Chapter 22
As he pushed himself forward, Snape found no resistance, but that was only to be expected. The boy was just like his father: arrogant, and far too lazy to ever learn something like Occlumency. He ignored the fact that the boy barely resembled James Potter at all and had eyes somewhat like Lily's in favour of forcing his way onwards into his mind, ready to discover what secrets lay within his thick skull.
There was nothing. Sure, he had expected the son of James Potter's head to be a bit empty, but this? This was impossible. Nothing but blackness surrounded him.
And then there was a flicker on the edge of his vision. Immediately he was spinning around, only to come face to face with- "Lily," he gasped. She stood before him, beautiful as the day he had last seen her, with tumbling red hair, and green eyes filled with...disappointment.
"Why, Severus?" she asked, and his mouth went dry at the sound of her voice, so lovely, yet filled with sadness.
"Why have you failed me? Why must you be so cruel to my son? How could you ever think this was what I would have wanted?" He felt his eyes begin to water as walls that had remained up for over a decade began to crumble. "You loved me, didn't you, Severus? Did you think this would make me love you?" Her eyes glistened with viridian fury. "Well, I'll never love you. I hate you," she hissed. "It's your fault James is dead! It's your fault Harry's an orphan! It's your fault I'm dead! How could you ever do this?"
Snape clenched his eyes shut, for he knew it was true, and he regretted his decision every day. If only Lily hadn't loved James. If only she hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor. If only he hadn't called her a mudblood. If only he had not informed the Dark Lord of the prophecy. If only his betrayal hadn't resulted in her death….
When he opened his eyes again, he was still staring into green eyes, yet now they were set in a handsome, smirking face, vaguely reminiscent of James Potter.
The classroom was silent now, but for the sound of his wand clattering to the floor as a single tear traced its path down his face, however much he ordered it not to.
"Class is dismissed." Nobody moved. "Class is dismissed!" he roared, and every was instantly packing away their things and moving towards the door.
For a moment, he contemplated going after the Potter boy, but what would be the point? Even in this state, he knew an attack on a student could mean imprisonment in Azkaban - or worse. Instead, he collapsed into his chair, locked the door, and reached for a bottle of Firewhiskey. And thus came another long night of contemplation and regret.
Normally, Harry would be unable to enter a mortal's mind. The unorganized clutter of their thoughts would result in his inhuman magic attempting to perceive all of them at once and failing. He found a great irony in the fact that Snape's mental barriers - designed to prevent intrusion - had solved that problem for him. They organized the man's thoughts and memories, making it much easier for Harry to go through them. Granted, they normally would have protected the man from any other telepathic illusion; once he had been given a direct connection to his target's brain, however, they hadn't stood a chance.
Allowing Loki to take control, he had rooted through the memories and thoughts at the forefront of Snape's mind, finding things that were rather...interesting, to say the least. From there it had been easy to allow Snape into his mind, diverting him to Loki's territory, where the god had proceeded to emotionally destroy him. Sure, they could have crippled him or driven him insane, but this was much more satisfying.
Tearing someone apart was good and all, but much more amusement could be derived from watching him do it to himself. Snape would also likely be too embarrassed by it to report it to Dumbledore, so it also avoided any risk of punishment.
Harry was slightly saddened by that having been the last class of the day. After all, he had only been able to mentally bamboozle two teachers, torturing one with the image of his own dead mother. That was odd, now that he thought about it, but he wasn't exactly normal anyway, and certainly wasn't averse to using memories of the parents he didn't care about to cause immense pain to a man - and one who had worked for Voldemort, at that. That said, Harry didn't really care about that. In some way, he owed both Snape and Voldemort, else he would have been a weak Gryffindor without Loki at his side.
He had made the decision not to attend any more classes - for the moment, at least. If he continued to do things like this to teachers, it would result in him being called up to Dumbledore's office again, and he certainly had no desire to return. The man might've appeared benevolent to the wizarding world, but Harry sensed that he had an ulterior motive where he was concerned, and there still wasn't any confirmation that he hadn't been the one to put his name in the Goblet of Fire.
In short, the annoyance talking to Dumbledore brought outweighed the fun gained by literally messing with people's heads.
