Hiding Under the Ninth Earth
Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right
by I Got Tired of Waiting
Part II : Harry and Severus
Chapter Fifteen : A Strange Year
9 June 1997
"Potter! You couldn't hex your way out of a crib."
This was the last day of the Dumbledore's Army sessions for the year and the students were doing exhibition duelling. Harry and Draco had been going at it for some small time, neither of them gaining the advantage. Snape knew from his stance that Harry was being careful to keep them equal. Snape frowned to himself, that was about the only thing Harry had been able to control over the course of the year--he could at least be motivated by concern for other people if not for himself.
As closely as he was watching, he almost missed it when it happened. Harry's eyes narrowed in rage as Draco taunted him across the duelling line, his comments getting personal about Harry's parentage--or lack thereof. It was obvious Harry wanted to wipe the smirk off of the git's face when suddenly, as if someone had slipped a mask over his face, the anger morphed into complete triumph and his eyes dulled while his scar blazed red. The next hex coming out of his wand was not tempered and Draco went sailing through the air, bowling over the crowd beyond.
Snape reacted instantly with an inner curse and a surge of adrenaline as he watched 'Harry' dissolve the protective ward and move menacingly forward. Stepping in front of the Headmaster, wand out, Snape called, "Oh, dear gods. Albus! Move out of the way!"
He raised his wand after making sure Dumbledore was covered and yelled, "Stupefy!" Damn. Damn. Damn. He'd not thought to 'watch' Harry while in a protective ward.
The powerful spell hit the young man square in the chest, but it only slowed him down as he stalked across the room. Watching him carefully, Snape was only peripherally aware of McGonagall and Lupin pulling the younger students back to safety to give him a clearer field. He sincerely hoped the Headmaster was with them, but knew beyond a doubt he was not.
"Harry! Fight him--use your training--"
In a hissing voice reminiscent of Parseltongue, Voldemort, through Harry, interrupted him. "So sorry, Severus--Harry's a little busy right now--nice to see you again. Seems I forgot to give you a going away present--Crucio!"
Snape had already been moving when the spell caught him in the side. Arching away from the agony, a moment later saw him almost dizzy with the sudden release of pain as Dumbledore's wand swept through the stream, effectively breaking the curse.
"Thank you, Albus," he gasped as the two men split, forcing Harry/Voldemort to choose only one of them. Of course, Dumbledore was the preferred target.
Snape started moving along to Harry's back while Dumbledore and Harry exchanged a furious volley of hexes and spells, each weaving and dodging each other. "Severus, hurry--" Remus? He didn't have time to figure it out.
The moment he was out of Harry's sight, he shouted, "Legilimens--" Attacked on two fronts as he was, Harry screamed. Severus could 'hear' Harry fighting off Voldemort's control; he'd almost done it too, he was pleased to note, but had not been fast enough. Pushing his own doubts and fears sternly to the side, he found it was harder to break this hold Voldemort had on Harry than it had been in the past year; the Dark Lord had never gained such full control before because Severus had never let him. Vulnerable himself, he was unaware of his surroundings as he tried to help Harry wrestle control from Voldemort.
He dimly heard a shout--but was too far away to engage, someone else would have to take care of it. "Watch out, Professor!" He felt the curse travel up his legs, the pain beyond imagining, but he refused to let go--to do so, he feared, was to lose Harry forever. He heard another yell, female he thought--"Expelliarmus". The pain magically disappeared and he found himself staggering under at least eleven stone of boy sagging against him, sans wand, unconscious. It was all he could do to stay upright.
Panting, he lowered Harry to the ground and looked around the crowd. When he spotted her holding up two wands, he almost smiled as he said, "Twenty points to Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for quick thinking." Looking back at the boy, he noted the Headmaster was kneeling beside him as well, his hands on Harry's head. "How is he, Albus?"
Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "No physical injuries to speak of although I had to scorch him a bit at the end. Merlin, he's strong, but to answer your other question, 'he's' gone. Not a trace. And I'm afraid Mr. Potter here will have a headache worth remembering." He stood with some difficulty and looked around at the few people remaining. "Ahh, Madame Pomfrey. Not a moment too soon. Seems we have a guest for you." Dumbledore retrieved Harry's wand from Hermione and accompanied the Medi-witch as she floated Harry out of the Room of Requirement to the infirmary.
Snape watched them go, a sinking feeling in his gut. He'd failed him and now Harry had one more burden to bear.
