Part 10
The next morning found Xander walking through Diagon Alley with his father. The unfamiliar sights amazed the young American. Never before had he even imagined that such a place could exist. The very air seemed to make his skin hum.
"We need to make a stop at Gringott's before picking out your supplies," Severus said as he looked down at his son.
"Okay-um, what's Gringott's?"
"It's the wizarding bank run by goblins," he explained.
"G-Goblins?" Xander swallowed heavily. "They're nice goblins, right?"
The potions master snorted lightly at the question. "I highly doubt anyone has ever called a goblin 'nice', however, they do efficiently run a safe establishment."
Not sure he wanted further information, Xander just let the subject drop. 'Suppose I'll find out when we get there.'
Find out, he did. As they walked down the steps, leaving the bank, the boy couldn't suppress the shudder that raced down his spine when he thought of the ugly little creatures.
"We should probably stop at Madam Malkin's to get you fitted for your school robes." Snape eyed the robes his son was currently wearing. "Where did you get those, anyway?"
"Oh!" Xander glanced down at his clothes and smiled. "Harry bought this for me yesterday in Hogsmeade when we first got there. I guess he realized how out of place I felt."
Severus arched an eyebrow at that. "Did he? Well, we'll make sure to return the money he spent on them."
Frowning, the boy looked at his father. "I don't think he wants to be paid back. He said they were a gift."
Attempting to control the animosity he felt toward The Boy Who Lived, Snape smiled tightly at his son. "Well, I suppose it would be rude to refuse a gift, wouldn't it?"
Xander grimaced at the tone of his father's voice. He knew, from what Harry had told him, that he'd set out on a nearly impossible task. But he was determined to succeed. Somehow, he'd show his father that Harry wasn't at all like the man thought.
The boy followed his father into the shop and waited while the potions professor talked with the proprietress.
"Good morning, Professor!" Moira Malkin greeted him. "What brings you in today? Surely you haven't burned holes into all your newest robes already, have you?"
Snape winced at the thought. It seemed as if he needed to purchase new robes almost monthly during the school year. It wasn't exactly something he could avoid. He was always caught in the destructive wake of exploding cauldrons. It had only gotten worse, in fact, when Neville Longbottom first entered his classroom nearly five years ago. That boy had made him a regular fixture in this particular shop.
"Actually, I am here to have robes fitted for my son."
Taken aback by the man's words, Moira glanced behind Snape at the boy who had entered the shop with him.
Severus looked back at Xander before answering the unasked question on the woman's face.
"He's just returned from America and will be entering his sixth year at Hogwarts." Motioning for his son to join them, he continued, "He'll need his school robes as well as casual and dress robes. Go ahead and fit him for summer and winter."
Sizing the boy up, Madam Malkin moved him toward a raised platform in front of a mirror.
Several hours later, father and son walked along Diagon Alley carrying parcels filled with robes, more books that Severus had promised Xander would be necessary for his studies, more potion supplies than either had intended to buy, parchment, quills, inks in every color and a new Firebolt.
Tired from shopping more than he ever had in his life and anxious to get back to Hogwarts to see Harry, Xander asked his father, "Is there much more that we need to do, today?"
Severus glanced down at his son. "One more stop and then we can head back." He paused for a moment and then pointed at the last shop of the day. "Ollivander's. We'll just pick up a wand for you and, if you'd like, we can get dinner down the road instead of waiting until we leave."
The young man smiled brightly at the Potions Master. "That'd be great. So, what kind of wand should I choose?"
He'd asked the question just as they walked through Ollivander's front door. Severus said nothing. Instead, he allowed the odd little man behind the counter to answer his son. Of course, the professor knew what the old man's answer would be, as it was what he told every young wizard purchasing his first wand.
"Oh no, young man!" Ollivander exclaimed. "A wizard never chooses his wand. It is the wand that chooses the wizard."
The old man looked behind the boy and smiled at Snape. "Hello, Severus. Now, let me see if I can remember. . . Oak with the hair from a unicorn's mane as its core. Rigid."
Not waiting for the other man to respond, Ollivander's eyes darted from father to son and back again.
"How can this be, Severus? I thought-"
Interrupting, the former Death Eater replied, "As did I, Mr. Ollivander. Thankfully, we were wrong and my son has been returned to me."
