Harry Potter and the Serpent's Ballad
Authors Note: I like the way this one is working out so far and I hope you enjoy it as well. All reviews and criticisms, good or bad, are greatly appreciated.
Chapter 2: The Burden of Time
The room had gone deadly quiet. Harry had asked Snape the question that he had gone there to have answered. How had they gotten to where they were? What was it about Harry that inspired so much hatred from Snape, and why was Harry so prone to return it in spades. He knew now that it wasn't as simple as saying that Snape had been in cahoots with Voldemort and that was why he hated Harry. That had become more and more obvious over the time Harry has known Snape. Snape seemed to stare through him, as if into a rift in the stream of his own consciousness. Harry waited a long time for an answer, watching Snape slip further into his own thoughts.
Finally, he took a long deep breath and locked his hands together in front of him. "Well," he answered wryly, "Seeing as it seems I will never truly be rid of you, I suppose it is high time we, hmm, resolved some of our.. issues. I knew this day would come sooner or later, though I imagined it would have been at the ends of our wands."
Snape slumped back into his chair and fell silent again, and Harry watched patiently, waiting for him to say something. The conversation had already gone better then half of his mental drills had anticipated, not that that gave any indication as to how it would end.
"Your mother," Snape began slowly, instantly piquing Harry's curiosity. Snape took a long breath and shifted around in his seat. He suddenly looked as out of sorts as Harry had ever seen him. "She was perfect," he continued, "I don't say that in any sort of arbitrary or offhanded kind of way. Lily was beautiful, kind, intelligent; and as cunning as she was charming. She was everything anyone could hope for in a person."
Harry edged closer to Snape, taken in by the memories of his mother. Memories were all he had left of his parents. All his pictures and albums had been destroyed last year when Death Eaters had discovered where he was staying with Sirius. He tried to make the image of his parents materialize in his mind.
"Your father, on the other hand," Snape hissed, his face contorting to his more familiar, ominous countenance, "Was an insufferable, arrogant, troublemaker. He had it all- the looks, the charm, the skill- and of course, your mother. He was an excellent student, an unrivaled Quidditch player, and he could talk his way out of any jam he ever found himself in. Everyone hated James Potter as much as they coveted everything that he had. But I hated it him more then them all."
"So you hate me because you hated my father?" Harry chanced to ask.
"Don't try so hard to be a nitwit, Potter," Snape smiled, "Things are hardly ever that simple. Stop interrupting."
"One day, in third year, your father and his buddy, Lupin, wanted me to be their lookout while they snuck out to go to Hogsmeade. You see, that was the kind of stupid stuff they did, just because they could, more or less. Sirius Black was already in detention for trying to break into Filch's office the night before. Anyway, I refused. Why should I help him? I already despised him, and you'd think he'd have noticed, but he was oblivious and we may as well have been the best of friends for all he knew or cared."
Snape paused while he pushed his chair back and rummaged through something under his desk. He produced two packages of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans and tossed one of them at Harry dismissively. Harry examined the package suspiciously, not sure, as ever, if Snape was playing at something.
"Your father was used to getting whatever he wanted," Snape dove back into the story, spitting a jelly bean in the wastebasket with a metallic clunk, "So my refusing to help him didn't go over very well. Him and Lupin decided to have a game of keep away with my books."
Harry couldn't help but laugh out loud at the thought of his father and Professor Lupin tossing Hogwart's, A History back and forth over Snape's head. Snape didn't share his enthusiasm, and Harry was forced to wait until he felt like proceeding, watching him periodically spit a bad bean out of his mouth.
"As I was saying," Snape finally said, "With their day essentially spoiled, they decided making a sport out of me would have to do. That is, until your mother came along. She didn't tolerate that sort of behavior, especially not from James, and she ripped into him good. Your father and Lupin eventually apologized and returned my books. I was fine, but Lily fussed over me until I was safely back in my house common room. From what I understand, she didn't speak to your father for several days after that. I was fascinated and, well, smitten by Lily from that day on."