+ + + +
Harry's thoughts lifted through a haze; he really didn't want to be here, but the quiet voices floating over his head wouldn't let him sleep. He concentrated and opened his eyes. It was dark, but not so dark he couldn't see he was alone in the cubicle. The voices must be outside then.
"Severus, when are you going to get it through that thick Slytherin skull of yours that you cannot be everything and everywhere for that boy?" Ah, that would be Remus.
"If you would use that questionable Gryffindor head of yours, you would find I don't do either," Snape shot back.
"Oh right. Then why are you so upset over what happened this evening? Hmm?"
"Lupin, it was my duty to teach him how to repulse the Dark Lord, not invite him in. I have obviously failed in that regard as much as Potter has. And tonight we saw the results of that failure--there is nothing personal involved in this as you so wrongly suggest."
"Ah, I understand, you were tired of the décor and that's why you imploded the offensive chair and shattered three of the windows after the students left. Had nothing to do with frustration, eh?"
The silence was heavy as was the sigh following it. "He's my charge, Remus, and I failed him, just as I failed the Headmaster. Harry's no more in control now than he was in the beginning. While I admit he was fighting him when I was finally able to interfere, it still wasn't enough. And Dumbledore almost got killed with my ineptitude."
"Not quite--didn't know you had such a flair for melodrama. That's not how I saw it," Remus quietly said, "I saw a young man concentrating on one frontal attack while a second one was made from the inside. Dumbledore appeared able to hold him off fairly well even if he was fighting the combined power of Harry and Voldemort, although I admit I don't think he would have lasted much longer had he been there by himself. But between you both, you were able to chase the bastard off. Seems to me that if it took the combined might of two of the strongest mature Wizards in the school to banish him, then Harry might not be blamed, nor you, for being unable to hold him off completely by himself."
Severus sounded thoughtful as he replied, "Hmph. You have a point. Perhaps we have all approached this from the wrong side. I must think on this."
Remus chuckled. "You do that, Severus. And in the meantime, give yourself a break, too. We all know how much you hate to have people see your human side, but you've done well by the boy this year, despite appearances. I know the others don't know the half of it, but I do, and you have my continued support if you need it."
"Um, well, thank you, Remus, I think." Snape's hesitancy disappeared in his next words. "Now that we've determined he'll live, I suggest we let him get on with it. After you?"
Harry heard them both leave, greatly disturbed by what he'd heard. He'd tried to kill Dumbledore? Voldemort took him over? Oh gods, why couldn't he remember?
+ + + +
In the Owlery, Harry sat in the corner on the stone steps away from the window, Hedwig calmly perched at eye-level to him. He knew he didn't have long before someone came looking for him, but he also knew that the lock he'd put on the door when he came up was identical to the one he'd removed. It would be a small while before anyone came up here by process of elimination.
He tried to fathom what had happened. "I just don't get it, girl. One minute I was duelling with that git, Malfoy, the next I was in a bed in the Infirmary." He stroked her chest with the back of his fingers while he remembered the words Snape and Remus had exchanged outside his cubicle. "If what I heard was right, I tried to kill Dumbledore." He'd waited until Madame Pomfrey had checked on him before he'd dragged himself out of the bed and made his slow way here. His head hurt.
"Seems people are afraid of me, too. Some even moved to the other side of the corridor when I passed them. It was like fourth year all over again. People stopped and stared at me in pity or worse--I know they were talking about me. I wish I could remember what I did." Hedwig hooted softly and rubbed her head on his hand.
He supposed he shouldn't be all that surprised. Over the past year, he'd not seen all that many people outside of class, just Ron and Hermione and even then he didn't spend as much time with them as he used to. Hermione was taking an extra class load in Potions, Charms, and Transfigurations in addition to her normal obsession with her regular classes. Ron was dedicated to the Gryffindor Quidditch team as Keeper and Captain and was surreptitiously preoccupied with Hermione. These things coupled with their duties as Prefects had ensured they had their own distractions. No one really knew him all that much anymore.
"You know Hedwig, this year has been really strange. I feel I'm often wandering through my life wondering what I'm supposed to do next. I can't seem to--connect--to anything I've done. I mean, my regular classes haven't been too much bother. But the extra ones have changed how I see things so much I get confused. It's all turned 'round now. Sometimes I feel closer to the teachers than I do to my friends--and I can't help but feel that's wrong somehow."