And so, it came time to actually begin preparing for the first task. He and Loki had already decided that they would have to kill their dragon in a suitably dramatic manner, as to impress the wizarding public. The hard part was doing that without dying. Luckily, he still had the sword from Gringotts. It would make him appear heroic and brave without forcing him to reveal his wand could turn into a spear - something he wanted to save for emergencies.
That said, he didn't actually have any skill at sword fighting, but the dragon probably wouldn't either, so that would be fine. Then again, he couldn't breath fire - no matter how much he wanted to - so that evened things out.
After a while of strategizing how to defeat said beast, Harry decided to go to dinner in the Great Hall. It would be amusing to see what rumours about him the day's events had influenced.
A few minutes later he entered the hall, and soon after that found himself sitting at the Gryffindor table. Once again, he was near Ron, and wasn't exactly surprised when the boy asked, "So?"
It wasn't exactly much of a stretch to guess what he was talking about, but nonetheless, Harry raised an eyebrow and repeated, "So?"
Eager, Ron leaned forward. "So what did you do to Snape?" he whispered loudly.
Harry contemplated what to say. Revealing that Snape was reading the minds of his students would undoubtedly deal a massive blow to his reputation, which was already pretty terrible, what with the large majority of students despising him. He would probably be fired or forced to quit, but there had to be some reason he had been allowed to keep working here for years - and it most certainly wasn't his teaching ability.
There was only one reason Harry could think of that Snape might still be teaching: Dumbledore. At the moment, he didn't want to piss Dumbledore off, so he would leave it for now. If Snape decided to tell him, however….
It was certainly annoying that he couldn't tell Ron what had really happened, but it certainly didn't mean he couldn't ruin Snape's reputation in another way. So, with tremendous vigour, Harry began to regale Ron and those around him with the epic tale of how when Snape had met his eyes, it had caused the man's Dark Mark to flare up as a result of Harry having been the one to kill Voldemort.
His explanation made no sense whatsoever, but that didn't really matter with his current audience. He went on to describe how he had purged Snape of the Dark Lord's power, forgiving him for all misgivings as a result of having accidentally seen the man's memories of his love for Lily Potter.
The effects of this half-arsed plan would hopefully be twofold, making Harry seem benevolent and prompting people to sympathise with Snape. Harry had no doubt that Snape would hate people being nice to him far more than he would them hating him. The spreading of the fact that he had been in love with a muggleborn would undoubtedly also damage his reputation among the Slytherins. And best of all, Dumbledore couldn't possibly be annoyed at him for making Snape look nicer!
As he got to the bit where he mentally battled all of Snape's inner demons - which were, of course, a result of the Dark Lord's power, seeing as Snape had been nice all along - Harry noticed a girl staring at him. It was not in the way that the majority of girls who stared at him stared at him, with-
'Lustful awe shining in their eyes and their panties at their ankles?' Loki interrupted.
'Something along those lines.' Instead of what Loki had said, the girl appeared to be glaring at him. 'Who the hell is she?'
'I don't know a name. In the classes you attended with her, she appeared to be a rather diligent student, though. Probably a teacher's pet when the opportunity befalls her. No one really talked to her, so with the combined annoying personality and lack of good looks, I would guess that she had no friends - none that will be loyal to her, anyway.'
'Thank you for your analysis, Sherlock. "I don't know," would have done just fine.'
"Something to say?" he asked her, not giving Loki time to formulate a response to him.
For a few seconds the girl looked startled, momentarily stunned into silence, as though her glaring had been stealthy. "Well," she finally began, her tone growing confident, "it's obvious you're making this up!" Harry agreed, of course, but Snape would be forced to confirm the rumours if he didn't want him to reveal what had really happened. "Magic doesn't work that way! You can't just magically purge all the dark magic from someone's body like that. It-"
"I'm the Boy-Who-Lived," Harry interrupted in a deadpan. The girl, whoever she was, flushed red, but before she could speak, Harry continued, "You've probably never seen magic outside of a controlled environment. I can tell that Moody's lesson was probably the first time you've ever seen any magic classified as dark. Hell, you've probably never been in a fight, have you?" The girl's growing look of embarrassment was enough of an answer for Harry. "The nature of magic is volatile and random; it isn't some science to be quantified." Wizarding magic was, at least. "Otherwise, how could a baby have survived a Killing Curse from Lord Voldemort himself?"