Smiling delightedly, the old wand maker approached the boy with his measuring tape. "How wonderful it is to see you, Alexander! Come, let me see what type of wand will best suit you."
An hour later, all three men were beyond confused.
"I don't understand," Xander said. He looked at his father worriedly. "What if there isn't a wand for me? What if someone else got it since I wasn't here?"
"Nonsense!" Snape sent a glare to Ollivander that would have had any first year needing to change his pants. "Perhaps you should take his measurements again."
The old man was beside himself. "In all the years I've been here, this has never happened!" He gathered himself enough to think clearly again. "Hm. . . maybe we should try-"
He never got the chance to finish his sentence because door opened seemingly of its own accord. A moment later Xander and Severus bolted out of the way of the bird that came soaring into the shop.
Coming to perch on the counter next to Ollivander, the bird shuffled forward and dropped a feather from its beak. Seconds later it was out the door and gone.
Severus stared in shock at the lone feather.
Xander was still confused.
And Ollivander? He let out a happy shout, "Wonderful! It all makes sense now!"
The Potions Master sputtered angrily, "No! I cannot believe this!" He raked his hand through his long black hair as he paced around the shop. "I just got you back! I will NOT allow this! That blasted boy will only get you killed! No! We'll leave. Yes, that's what we'll do! I'll find a position in America or even bloody Antarctica if I have to and you can transfer to a different school. No! Even better, we'll move away and I'll teach you, myself!"
"Severus!" Ollivander tried to get the other man's attention.
Snape carried on as if he hadn't heard him. "Curse Voldemort and curse Harry Potter! I lost fifteen years because of that snake and long to see him die but I'll be damned if I'll let you be a part of this! You were probably safer on that bloody hellmouth! At least there you had the slayer to protect you!"
"FATHER!!!"
Severus stopped short. He turned toward his son and felt the urge to weep. He'd never had the chance to hear that word spoken to him and, even through the torment he felt about the situation, his heart swelled with happiness.
"I-I don't understand." Xander was dismayed at seeing his father so upset but he had no idea why a simple feather would cause such a reaction.
The distraught man sighed in defeat. Try as he might to deny it, there was no getting away from fate. Besides that, knowing of Xander's life in Sunnydale, he realized there was no way the boy would turn away from his destiny.
Gathering himself together, Severus looked at the wand maker and asked, "Will you send it along to Hogwarts when it is finished?"
Ollivander gave an understanding smile and answered, "Of course, Severus. Shall I just send it along to your son, then?"
"Yes, that will be fine." As he dropped ten galleons into the old man's hand he asked, "What-what wood will you be using?"
Ollivander gave Snape his change. "You already know the answer to that, Severus. It will be dogwood."
Nodding, Severus turned back to his son. "I suggest we go back to Hogwarts now. We can have the house elves prepare a late dinner for us." Seeing that Xander was about to question what was happening, he held up a hand to stop him. "I'll explain it all when we get there. We'll need to see the Headmaster. Of course, I've no doubt the old man already knows what is going on."
With that, they gathered their bags and began the trek toward the Leaky Cauldron to floo back to Hogsmeade.
Xander fidgeted nervously as he followed Severus passed the stone gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office. They hadn't spoken much as they ate so he still had no answers as to why his father had reacted so violently about that feather. When they finally reached the office door, the boy schooled in his nerves the best he could. He was use to difficult situations and he knew it would be best if he could keep his head. . . especially if his father was going to lose his own.
Severus knocked on Albus' door and awaited permission to enter. He had forced himself to calm down as he ate dinner with his son but now he felt the fury building again. Snape had no doubt that Dumbledore already knew everything that was happening. What he didn't understand was why the old wizard had not warned him of what was coming.
"Come in Severus," the Headmaster called from beyond the door.
They walked into the office and stopped when Snape saw Harry having tea with Dumbledore. The Potions Master glared at the green eyed boy and then at Albus.
"Is this a bad time, Headmaster?"
"Of course not, Severus." Old blue eyes peered at them, oddly lacking their twinkle. "Young Harry was just telling me of his latest dream."
Snape's eyes shot back to Harry. He knew quite well, by now, that the boy was somehow connected to Voldemort through the scar the Dark Lord had left on his forehead. He'd never cared to get all the details but it was obvious, from the serious mood between the boy and Albus, that they were not referring to an average dream.