He stared at Hedwig, admiring as he always did her fine plumage and golden eyes. He sometimes wished all he had to do was deliver letters and eat owl treats. "But that's not my lot, is it? Sometimes I think I'm two people. There's Harry the student, just like any other. I go to classes, joke with my friends, eat with them, study with them, and like to prank the Slytherins whenever we can get away with it." He laughed. "Which is pretty often at that. Only Flitwick and Snape gave me detentions this year--McGonagall and the others never did--even when I was awful." He looked out the window.
"Of course, that's because of Harry, the Boy-Who-Lived, who's being trained for a destiny he doesn't want." He snorted. "He's given after-school privileges like the Prefects, even when he doesn't earn them. Except by Snape--he treats me the same regardless and, in a way, it's a relief because I never have to remember which Harry I'm supposed to be around him." He put his head on his drawn-up knees.
"I'm not as smart as Hermione. And everyone has all these--expectations." He pitched his voice like Flitwick's, "No, no, no, Mr. Potter--it's suh-FISHY-oh," followed by McGonagall's clipped tones, "'Mr. Potter, you've let the House down,'" ending with a nasal baritone, "'Pay attention, Potter!'" I mean, look at Ron. Prefect, Quidditch Captain, Keeper. He barely squeaks by on his studies and I don't see anyone telling him he's not 'trying hard enough'."
Hedwig fluttered her wings at him, tilting her head after she'd settled down. "Me? I don't get to do anything other than study and fight and--I'm so tired, Hedwig. Tired of everyone wanting something--not from me, but from the other bloke--you know, The Saviour Of The Wizarding World. Hah! Who's that? Not me, I'm thinking. I don't know who he is anymore. He doesn't live in my skin. He lives in Snape's and Dumbledore's and Voldemort's and anyone else who seems to think he has something to give them. Me? He doesn't have anything left for me."
Suddenly decisive, he continued, "If given my druthers, I would prefer to be the student Harry. But I'm not, am I?" And this, he decided, as much as his inability to see things normally anymore, was at the crux of his problems.
He'd first realised he would never be the same again, that something fundamental had changed, during the Quidditch match against the Slytherins, the second of the season. He'd been flying low when he spotted it, high above him. He'd climbed, Draco hot on his twigs and as he neared it, he'd almost lost the Snitch when he suddenly 'saw' the Schema of it. He realised that it was almost a sentient object and automatically began cataloguing it in his mind. At the last moment, suddenly aware of where he was, he'd desperately made a profoundly stupid move on a broom moving far too fast and snatched the Snitch a split second before Draco's hand closed over it. A few heartbeats later came the spectacular crash--the end buried in the ground before the shaft snapped in half throwing him end over end still clutching the remainder of his beloved Firebolt in one hand, the Snitch in the other.
After two days in the infirmary with Madame Pomfrey giving him a right twisting in one ear and Snape's silence ringing in the other, he quit the Quidditch team realising he no longer had the time, the concentration, and if truth be told, the inclination anymore. Ginny took over as Seeker and did a fine job of it--he was relieved on that score; the loss would have been unbearable if he'd left his team in the lurch. McGonagall was less than pleased, and for a few days had lectured him about his 'failed duty to his House'.
He still loved to fly, though. "I have to tell a staff member where I'm going, but that's not so bad. You know what's funny, though? When I land in the Quidditch Pitch, Snape is always there in the stands, usually with a book, to accompany me back to the school. He never talks to me, but I don't know--it's almost like First Year when he kept me up on my broom during the game and after this summer--I think the Headmaster makes him do it. I can't see him volunteering for the duty." Hedwig nipped his fingers. He had a sudden insight--maybe that's what Remus was talking about when he'd said Snape did more than he should.
"Seems I spend a lot of time with him. I mean, I never really thought about it, but I have him for four classes not to mention the time he spends when I'm with the others learning their Schema. I guess we've reached a truce--I show up, he teaches me. If I listen and learn, he's actually all right. If I don't he's a right bastard. And I have to say the classes have had gone better than I'd hoped--except the Occlumency. I don't think I'll ever get it that right."
The time spent in his studies, the exhaustion at the end of each day, the continuing nightmares and dreams, and the growing isolation from his peers all served to feed his ever-present ire as he railed against what he had to do. The rage burned slow beneath the surface only erupting in his Occlumency sessions with Snape and the occasional snipe at his friends. Otherwise he kept it under control.
