A/N: Hi, here's chapter 4. Lupin, who is beta reading this story, is a saint. Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed me so far :) To answer a very popular question: There will be R/H eventually, but you are going to kill me because of both how long it takes to happen and how it turns out at the end.
Chapter 4
Harry tried to pack for the third and final time. It had been a good last day at Hogwarts; breakfast and lunch were tasty, and the end of the year speech had been especially moving. He sat back and remembered the morning with a pang of longing.
"…And it has been a great honor to Hogwarts to school possibly three of the bravest young wizards in history, and to present them with the Order of Merlin, first class. Hermione Elizabeth Granger, Ronald Franklin Weasley, and Harold James Potter, please stand and accept this great honor." The hall exploded into applause; even most of the Slytherins, and yes, Draco Malfoy, were clapping, albeit grudgingly.
"…Go forth and help the wizard world, strive to make a difference, not just for yourselves, but for the people around you. Remember the sacrifices made by those before you, and by those among us today. Do your best to honor the memory of those who gave up their lives to ensure the freedom that you now have ahead of you in yours. Look to the future, and try to make it your own…"
By the end of the speech, Hagrid had been crying like a child a 16th of his size. When he saw Harry afterwards, he had grabbed him into a giant hug and made him reaffirm his promise that he would indeed write at least once a week, and visit at least once a year. He had continued to blubber about how he was leaving for so long that Harry began to tear up himself. Harry would definitely miss Hagrid.
Incidentally, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle entertained many with their forced rendition of "Wannabe" by the Spice Girls.
Now here he was, packing and preparing to seize his summer with the Dursleys, who were sure to ensure that having an Order of Merlin wouldn't go to his head. Remembering the wetness and/or pain he had experienced the last two times he packed, he refrained from making any rash actions motivated by frustration. Instead, he concentrated on neatly folding every item of clothing he owned so that it would actually fit in his trunk and allow it to close uninhibited.
At that moment there was a knock on his door and Harry walked over to answer it, wondering vaguely who still held the formality of knocking. However, the door was opened before he could reach it and in bounded a rather flustered and excited looking Hermione. Harry stopped and looked at her curiously.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
She grinned and flung a newspaper at him, which he caught. He saw the 3-inch headline and was rendered speechless:
PETER PETTIGREW, ALIVE AND GUILTY
16 years ago, one of the most notorious betrayals in all of wizarding history occurred when Lily and James Potter were murdered by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. They had performed the complex Fidelius charm and were thought to be using Sirius Black as their secret keeper. He betrayed them and divulged their whereabouts to You-Know-Who, after which he fled the area to avoid being found by his former friends.
After the Potters were killed, Peter Pettigrew was seen in confrontation with Black on a public street, but being no match for him he was literally blown apart by an extraordinarily strong curse, which also killed 12 other people.
Or so the world thought.
Pettigrew was found in the company of several former Death Eaters on Tuesday evening, apparently planning to seek and revive He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. After a struggle, he was brought in for questioning. The results of the interrogation were utterly shocking.
First, Pettigrew tried to get a reduced sentence by offering to name several Death Eaters who had not been apprehended. Then when questioned on why he was still alive, he would only say incriminating statements against Sirius Black
"…He forced me to do this…he's a murderer…"
The suspicions of these circumstances were only heightened after Sirius Black himself offered to turn himself in if he were given a fair trial and a chance to explain what had really happened on that fateful day, 16 years in the past.
According to Black's testimony (given on Thursday), he was not the person the Potters selected to be their secret keeper; at his suggestion, they chose Pettigrew. Pettigrew proceeded to betray their whereabouts to the Dark Lord, and went into hiding in a Muggle area. When Black learned of the betrayal, he immediately went to seek revenge for the murder of his friends and confronted Pettigrew on a public street. Pettigrew knew he could never prove to be a match for Black in a duel, so he used possibly his only asset to his advantage: he is an unregistered animagus. He yelled how Black had betrayed his friends, performed the curse that killed 12 behind his back, cursed off his finger (the biggest part of him that they found intact after the incident), transformed into a rat, and scampered away unopposed. When confronted with this story, Pettigrew unexpectedly broke down, confessed his involvement in the murder of the Potters, and begged for the chance to reduce his term in Azkaban by naming Death Eaters.
