The common room was nearly empty when Harry came in. There was no sign of either Ron or Hermione. He climbed the stairs to the dormitory, drew the curtain around his bed, and closed his eyes. He hoped that no one would disturb him, he didn't feel up to talking.
After a while he heard footsteps mounting the stairs, and the drape rustled. He could feel someone looking at him.
When the rustling sound came again, he opened his eyes.
The room had gotten dark, though he could see a small light coming from the direction of Neville's bed. He guessed that Neville was going to spend another night studying, as he often had to in order to keep up with his classmates.
Harry turned toward the wall, trying to keep back his disagreeable thoughts, but it was no use, they wouldn't be banished.
It had taken him a while to process the information whirling around his head, but eventually understanding came. He didn't want to believe it, but if everything he heard was true -- and as much as Harry wanted to ignore Snape's words he didn't believe that Dumbledore would lie -- then there was only one scenario that fit.
He shuddered with revulsion.
Neville's light went out, and after a few minutes Harry heard his unmistakable snores.
He would go to the library. He would look up Polyjuice in that book Hermione had used during their Second Year. That would tell him if there was any truth to this madness.
He was halfway up when he fell back miserably.
Snape still had his cloak.
The rest of the night passed slowly. Sleep wouldn't come, and Harry lay staring at the wall until the pale dawn had illuminated the dormitory. By then he had made up his mind. He would ask Hermione to get the book for him. It was no use trying to get permission himself, but she was often given permission to use the Restricted Section. She would want to know why, of course, but he would think of something to tell her.
He got his chance when Hermione caught up with him as soon as he came down to the common room. She looked unhappy about it, but agreed to try to get the book after morning classes.
Harry dreaded going to the Great Hall for breakfast, but with Ron and Hermione already casting suspicious looks in his direction, he had to keep pretending that everything was normal.
Everything wasn't normal, of course. He felt lousy after his sleepless night, and the sight of food made him ill.
Morning classes passed without incident, although later he couldn't remember any of the material, and at lunch Hermione passed him the book. He wanted to read it immediately, but forced himself to wait until he was alone.
That seemed to be a problem. Ron and Hermione had apparently decided that he was feeling depressed, and did their best to cheer him up. For the most part this involved ceaseless chatter and not allowing him to go off by himself. Before Harry knew it, it was time for afternoon classes.
He stowed the book in his bag and headed to Defense.
The class was usually interesting, but that day it was punctuated by frequent remorseful looks from Lupin. Harry tried to focus on his book and ignore him, but he was miserably aware of every pitying glance.
Potions was next, and Harry briefly considered returning to the dormitory. He knew he could get away with it. In fact, he was convinced that if he wanted to drop Potions altogether, Dumbledore might be convinced to allow him.
He sighed and headed for the dungeons. Professor Dumbledore had always expected him to face difficulties. It didn't matter if Dumbledore would make an exception this time, Harry couldn't make it for himself.
It was just Gryffindors in Potions that day, the Slytherins had another class.
As soon as Harry walked in he knew that Snape was in an especially bad mood.
Of course he was, Harry thought. He imagined that Dumbledore had plenty to say to him the previous night.
Strangely, though he was brutish to nearly every Gryffindor in turn, Snape seemed to ignore Harry altogether. When he had to check Harry's potion, his nose wrinkled in distaste, but he said nothing and moved on. Harry thought it had to be the first Potions class during which he had not been responsible for the loss of House points.
He watched Snape covertly throughout class. It made him ill to think that he could be related to someone so bloodthirsty, as he listened to Snape berating a girl until she looked about to cry.
There was nothing of Snape in him, Harry thought furiously. It had to be a mistake.
Class ended and when the last Gryffindor had left, Harry found himself alone with Snape.
Unable to continue to ignore him, Snape looked up.
"Why are you still here?" he demanded.
Apparently, Snape had forgotten all about detention.
"Detention," Harry reminded him before he could think what he was doing.
Snape stared sourly at him.
"Very well," he looked around, "wipe the desks and put away the cauldrons." And he stalked out of the room.
Harry scrubbed the desks for a while, but when Snape did not return he decided it was safe to take a look at his book. He had a feeling that once he left the dungeons, Ron and Hermione would make sure he had no time to himself.
He sat on the edge of his desk and opened the book. He found the right page and began to read the complicated instructions.
The information he wanted wasn't there. Maybe he had missed something. He turned back to the beginning and began to read again.
Suddenly he felt a warm breath on his neck, and straightened up automatically. His back bumped into Snape's shoulder, and he jumped off the desk in horror. How long had Snape been standing there?
