A/N: Just a quick note to let you know the illustrations are up – Neville
and the Dementors, and Hogsmeade. Really proud of em. :big grin:
, Email: , pword: greatdivide. Just
click on the album, or click on the Bumper's album and add your pic! (Did
you know Wiccan Pussykat is an Animagus? I didn't!) Enjoy:
He was surprised to find his steps becoming quicker and quicker – he realized with grim shock that he was actually looking forward to seeing Snape today, in some twisted way. Not that he would enjoy his company, or the lesson for that matter – but Harry was feeling reckless, especially in light of Nott's incursion into Hogwarts.
In all honesty, he'd been toying with an idea ever since Sirius had died. He'd felt furious, irrationally angry at Snape that night in Dumbledore's office, but couldn't put his finger on why. He'd felt the same frustrated anger as the Weasley's house had burned down, even though he knew Snape couldn't literally be responsible for it. Hadn't he felt the same instinctive distrust and anger in the Shrieking Shack, even though Snape had only done what any sensible Hogwarts teacher might have done.
"Granted, he rather enjoyed it," Harry thought, his eyes narrowing.
And when Hermione had been assaulted by Draco Malfoy, Snape had threatened to have him punished in a rather nasty way.
"Well, he's still here," Harry thought, his anger bubbling up, "And he's still obnoxious – so it can't have been too bad. Why does he insist on favoring that..."
But he stopped himself. Despite all the frustration he felt, he couldn't purely hate Snape, or Malfoy in the way he had in years previous. The influence of Dumbledore, the Sorting Hat, Hermione, and his own encounters with the two of them had made that impossible, to his own great annoyance. And try as he might, over the years, Harry could never directly link Snape to any of the horrible things that had happened to him...
But it wasn't what Snape had done that bothered him – it was what he hadn't done. Could he really believe that Snape was doing everything in his power to keep them safe? If he was this great secret double-agent, why was it he could never prevent these things from happening? Where was his useful information about how to find Lord Voldemort?
And why on earth did Dumbledore trust him in the first place? Who were his creepy friends?
Now, Neville had been tortured, he'd nearly been assassinated. With each subsequent brush with Voldemort, he felt as though his feelings towards Snape had been drawing to a boiling point. In fact, he was sure that Snape was hiding something, and if Dumbledore and everyone else expected him to continue trusting Snape, it was high time he got some answers straight from the horse's mouth.
Fired up on his own convictions, Harry entered the Potions classroom, tucking the folded Prophet under his arm.
"Stop your incessant snivelling," Snape's voice rang, cold and hard from behind his office door.
His ears perking up, Harry hesitated, and hung back by the door – if Snape came out, he could always look as though he were just walking into the room. It wouldn't fool him for long, but at least he wouldn't be able to tell how much he'd heard.
"Snivelling?" Harry whispered to himself. Not a word he would have expected Snape to use – not after the nickname his father had given him.
"But Professor," came Malfoy's whining simper, "It was all Potter's fault. You know how Dumbledore favors –"
"I am sick of that tired old refrain, Mr. Malfoy, physically ill," came Snape's venomous hiss, "The level to which you will debase yourself is nauseating, and I am just as sick of it as your father is. Or would you like me to remind you? It is a remarkable feat of science that you have so many things stored in that atrophied brain...Things that you prefer not to see. And you know only too well that I am perfectly capable of showing them to you."
There was a brief silence. Harry found he was holding his breath. At least he knew how Snape and Malfoy spent their detentions.
He shuddered involuntarily – it was almost like Snape was some sort of pseudo-Dementor – laying bare Malfoy's every horrible memory, witnessing all of his worst fears and shortcomings...Harry actually felt a surge of sympathy for Malfoy, before fiercely pushing it away.