He snorted. "Snape keeps telling me it's not the kind of control he's looking for. He's right, too, damn him. My control is a 'charade', as he says--three words from him is all it takes to make me lose it. I really hate him, you know. He stands there, all superior, telling me the only way I can master my temper is to either 'channel it and use it, or discard it as the unnecessary baggage it is'--whatever the bloody hell that means. But he never tries to find out why I'm like this, no one does. It's like they already know the reasons--I wish someone would let me in on it, too." Hedwig flew up to her perch and scolded him.
Harry had been aware that Voldemort was still after him. His dreams never stopped and he was only moderately successful in pushing the images away, although he was not necessarily encouraged to do so when he was passively observing without Voldemort's awareness of his presence. With Snape no longer a spy, sometimes Harry's dreams were the only thing that kept the Order informed of Voldemort's intentions and plans.
And this made him mad too. "Why do I have to be the one to watch? Why do I have to go through the pain when Voldemort tortures someone or makes another attack? It's so unfair," he sobbed to his owl, his head falling back to his knees. "Right now all I want is a bit of fair."
Hedwig, as usual, had no more answers than he did.
+ + + +
And so Harry survived his Sixth Year. After leaving the Owlery, he went back to the infirmary. Other than giving him a potion for the headache and checking him over, Madame Pomfrey never said a word about his absence although he could tell from her eyes that she was deeply worried. She allowed Ron and Hermione in to help him revise for their last test of the year, Charms, and when she found them all asleep on and around Harry's bed, she moved two of them to nearby beds and summoned soft blankets to keep them warm.
Harry was mystified as to why Voldemort had never tried to actively manipulate him until that last week and spent time dissecting the incident with Ron and Hermione after the exam, but none of them came to any obvious conclusions although the time spent did much to restrengthen their relationship. Thanks to the timely Obliviate by the Headmaster, Harry didn't remember the dark incident over the summer and such was the skill of the Potions Master that Harry never felt his presence whenever he'd severed the Dark Lord's incursions in the previous months. Years later, Severus told Harry what he'd had to do, not to receive gratitude, but to almost beg forgiveness for his own loathsome invasions.
While he didn't finish in the top 5 the way he'd started, he held his own and made respectable grades--good enough for him to continue his particular course load the next year. Hermione, disappointed in his performance despite her efforts, had hinted he might not have tried hard enough. She was treated to a full blast of his temper. If only she knew, but Harry could not tell her and the frustration in that, his anger at himself for once again losing control, and his undying gratitude for the help she'd given him made his almost instant apologies all that more sincere. By the time the train pulled out of Hogwarts, they were still friends.
Ron wisely remained silent. He had been worried about Harry all year and although he had expressed some of it to Hermione, he kept most of it to himself. He knew how little sleep Harry had, how much Harry had studied into the wee hours of the morning under the cover of his bed, and all the times he had snuck out after curfew and never served detentions for it. No, Ron had known something was 'up', but if Harry wasn't talking about it, neither would he--even to Harry.
After a week at the Dursleys to fulfil the requirements of the wards, the summer between sixth and seventh years was spent in the Order's headquarters, still in Grimmauld Place. Despite his age, Harry found himself drawn more and more into the Order, even though he was still not officially a member. He missed Sirius but found his memories fading with time to a deep regret; he stopped blaming Snape and eventually held himself fully responsible for Sirius' death, despite what Dumbledore told him. And he cherished his friends all the more the few times they were allowed to visit; he took the time to rebuild his friendship with them and it was almost enough.
Although Harry liked spending time with the eccentrics staying there better than he liked being cooped up at the school, he hated the place, especially the picture of Sirius' mother. A couple of weeks before his 17th birthday, Harry'd had enough of the painting.
+ + + +
15 July 1997
Remus Lupin shook the rain off his cloak before hanging it on the hook by the front door to let it drip in peace without him. He briefly thought about using a drying spell on it, but it had been a full moon last night and he was too tired to do more than hang it up. He shuffled into the back kitchen, wincing at the screaming portrait of his former best friend's mother, a flap of torn white fabric in her grip. He might miss Sirius, but he didn't miss the bitch who whelped him.
If he was surprised to see Snape sitting at the table, obviously waiting for him, he was good enough not to show it. There was a goblet on the table in front of him, the contents steaming with a warming spell. That it was for him did surprise him, and he was too weary to hide it. "Drink this," Snape said, pushing the goblet in his direction.
"What for?" he asked reasonably.
"Just do it--there's not much time left. You're late," Snape replied impatiently.
