PART FIVE: SNAPE'S INSIGHT

Potions class the next day was hell. He hadn't done the summer reading or completed the summer homework, thus he earned himself a week of detention. He ruined his potion when he stirred in the hellebore counterclockwise. Although it was only the second ingredient and it was still early enough in class to start over, Snape remarked snidely, "While some may worship the ground our precious celebrity walks on, I refuse to sacrifice more hellebore on the altar of Mr. Potter's incompetence. Evanesce."

Harry spent an hour and a half perched by his empty cauldron as everyone around him diligently completed the assignment.

His boredom was interrupted several times by Draco Malfoy chucking salamander eyes at him behind Snape's back. He would swear Snape had seen it this last time, and greasy bastard still done nothing to reprimand the blonde Slytherin. He wondered angrily if he could glare a hole in Snape's head, and spent the rest of the period attempting to do so. Where was accidental magic when you needed it?

After Transfiguration, he confronted McGonagall again about getting out of Snape's class. She was in no mood to be generous, especially since Potions that morning had left Harry in a surly mood that spilled into his performance in her class. She scolded him for 'persisting in this nonsense', and would have assigned him detention if he hadn't informed her that Snape had promised him to Filch for the entire week.

He imagined himself scrubbing the skin straight off Snape's bones as he cleaned the rim of a toilet bowl later in detention, and immediately found the activity much more satisfying. Of course, Filch had to shatter the fantasy by hovering over Harry's shoulder, muttering something about 'spoiled, filthy beasts' who thought too highly of themselves. Because Argus Filch could never feature in any fantasy of his, or in the fantasy of any individual of sound taste and mind, the boy found himself again forced to contemplate the sheer drudgery of his work.

By the time he dragged himself into Snape's office for Occlumency, he was exhausted and half-dead on his feet.

"Legilimens!" the Potions Master stated in greeting, sending Harry crashing to the floor.

He was sitting across from Cho Chang in Madam Puddifoot's as her eyes filled with tears... He stared at Dumbledore as a single tear dribbled down the headmaster's face... He was casting the Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix Lestrange...

Somewhere, he found the strength to throw Snape out of his mind, burning with horror that Snape had witnessed that memory. As he pulled himself up off the floor, he avoided the man's eyes, dreading the sneering smile he was sure to receive.

Snape knew he'd cast an Unforgivable. Snape would report him and get him expelled, if not shipped directly to Azkaban...

"That was a pathetic effort, Potter" Snape said curtly. "I would think after the debacle last spring you would have learned the value of practice."

Harry stared at him. Snape couldn't really just be brushing this off, could he…?

"Clear your mind."

Harry attempted to do so. But how could he? What was Snape doing? Who was this man?

"Legilimens!"


It was baffling that Snape hadn't pounced upon the chance to get rid of Harry for good. It was even more confusing that Snape hadn't looked the least bit surprised at learning of Harry's attempt to cast the Cruciatus Curse Did he simply pay so little regard to the use of Unforgivables? Was he simply that good an actor? Or…

Harry realized it during Charms the next morning.

"That greasy son of a bitch already knew!"

The class was staring at him and Flitwick looked very put-off. Harry muttered an apology, and lost ten points from Gryffindor for bad language.

He spent dinner glaring at Snape from across the Great Hall. Several of the Gryffindors noticed his fixed gaze, and at first sympathized with Harry for whatever heinous misdeed Snape had obviously committed to inspire such scorn in the Boy-Who-Lived. After several more minutes, Seamus started joking that Harry's attentive gaze stemmed from deep-seated lust for their greasiest professor. After a few more minutes, the Irish boy had convinced himself that his theory was the truth, and he began staring with deep-seated lust at Harry, imagining Harry staring with deep-seated lust at Seamus just as he was staring with deep-seated lust at Snape. But his concentration was soon wrecked when Ron noticed him staring with deep-seated lust at Harry and slapped the Irish boy, hard, over the back of the head. No more looks of deep-seated lust were cast under the redhead's withering glare.

Harry didn't notice. When Snape stalked in a furrow of black robes from the Great Hall, he followed at a distance, waiting to catch his professor alone.

