it. He imagined that Snape would normally be all too eager to question Harry's brain capacity. And yet, his tone was neutral.
"Most of it," Harry said. "Though it was a difficult read."
"Older texts do tend to have that problem," Snape said. "Unfortunately, Occlumency is a dying art and since no one sees fit to buy tomes containing its contents any more, there are no modern authors rising to the challenge. And even if there were, there are precious few who would even know what they're talking about."
Harry nodded in understanding. "Thanks," he then said. "For er… lending me this one."
"No thanks are required, Mr Potter," Snape said. "The sooner we can wrap up these lessons, the better I'm sure you would agree."
Because I'm so difficult to be around, am I?
"Now, if you would kindly put the memory of the last dinner out of your mind, we can get started," Snape said. "I would rather not view that encounter again."
Harry bit his lower lip. "Oh," he said weakly. "You knew we were…"
"Watching the show?" Snape asked sardonically. "Must I remind you that I find myself to be quite perceptive of what goes on in my direct vicinity? But even if I wasn't, it was rather difficult to ignore the commotion caused by the ludicrous bunch of howling galoots that is Gryffindor house."
Sensing no real malice behind those words, Harry chuckled. "I guess we aren't exactly what you would call 'subtle' are we?"
"Not in the least," Snape said evenly.
"So," Harry then said. "How come you're not interested in-"
"Careful, Mr Potter," Snape said silkily. "I would strongly advise you not to go there. The consequences might not be to your liking."
Harry shrugged. "I was just making conversation," he said.
"Sit down," Snape ordered. "You are not here to make conversation; You are here for your lesson. Have you decided on another element to try?"
"Yes," Harry said as he lowered himself to the ground. "I'm going ahead with fire."
"Any reason in particular?" Snape asked as he sat down as well.
"It just seems more… ah, fearsome to cross than, say, water," Harry said honestly.
"Not quite an apt comparison," Snape pointed out. "These are the arts of the mind we're dealing with. Your barrier is as strong as you manage to make it, regardless of the element."
"I know," Harry said defensively. "I did read the book. But I had decided on fire before I read those chapters and… well… it was Ron's reasoning, really. I thought it was as good a reason as any."
"It is of no matter," Snape said dismissively. "As I mentioned before, this is largely a process of trial and error. So do as you wish. Prepare yourself."
And Harry did. He closed his eyes and imagined a wall of fire roaring all around him. He could see the colours dancing in front of him. He thought of the heat those flames would produce and the shadows they would cast on his face.
At the same time, he tried banishing the thoughts of Umbridge's odd behaviour out of his mind. Not only because Snape had told him to – though Harry wasn't entirely sure if the man had been serious – but because any thoughts of Umbridge could be dangerous. Snape might find out about the blood quill, after all, and despite everything, Harry wasn't sure how the man would react to that. He already felt vulnerable enough under the Potion Master's scrutiny and wasn't likely to build on that feeling.
"Ready?" he heard and Harry couldn't help but feel grateful to Snape for not attacking him out of the blue as he had first expected he would do. Feeling calm, he nodded and only barely registered Snape's calm uttering of the spell.
His wall of fire came to life and he could actually feel the heat that was born from it. But fire lasted even shorter than air had and before he knew it, the walls all around him collapsed. The flames died and sizzled into ashes, not even leaving smoke behind.
Damn, definitely not fire.
No, definitely not.
This time, Harry was less spooked when he heard Snape's voice in his mind. But it still felt very invasive and left him feeling quite uneasy.
The same dark area from before came to mind. Harry, once again, found himself floating in the nothingness of it all, vaguely aware of the dark waters beneath him. He wondered what could cause him to plummet within them and what would happen if he did.
Perhaps if he tried his best to focus on the present rather than to start losing himself in the memory of his past, there wouldn't actually be any visions Snape could see. He tried picturing Snape's office; the eerie ingredients stacked along his walls and the books that were scattered among them. Somewhere in a corner, a cauldron sat bubbling away. It was the same one that Harry had seen the previous day and he wondered just what Snape might be brewing.
Good. But what will happen if I do this?
Harry suddenly saw something appear in front of him. He squinted a bit at first but the object came closer to him, floating the same way he was. He soon identified it for what it was.
Boomslang skin.
Damn it! That's unfair!
