Severus Snape stared at the little group before him smugly. "Good morning class," he said with a hint of danger to his voice. The first Quidditch match had been really early that year, and so this was the class' first potions lesson, and Snape, their professor, was feeling particularly happy. Over the summer he had set the class a homework task to actually make a potion. Since there was still the law on young witches and wizards preventing them from doing any magic outside school, Dumbledore and Percy Weasley, new head of the Department of Youngsters in the Ministry, had given Snape special permission to set the task. Each had all the right equipment, and all of their parents knew about their kids' magic abilities, so Snape saw no reason why anyone shouldn't have a cauldron in front of them on their desks.
The class mumbled a reply back ("Morning professor"), and stared glumly at their cauldrons. They were all absolutely certain that they'd failed. Even Malfoy looked slightly worried. Only slightly though. He was Snape's favourite after all.
"As you should remember," Snape began, "I set you a task to do over the summer holidays to brew a potion. This potion, as you should remember," (Snape had little faith in his students), "is a potion which has the ability to turn a person into any animal when they drink it and back again when they have another sip. If they can do so as animals." Snape chuckled at his own little joke. A few Slytherins smiled. "As I said, you can chose any animal, as long as you get a hair, or toenail, or beak or something distinctive about that animal from that animal." Snape said these last words very slowly, as if shouting at his pupils that they were thick and he wouldn't expect many of them to pass this.
He began to walk along the front row of the class at which many Slytherins sat. As he approached each person, he asked him or her to drink their own potion. The first, a girl called Pansy Parkinson, drunk hers and turned into a fluffy rabbit. Snape nodded, wrote something down and gave the rabbit a drink. Pansy Parkinson sat there again, looking dazed.
As each person got turned into their animal and back again, a queasy feeling fell into the pit of Harry's stomach. He hadn't done his. He glanced over at Ron, who was sitting to the right of him. Ron raised his eyebrows when he looked at the expression on Harry's face, then noticed he didn't have a cauldron in front of him. His eyebrows lowered into a frown and he looked away.
Ron looked exactly how Harry felt. Worried. Harry looked up suddenly to see Snape's figure above him. He was examining Neville's potion (even Neville had done it) who was sitting to the left of Harry. Harry put his head in his hands. He knew why he hadn't done it, and he didn't care. But he knew that this was a big assignment, and Griffindor would care very much if they had loads of points taken off because of it.
Snape shook his head at the disgusting pink fluffy toad that was sitting before him, and gave Neville another sip. Neville popped back into his seat and looked like he was about to cry. He knew he had failed.
The professor took one fatal step to his left, and fell upon Harry. He simply stared for a while at Harry's desk, then rose his face to meet Harry's. A cruel smile creeped its way across Snape's face. "Well, Mr. Potter? Your potion please."
Snape knew Harry hadn't done it, and what was worse, was that Harry knew that. Snape was saying this to put Harry through the embarrassing task of actually having to admit he hadn't done it, which would almost definitely lead to an argument leading to many, many, points being taken off of Griffindor.
"I haven't got it, sir," Harry said in a normal tone. He seriously, right down to the bottom of his aching heart, didn't care.
"And why not?" Snape said, putting Harry through his paces.
"Sorry, sir, but I just didn't do it," replied a casual Harry. He could feel Ron's worried stare on his face, and he felt a kick under the table, warning him.
Snape's smile grew cold. "Why not, Potter? Everyone else in the class managed it. Are you so stupid that you didn't copy down the instructions correctly?" A few Slytherins sniggered at this.
"No sir, I copied the recipe down correctly, I just didn't do it." Harry shrugged. "Sorry sir, but why don't you look at Ron's now? You've got to admit this conversation is getting a bit boring."
Everyone (even the Slytherins, especially the Slytherins) gasped loudly at this. They knew Harry was a bit of a troublemaker, like most people at Hogwarts, but he was HEAD-BOY. Wasn't he supposed to be the one they all looked up to? The one with all the responsibilities and everything?
Snape's face glared angrily at Harry. No, his expression had gone beyond anger. He was furious. "Harry Potter, you will not speak to me like that ever again!" he yelled. Harry didn't flinch. "20 points will be taken from Griffindor," Ron kicked Harry under the table again, "and there'll be more taken if you don't show up at the detention I'm setting you to do this work!" Snape cooled down a bit, and there was such silence in the dungeon, that everyone could hear a rat scurrying in the wall. They were all waiting for Harry's reaction. Even the rat had stopped scurrying, probably to listen.
Harry breathed deeply. But Snape continued. "You are a useless, worthless little boy," he whispered. "I hope you don't still think you're 'special'," Harry grinned to himself at his secret knowledge of his fire trick. "Because you're not. And don't think that just because you're little friend died," Snape practically spat the word out, "it means I'm going to act any different on you, because I'm not."