The Daily Prophet could reach neither Pettigrew nor Black for comment, but, after keeping the story from the press for four days, the Ministry released a statement concerning Sirius Black:
"We regret the rash decision we made to put Sirius Black in Azkaban without a trial. He has received a full pardon and our personal apology, along with some additional compensation."
This reporter has never seen such a drastic change of events. The story will be continued tomorrow when more information is at hand.
Harry sat down on his bed, still speechless. He heard a tapping on the window, and saw an owl trying to get in. After Hermione opened the window, the owl swooped in and landed beside Harry's legs with a small letter in its talons. Harry gave it a bit of bread he kept in his room for such occasions and, hands shaking, unfolded the note. Out fell a clipping of the Daily Prophet article he had just read, and he read the one-sentence letter with more joy than he had ever read anything in his entire life:
Harry,
Meet you at the train station.
Love,
Sirius
Harry suddenly jumped up and began to pack with more earnest than he had ever packed before.
"Well?" Hermione asked, a little irked that she had been virtually forgotten.
"I'm living with Sirius now!" Harry glowed, dropping his final items of clothing into his trunk and closing it with glee. Hermione smiled in relief.
"Good. No, great." He gave her a hug influenced by pure joy.
"Thanks for bringing me the article, Hermione," he said.
"I didn't think you'd seen it yet and you hadn't mentioned anything about Sirius owling you about what was going on."
"Knowing him, he probably wanted to keep it a surprise or something stupid like that," Harry replied, gathering clothes from the floor.
"Need help?" Hermione asked, beginning to pile things in his trunk.
"Why would I need help?" Harry asked, staring oddly at her. "I can pack for myself."
"Well, the carriages leave in 10 minutes."
"Oh, yeah, in that case…"
***
Harry continued to glow for the entire train ride home. Ron got so frustrated with his adamant cheerfulness that he threatened to kick him if he didn't stop. Harry had just shrugged and grinned, but Ron observed Hermione's glare and decided not to make good of his promise.
"Have you seen Seamus and Dean?" Harry asked Ron.
"Yeah, you?"
"Yeah, they're both going to Australia for the summer to 'have an adventure,'" Ron replied.
"Must be cool, what are they going to do?"
"I don't think they have any idea."
"Me neither, but still, why didn't they invite us?"
"They did, remember? We declined politely?"
"Oh yeah…"
"Hey Hermione, what are Lavender and Parvati doing?"
"They both got jobs at the ministry, actually," Hermione replied, "working under Percy."
"You're serious? When did he get promoted?" Ron gasped.
"I don't know, but they got their owls confirming their jobs this morning. You should find Percy in a very good mood when you get home today."
"Great," Ron muttered. "Something else to look forward to."
The train was lurching to a stop, and students were beginning to file out of their compartments and into the corridor of the train.
"Well, this is it," Harry said with a tinge of sadness. They gathered their things and stepped out of their compartment and faced the rest of the students, somber and contemplative. Their last train ride was over.
They stepped out onto the platform into the masses of anxious parents and younger siblings, almost losing themselves in the bustle.
"I'll see you soon," Harry said, hugging Hermione (and even Ron, briefly of course). Ron and Hermione hugged as well, and the three promised to owl each other as soon as they got back to their respective homes. Hermione, who was going to try for the apparation test in the weeks to come, promised to visit them as soon as she did, and also help them with their apparation tests if they needed it.
Ron soon spotted his family, hugged Hermione again, gave Harry a good-natured slap on the back, and was off. Hermione found her always-nervous parents next, hugged Harry yet again, and was gone as well.
Harry was alone and looking, but he couldn't see him anywhere. Then he had a thought: what if the Dursleys arrived before Sirius did? He couldn't stand the notion of one more second with them; 16 years of torture had been quite enough. His heart fell into the pit of his stomach as he saw none other than Uncle Vernon with the same horrible look on his face (as always), standing near the door to the station. Harry slumped and sat on his trunk. Why?
Then, he saw another familiar face, no, the familiar face, standing anxiously behind Uncle Vernon, eyes scanning the crowd for none other than he.
Harry grabbed his belongings and began to run toward Sirius and Uncle Vernon, who was looking as thought Harry was a dog with an unusual deformity. He looked even more frightened as Harry got closer and closer. Sirius finally saw his godson and ran to meet him. Harry dropped his things and they embraced in a hug, not noticing that Uncle Vernon had been pummeled with Harry's speeding luggage cart.