But unfair or not, the boomslang skin brought forth another memory of Harry's second year. One he knew Snape was expecting. Colours whirled all around him and stopped to reveal Moaning Myrtle's bathroom on the second floor. Ron, Hermione and Harry sat around a bubbling cauldron while Hermione stirred its contents.
"He knew it was me," younger Harry said. "I could tell."
Panic surged in Harry even though he knew that Snape had promised not to use any knowledge he acquired from Occlumency against Harry. Quickly, he tried to recall what he had learned from the book.
Interesting. I knew you had taken it. But to brew Polyuice potion? Whatever for?
Harry tried finding Snape's presence. He closed his eyes and tried to block out all sound that came from his memory. Every now and then he seemed to catch a flutter of… something. A feeling that was very similar to the one he got when Snape swept past in his billowing robes. But before he could zero in on it, it vanished again.
Damn it.
What's wrong, Mr Potter? Push me out. Unless you want me to see more.
I'm trying!
He really was. The book said to identify the energy that wasn't your own. To find its hiding place. And once you did that, you were supposed to be able to will it out of your mind. Easier said than done. Exactly how he was supposed to identify someone with far more experience than him was beyond him.
Frustrated, he opened his eyes just in time to see the colours disperse and take form again.
Repel me from your mind.
But Harry couldn't. The scene reformed to that same bathroom right at the moment the golden trio took the potion.
It's not what it looks like.
I care not, at this point. Focus harder on the task at hand.
This mental back and forth was not only weird and very personal. It was also exhausting. Harry wanted nothing more than to shoo Snape's presence from his mind but he soon found that no book could make up for his lack of experience. Instead, he tried one of the other techniques the book had suggested.
He closed his eyes and ignored the scene around him. He blocked his senses to the best of his abilities and simply thought of what he was doing in the moment. He remembered his breathing. He focused on the feeling of his hands resting on his knees. He listened to the bubbling cauldron that was left behind in reality, where he could hear it.
Admirably done, even if that wasn't the assignment.
Harry blinked in surprise when he heard the soothing voice of Snape, carrying a compliment. But he hadn't left his mind yet. Instead, he was back in that dark abyss where he waited for another memory to spawn. He tried not to allow one to flow forth, though. Not without prompting.
One more try, don't you think?
Harry focused harder on keeping his mind in the present. He didn't want to succumb to that same trick again. Not if he could help it. He closed his eyes inside his mind to try and not fall for Snape's tricks.
The smell of herbs. The feel of his robes. The greenish light coming from the cauldron simmering in the office.
And then it felt as if a bucket of water had been dumped on his head. Spooked, his inner self looked up only to find himself dripping wet. Despite knowing that it wasn't real, it felt cold and Harry couldn't help but shiver as a new memory started to form.
When the colours came into focus this time, Harry found himself in the Dursley bathroom in the summer that followed his third year.
That's enough. Stop this.
I suggest that you be the one to stop this.
Harry clenched his fists, not sure if they clenched in reality as well. He watched how his slightly younger self sat stoically in a corner as his uncle drew a bath with what he knew to be ice-cold water.
Harry hadn't been able to find Snape before so now he took on an entirely different approach. One that probably would have Snape scoff. But it was all he could think of. He started opening closets and drawers. Started looking in the sink and underneath the carpet. Underneath the stack of towels. He didn't know in what shape or form Snape would have invaded this memory but whatever it was, it was probably something that was out of place.
The entities belonging to the memory didn't seem to realise anything was going on. Instead, they carried on as if nothing strange was happening.
Vernon was grinning now. From ear to ear. As if he was a kid getting what he wanted most for Christmas.
You're on the right track. Keep going.
Words of encouragement Harry had never expected to hear from Snape. But he imagined that the man didn't want to see this memory play out any more than Harry did. After all, he was not quite as sadistic as Harry had always suspected him to be.
As Harry carefully inspected the medicine in the cabinet, he was vaguely aware of Vernon strutting past him and grabbing his younger self by the collar. He could hear the frantic turning of a doorknob, knowing full well that it had been locked. And Vernon had pocketed the key.
Damn it! Not a damn one out of place.
Harry scanned the contents of the bathroom further, starting to feel more and more desperate when Vernon dunked younger Harry's head into the bathtub, holding him under with one meaty hand. No matter how much younger Harry struggled, it didn't matter. Not one bit.