Harry was wreathing in anger by now. He was so angry his fists were clenched tightly under the table and had turned white. He was shaking in anger all over. Slowly he stood up and looked Snape straight in the eye (they were roughly the same height). "Ok."
Snape looked confused, then realising he'd fallen into Harry's trap, frowned again. "If that's how it's gotta be," continued Harry, "then that's the way it's gonna be."
"Go to the Headmaster's office!" Snape yelled, pointing at the dungeon door.
Harry grabbed his bag and walked steadily over to the door, not bothering to argue. He left his notes from the lesson on his desk, knowing he wouldn't need them ever again.
Harry lay on his bed shaking and crying. He was holding a picture of Hermione in his hand, and she kept waving and smiling at him, twirling around.
Oh Hermione, why did you go? Why…it should've been me who died that day, not you…it was me Voldemort wanted. It's all my fault… It's all my fault…
Harry dug his head into his pillow and cried and cried and cried. He didn't think he'd ever stop. He hadn't cried for Hermione since the day she died. He'd wanted to be strong for Ron and everyone else. Soon after Hermione's death, he'd been to see her parents, wanting to be the first to tell them. Her mother had cried in his arms, and her father fainted on the ground. When they had partially recovered from the shock, he explained to them about Voldemort. Harry could still feel the push as Hermione fell on him, protecting him from Voldemort's wrath. Harry could still hear Hermione's screams as Voldemort's curse ran through her body instead of his, killing her. He could still see her lying on the ground, reaching out her hand for Harry's. He could still feel the coldness that swept through his hand as he gripped hers furiously, begging her not to die. He could still remember Hermoine's last words as she clung to his hand with every last ounce of strength: "I love you Harry…"
"Harry?" A voice sounding like Ron's interrupted Harry's memories and brought him back to reality. His curtains were shut tightly, and Ron's voice had sounded like he was asking permission to be let into Harry's life.
Harry didn't answer. He lay on his bed silently, waiting for Ron to go away. He didn't. Harry felt the spring of the bed next to him move and a body lie down onto it. He knew Ron was waiting, patiently, for Harry to speak.
Harry didn't speak. Their beds were close together, so instead, Harry reached a hand out of his curtains, keeping them closed, knowing that Ron's were probably open, and felt a warm friendly grip take it.
That night, as Harry and Ron ate their spaghetti at the Griffindor table in the Great Hall, Harry could feel a thousand eyes all giving him attention at once. There was little noise, but instead whispers, most likely about what had happened in the dungeons that morning. The only downside of Hogwarts, was that news spread around quickly, and there was nothing you could usually do to stop it.
Harry had calmed down since his Potions lesson, and decided to ignore the whispers, laughing with Lavender and Parvati about a certain something that some certain somebodies had done to the Slytherins a few days ago. Dean, Seamus and Ron were all grinning stupidly as they were complimented on turning all the seventh year Slytherins' hair bright pink. As Harry looked over at the Slytherin table, he noticed that the seventh years were huddled together at one end of the table, whispering furiously. Probably planning their revenge. Their hair still had a red tinge to them, despite obvious efforts to undo the spell.
Ron grinned at his mate as he watched Harry laughing, no worries. But then he remembered Harry's white fists and suddenly felt a little scared. Harry was dangerous when he was angry. Everyone knew that Harry was the best, even if Harry hadn't quite realised it himself yet. He was special, contradicting what Snape had said, and Snape knew it as well, and it angered him. But Ron was worried; Harry was a brilliant wizard, which was why he was Head Boy, but he didn't know. He needed to know. If he didn't he'd never be able to control his pain.
Ron made a mental note to speak with Dumbledore about it later. Maybe he'd know what to do. Maybe he already realised. Harry's breakdown that morning could have resulted in much worse situations, especially for Snape, but for Harry as well.
As he and Ron finished up, and just as Ron was beginning to see a new light, Dumbledore strode over to their table. Ron and Harry exchanged worried glances, and Harry rose to meet the Head Master. He knew it was about him, and Dumbledore smiled at this gesture, and turned around, walking away. Harry followed him, and so did all the silent heads in the room.
Various thoughts sped through Harry's mind as he followed Dumbledore down the corridors leading to his office. One was: will he expel me? Another: I don't care anyway. And the last: what would Hermione say if she were here right now? Harry shook his head in shame. There had been no need for him to speak to Snape like that. If he remembered; his own father had saved Snape's life. Therefore he couldn't be all bad. But the reason Harry hadn't done the potion was simple: he'd been meaning to go over Hermione's for a bit in the summer so that she could help him with it; his uncle, Vernon Dursley, was furious with the fact that Harry had found out he was a wizard those seven years ago, and had tried to refuse to let him go to Hogwarts; so he wouldn't have let Harry do the potion in his house. That was why Harry hadn't done it; because his girlfriend who was supposed to have helped him with it died. Simple.