"You were in love with my mother?" Harry exclaimed, intrigued. He ripped open his package of Bertie Botts beans and dug into them like they were a box of Goobers and he was at the theater watching a especially compelling movie.
"Severus Snape, love?" he chuckled, "I've never been especially prone to that particular emotion. But I do suppose that was the closest I've ever been to loving someone, which makes the point just the same. It was fuel on the fire for my hatred of your father. Soon, the whole school thought I was at odds with James for Lily's hand. Eventually, the rumors got so out of hand, James had to say something, for the sake of his pride if nothing else."
The whole thing sounded so exciting to Harry. He hung on Snape's every word as Snape lured him deeper into the story. Snape seemed to have been taken in himself by the story, and he was more animated then Harry had ever thought he could be. There was a range of emotion hidden behind that callous exterior that was slowly seeping out, possibly without Snape even realizing it himself.
"So James approached me and asked me straight out what was going on. He was polite enough about it, but my rage had festered inside of me for so long and would not be quelled. I got right in face, nose to nose, and told him how I planned on stealing Lily away from him. I have no I idea what else I said, but eventually it was more then James could take. He challenged me to a duel at midnight by the Whomping Willow. I was no match against James with a wand, but I was blind with fury. I accepted and we both stormed off."
"No way," Harry raised a hand in protest, "My father would never have staked my mother in a wand duel."
"It really wasn't about that," Snape smiled, "I doubt either of us was thinking along those lines. I know I wasn't. It wasn't until just before the duel itself that it even crossed my mind. Not that Lily would have ever allowed herself to be wagered. I imagine that at the time James and I merely wanted to rip each other into pieces."
"Kind of like me and Malfoy?" Harry mused.
"Very much so," Snape replied, staring out the window. He looked sedated to Harry, as if the memory of his mother was numbing the angry inside of him, "But I can tell you, I had enough contempt for James Potter to match both you and Draco's combined."
"So what happened?" Harry pleaded for more.
"Come," Snape said as he got to his feet and grabbed his cloak.
Harry obeyed and they swept out of the classroom and headed out of the dungeons. Snape strode through the halls and up the stairs at a mad pace, as if he were trying to catch something. It was all Harry could do to keep up. Soon, they came to the front gate of the school. Ron and Hermoine were sitting on the floor just inside the building, looking bored and impatient.
"Where are you going?" Ron and Hermoine asked simultaneously, clearly confused by seeing Harry with Snape.
"Where are we going?" Harry asked.
"Back in time," Snape replied, and without breaking pace, strode out into the summer sun.
"Sorry guys, I'll be right back," Harry called back to them as he rushed out behind Snape.
They walked across the grounds, and soon Harry understood exactly where they were going. They cleared a hill and the Whomping Willow came into view. It looked like it was busying itself swatting away birds trying to nest in it like they were flies. Snape stopped just out of reach of the temperamental tree and stared up at it quietly. Harry watched Snape curiously, as if he was seeing him for the first time.
"That duel was some twenty-five years ago," Snape took a deep breath, and started walking a wide circle around the Whomping Willow, "But every time I come near this tree it all floods back to me. The muddy ground under my feet, the stiff winter wind whipping at my face. A lot of events were set into motion that night, one way or another, for better or worse."
Snape closed his eyes and began muttering inaudibly under his breath. He craned his neck up at the blaring sun overhead. It almost looked to Harry like he was praying. When nothing happened, Harry thought that maybe he was, but soon the area around them started to change. The faintest ghosts of figures and shapes took form around them. Even the Whomping Willow itself seemed to have a translucent shadow. The color slowly faded around them and a false night, complete with stars and the song of crickets, enveloped the area surrounding the Whomping Willow. The darkness spread further and further until it faded into the bright day they had left behind. The Willow reached out and groped its shadow playfully with its thick limbs.
Harry caught something out of the corner of his eye. Something had joined them in the dimness of Snape's manifest thoughts. It was a tall, thin boy with limp, oily hair and a sour disposition. It could only have been a young Severus Snape.
"Are you ready, Mr. Potter?" Snape muttered, his eyes still closed, "We going to take a trip."