As much as the potions professor loathed The Boy Who Lived, he understood the necessity of working together toward a common goal. Especially when that goal was ridding the world of Voldemort. Of course, now the fight had become more personal than ever before. And now he'd have to trust the boy with the life of his only son.
Xander felt the tension rising and fought down the fleeting urge to run. "Um-should I wait outside?"
Severus looked at his son and wished once more that he could hide the boy from what was coming. "No, Xander. I want you to sit down. Everything is going to be explained to you. I know you have questions. I just ask that you wait until we find out what Potter has to say." He turned to his least favorite student and said, "You'll need to stay once you are done blathering on about this dream of yours, as well. It seems our illustrious leader has neglected to inform us both of some important facts."
Harry was thoroughly gobsmacked. At first, he was merely amazed at the tender tone his professor had spoken to Xander. He'd never imagined that the man could speak without insulting and glaring at anyone other than his Slytherin students. And he knew that was only because of his status as a spy amongst the Death Eaters.
Amazement changed to absolute shock at the accusation Snape had made regarding Dumbledore. Harry had learned, in his fifth year, how the man had begun spying for the Order of Phoenix. He had no doubt that Snape respected the Headmaster above all others and could not believe he'd just disparaged the older wizard in anyway.
Deciding it would be best to get the impromptu meeting underway, Albus cleared his throat and conjured up two more chairs. He motioned for Severus and Xander to sit before nodding to Harry.
Harry glanced at Xander briefly before turning to Snape.
"The dream was about you, Professor."
Snape raised an eyebrow and sneered, "Well go on, boy."
Frowning at his callous teacher, the young wizard continued, "He knows." Harry saw Snape dart a looked toward Xander and rushed onward. "No, he has no idea about Xander. . . at least that I'm aware of. It's your cover. He knows of your true loyalties."
The Potions Master's already sallow skin became even paler as the blood drained from his face. This was not something he'd anticipated.
"You're sure of this?"
"Yes, sir. He was quite furious when he found out and went on a rampage. Of all the dreams I've had of him, I've never experienced one quite as bad."
At that admission, Dumbledore shot a look at the boy.
"Have you already seen Poppy, Harry?"
"Of course, Professor. I wouldn't be sitting here otherwise."
Clueless as to why Potter would need to see the medi-witch because of a dream, Snape allowed his curiosity to override his lack of care for the boy and asked, "Why on earth would you need medical attention because of a dream, Potter? Surely you didn't have some sort of anxiety attack over the thought of your most hated professor falling at Voldemort's hand! Or were his attacks too much for your stomach and you needed something to ease the nausea?"
He'd tried. Later, that is what he'd tell himself. That he had tried not to lose his temper. But the fact remained that Harry Potter did indeed lose his temper. As Snape spoke, all the insults, unfair treatment, horrible remarks and that his godfather was still running from the law came back to him. All that he had suffered, not by Voldemort's hand this time, but by Snape's came flooding into his mind. At that moment, Harry lost all of his hard won control.
"If you'd thought, even once, about the connection I have with Voldemort, you'd know why I have to see Madam Pomphrey EVERY time I have a dream about him. If you had ever looked passed the unjustified hatred you hold toward me, you might have a clue!"
As he spoke the fireplace roared to life and cracks began to form in every glass surface in the office. Harry knew this, on some level, but he was beyond caring. Seeing that Snape was turning red with fury and looked as if he would say something, the boy continued.
"No! You will sit there and bloody well listen to me, Snape! You have done nothing but attempt to have me expelled every year since I walked through the gates when I was eleven. We will have this out now! Dumbledore is here and he can hear every goddamned word I am saying so if he chooses to expel me, so be it. But this has to end here and now!
"Every other professor knows, with details, of my connection with Voldemort. You are the only one who has never cared enough to find out. I don't give a rat's ass if you care or not anymore! It's time you understand exactly what I go through!! You think I enjoy this fame! You think I long to be the center of attention! You think I am some pampered Prima Dona without a real care in the world! Sure, you've acknowledged that I've got to fight this bloody battle. But at what cost?!"