"I'm so glad you've been acquitted!" Harry exclaimed.
"Really?" Sirius laughed. "I can finally fulfill my godfatherly duties and rid you of those horrible Dursleys!"
Harry stifled a laugh as Uncle Vernon let out a small squeak from the floor next to them. Sirius grabbed Harry's luggage cart and proceeded to walk out of the station with Harry closely behind him; they both blatantly ignored the beefy man with a large mustache and no neck staring after them, shocked.
They walked to Sirius' car (one of the ministry's "compensations" to Sirius), and Harry asked,
"Why didn't you say anything to my dear old uncle?"
"Didn't want to have to start something that would be illegal to finish," Sirius replied, opening the door. "Besides, I don't think you'll ever hear from him again."
"Me neither," Harry grinned, buckling his seatbelt.
Sirius' tone suddenly changed and he looked anxiously at Harry. "Listen… home isn't much… to be honest, it's old and grubby and filled with junk from the previous renter. I didn't have that much money, only the savings I had left and money the ministry gave me to make up for the 16 years that they sucked away from me. That and I only had a day to look for somewhere to live. I have a job at the ministry now, actually," he continued. "They've got me on as an emergency auror. The pay's fair enough, and living will get better soon, I promise, and—"
"Sirius," Harry interrupted, "I wouldn't care if we were living off of rats in that cave by Hogsmeade that you used to haunt, so come off it."
Sirius looked relived, and started the car. There was a comfortable silence prevailing for most of the way to Harry's second real home.
***
For Harry, life with Sirius was the equivalent of a very pleasant haze from which he did not want to be disturbed. They slept late nearly every day and then ate breakfast together, reading alternating sections of The Daily Prophet and making casual comments on news stories and Quidditch games. If it was a day Sirius was on call, they might sit around the flat where Harry would assist Sirius in his newfound love of cooking by tasting his concoctions, or go down the street to the local pub. There was also the flat to clean out and decorate according to the tastes of two males, one 17 and one 38. Of course, throughout whatever they were doing there would be the constant flow of conversation to make up for the years that were missed. If Sirius was off, then more exciting things could take place (i.e. they could leave the general area). He definitely made up for lost time in that department; whenever there was a Quidditch game in England they would go, and he even taught Harry how to apparate.
He, Ron, and Hermione had all passed their N.E.W.T.'s with flying colors. Hermione had sent Harry a detailed account of her tortured existence upon having received her grades, which were apparently switched with some dolt who failed everything and went to another school. She had cried until her astute father noticed that the name at the top of the paper was none other than Herman Granger, and the next day she found out that he had achieved top scores on everything. Incidentally, Herman was rather disappointed, but life goes on.
Yes, happiness generally abounded through Harry's life that summer, and he had the best summer he could remember. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and before Harry knew it he was sitting on the roof with Sirius, watching the sun go down, and, being an adult, drinking something a little stronger than butterbeer.
"I don't want to go," Harry said resolutely.
"You're going," Sirius responded.
"I'm having the time of my life, I want to stay," Harry stated.
"You're going," Sirius replied, tone unchanging.
"I could get a job at the ministry, be an emergency auror like you…we could make the flat even better with my paycheck, and maybe even rent a better one—"
"The pay rots, and you're going."
"From what you say, I bet that dad would have let me stay," Harry pouted, using a ploy previously never known to fail with Sirius.
"Your dad would have kicked you by now, and believe me, you would have gone anyway, and with a bruise."
"But I'm serious…"
"No, I'm serious, and you're going. Pun intended, by the way."
Harry sighed and took a large gulp of his drink.
"But won't you miss me?" Harry asked, putting on his puppy eyes.
"No, I'll be glad for the quiet. What do you think, Harry? I'd like nothing more than for you to stay here… but you are going to school and getting a good job and we can turn this flat into whatever you want during your vacations." Harry smiled in spite of himself. "If you make the Quidditch team, I'll come to every game I can possibly go to, I promise."
"I know," Harry said quietly. They drank in a comfortable silence for a bit as the birds chirped and the sun sank over the chimney tops.