Authors Note: I like the way this one is working out so far and I hope you enjoy it as well. All reviews and criticisms, good or bad, are greatly appreciated.
Chapter 2: The Burden of Time
The room had gone deadly quiet. Harry had asked Snape the question that he had gone there to have answered. How had they gotten to where they were? What was it about Harry that inspired so much hatred from Snape, and why was Harry so prone to return it in spades. He knew now that it wasn't as simple as saying that Snape had been in cahoots with Voldemort and that was why he hated Harry. That had become more and more obvious over the time Harry has known Snape. Snape seemed to stare through him, as if into a rift in the stream of his own consciousness. Harry waited a long time for an answer, watching Snape slip further into his own thoughts.
Finally, he took a long deep breath and locked his hands together in front of him. "Well," he answered wryly, "Seeing as it seems I will never truly be rid of you, I suppose it is high time we, hmm, resolved some of our.. issues. I knew this day would come sooner or later, though I imagined it would have been at the ends of our wands."
Snape slumped back into his chair and fell silent again, and Harry watched patiently, waiting for him to say something. The conversation had already gone better then half of his mental drills had anticipated, not that that gave any indication as to how it would end.
"Your mother," Snape began slowly, instantly piquing Harry's curiosity. Snape took a long breath and shifted around in his seat. He suddenly looked as out of sorts as Harry had ever seen him. "She was perfect," he continued, "I don't say that in any sort of arbitrary or offhanded kind of way. Lily was beautiful, kind, intelligent; and as cunning as she was charming. She was everything anyone could hope for in a person."
Harry edged closer to Snape, taken in by the memories of his mother. Memories were all he had left of his parents. All his pictures and albums had been destroyed last year when Death Eaters had discovered where he was staying with Sirius. He tried to make the image of his parents materialize in his mind.
"Your father, on the other hand," Snape hissed, his face contorting to his more familiar, ominous countenance, "Was an insufferable, arrogant, troublemaker. He had it all- the looks, the charm, the skill- and of course, your mother. He was an excellent student, an unrivaled Quidditch player, and he could talk his way out of any jam he ever found himself in. Everyone hated James Potter as much as they coveted everything that he had. But I hated it him more then them all."
"So you hate me because you hated my father?" Harry chanced to ask.
"Don't try so hard to be a nitwit, Potter," Snape smiled, "Things are hardly ever that simple. Stop interrupting."
"One day, in third year, your father and his buddy, Lupin, wanted me to be their lookout while they snuck out to go to Hogsmeade. You see, that was the kind of stupid stuff they did, just because they could, more or less. Sirius Black was already in detention for trying to break into Filch's office the night before. Anyway, I refused. Why should I help him? I already despised him, and you'd think he'd have noticed, but he was oblivious and we may as well have been the best of friends for all he knew or cared."
Snape paused while he pushed his chair back and rummaged through something under his desk. He produced two packages of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans and tossed one of them at Harry dismissively. Harry examined the package suspiciously, not sure, as ever, if Snape was playing at something.
"Your father was used to getting whatever he wanted," Snape dove back into the story, spitting a jelly bean in the wastebasket with a metallic clunk, "So my refusing to help him didn't go over very well. Him and Lupin decided to have a game of keep away with my books."
Harry couldn't help but laugh out loud at the thought of his father and Professor Lupin tossing Hogwart's, A History back and forth over Snape's head. Snape didn't share his enthusiasm, and Harry was forced to wait until he felt like proceeding, watching him periodically spit a bad bean out of his mouth.
"As I was saying," Snape finally said, "With their day essentially spoiled, they decided making a sport out of me would have to do. That is, until your mother came along. She didn't tolerate that sort of behavior, especially not from James, and she ripped into him good. Your father and Lupin eventually apologized and returned my books. I was fine, but Lily fussed over me until I was safely back in my house common room. From what I understand, she didn't speak to your father for several days after that. I was fascinated and, well, smitten by Lily from that day on."