Harry's rage sent constant shock waves though the room, finally shattering the glass that had been stressed by the torrent of emotions. The ancient wood began to splinter and the stone of the walls and floor began to shake. The only thing that kept the occupants of the room safe from the flying debris was a protective shield Albus had erected when he realized how far gone Harry really was. The Headmaster allowed the boy to vent his anger, though, knowing that it would finally clear the air between the boy and his potions professor.
Not caring, in the least, what was going on around them, Harry kept up his long awaited diatribe.
"That bastard killed the only people in this world that loved me! I was raised by muggles that so completely hate anything to do with magic that they told me my parents died in a car crash! I never even knew that wizards and witches existed until I met Hagrid on my eleventh birthday! And those bigoted relatives that you are so fucking sure gave me everything I ever wanted? They starve me and beat me, Snape! My bedroom was nothing but a cupboard under the stairs until I got my letter to come to Hogwarts! Until I came here, I had nothing of my own! Even my clothes were hand-me- downs from my whale of a cousin!"
He paused momentarily to rip off his robes. Beneath, he wore Dudley's old clothes that were several sizes too big.
"This is how The Bloody Boy Who Lived grew up, Snape! I still can't buy clothes that fit when I'm home because they'd take everything away! And I could be living with my godfather right now but you refused to listen to us that night in the Shrieking Shack! Sirius is innocent of the crimes he was convicted of! But you, you utter bastard, would rather have him Kissed than to believe that! You've heard me say that Pettigrew was the one that performed the spell to give Voldemort his new body! How the bloody fuck could he have done that if he was dead?! Or did you just assume that I meant Sirius Black when my words were actually Peter Pettigrew?!
"You have sat there with all the others and told me what I have to do! I actually held you in higher regard than anyone else in the Order because you've got the stones to stand before Voldemort and lie to his face! Of course, I assumed that somewhere deep you must have held some amount of respect for me, too. Ha! God, how stupid of me! But how could you sit in those meetings and advise me when you haven't got the slightest clue about me?"
Harry stepped forward until he was only inches away from his professor. The boy's eyes looked as if there was a fire lighting them. There was sweat dripping down his face from all the uncontrolled fury. His skin was flushed red and he spoke in low tones when he continued.
"Well let me give you a clue, Snape! When I sleep I dream. I dream of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. I see all the horrors visited upon their victims. I see every time that bastard kills someone. I see the meetings of his inner circle. I hear his words. I listen in on his plans. I hear his laughter and it feels like finger nails down a blackboard."
He paused, finally, and took a deep breath. Reining in his control again took an obvious show of effort. As he maintained eye contact with Snape and prepared to conclude his ranting so the man would truly understand, he sent out gentler waves of power that would repair the damage he had inadvertently caused.
Harry lowered his voice even further causing Albus and Xander to strain to hear what was being said. Severus was already dumbstruck by what he'd heard but knew there was more. He could see something else in the young face in front of him. A face that he finally saw that included eyes that were much too old. He found himself almost afraid for the boy to continue.
"You know, Professor, I think I could deal with all of that if it wasn't for one thing. Do you want to know what that one thing is, Professor Snape?"
Severus blinked twice before he realized Harry actually wanted and answer. He swallowed heavily and replied softly, "Yes, Mr. Potter. I would like to know what could be worse than that."
The Boy Who Lived closed his eyes at the sound of his teacher's voice. It had been even gentler than when he'd spoken to Xander when they'd entered the office. His heart broke as he wished for a father who would speak to him the way Snape spoke to his son. At that thought, he lost control of one last thing. When he opened his eyes to answer, a tear slid down his cheek.
"When I dream of Voldemort, I feel all that he inflicts on others. Every physical attack, every crucio, every avada kedavra."
He raised a hand to rub across the scar on his forehead and Snape followed the movement with his eyes. He saw that the boy's famous scar was red and blistered as if the killing curse had been cast again.
"Like I said earlier, Professor, tonight was the worst I've ever experienced. And the thing to make him that angry was you."
TBC
A/N This chapter kind of got away from me. I'd intended it to focus on Xander's wand and his connection to Harry and his role in the battle against Voldemort. But Harry and Severus did not like that idea so they wrote their own part. No, really! I had no control over what my fingers typed after Xander and Snape got into Dumbledore's office! Anyway, I hope you liked what did come out of this chapter and I'll do my best to have the second half of that conversation in chapter 11.
