Part IV

"For surely, Thrasymachus, its injustice that produces factions, hatreds and quarrels among themselves, and justice that produces unanimity and friendship. Isn't it so?" Plato. The Republic (351d).

When Harry made his way down the next morning for breakfast, it was to a nearly empty hall. The holiday break had emptied the castle yesterday, and Fred and George had apparently left to return to their new shop in Hogsmeade. Their visit had been a great deal of fun, but given the result, he couldn't really mourn their departure.

Ron and Hermione were waiting for him in their normal spot at the Gryffindor table, talking quietly. Harry sat down with his friends, and filled his plate. He was too tired and disoriented to focus on what they were saying, and so chose to focus on filling his stomach. His head was spinning as he replayed the previous night's dream.

What caught his attention the most about the dream was the sheer pride and strength Snape had demonstrated. Who would have thought that his snarky, snarly Potions Professor would have such strength in him?

Of course, Harry knew that his view of Snape wasn't entirely fair, and had realized that earlier in the year. With age had come certain maturity, and the awareness that they all had a role to play in the conflict between Voldemort and those who stood against him.

Snape's was one of the more dangerous and vulnerable roles. He consistently put himself at risk to gather information on Voldemort's activities, knowing that should his actions be discovered, he would be killed. Even more dangerous, the fine line he walked in the wizarding world, which saw him as a Death Eater and had no clue of his acts of espionage. He risked much to provide the information he acquired.

As if his thoughts summoned the man himself, Snape strode into the hall, and made his way to his normal spot at the staff table. Harry found his eyes drawn to Snape, and watched him seat and serve himself. He couldn't pull his eyes away. Snape looked exhausted, as though he had hardly slept. Was it possible that they had shared the same dream? Harry continued to stare, until Ron's elbow jabbed him firmly in the ribs.

"Harry! Pay attention." Ron reprimanded him, drawing his attention away.

Harry turned to Ron with a questioning look on his face. Both Ron and Hermione were staring at him expectantly.

"What?" he asked, wondering what he had missed while not paying attention to his friends.

"Honestly Harry, haven't you heard a word we've said?" Hermione's frustration was evident in her voice.

"Sorry 'Mione," he mumbled, "I was thinking about something. What did I miss?"

"Ron was telling me that you woke screaming in the middle of the night. What's the matter? Did you have another… you know…" she pointed to his forehead to indicate the visions he occasionally received of Voldemort.

"Oh! No. Just another nightmare. Nothing to worry about, really." Harry quickly reassured his friends, hoping they wouldn't push him for an answer. He hated keeping things from them, but he wasn't sure how to explain that he was dreaming about Snape, of all people.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Snape standing to leave. Excusing himself quickly, he stood and followed the dark, billowing robes out into the hallway. Ron and Hermione stared after him blankly.

"Professor—" Harry called out, hurrying to catch up with Snape.

Snape stopped and turned so abruptly that Harry didn't have time to stop his headlong rush, and ran smack into him. Snape grunted at the impact, and grabbed Harry's arms to stabilize him before he fell backwards onto the floor. Harry found himself pressed firmly against Snape's front. Startled, he looked up, and his eyes locked with flashing black eyes. Something he didn't recognize moved through those eyes, something dark, and dangerous, and appealing. He was abruptly pushed away.

"Mr. Potter, if you are trying to put me back into the infirmary, might I suggest simply pushing me down a couple flights of stairs, or dropping a large piece of furniture on me? Running me down is going to do nothing but cost you points." Snape sneered down at Harry from the good six inches he still stood over the boy.

"I'm sorry Professor, but I had a question for you, and you just turned so quickly, and…."

"Enough! Must you run on at the mouth Potter? What do you need?"

"Professor, sir, I need to know what happened when you returned to Voldemort." Harry managed to get the question out in one rush, and was quite proud that he managed to not faint after asking it. Although as Snape's face darkened with anger, Harry questioned whether fainting might have been the better option, after all. Snape in a full roar was not what he needed to start his day.

He braced himself for the outburst, fully prepared for the verbal lashing he was about to receive. Eyes closed, hands clenched, he simply waited. Instead of an explosion of harsh words, he heard a deep sigh. His eyes flew open in surprise.

Snape was looking at him, and that weary expression had returned to his face.

"Must you cringe at every turn, Potter? Its not as if I go around beating you with whips, or hanging you by your thumbs at every chance." Harry chose to ignore the muttered "Although that might do you some good…" that Snape tacked on as an afterthought.

"In regards to your question, its really none of your business. Your sheer impudence in asking me indicates that perhaps you have not spent enough time in detention. We will correct that immediately. Report to my classroom at seven this evening to begin serving your detention."

"But… detention…. on holiday break… but……" Harry could barely get a word out. He couldn't believe the absolute unfairness of Snape's actions.

"Seven this evening, Potter, and be on time." With that, Snape stalked off down the hallway, his robes billowing around him.