Rated
R for swearing, violence, and suicide (and/or suicide-related
issues). If this offends anyone, don't read. Thought I'd add that I
own nadda. All characters, names and related indicia are property of
J.K. Rowling. I am merely trying to share some of her goodness in a
non-illegal way. :)
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Chapter 4: Lashing
Out
Thursday arrived in a frenzy of tiredness and
rain. The skies had cleared up earlier that afternoon and the ceiling
of the great Hall was a staggering mixture of orange, purple and red;
tinged with blue in the center, suggesting an upcoming cloudless
night. Professor Sinistra would be delighted.
A large babble
of talk had broken out over the students, for Dumbledore had
announced not five minutes into dinner that the post of Defense
Against the Dark Arts teacher would be filled by none other than
Reumus Lupin once more. Some people had cheered and raised their
goblets in a salute, and others had looked quite frightened, but at
least Dumbledore would be able to stop filling in like he had been
for the past three weeks and get back to his office.
Ron poked
uncertainly at his plate of food with his fork as though examining
something potentially dangerous.
"What is
this...beef? Chicken? Dog?"
Harry snorted into his
potatoes.
Hermione, who was reading from her Ancient Runes
textbook, looked up hopelessly at Ron and rolled her eyes. "It's
pork chop pie, Ron. Didn't you hear Dumbledore in D.A.D.A. telling us
all he'd added it to the menu?"
Ron shot her a glare. "I
was busy reading the new Zonko's catalog, remember? You should know,
you spent the whole class sending me notes telling me that if I
didn't behave I'll go nowhere in life because I don't have a proper
education..."
Hermione tutted and retreated back behind
her book, muttering. Ron raised his eyebrows at her and pushed his
plate away, searching for something better.
"What d'you
think about it, Harry?" he asked, pulling a platter of steaks
towards him.
Harry, who had sunk into a kind of blank trance,
came back to reality and stared at Ron. "Huh?"
"Lupin,"
Ron repeated, biting into a portion of meat and chewing loudly. "Whaa
you fink 'bout 'em commim back?"
Harry wished Ron would
shut up. He shrugged. "It's really great...I mean, he couldn't
get a job anywhere else, could he?"
Ron nodded and
continued eating. Harry was glad; he really didn't feel like talking.
Dumbledore's news had caught him off-guard. Sure Lupin was the best
teacher they'd ever had, but every time Harry laid eyes on the (as
far as he considered him), last Marauder, he felt a horrible stab of
guilt, loneliness and sadness...he reminded Harry of Sirius. Harry
picked at his potatoes, suddenly not hungry anymore. Glancing up at
the staff table, the teachers were all talking quietly amongst
themselves (with the exception of Snape, who was absent). The weight
o the silence around him was threatening to crush him. Things were
like this now: every time people near him stopped speaking, Sirius
entered Harry's thoughts. Then with Sirius came images of the
graveyard...Wormtail's severed, bleeding arm...Bellatrix Lestrange
daring to look Neville in the face and gloat over torturing his
parents into insanity...Harry's bleeding hands as broken glass cut
into his skin while he hurled things around Dumbledore's office,
screaming...
"Harry, are you all right? You're all pale
and shaky."
Hermione was looking at Harry, her brown eyes
filled with concern. Ron was still eating.
Harry hastily
folded his trembling hands into his lap and forced a painful smile
onto his face. Unfortunately, it came out as more of a grimace.
Hermione looked at him in something that looked like pity.
"Will
you be OK?"
"I'm fine," Harry lied. "I'm
OK, you don't need to worry."
The girl looked
unconvinced. She closed her book and took to staring off into space,
trailing a finger around the rim of her goblet.
Harry's ears
picked up the sound of Draco Malfoy behind him, above the noisy din
of the Great Hall. He turned slightly so he could get a view of the
boy, not really sure he wanted to see whatever it was that he was
going on about. Most likely it wouldn't be something good.