He hadn't wanted to watch. To see all of that play out. And that's probably exactly why he hadn't noticed the oddly placed rubber duck floating happily in the tub. Petunia had never owned a rubber duck in her life. It was too whimsical, Harry had once heard her proclaim. But there it was, floating along the wavy bathtub water, visually bobbing up and down as it ignored the weakening of younger Harry's flails.
Vernon pulled younger Harry back up, shouted in his face that he was a little freak and dunked him back under, beginning the whole thing anew. Present time Harry lunged forward and grabbed the rubber duck. He was all too eager for this ridiculous memory to be over.
Now what?
Recognise that it doesn't belong. Alter the memory to its original form. Know that the item has to vanish.
It sounded vague and odd but somehow it made sense. Harry focused on what he had been told and before he knew it, the rubber duck in his hands vanished. A moment later, so did the memory.
When Harry next opened his eyes, he was finally back in reality. He found himself to be out of breath and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. Infuriatingly, Snape did not seem out of sorts at all. Except for that furious look in his eyes.
Harry knew what the man must be thinking. But he really didn't want to get into that now. Instead, he allowed himself to lean back until he was leaning on his elbows, barely keeping himself upright. Perhaps Occlumency was a bit much two days in a row.
"That was well done of you," Snape said, his voice a calm ocean that didn't waver under the storm in his eyes. "You made progress."
"Only because you made it easy for me," Harry replied knowingly, not quite meeting Snape's eyes. "I doubt that you would have been so easy to get rid of had you really fought back."
"I admit that I didn't exactly resist all that much," Snape replied. "But it was only your first lesson. I assure you that by this time next month, I will be putting a lot more force into my attacks."
"How do you even know what a rubber duck is?" Harry asked, the question slipping off his tongue before he had well realised it.
"I collect them," Snape deadpanned. Harry's head shot up so fast in surprise that he almost gave himself whiplash. Dumbfounded he stared at Snape in disbelief until he noticed the small quirk of the man's lips.
"Oh sure," Harry then said sardonically. "Maybe I should custom order one with a little cauldron and stirring rod for Christmas."
"Who says I don't already own one of those?" Snape replied easily. "But if you must, I still miss one with a broomstick and a snitch."
Harry laughed. "A duck can fly! Why would it need a broomstick?"
"Quidditch regulations," Snape said easily, dusting himself off as he got up from the floor. "All players are supposed to use a broom, regardless of their innate abilities."
He then offered Harry a hand who took it almost automatically. Snape pulled him upright easily before motioning towards the same rock hard chair from the day before.
Harry groaned. "Do I have to?" he complained.
"You most certainly do," Snape said easily, already taking his own seat. "Remember what I said yesterday. Trust and knowledge of your thought patterns are very important to make this entire enterprise succeed."
"I still think you might be making that up," Harry mumbled. "Or exaggerating it at the very least."
"Sit down, Mr Potter," Snape ordered.
Even if they had been jesting just a moment before, that tone of voice reminded Harry that he was, in fact, talking to Severus Snape. The dungeon bat of Hogwarts. This was not a man that liked to be crossed and when he gave you an order, you would do well to follow it.
He sat down, staring stoically at Snape with folded hands. The man steepled his fingers much as he had the day before and watched Harry carefully for a moment before speaking.
"The first memory," he said. "As you probably realised, I sparked it by using the boomslang skin as a catalyst."
"That was pretty Slytherin of you," Harry mumbled.
"Since you had the presence of mind not to think of anything but the present, I had no choice but to show you how easy it is for your enemies to prompt anything they'd like as soon as they get past your walls. Had you shown me a completely harmless memory from the beginning, I might not have been able to find out what I wanted to know so easily."
"But I didn't know what memories might follow up on what I would show you," Harry argued. "I thought it was better not to show you anything at all."
"I presume you now understand the folly of that?" Snape asked. "Not only is it easier for a Legilimens to extract what they wish to know this way, but it also sends the message that you know some Occlumency. Something we would both prefer the Dark Lord knows not."
"I understand," Harry said.
"Don't look so put out, Mr Potter," Harry then said. "I keep my promises. I will not use the knowledge of your theft against you, though I am curious what you hoped to gain by transforming into Messrs Crabbe and Goyle. Care to enlighten me?"
Harry smiled thinly. "We were trying to get into the Slytherin common room," he replied. "We were trying to find out who was the real heir of Slytherin. We thought it was Malfoy."