The next morning found Xander walking through Diagon Alley with his father. The unfamiliar sights amazed the young American. Never before had he even imagined that such a place could exist. The very air seemed to make his skin hum.
"We need to make a stop at Gringott's before picking out your supplies," Severus said as he looked down at his son.
"Okay-um, what's Gringott's?"
"It's the wizarding bank run by goblins," he explained.
"G-Goblins?" Xander swallowed heavily. "They're nice goblins, right?"
The potions master snorted lightly at the question. "I highly doubt anyone has ever called a goblin 'nice', however, they do efficiently run a safe establishment."
Not sure he wanted further information, Xander just let the subject drop. 'Suppose I'll find out when we get there.'
Find out, he did. As they walked down the steps, leaving the bank, the boy couldn't suppress the shudder that raced down his spine when he thought of the ugly little creatures.
"We should probably stop at Madam Malkin's to get you fitted for your school robes." Snape eyed the robes his son was currently wearing. "Where did you get those, anyway?"
"Oh!" Xander glanced down at his clothes and smiled. "Harry bought this for me yesterday in Hogsmeade when we first got there. I guess he realized how out of place I felt."
Severus arched an eyebrow at that. "Did he? Well, we'll make sure to return the money he spent on them."
Frowning, the boy looked at his father. "I don't think he wants to be paid back. He said they were a gift."
Attempting to control the animosity he felt toward The Boy Who Lived, Snape smiled tightly at his son. "Well, I suppose it would be rude to refuse a gift, wouldn't it?"
Xander grimaced at the tone of his father's voice. He knew, from what Harry had told him, that he'd set out on a nearly impossible task. But he was determined to succeed. Somehow, he'd show his father that Harry wasn't at all like the man thought.
The boy followed his father into the shop and waited while the potions professor talked with the proprietress.
"Good morning, Professor!" Moira Malkin greeted him. "What brings you in today? Surely you haven't burned holes into all your newest robes already, have you?"
Snape winced at the thought. It seemed as if he needed to purchase new robes almost monthly during the school year. It wasn't exactly something he could avoid. He was always caught in the destructive wake of exploding cauldrons. It had only gotten worse, in fact, when Neville Longbottom first entered his classroom nearly five years ago. That boy had made him a regular fixture in this particular shop.
"Actually, I am here to have robes fitted for my son."
Taken aback by the man's words, Moira glanced behind Snape at the boy who had entered the shop with him.
Severus looked back at Xander before answering the unasked question on the woman's face.
"He's just returned from America and will be entering his sixth year at Hogwarts." Motioning for his son to join them, he continued, "He'll need his school robes as well as casual and dress robes. Go ahead and fit him for summer and winter."
Sizing the boy up, Madam Malkin moved him toward a raised platform in front of a mirror.
Several hours later, father and son walked along Diagon Alley carrying parcels filled with robes, more books that Severus had promised Xander would be necessary for his studies, more potion supplies than either had intended to buy, parchment, quills, inks in every color and a new Firebolt.
Tired from shopping more than he ever had in his life and anxious to get back to Hogwarts to see Harry, Xander asked his father, "Is there much more that we need to do, today?"
Severus glanced down at his son. "One more stop and then we can head back." He paused for a moment and then pointed at the last shop of the day. "Ollivander's. We'll just pick up a wand for you and, if you'd like, we can get dinner down the road instead of waiting until we leave."
The young man smiled brightly at the Potions Master. "That'd be great. So, what kind of wand should I choose?"
He'd asked the question just as they walked through Ollivander's front door. Severus said nothing. Instead, he allowed the odd little man behind the counter to answer his son. Of course, the professor knew what the old man's answer would be, as it was what he told every young wizard purchasing his first wand.
"Oh no, young man!" Ollivander exclaimed. "A wizard never chooses his wand. It is the wand that chooses the wizard."
The old man looked behind the boy and smiled at Snape. "Hello, Severus. Now, let me see if I can remember. . . Oak with the hair from a unicorn's mane as its core. Rigid."
Not waiting for the other man to respond, Ollivander's eyes darted from father to son and back again.
"How can this be, Severus? I thought-"
Interrupting, the former Death Eater replied, "As did I, Mr. Ollivander. Thankfully, we were wrong and my son has been returned to me."