"I have given you every opportunity to excel, Mr. Malfoy, yet you consistently squander your considerable talents on a piffling feud, and whine incessantly that your own shortcomings are the fault of others. Furthermore, you continue to pursue rash and ill-advised courses of action which both embarrass me as Head of Slytherin house, and put me in a very difficult position. If you've come to me looking for sympathy, you're in the wrong shop, I'm afraid. Why don't you just pander to Potter and Dumbledore like everyone else, and collect your share of empty sympathy, if that's what's important to you?"
"Never," Draco muttered angrily, and then continued his whine, "That's what I'm trying to tell you. They—"
"I will not be excusing you from the punishment that was assigned to you, Draco. Not because you deserve it, but because I am determined to get through to you."
"You talk as if you're one of them!" Draco snapped angrily, "One of Dumbledore's [I]pets![/I] Don't act as if I don't know what you are! My father tells me everything! And I know what's on your arm! I know you want to get rid of Potter and Dumbledore as much as—"
"[I]Keep your voice down,[/I] you ignorant sot, and don't you [I]dare[/I] speak of things you can not possibly understand," Snape hissed venomously.
There was a long silence.
"I repeat – if you've come here to ask me to go easy on you, you know where to go for mollycoddling. I only regret that I wasn't harder on you sooner. You are a [I]Slytherin,[/I]" Snape's venomous voice snapped from behind the closed door, "And a Malfoy. Now start [I]acting[/I] like one. I will expect you in one hour."
Harry felt his insides turn cold – he shouldn't have heard that. While hearing Draco Malfoy get chewed out by a professor would normally rank among his favorite things, to hear Snape speaking to Malfoy this way felt completely wrong. He felt as though he'd yet again invaded Snape's privacy (which, he reflected, he had) and briefly considered sneaking out of the room, and owling Snape that he was ill, when the door burst open, and Draco stormed out, fuming.
He looked up at Harry, stunned, and Harry didn't even have time to act as if he hadn't been listening.
"How much did you hear?" Malfoy shouted angrily.
"Of what?" Harry lied swiftly, "I just got here. Besides, it's about time you got in trouble for something."
"[I]Potter![/I]" Snape snapped viciously, "[I]My office![/I] That will be [I]all[/I] Draco."
Feeling a slight stab of panic despite his best intentions, Harry ignored Draco's angry sneer, and willed himself to march into the lion's den.
He was surprised to find his steps becoming quicker and quicker – he realized with grim shock that he was actually looking forward to seeing Snape today, in some twisted way. Not that he would enjoy his company, or the lesson for that matter – but Harry was feeling reckless, especially in light of Nott's incursion into Hogwarts.
In all honesty, he'd been toying with an idea ever since Sirius had died. He'd felt furious, irrationally angry at Snape that night in Dumbledore's office, but couldn't put his finger on why. He'd felt the same frustrated anger as the Weasley's house had burned down, even though he knew Snape couldn't literally be responsible for it. Hadn't he felt the same instinctive distrust and anger in the Shrieking Shack, even though Snape had only done what any sensible Hogwarts teacher might have done.
"Granted, he rather enjoyed it," Harry thought, his eyes narrowing.
And when Hermione had been assaulted by Draco Malfoy, Snape had threatened to have him punished in a rather nasty way.
"Well, he's still here," Harry thought, his anger bubbling up, "And he's still obnoxious – so it can't have been too bad. Why does he insist on favoring that..."
But he stopped himself. Despite all the frustration he felt, he couldn't purely hate Snape, or Malfoy in the way he had in years previous. The influence of Dumbledore, the Sorting Hat, Hermione, and his own encounters with the two of them had made that impossible, to his own great annoyance. And try as he might, over the years, Harry could never directly link Snape to any of the horrible things that had happened to him...
But it wasn't what Snape had done that bothered him – it was what he hadn't done. Could he really believe that Snape was doing everything in his power to keep them safe? If he was this great secret double-agent, why was it he could never prevent these things from happening? Where was his useful information about how to find Lord Voldemort?
And why on earth did Dumbledore trust him in the first place? Who were his creepy friends?