***
The next morning came far too soon, and Harry and Sirius apparated over to the school (on time, surprisingly). Like Hogwarts, most of the school was secured so that no one could apparate or disapparate; however, there was a room specifically for the purpose of apparating in and out (and also a room that offered regular portkeys for a small fee in order to allow students to enjoy the occasional evening out). However, they had not stopped to notice the other room; as soon as they arrived, they headed toward room 343 in Tower 7 (students were randomly sorted into towers). The school accepted roommate requests and Harry and Ron had been put together, much to Harry's relief; begin able to room with Ron would make him much more at ease in the new school.
"All settled then?" Sirius asked, surveying his godson's tiny dorm room. The college was a large castle somewhere in Canada, though he didn't know exactly where; like most wizard schools, its location was kept secret. The students they had encountered had been of all nationalities, though the French population seemed to be prevailing. Sirius was glad that Harry had been able to room with Ron; so far he hadn't been able to bring himself to trust anyone he had seen, especially the legions of French girls. He himself had had some run-ins with girls from Beauxbatons when he had been at Hogwarts…but for Harry it would be different, he tried to console himself. He's 18, don't worry, he's his own person, he's lived on his own—
"Sirius?" Harry asked, looking extremely amused at the desolate look on his godfather's face.
"Sorry Harry, I'm just…do you really want to stay home? Because you can, you know, if you want to. I would let you, I was just kidding before…"
A broad smile slowly came across Harry's face. "I'll be home every vacation," he said, "and whenever you feel like fetching me on the weekend. I did pass my apparation test last week, you know."
Sirius looked a bit gruff. "Alright," he answered, sniffing. Harry gave him a hug and told him that everything would be okay.
"Get yourself a girlfriend," he told Sirius. "Make use of the empty flat."
Sirius laughed and hit him upside the head. "If your mother heard you talking like that she'd have charmed you so that your mouth tasted like soap for a week.
"You didn't," Harry replied skeptically.
"Well, I'm hoping to make good on your suggestion." Sirius paused, ignoring Harry's laugh, and looked at his watch. "I'd better get going, I'm on call in 10 minutes."
"I'll go with you," Harry started to say, but Sirius motioned for him to stay.
"I'll be alright, and Ron will be here soon. You stay here. I'll see you... Don't hesitate to apparate back if you need anything at all…" Sirius started to sniffle again and Harry, though he couldn't help but smile at the notion of Sirius blubbering, gave him another hug before he left.
Harry barely had time to miss him; a minute after he walked out, Ron walked in, followed by Mrs. Weasley and luggage.
"Harry!" Ron exclaimed happily as Harry jumped up and joined Ron in their secret handshake. Mrs. Weasley sighed and shook her head.
"Hello Harry dear, the house was so empty without you for the last month."
"I missed you too, I had fun the day I visited," he replied. "Sirius and I were spending quality time together, but maybe next summer he'll let me out of his sight for more than a day so I can visit longer."
"Oh stop lying to make me feel better," Mrs. Weasley responded, helping Ron start to unpack. "I know you wanted time with Sirius. I—"
"Okay mum, I think I'll be alright now," Ron interjected.
"Are you sure, Ron?" she asked lovingly.
"Yes," he replied, more firm than loving. Despite his tone of voice, he gave her a big hug before she left. Harry did the same, and before very long it was just like Hogwarts, except with plain beds and a much smaller room.
"So," said Ron, plopping down on his bed. "Want to go see when Quidditch starts?"
"Yeah," said Harry, eager to explore the school.
The Canadian castle they were holed up in was a rather nice school, and almost reminiscent of their beloved Hogwarts. Admittedly, it wasn't nearly as exciting; since it was a rather new building, the magic was very conventional to them and there were no trick steps, false doors, or hallways that led to different places on Tuesdays. Truth be told, they were fairly disappointed with the lack of difficulty they had getting to where they needed to go.
The Quidditch field made them both draw breaths of awe; it was a full-sized stadium with very large bleachers surrounding it, and the new goal hoops were begging to be used. There was a building off to the side that looked as if it consisted of locker rooms and other Quidditch necessities. They stood still with gaping mouths for a few seconds until a voice from behind them stirred them from their first visual fantasy, and brought them into another one.
"Nice, isn't it?"