He didn't count on Snape spotting him first, and when the spell caught him by surprise and slammed him against the wall, Harry let out a cry of protest.

"Why are you following me, Potter?" Snape demanded.

Harry fumbled at the invisible grip holding him in place before Snape's face twitched with exasperation, and a curt wave of his wand released Harry into a heap on the floor.

"You knew!" Harry charged, as soon as he caught his breath.

"What are you going on about?" Snape said sourly, casting a silencing spell around them.

"About Bellatrix! That I cursed her!"

Snape folded his arms, staring darkly at the boy only now managing to scramble up from the ground. "I'm a Death Eater, Potter. Believe it or not, I'm privy to quite a bit more information than you might think."

Harry glared at him for a long moment. Something wasn't adding up here.

He considered Snape through keen, narrow eyes. "You talked about my 'state of mind' yesterday. That's what you were talking about! You think I'm…" he fumbled for an appropriate word, and was utterly appalled with the one that came to mind. "… deranged."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Melodrama does not suit you, Mr. Potter. I do not believe you to be 'deranged' but the fact remains that you attempted an Unforgivable. You may be an arrogant, idiotic Gryffindor, but you are not cruel. That attempt alone, coupled with your aggression towards both Mr. Malfoy and myself at the end of last year, serves as a powerful indicator that you are not entirely… sound."

"I was angry!" Harry cried. "She killed Sirius."

Snape took a step closer to him, watching him intently. "And why are you angry now, Mr. Potter? Why have you plunged your house into negative points in just the first three days of the semester?" Then, in the snide tone with which Harry was all-too-familiar, "I suppose you've unearthed several other perpetrators in your godfather's death?"

Oh, that was it!

Harry actually managed to slam his fist across Snape's jaw this time, before the spell knocked him to the ground. He found himself in the degrading position of screaming profanity up at his professor while fighting the oppressive weight of an impedimentia spell.

Snape was rubbing his jaw absently, staring down at Harry with a distinct lack of expression that suddenly made him feel humiliated and ashamed of his outburst. He fell silent and let his head slump back to the ground, fighting the urge to scream in frustration.

"You fail to realize," Snape said, gazing down at him, "that moments of unreasoning fury will ruin your life in an instant. Had your curse been successful, you very well might be in Azkaban right now."

"Why do you care?" Harry said mutinously.

"I don't!" Snape snarled, canceling the impedimentia spell with a harsh jerk of his wand. "I merely am the only one perceptive enough to see where you are heading!"

"Oh? And where's that?"

Harry regretted the words as soon as they left his lips. Snape had instantly taken on a predatory mien, stalking forward and leaning down to bring their faces level.

"If you continue nursing this mindless anger, Mister Potter, you are going to destroy yourself and everyone around you!"

Harry stared at him, unable to speak if he tried.

Snape rubbed his jaw for a long moment, watching Harry keenly. When Harry could still say nothing, he tucked his wand away.

"Two additional weeks of detention for striking a teacher," Snape intoned. "And I trust you can show yourself out of the dungeons."

Harry couldn't muster an objection as Snape turned away from him. His restless energy over the last few days suddenly drained, as though he'd lost a particularly brutal fight.

He was angry. At Snape, at the world, at himself. At Sirius, for dying and leaving him here alone.

Sirius

Harry clenched his fists, trying determinedly not to think of him. He didn't think he could bear to think of him.

"Well, well, isn't this our lucky day. Looks like Scarhead's gotten lost!"

Draco's snide voice had never felt more welcome. Harry turned around to face the smug blonde, who was gloating at some perceived advantage as he took refuge between the hulking forms of Crabbe and Goyle.

"No Snape to save you now, Potty!" Draco informed him maliciously.

Harry's smile was downright creepy. "Or you, Malfoy."

In a flurry of motion, first Draco and then Goyle tried to hex him. Harry blocked them easily, and nailed all three of the Slytherins with a few choice curses from DA.

As he strolled out of the dungeons, passing the three Slytherins moaning on the floor, he could almost forget that everything wrong in the world was still bubbling beneath the surface.

TBC