"You were in love with my mother?" Harry exclaimed, intrigued. He ripped open his package of Bertie Botts beans and dug into them like they were a box of Goobers and he was at the theater watching a especially compelling movie.
"Severus Snape, love?" he chuckled, "I've never been especially prone to that particular emotion. But I do suppose that was the closest I've ever been to loving someone, which makes the point just the same. It was fuel on the fire for my hatred of your father. Soon, the whole school thought I was at odds with James for Lily's hand. Eventually, the rumors got so out of hand, James had to say something, for the sake of his pride if nothing else."
The whole thing sounded so exciting to Harry. He hung on Snape's every word as Snape lured him deeper into the story. Snape seemed to have been taken in himself by the story, and he was more animated then Harry had ever thought he could be. There was a range of emotion hidden behind that callous exterior that was slowly seeping out, possibly without Snape even realizing it himself.
"So James approached me and asked me straight out what was going on. He was polite enough about it, but my rage had festered inside of me for so long and would not be quelled. I got right in face, nose to nose, and told him how I planned on stealing Lily away from him. I have no I idea what else I said, but eventually it was more then James could take. He challenged me to a duel at midnight by the Whomping Willow. I was no match against James with a wand, but I was blind with fury. I accepted and we both stormed off."
"No way," Harry raised a hand in protest, "My father would never have staked my mother in a wand duel."
"It really wasn't about that," Snape smiled, "I doubt either of us was thinking along those lines. I know I wasn't. It wasn't until just before the duel itself that it even crossed my mind. Not that Lily would have ever allowed herself to be wagered. I imagine that at the time James and I merely wanted to rip each other into pieces."
"Kind of like me and Malfoy?" Harry mused.
"Very much so," Snape replied, staring out the window. He looked sedated to Harry, as if the memory of his mother was numbing the angry inside of him, "But I can tell you, I had enough contempt for James Potter to match both you and Draco's combined."
"So what happened?" Harry pleaded for more.
"Come," Snape said as he got to his feet and grabbed his cloak.
Harry obeyed and they swept out of the classroom and headed out of the dungeons. Snape strode through the halls and up the stairs at a mad pace, as if he were trying to catch something. It was all Harry could do to keep up. Soon, they came to the front gate of the school. Ron and Hermoine were sitting on the floor just inside the building, looking bored and impatient.
"Where are you going?" Ron and Hermoine asked simultaneously, clearly confused by seeing Harry with Snape.
"Where are we going?" Harry asked.
"Back in time," Snape replied, and without breaking pace, strode out into the summer sun.
"Sorry guys, I'll be right back," Harry called back to them as he rushed out behind Snape.
They walked across the grounds, and soon Harry understood exactly where they were going. They cleared a hill and the Whomping Willow came into view. It looked like it was busying itself swatting away birds trying to nest in it like they were flies. Snape stopped just out of reach of the temperamental tree and stared up at it quietly. Harry watched Snape curiously, as if he was seeing him for the first time.
"That duel was some twenty-five years ago," Snape took a deep breath, and started walking a wide circle around the Whomping Willow, "But every time I come near this tree it all floods back to me. The muddy ground under my feet, the stiff winter wind whipping at my face. A lot of events were set into motion that night, one way or another, for better or worse."
Snape closed his eyes and began muttering inaudibly under his breath. He craned his neck up at the blaring sun overhead. It almost looked to Harry like he was praying. When nothing happened, Harry thought that maybe he was, but soon the area around them started to change. The faintest ghosts of figures and shapes took form around them. Even the Whomping Willow itself seemed to have a translucent shadow. The color slowly faded around them and a false night, complete with stars and the song of crickets, enveloped the area surrounding the Whomping Willow. The darkness spread further and further until it faded into the bright day they had left behind. The Willow reached out and groped its shadow playfully with its thick limbs.
Harry caught something out of the corner of his eye. Something had joined them in the dimness of Snape's manifest thoughts. It was a tall, thin boy with limp, oily hair and a sour disposition. It could only have been a young Severus Snape.
"Are you ready, Mr. Potter?" Snape muttered, his eyes still closed, "We going to take a trip."