"I'm flattered that you are finally taking such a keen interest in potions," Snape looked at the book now lying on the floor, and raised an eyebrow. "Now I know you couldn't have taken another midnight stroll down to the library, Mr. Potter, so I assume that someone checked out that book for you."
Harry couldn't remember if that was against school rules.
"I suggest you take it back immediately."
A very ugly smile spread across Snape's face.
"Especially since it isn't the right book."
It was Harry's turn to look sour.
"You may go," Snape told him.
Detention was not even halfway over. For some reason that made Harry angry.
"I'm not finished," he protested.
"I can see that," Snape surveyed the disarrayed room, "but I think the book takes precedence."
"You just want me to leave!" Harry said hotly.
Snape ignored this observation.
"Tomorrow you will report to McGonagall to complete your detention," he said, and made a dismissive motion toward the door. "Shut the door on your way out." He turned his back on Harry and began collecting the cauldrons.
Harry didn't move. He couldn't believe Snape was trying to get rid of him. Snape seemed to have an entirely new attitude toward him, and it made Harry furious. He would have never believed it if he wasn't experiencing it, but being disregarded was worse than being sneered at. Gone was Snape's biting sarcasm, gone the insults and the callous remarks about James Potter. . . Snape couldn't even be bothered to take House points anymore!
It occurred to Harry only briefly that for over four years he had wished Snape would leave him alone, and now that it had happened he was infuriated by it.
"You're still here," Snape commented from across the room.
Harry wordlessly began scrubbing another desk. The look on Snape's face told him that Snape thought him quite mad, but apparently it wasn't worth wasting words on.
Harry scrubbed. Snape ignored him, except for a few resentful looks, and graded essays.
Detention ended, and Harry began to stuff his books into his bag.
"One more thing, Mr. Potter," Snape stopped him. Harry thought there was a hint of the old spitefulness in his eyes.
"You might like to know that I have turned your cloak over to Professor Dumbledore. You will have to ask him for it if you want it back," Snape paused pointedly, but Harry's face was blank. "Although," he continued, clearly disappointed that Harry hadn't gotten his meaning, "in light of recent events it seems that you have no claim on it."
Harry stared at him. Maybe Snape was returning to normal. It suddenly seemed likely that it was Dumbledore who had insisted he stop badgering Harry.
There was nothing to do but leave. He gathered up his books and walked out.
He had gone only a few steps down the corridor when his anger exploded. He turned and stomped back into the classroom.
If he could have seen himself, he would have understood why Snape rose when he saw him, and took an involuntary step back as Harry marched up to his desk.
Harry's face felt hot, his eyes burned, and his heart pounded.
"You!" he was so angry his voice came out hoarse. "You are just going to ignore me!" He searched for something else to yell, but words abandoned him. He settled for slamming his fist on the desk.
Snape sat down, looking calmer now that he was reasonably sure Harry was not going to lunge for his throat. He folded his hands and leaned back in his chair.
"What would you like me to do with you?" he asked, his voice not betraying any emotion.
Harry opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again before he realized that he had no answer.
Snape continued to stare at him coldly.
"I hope that you are not as much a fool as Lupin."
"He isn't!" Harry exclaimed indignantly.
"Really?" Snape asked. "What was his purpose then, in dredging up something that should have been left buried?"
"He wanted to know the truth!"
"And now you know it," Snape shook his head in an irritated way, "and was it worth it?"
"I don't know what you mean," Harry glared at him.
Snape looked exasperated at the stupidity.
"What I mean, is that this particular truth will serve no purpose but to make life uncomfortable for as many people as it's shared with." He paused. "I suggest you keep it to yourself, and hope that fool Lupin does the same."
"You'd hate that, would you?" Harry demanded. "Having everyone find out that I'm your son?"
"I believe we've already covered that ground," an ugly grimace crossed Snape's face. "You are confused. I have no responsibility to you."
Harry didn't know what to say to that.
"You owe me the truth, at least," he hoped that he sounded convincing.
"You missed the point entirely," Snape glared down at him. "I don't owe you anything."
"Tell me why. . ." but Harry couldn't finish that thought.
"Don't ask me to tell you what would put such a perverted idea into someone's mind."
Harry felt a mad desire to throw something at Snape, but remembered in time that he had started this conversation himself.
He couldn't think of anything more to say. His anger abandoned him, leaving him feeling deflated. There was nothing more to be gained. He turned to leave.
He was at the door when Snape spoke again.
"To test her."
"What?" Harry spun around to face him.
But Snape had returned to grading essays, and didn't look up.