Smiling delightedly, the old wand maker approached the boy with his measuring tape. "How wonderful it is to see you, Alexander! Come, let me see what type of wand will best suit you."
An hour later, all three men were beyond confused.
"I don't understand," Xander said. He looked at his father worriedly. "What if there isn't a wand for me? What if someone else got it since I wasn't here?"
"Nonsense!" Snape sent a glare to Ollivander that would have had any first year needing to change his pants. "Perhaps you should take his measurements again."
The old man was beside himself. "In all the years I've been here, this has never happened!" He gathered himself enough to think clearly again. "Hm. . . maybe we should try-"
He never got the chance to finish his sentence because door opened seemingly of its own accord. A moment later Xander and Severus bolted out of the way of the bird that came soaring into the shop.
Coming to perch on the counter next to Ollivander, the bird shuffled forward and dropped a feather from its beak. Seconds later it was out the door and gone.
Severus stared in shock at the lone feather.
Xander was still confused.
And Ollivander? He let out a happy shout, "Wonderful! It all makes sense now!"
The Potions Master sputtered angrily, "No! I cannot believe this!" He raked his hand through his long black hair as he paced around the shop. "I just got you back! I will NOT allow this! That blasted boy will only get you killed! No! We'll leave. Yes, that's what we'll do! I'll find a position in America or even bloody Antarctica if I have to and you can transfer to a different school. No! Even better, we'll move away and I'll teach you, myself!"
"Severus!" Ollivander tried to get the other man's attention.
Snape carried on as if he hadn't heard him. "Curse Voldemort and curse Harry Potter! I lost fifteen years because of that snake and long to see him die but I'll be damned if I'll let you be a part of this! You were probably safer on that bloody hellmouth! At least there you had the slayer to protect you!"
"FATHER!!!"
Severus stopped short. He turned toward his son and felt the urge to weep. He'd never had the chance to hear that word spoken to him and, even through the torment he felt about the situation, his heart swelled with happiness.
"I-I don't understand." Xander was dismayed at seeing his father so upset but he had no idea why a simple feather would cause such a reaction.
The distraught man sighed in defeat. Try as he might to deny it, there was no getting away from fate. Besides that, knowing of Xander's life in Sunnydale, he realized there was no way the boy would turn away from his destiny.
Gathering himself together, Severus looked at the wand maker and asked, "Will you send it along to Hogwarts when it is finished?"
Ollivander gave an understanding smile and answered, "Of course, Severus. Shall I just send it along to your son, then?"
"Yes, that will be fine." As he dropped ten galleons into the old man's hand he asked, "What-what wood will you be using?"
Ollivander gave Snape his change. "You already know the answer to that, Severus. It will be dogwood."
Nodding, Severus turned back to his son. "I suggest we go back to Hogwarts now. We can have the house elves prepare a late dinner for us." Seeing that Xander was about to question what was happening, he held up a hand to stop him. "I'll explain it all when we get there. We'll need to see the Headmaster. Of course, I've no doubt the old man already knows what is going on."
With that, they gathered their bags and began the trek toward the Leaky Cauldron to floo back to Hogsmeade.
Xander fidgeted nervously as he followed Severus passed the stone gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office. They hadn't spoken much as they ate so he still had no answers as to why his father had reacted so violently about that feather. When they finally reached the office door, the boy schooled in his nerves the best he could. He was use to difficult situations and he knew it would be best if he could keep his head. . . especially if his father was going to lose his own.
Severus knocked on Albus' door and awaited permission to enter. He had forced himself to calm down as he ate dinner with his son but now he felt the fury building again. Snape had no doubt that Dumbledore already knew everything that was happening. What he didn't understand was why the old wizard had not warned him of what was coming.
"Come in Severus," the Headmaster called from beyond the door.
They walked into the office and stopped when Snape saw Harry having tea with Dumbledore. The Potions Master glared at the green eyed boy and then at Albus.
"Is this a bad time, Headmaster?"
"Of course not, Severus." Old blue eyes peered at them, oddly lacking their twinkle. "Young Harry was just telling me of his latest dream."
Snape's eyes shot back to Harry. He knew quite well, by now, that the boy was somehow connected to Voldemort through the scar the Dark Lord had left on his forehead. He'd never cared to get all the details but it was obvious, from the serious mood between the boy and Albus, that they were not referring to an average dream.