When they turned, they encountered an extremely beautiful woman holding a Thunderbolt broom and gazing at the field. "I'm Coach Jennings, I'm in charge of just about anything Quidditch in the school." The two hormone-ridden boys stared at the Canadian beauty queen for a moment in surprised shock until Ron came out of his stupor.
"Aren't you Maggie Jennings? Didn't you play seeker for Canada?"
"Yes I did, I quit the team last year to be at home with my mother. She's ill, but getting better."
"Good," Ron continued. "I'm Ron Weasley, I play keeper, and this is Harry Potter, he's a—"
"Wait, THE Ron Weasley and Harry Potter?"
Ron looked startled and flattered that someone remembered his name as well as the great Harry's. "That's us," he answered proudly.
"Very glad to meet you both," Coach Jennings said earnestly, shaking Ron's hand and then Harry's, who was finally coming out of his stupor. "So what did you play at Hogwarts, Harry?"
"Er, seeker," he stammered, suddenly very shy.
"You're both trying out for Quidditch, I hope?" she asked as she began to walk toward the locker rooms. They followed.
"Definitely, yes!" Harry answered quickly, hoping he hadn't sounded too earnest. "Er, when are tryouts?"
"Warmups begin tomorrow, anytime from 9:00am to 9:00pm. Tryouts start next Saturday at 2:00 and run until dinner at 7:00. Teams and positions will be announced next Sunday.
"What positions are open?" Ron asked apprehensively, as he desperately hoped to make it onto a team.
"Well," she answered, "It depends on which tower you're in. Each tower has a separate team; third years automatically make the team if they played during their second year. First and second years, and third years that haven't been on the team before, have to try out. There are at least two players picked for each position for substitution purposes and also for a reserve team."
"I'm in Tower 7," Ron responded. "Any keeper spots open for Tower 7?"
"Yes. I coach that tower's team, actually." Harry's stomach gave a small leap at these words. "And I think we have a seeker position open as well, so you both have fighting chances."
Ron nodded, but he still looked a little worried despite the reassurance.
"How are the tryouts run?" Harry asked, managing to find the strength necessary to move his suddenly very heavy tongue.
"We start by testing you out on the position you want to play." She turned toward them while continuing to walk her slow, mesmerizing pace. "What do you two ride?"
"Lightningbolt," Harry answered quickly, eager to show off. She raised her eyebrows in admiration.
"Ah, third, last, and best of the ever-popular 'Bolt' series. Good choice, Mr. Potter. What about you?" she inquired.
"Firebolt," he replied a little timidly. After Sirius had bought Harry his Lightningbolt, he had insisted upon giving Ron his Firebolt. Normally he wouldn't have accepted anything from Harry, but in these circumstances he had made an exception. Besides, it had been a Christmas present.
"Also good. You two must fly well." They both reddened at the ears, but nodded eagerly. "Anyway, after the initial position tryouts we let you pick teams and then watch you play 10 minute matches against each other to see how you react in games. We let you pick the teams because we realize that you may have worked with certain people before and probably know their style, and also play well together. That, as you know, is a great advantage on the Quidditch field, especially if you're a beater," she said. Harry thought of Fred and George and knew it was true.
They had the building off to the side and were in an area that seemed to hold several offices. Names like Harris and McCollough appeared on the doors until they reached the one that read Jennings near the end.
"Would you like to sign up for tryouts now, since you're here?" They both nodded. She handed them the empty form, and they each signed their names on the top. "So, I'll see you boys tomorrow then?" she asked briskly, taking the sheet and posting it on the locker room door.
"Yes," replied Harry, dwelling on the "s" longer than necessary. Coach Jennings smiled broadly and bid them farewell.
Harry let out a sigh. "I think I'm in love," he swooned.
"Ha, you're her student," Ron grinned. "But yes, she's extremely tasty looking."
Harry just sighed again and told Ron to leave him to his delusions of grandeur.
The two approached the library in search of Hermione, and sure enough they found her surveying a bookshelf with great interest.
Ron advanced with a smile and a greeting on his lips, but Harry quickly observed a dramatic change in his friend's features; his grin disappeared, his eyes ran cold, and he stopped moving toward her. Harry shifted his glance from Ron to Hermione, and saw the cause for Ron's change in demeanor: Viktor Krum had walked over and put his arm around Hermione, and they were now having what looked like a private conversation and exchanging the occasional kiss. Harry swore he saw Ron take on a tinge of green.