Remus shot his wand out of his robes saying, "Aperio". When nothing happened, he picked up the goblet and downed the contents. He flopped into the nearest chair.
Snape laughed, a full rich sound in the room. He shook his head, "Good, at least you've not burned-out your brain entirely."
Remus chuckled ruefully and then sat up suddenly. "Tell me what you feel," Severus adjured him.
"Strange--" He stopped with an odd look. "I feel a strong surge of heat flooding me--hold on, it's gone, now." Energy left his body in sharp crackling arcs dancing from his arms and hands.
Snape watched him closely. When he saw the energy flares, he commented more to himself, "I may have made it too strong. Maybe less mint?"
Remus stared at him. "What was that?" he asked incredulous.
"A little restorative I've been working on. How do you feel, now?" he asked, ever the curious scientist.
"Good, I feel good. I'm not tired anymore. A blessing, I assure you."
"You will have to let me know when it wears off and how you feel afterwards. It's just a first run and needs some adjustment, but I think it is, on the whole, a credible formula, if only to keep you from dragging your sorry arse in here after the full moon."
"I love you too, Severus," he said on a laugh. Remus became aware of the portrait's continuing harangue and realised it had not shut up since his arrival. "What's with the bitch? A bit unusual that. Usually she shuts up sooner."
Snape shook his head. "Not recently. For some reason she's actually been able to grab objects. Yesterday she caught Potter by the shirt when he passed too close. We finally had to tear his shirt to get him away. Albus says she's still benign, if noisy, but I'm not convinced--there's a decided malevolence in it."
They both jumped from their chairs at the sound of yelling from the front hallway and arrived in time to see Harry raise his wand, crying "Desinum!" at the portrait of Sirius' mother.
"NO, HARRY!" Severus roared as he moved to push Harry out of the backlash sure to follow. With a flying tackle, he knocked him to the floor, both landing heavily as they fetched up against the front door, sliding too fast across the huge puddle of water left by Remus' cloak. It saved their lives.
A gigantic gush of green flames the same color as an Unforgivable Curse shot out of the portrait in a wide arc, missing their feet by inches. Had they not slid, it would have caught them in the conflagration consuming the portrait of Sirius' mother and the wall in front of it. She was screaming in anguish, her face crackling as the magic burned the painting into ashes.
"Good gods," Snape muttered, rolling off of Harry, who was half sitting against the door in a daze. "What the hell was that?"
The question was echoed by the other occupants of the house reacting to the explosion felt all the way up into the attic.
"Oh, look. Harry killed Sirius' mother," Tonks said as she tripped down the stairs.
Moody walked up to the remains of the portrait, still burping small gouts of flame. "Aye. Certainly dead." He turned his head to look at the pair by the door. "Good job, you two. About time someone shut the auld bitch up."
Snape held up his hands, "Not me, Moody." He hooked his thumb back, "Him, all him." He looked over at Harry and asked, "Stop? A bit primitive, don't you think?" he asked drolly.
Before Harry could reply heatedly, Moody interrupted, asking, "Stop? Whatever are you blathering about, Severus?"
"Desinum--the spell he used. 'Stop,'" he chortled.
"I think I sense a wee bit of intent in this," Moody laughed and winked at Harry with his good eye. "Wanted his shirt back, he did."
Remus joined them, still not giving Harry a chance to reply, hoping he would take the hint to just laugh it off. "Damn, I wish I'd known it would be that simple. I'd've Desinum'd the bitch a long time ago."
As more laughter and comments joined the group standing around admiring his handiwork, Remus could see Harry's angry embarrassment dissolve. Harry started to chuckle; apparently it was the cue Snape had been waiting for and he said, "Yes, you have something to add?"
Harry almost choked and Remus noted the mischievous look in Severus' eyes as Harry said, "Let me see, I believe we were at 19/19 odds even. I'd say this keeps us even up."
"And how do you figure that?" Snape drawled.
"Well, one for you for saving my life." At Snape's smug nod he continued, "And one for me for saving you the effort of bitching about her anymore."
Moody recovered first, saying, "I'd say, then, that evens you up with just about everyone else if we don't have to listen to the auld sod carry on about her anymore."
Remus was not surprised Snape was the first to get the dig but was when Snape was the first to join Moody in light chuckles, falling against the door trying to get his breath. "Odds-even it is then," he remarked dryly, the subject now closed as everyone stared in shock that Snape, given his voluble penchant for 'keeping track', would release anyone, let alone 'Potter', out of his debt.