As much as the potions professor loathed The Boy Who Lived, he understood the necessity of working together toward a common goal. Especially when that goal was ridding the world of Voldemort. Of course, now the fight had become more personal than ever before. And now he'd have to trust the boy with the life of his only son.
Xander felt the tension rising and fought down the fleeting urge to run. "Um-should I wait outside?"
Severus looked at his son and wished once more that he could hide the boy from what was coming. "No, Xander. I want you to sit down. Everything is going to be explained to you. I know you have questions. I just ask that you wait until we find out what Potter has to say." He turned to his least favorite student and said, "You'll need to stay once you are done blathering on about this dream of yours, as well. It seems our illustrious leader has neglected to inform us both of some important facts."
Harry was thoroughly gobsmacked. At first, he was merely amazed at the tender tone his professor had spoken to Xander. He'd never imagined that the man could speak without insulting and glaring at anyone other than his Slytherin students. And he knew that was only because of his status as a spy amongst the Death Eaters.
Amazement changed to absolute shock at the accusation Snape had made regarding Dumbledore. Harry had learned, in his fifth year, how the man had begun spying for the Order of Phoenix. He had no doubt that Snape respected the Headmaster above all others and could not believe he'd just disparaged the older wizard in anyway.
Deciding it would be best to get the impromptu meeting underway, Albus cleared his throat and conjured up two more chairs. He motioned for Severus and Xander to sit before nodding to Harry.
Harry glanced at Xander briefly before turning to Snape.
"The dream was about you, Professor."
Snape raised an eyebrow and sneered, "Well go on, boy."
Frowning at his callous teacher, the young wizard continued, "He knows." Harry saw Snape dart a looked toward Xander and rushed onward. "No, he has no idea about Xander. . . at least that I'm aware of. It's your cover. He knows of your true loyalties."
The Potions Master's already sallow skin became even paler as the blood drained from his face. This was not something he'd anticipated.
"You're sure of this?"
"Yes, sir. He was quite furious when he found out and went on a rampage. Of all the dreams I've had of him, I've never experienced one quite as bad."
At that admission, Dumbledore shot a look at the boy.
"Have you already seen Poppy, Harry?"
"Of course, Professor. I wouldn't be sitting here otherwise."
Clueless as to why Potter would need to see the medi-witch because of a dream, Snape allowed his curiosity to override his lack of care for the boy and asked, "Why on earth would you need medical attention because of a dream, Potter? Surely you didn't have some sort of anxiety attack over the thought of your most hated professor falling at Voldemort's hand! Or were his attacks too much for your stomach and you needed something to ease the nausea?"
He'd tried. Later, that is what he'd tell himself. That he had tried not to lose his temper. But the fact remained that Harry Potter did indeed lose his temper. As Snape spoke, all the insults, unfair treatment, horrible remarks and that his godfather was still running from the law came back to him. All that he had suffered, not by Voldemort's hand this time, but by Snape's came flooding into his mind. At that moment, Harry lost all of his hard won control.
"If you'd thought, even once, about the connection I have with Voldemort, you'd know why I have to see Madam Pomphrey EVERY time I have a dream about him. If you had ever looked passed the unjustified hatred you hold toward me, you might have a clue!"
As he spoke the fireplace roared to life and cracks began to form in every glass surface in the office. Harry knew this, on some level, but he was beyond caring. Seeing that Snape was turning red with fury and looked as if he would say something, the boy continued.
"No! You will sit there and bloody well listen to me, Snape! You have done nothing but attempt to have me expelled every year since I walked through the gates when I was eleven. We will have this out now! Dumbledore is here and he can hear every goddamned word I am saying so if he chooses to expel me, so be it. But this has to end here and now!
"Every other professor knows, with details, of my connection with Voldemort. You are the only one who has never cared enough to find out. I don't give a rat's ass if you care or not anymore! It's time you understand exactly what I go through!! You think I enjoy this fame! You think I long to be the center of attention! You think I am some pampered Prima Dona without a real care in the world! Sure, you've acknowledged that I've got to fight this bloody battle. But at what cost?!"