"Come on, let's wait this crap out," Ron muttered venomously and sat at a table, glaring daggers at the two lovers nestled between the bookshelves. Harry looked at Ron and sighed. He wasn't going to go there.
10 minutes of uncomfortable silence later, Hermione spotted Harry and Ron sitting at a table and ran over to converse. Viktor came as well; this was his third year, and he liked the school very much, he told them. He looked forward to seeing them at Quidditch warm-ups tomorrow, he continued, and if they needed any help they could just ask him and he would do all he could to oblige. Though he wished he could stay and talk, he had to reaffirm a change that had been made in his schedule, so he would see them later. He left.
"I'm so glad to see you!" Hermione beamed.
"Obviously," muttered Ron.
"What are your schedules? Do we have classes together?" Both Harry and Ron pulled their schedules out to compare them with Hermione's. Harry had decided that he was going to train to be an auror after all, as he felt that he certainly had sufficient experience in battling the dark forces; also it was one of the only things he felt absolutely confident in besides Quidditch. Hermione had taken Dumbledore's suggestion and signed up to study to become a spell developer, which was no surprise. Ron, however, had surprised everyone by choosing to study to become a wizard pediatrician. When questioned, he painfully admitted that he liked kids and was interested in the medical field, and left it at that.
The gaps between their chosen careers left them with only three common classes: general charms, general potions, and general defense against the dark arts. Harry's other classes were all advanced defense against the dark arts, while Ron's focused mostly on healing charms and recognizing curses and illness. Hermione's classes were a completely different story as they all focused in on learning the difficult task of creating spells. It was a small program, and most applicants dropped out after their first or second years.
"I can't wait for next year when I get to take an elective," Hermione exclaimed. "I'm going to miss arithmancy this year."
"I just hope that I'm going to have time to rest. This schedule looks like death to me," Harry commented. "Hey Ron, awfully quiet aren't you?" he continued. Ron grumbled and continued to glare at Hermione, who was beginning to get a bit uncomfortable.
"Oh stop it, Ron," she finally snapped, and began to gather up her books. "I'm in room 704 if you happen to need me…I believe we're all in Tower 7. I'm going there now, as my roommate is probably more pleasant than the carrot top. See you two at dinner."
Ron waited until she had stormed out of the library before he stuck out his tongue and made a face at the spot where she had last been. Harry sighed and shook his head.
***
The next day, Harry and Ron woke early and got ready for what they hoped would be the greatest potion class of their lives. Ron seemed to have gotten over his grudge against Hermione, Harry noted, as he greeted her cheerfully in the hall with a big smile that she returned.
"At last! A proper potions class!" she exclaimed as they made their way to the room with excitement. As they passed by the defense against the dark arts classroom, Ron suddenly turned pale and rushed back to the door.
"What, Ron?" Harry asked curiously.
"Oh…nothing…never mind, probably just seeing things," he said shakily. Harry looked at Hermione, who shrugged and continued walking.
The potions class was as wonderful as it promised to be.
"What do you know, I apparently have natural talent at it!" Ron gloated happily. They meandered back to the defense against the dark arts classroom and sad down next to each other, chatting about the finer points of the elementary truth potion. The seconds ticked closer to the beginning of the class.
"…And it turns out I was doing it fine all along," Ron was saying, "No thanks to that oily git Snaaaa…" He turned white again, but more dramatically this time, and his eyes looked like they would fall out of their sockets horror.
"Well, I see the wonder triplets are still attached at the hips," said a sickeningly familiar voice from behind Harry and Hermione.
They slowly turned around in their seats. First, they saw the midsection of a thin, cloaked male, and the further upward their eyes got they were greeted with an oily smile, a sickeningly familiar face, and greasy hair. Yes, Snape's dream had finally come true; he was a defense against the dark arts teacher, even if it wasn't at Hogwarts.
"Oh, don't looked so horrified," he sneered. "Class is about to start." He drew in a breath and attained a look that made it seem as if he were about to swallow some extremely distasteful medicine. "And don't make assumptions. As much as I hate to do it, I'd like to start with a clean slate, including with you three. So take me as I come and I'll do the same for you." Snape looked as though it had killed him to give the speech, and abruptly walked to the front of the room.
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