That was something neither Harry or Loki had any idea of, and, as predicted, the girl didn't seem to either. For a moment, she appeared to be preparing to argue, but then glanced around and saw the amount of people staring at her. Apparently that combined with the fact that Harry had guessed correctly meant that she didn't particularly want to argue any more, for with a tight nod, she turned and walked away. Somehow, he guessed that the conversation wasn't over, and made a note to crush any willpower that inspired argument the next time she opposed him.
He also resisted the urge to yell, "Good riddance!" at her. It would probably disrupt the tone of his wise speech, which had indeed been very wise - by wizarding standards, at least.
Turning to Ron, he asked, "Who was she?"
"Hermione Granger, a muggleborn," Ron managed to get out between a few mouthfuls of food. "She's a proper know-it-all - a loner too. She stopped really talking to people after a troll attacked her in the first year, though I suppose her curiosity got the best of her now."
Harry stared at Ron in incredulity. "A troll attack in a school?"
He only shrugged in response and Loki gave a snort of laughter. 'A testament to Hogwarts' incredible health and safety standards. "Best school in the world!" they say.' Loki cackled, and then hummed and said, 'Hermione is most likely useless, though if she has a reputation for being smart, proving that you're smarter than her might be useful. No need to befriend her though, a muggleborn won't have any political connections, and you shouldn't hire smart henchmen - that's not to mention how annoying she would be.'
'I doubt it can be too much more annoying than having to speak to these other children anyway,' Harry said with a snort. 'And on that note, I think I'm going to leave before they trap me in another conversation.' With that, he got to his feet and headed for the doors of the hall, pretending not to hear Ron's calls asking for where he was going.
Exiting the hall, Harry found himself standing a few meters away from Fleur Delacour, for once without her band of followers. It appeared as though she might have been waiting, and he was immediately on guard. He had heard the tales of how competitive the tournament had got in the past and wouldn't be all too surprised if she tried to kill him, though doing it in an open corridor wouldn't be advisable.
"Harry," said Fleur, and from the way her accent leaked past the AllSpeak Loki was currently putting up, he guessed that she was exaggerating it. "I need to talk to you. Alone." Her tone held a supernaturally seductive undertone, and combined with her obviously fake smile, something odd was obviously afoot.
At a prompt from Loki, he decided to go along with it, allowing his eyes to glaze and mouth to water slightly as he followed Fleur. Though always keeping on guard, he didn't exactly have to fake the way he was staring at her. Even in a rather loosely-fitting robe, her movements were rather...fascinating, to say the least.
It did not take long for them to find a deserted corridor, and then Fleur turned to Harry once again, her expression slightly predatory.
'Oh no!' Harry exclaimed. 'I sincerely hope that she doesn't take it upon herself to steal my innocence! That would be most traumatizing! Especially if some of her friends help!'
'Pay attention,' Loki ordered, prompting Harry to look back at Fleur, who now had her attempt at a fake smile back on her face. That said, he didn't particularly mind paying attention to her face.
She looked up at him innocently, and asked, "So what's the First Task?"
'Well, that was entirely predictable, to be honest.' Loki sounded rather unimpressed, but she was mortal, so that wasn't really much of a surprise.
'Not necessarily,' Harry muttered indignantly. 'I'm very attractive. Like, literally inhumanly attractive! How could she settle for less?!'
'Perhaps when you aren't 14, and maybe you should talk to her?'
'No. I'm appearingly authentically stunned by her beauty.' He had now been silent for a few seconds, and Fleur had taken a step closer, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Tell me, Harry, and I shall see to it that you are appropriately rewarded."
'Seems legit, and I'll bet she's gonna give me her family fortune as well.' That said, for some reason the offer was looking rather tempting.
"I d-don't know," Harry said, a slight stutter entering his voice.
Fleur took a step forward, backing Harry against the wall and leaning over him. Her hot breath washed over his ear as she moved ever closer and murmured, "Really?" His breathing became rapid as she continued, "Please, Harry?"
As her lips brushed against his neck, Harry slumped downwards and mumbled out an answer.
Satisfied, Fleur took a step back, sneered in disgust, and then strode off down the corridor, not sparing a glance back. A few seconds after she had left, a smirk replaced Harry's previous demeanor.
'So,' he began smugly, 'how long do you think it will take her to realize that the first task isn't a broom race?'
A/N: Tell me what you thought!