Now, Neville had been tortured, he'd nearly been assassinated. With each subsequent brush with Voldemort, he felt as though his feelings towards Snape had been drawing to a boiling point. In fact, he was sure that Snape was hiding something, and if Dumbledore and everyone else expected him to continue trusting Snape, it was high time he got some answers straight from the horse's mouth.
Fired up on his own convictions, Harry entered the Potions classroom, tucking the folded Prophet under his arm.
"Stop your incessant snivelling," Snape's voice rang, cold and hard from behind his office door.
His ears perking up, Harry hesitated, and hung back by the door – if Snape came out, he could always look as though he were just walking into the room. It wouldn't fool him for long, but at least he wouldn't be able to tell how much he'd heard.
"Snivelling?" Harry whispered to himself. Not a word he would have expected Snape to use – not after the nickname his father had given him.
"But Professor," came Malfoy's whining simper, "It was all Potter's fault. You know how Dumbledore favors –"
"I am sick of that tired old refrain, Mr. Malfoy, physically ill," came Snape's venomous hiss, "The level to which you will debase yourself is nauseating, and I am just as sick of it as your father is. Or would you like me to remind you? It is a remarkable feat of science that you have so many things stored in that atrophied brain...Things that you prefer not to see. And you know only too well that I am perfectly capable of showing them to you."
There was a brief silence. Harry found he was holding his breath. At least he knew how Snape and Malfoy spent their detentions.
He shuddered involuntarily – it was almost like Snape was some sort of pseudo-Dementor – laying bare Malfoy's every horrible memory, witnessing all of his worst fears and shortcomings...Harry actually felt a surge of sympathy for Malfoy, before fiercely pushing it away.
"I have given you every opportunity to excel, Mr. Malfoy, yet you consistently squander your considerable talents on a piffling feud, and whine incessantly that your own shortcomings are the fault of others. Furthermore, you continue to pursue rash and ill-advised courses of action which both embarrass me as Head of Slytherin house, and put me in a very difficult position. If you've come to me looking for sympathy, you're in the wrong shop, I'm afraid. Why don't you just pander to Potter and Dumbledore like everyone else, and collect your share of empty sympathy, if that's what's important to you?"
"Never," Draco muttered angrily, and then continued his whine, "That's what I'm trying to tell you. They—"
"I will not be excusing you from the punishment that was assigned to you, Draco. Not because you deserve it, but because I am determined to get through to you."
"You talk as if you're one of them!" Draco snapped angrily, "One of Dumbledore's [I]pets![/I] Don't act as if I don't know what you are! My father tells me everything! And I know what's on your arm! I know you want to get rid of Potter and Dumbledore as much as—"
"[I]Keep your voice down,[/I] you ignorant sot, and don't you [I]dare[/I] speak of things you can not possibly understand," Snape hissed venomously.
There was a long silence.
"I repeat – if you've come here to ask me to go easy on you, you know where to go for mollycoddling. I only regret that I wasn't harder on you sooner. You are a [I]Slytherin,[/I]" Snape's venomous voice snapped from behind the closed door, "And a Malfoy. Now start [I]acting[/I] like one. I will expect you in one hour."
Harry felt his insides turn cold – he shouldn't have heard that. While hearing Draco Malfoy get chewed out by a professor would normally rank among his favorite things, to hear Snape speaking to Malfoy this way felt completely wrong. He felt as though he'd yet again invaded Snape's privacy (which, he reflected, he had) and briefly considered sneaking out of the room, and owling Snape that he was ill, when the door burst open, and Draco stormed out, fuming.
He looked up at Harry, stunned, and Harry didn't even have time to act as if he hadn't been listening.
"How much did you hear?" Malfoy shouted angrily.
"Of what?" Harry lied swiftly, "I just got here. Besides, it's about time you got in trouble for something."
"[I]Potter![/I]" Snape snapped viciously, "[I]My office![/I] That will be [I]all[/I] Draco."
Feeling a slight stab of panic despite his best intentions, Harry ignored Draco's angry sneer, and willed himself to march into the lion's den.