As Harry gathered these whirling thoughts together in his mind, he realised that Dumbledore had already uttered the password to his office, and was already climbing the stairs that appeared in front of them. Harry walked up after him, not sure whether he should be feeling sad, angry, or scared.
Dumbledore went into his office and waited for Harry to pass through the door before he shut it firmly behind them. Without speaking (no one had spoke so far), Dumbledore motioned Harry towards a chair in front of the desk. Harry sat on it. Still no one said anything. Dumbledore walked behind his desk and sat on the broad oak chair that sat there.
Harry didn't look at Dumbledore. He simply looked at a bookcase to his side. Thinking. Dumbledore also seemed to be thinking about something. Maybe about how to break the news to me that I have to be expelled, Harry thought, expressionless. He still hadn't decided yet whether it really mattered or not. But Hogwarts had been like a home to him. No; it was his home. He just went somewhere every summer as a punishment away from home. Like obedience school or something.
Harry decided he should speak first. Maybe Dumbledore hadn't decided yet. So Harry, without turning to face Dumbledore, still with little expression in his face or tone, said in a steady voice: "Sorry, sir." Dumbledore said nothing, just continued to stare at Harry. Harry was too scared to face Dumbledore; by doing so, he would have to look into the Head Masters eyes, and he really didn't want to see disappointment in them.
"Maybe I should've done the potion," Harry said aloud, more to himself than to Dumbledore. "It was an easy one after all. I could've done it on my own easily. Vernon and Petunia wouldn't have had to know. I could have done it at night or something. But, Hermione…" Harry stopped, chewing over his words carefully, making sure what he said didn't make him cry. That was the last thing he needed; to break down in front of Dumbledore. "She always helped me with things. Se was always there for me when I needed her help. But, when she needed my help…" Harry stopped again. He could've saved Hermione. He didn't. And now it was too late. Harry rested his head on one hand.
There was a moment's silence, before Dumbledore finally spoke. "Harry," he started. "In the past, I chose to ignore a few things you should not have done. Maybe even things you should have been expelled for." Harry gulped. "Because I know that you are a good wizard, Harry. In all the ways one can be. In the brain, and in the heart." Dumbledore paused, and Harry finally turned to look at him. He was surprised to see nothing in Dumbledore's eyes. They weren't twinkling at him, but they weren't reigning in disappointment or flaring in anger either. Dumbledore continued. "Harry, you are Head Boy. You are what the rest of the school look up to. The Head Girl, Rebekah Pigsneth, has been a great example of this.
"Harry, we all know what you've been through. The rest of the school is in sorrow for Hermione's untimely and unfair death as well; but I did not realise that maybe your heart would go through so much pain." Harry was a little surprised at these words. Dumbledore breathed deeply. "You have to learn to control your emotions, Harry. They are part of what makes you a great wizard. But you need to learn to control them, or they could be just as dangerous as they are good."
Harry was going to speak, but couldn't. He didn't know what to say other than: SO AM I EXPELLED OR NOT? JUST TELL ME! As though reading his mind, Dumbledore smiled wryly. "Harry, I'm not going to expel you. Nor am I going to take away your position of Head Boy. I believe that you are strong; so much stronger than anyone else in this school. Anyone else who had their hearts broken as deeply as yours would surely have not come back to finish their final year. But you came back. You are strong, Harry. And that's good for other people to see and be able to look up to."
Harry still didn't know what to say. Part of him was utterly relieved, which brought a little smile to his face. But part of him was still too depressed to care, which slowly brought the smile away again. Harry looked up at Dumbledore's face and felt there was more, and so he waited patiently.
"Harry…" Dumbledore started slowly, but then he shook his head. Dumbledore rose to his feet and so did Harry. Without speaking, Harry turned and left; worried in the silence that floated around Dumbledore that there was something he wasn't telling him.
Harry walked into the common room, and about ten people swamped him. "Well? Are you expelled?" asked Lavender, biting her lip. Harry looked at all the worried faces and sighed, shaking his head and looking down.
"Dude…" started Ron. "I can't believe…" He stopped suddenly. There was a slight twitch to Harry's mouth. Suddenly Harry's lips broke out into a grin. "Harry!" Ron punched him on the shoulder. "Don't do that. We all thought you'd be expelled for sure! You've never done anything this bad before!"
"What did Dumbledore say?" asked Lavender, frowning. "I mean, we all know you're his favourite," Harry blushed slightly, "but…you should've been expelled! Someone like Malfoy would've been."
"Lavender, why are you worrying? We should be celebrating! Our Head Boy's staying after all!" Ron grinned and led Harry over to a table with bottles of butterbeer on it. "It was either going to be a farewell party or a celebration party," Ron explained, as he led Harry over with one hand on his back.
"I'll tell you later," Harry whispered into Lavender's ear as he passed her. Lavender nodded and took a butterbeer.
A/N: ok, any sad losers out there who says male best friend cant hold hands in times of need, just go away, ok?!!! r&r plz
~rowan
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