Harry's rage sent constant shock waves though the room, finally shattering the glass that had been stressed by the torrent of emotions. The ancient wood began to splinter and the stone of the walls and floor began to shake. The only thing that kept the occupants of the room safe from the flying debris was a protective shield Albus had erected when he realized how far gone Harry really was. The Headmaster allowed the boy to vent his anger, though, knowing that it would finally clear the air between the boy and his potions professor.
Not caring, in the least, what was going on around them, Harry kept up his long awaited diatribe.
"That bastard killed the only people in this world that loved me! I was raised by muggles that so completely hate anything to do with magic that they told me my parents died in a car crash! I never even knew that wizards and witches existed until I met Hagrid on my eleventh birthday! And those bigoted relatives that you are so fucking sure gave me everything I ever wanted? They starve me and beat me, Snape! My bedroom was nothing but a cupboard under the stairs until I got my letter to come to Hogwarts! Until I came here, I had nothing of my own! Even my clothes were hand-me- downs from my whale of a cousin!"
He paused momentarily to rip off his robes. Beneath, he wore Dudley's old clothes that were several sizes too big.
"This is how The Bloody Boy Who Lived grew up, Snape! I still can't buy clothes that fit when I'm home because they'd take everything away! And I could be living with my godfather right now but you refused to listen to us that night in the Shrieking Shack! Sirius is innocent of the crimes he was convicted of! But you, you utter bastard, would rather have him Kissed than to believe that! You've heard me say that Pettigrew was the one that performed the spell to give Voldemort his new body! How the bloody fuck could he have done that if he was dead?! Or did you just assume that I meant Sirius Black when my words were actually Peter Pettigrew?!
"You have sat there with all the others and told me what I have to do! I actually held you in higher regard than anyone else in the Order because you've got the stones to stand before Voldemort and lie to his face! Of course, I assumed that somewhere deep you must have held some amount of respect for me, too. Ha! God, how stupid of me! But how could you sit in those meetings and advise me when you haven't got the slightest clue about me?"
Harry stepped forward until he was only inches away from his professor. The boy's eyes looked as if there was a fire lighting them. There was sweat dripping down his face from all the uncontrolled fury. His skin was flushed red and he spoke in low tones when he continued.
"Well let me give you a clue, Snape! When I sleep I dream. I dream of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. I see all the horrors visited upon their victims. I see every time that bastard kills someone. I see the meetings of his inner circle. I hear his words. I listen in on his plans. I hear his laughter and it feels like finger nails down a blackboard."
He paused, finally, and took a deep breath. Reining in his control again took an obvious show of effort. As he maintained eye contact with Snape and prepared to conclude his ranting so the man would truly understand, he sent out gentler waves of power that would repair the damage he had inadvertently caused.
Harry lowered his voice even further causing Albus and Xander to strain to hear what was being said. Severus was already dumbstruck by what he'd heard but knew there was more. He could see something else in the young face in front of him. A face that he finally saw that included eyes that were much too old. He found himself almost afraid for the boy to continue.
"You know, Professor, I think I could deal with all of that if it wasn't for one thing. Do you want to know what that one thing is, Professor Snape?"
Severus blinked twice before he realized Harry actually wanted and answer. He swallowed heavily and replied softly, "Yes, Mr. Potter. I would like to know what could be worse than that."
The Boy Who Lived closed his eyes at the sound of his teacher's voice. It had been even gentler than when he'd spoken to Xander when they'd entered the office. His heart broke as he wished for a father who would speak to him the way Snape spoke to his son. At that thought, he lost control of one last thing. When he opened his eyes to answer, a tear slid down his cheek.
"When I dream of Voldemort, I feel all that he inflicts on others. Every physical attack, every crucio, every avada kedavra."
He raised a hand to rub across the scar on his forehead and Snape followed the movement with his eyes. He saw that the boy's famous scar was red and blistered as if the killing curse had been cast again.
"Like I said earlier, Professor, tonight was the worst I've ever experienced. And the thing to make him that angry was you."
TBC
A/N This chapter kind of got away from me. I'd intended it to focus on Xander's wand and his connection to Harry and his role in the battle against Voldemort. But Harry and Severus did not like that idea so they wrote their own part. No, really! I had no control over what my fingers typed after Xander and Snape got into Dumbledore's office! Anyway, I hope you liked what did come out of this chapter and I'll do my best to have the second half of that conversation in chapter 11.