"You quickly recognised your own folly, I presume," Snape drawled.
Harry nodded. "Though we weren't entirely off. His father was the one who started it."
"Not to Draco Malfoy's knowledge, I think," Snape countered.
"No," Harry acknowledged.
"The way you cancelled that memory was rather well done, I must say," Snape then continued and Harry looked at him in surprise. "It's an appropriate defence when ensconced in memories that aren't particularly emotional. Though I assure you that it wouldn't have worked on the third one."
"No," Harry said softly.
Snape sighed softly, almost imperceptible but Harry noticed. He chose not to mention it, though.
"First of all, I feel the need to point out that it was not my intention to spark anything like that," Snape said. "I used water because you had blocked your own vision."
Harry nodded dumbly.
"It took you a while to find my presence," Snape then said. "But eventually you realised where I was. Tell me, was it because you knew the rubber duck didn't belong or because you sensed a different energy?"
"Aunt Petunia doesn't like rubber ducks," Harry said.
"Ah," Snape said. "As I expected. While that works just as well, that particular course of action won't work when the memory is somewhat vaguer. Or perhaps when it plays out someplace you don't know as well. You will need to work on identifying foreign energies as well and the first step to do that is by recognising your own. We'll work on that next time."
"Yes sir," Harry said. Hoping that was the end of it, Harry moved to get up but Snape held up his hand.
"We are not done here, Mr Potter," he said.
Harry sighed heavily. "Is this really necessary, sir?" he asked.
"Yes," came Snape's curt reply. Knowing better than to fight the inevitable, Harry sat down properly again and looked at the Potions Master.
"Your relatives are horrible people," Snape said matter-of-factly. "What had you done to elicit such treatment?"
"Accidental magic," Harry muttered, not wanting to get into the details.
"You understand that nothing warranted such vile behaviour, I hope?" Snape asked. Harry was surprised not to hear pity in that voice. Somehow, it bolstered him.
"I suppose," he said uneasily.
Snape sighed and ran a hand through his hair. A sign of unease that he never showed in class. "I wish you would understand, Mr Potter, that those muggles abused you for no good reason. Not that there is ever a good reason for such things, mind you."
Harry fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, really not wanting to have this conversation.
"I truly wish you would talk to someone about this. I understand that I might not be your first choice but surely your head of house –"
"What's there to talk about?" Harry snapped. "They hated me ever since I was dropped on their doorstep because I'm responsible for my parents' death. They were probably always afraid that the same would happen to them and who could blame them, really? People always end up hurt around me. Even you almost got killed by Remus!"
Snape seemed to flinch back a bit by that statement before regaining his composure. "The consequences of my own actions are not yours to carry," he said easily. "You didn't force my hand to be there nor did you instil in me the duty to protect the students of this school. It is foolish to take the blame for such things."
Snape looked him over carefully before continuing. "But I can see that those muggles nurtured that kind of thinking, didn't they? To think that I ever thought you arrogant…"
"Sir?" Harry said carefully. "I really don't want to talk about it right now, alright? But I – I promise that I'll give it some thought."
Snape regarded him carefully. "Very well," he said eventually. "Make sure that you do. And keep your schedule clear for next Tuesday evening."
"Yes sir," Harry said. He got up and was about to leave when he remembered that Crabbe and Goyle had something planned that evening. He lingered in the doorway looking back at Snape who returned his stare easily.
He wanted to tell Snape. He really did. But it was no secret that the man favoured Slytherin. And if Harry told him that he had basically been eavesdropping on members of his house… no. He needed to take care of this himself. He didn't want to endanger the rapport he and Snape had built so far. However small and awkward it was at the moment.
"Was there something more you needed?" Snape asked after a long moment of silence.
Harry smiled and shook his head. "No sir," he said. "Thank you for these lessons."
"There's no need for that," Snape said dismissively. "I'll see you in class, Mr Potter."
Harry nodded and took off, rushing to get back to Gryffindor Tower.
Tonight at midnight. That's when it was going to happen. Whatever it was. But Harry would not allow it. If those two numbskulls were behind the disappearance somehow, Harry would stop them. Because no matter how you looked at it; in the end, these things always seemed to be up to him.
Next chapter you'll finally find out what those Slytherins are up to. Tune in again on Friday and don't forget to review! Haha, thanks for reading.