Malfoy
was laughing about something and waving his right arm around in a way
that might have suggested he was miming being in a duel. Next, he
seemed to freeze, then fall gracefully backwards off his seat amidst
roars of laughter. Pansy Parkinson's ear-wrenching shriek was the
most audible and with a wave of intense anger, Harry realized that
Malfoy was miming Sirius' death.
"Oh no Harry,
don't!"
Harry didn't hear Hermione's terrified
warning. Suddenly he was standing and then Malfoy was in front of
him. Anger pulsed through Harry with such intensity he wanted to
scream. Instead, his fist came into contact with Malfoy's jaw and the
blond boy was on the floor. He had his wand out, but Harry was
ready.
"P-petrificus Totalus!"
Dodging
Malfoy's spell, Harry clambered onto the boy and began to punch every
inch of his face with as much strength as he could muster. Screams
erupted from all over the Great Hall and he wasn't even half aware of
strong arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him off the sobbing,
bleeding boy in front of him. Harry was shouting as he was being
pulled from the room, still putting up a terrific fight against
whomever it was that was holding him.
"Don't you dare
make fun of Sirius again! I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll kill
you!"
-------
Severus Snape had emerged out of
a side door and into the Great Hall just in time to see Potter stand
up from the Gryffindor table and proceed to attack the stupid
Slytherin. His headache was making him as sour as ever and he pinched
the bridge of his nose again before striding over to where Potter was
beating the living shit out of Malfoy. Whoa. If he had had a
classmate that unstable, he'd have been sure to provoke him as seldom
as he could. Sometimes he wondered if Malfoy liked getting beaten up,
then he wondered if Potter liked the attention of being the one to
throw the first punch.
Malfoy had tried to freeze Potter's
limbs up - admirable attempt - Snape himself would have personally
chosen a hex with two or three syllables...like Stupefy...much
quicker to say.
Malfoy was yelling. So was Potter. Snape
stooped over - aware of how the students tried to move away from him
- and grabbed the black-haired boy around the waist. Holy shit, he
must have been angry; he was struggling with what felt like every
ounce of strength in his body. Which was a surprising amount.
The
teachers were swarming: McGonagall was hoisting the blubbering Malfoy
to his feet, Madame Pomphrey was scurrying out of the Great Hall,
Dumbledore was following her, and Flitwick was trying to restore
order. Hagrid eventually took over for him and his booming voice
dominated the noise in the room, bringing it almost down to silence.
Snape hated every single person in Hogwarts at that moment for daring
to cause such a ruckus when his head hurt so badly. He pulled the
screaming boy out into the Entrance Hall and pushed him roughly
against a stone pillar. For a moment Harry's eyes were panicked, then
they quickly changed to confusion when he saw who it was.
"Shut
up!" Snape hissed. "Potter - stop squarming like a
goddamn idiot! You are in serious trouble. Twenty points from
Gryffindor for making it so hard for me to get you out here! Now, we
are going to proceed to the Headmaster's office and you will
make sure that I do not have to lay my hands on you
again, or I'll take every point in that bloody hourglass!"
Potter's
emerald eyes were filled with furious tears, turning them into pools
of hate. His hair...well...it was always messy. Snape straightened
and shot Potter his best murderous glare, which got the boy moving.
None spoke; both were seething.
Something was definitely wrong
with Potter. Snape had seen it immediately when Harry had arrived at
Hogwarts for his sixth year. He was fighting more times a day with
Malfoy than Snape made fun of Longbottom in a month. His grades, from
what Dumbledore had told him, were falling steadily. He looked awful:
he was paler than usual and there were dark circles under his eyes,
which had taken on a sort of...haunted look. He ate less, talked
less, laughed less...yes, something was definitely wrong.
The
stone gargoyles were in front of them now. The halls were quite
silent.
He rolled his eyes irritably. What am I, a bloody
councilor? "Puking Pastille." God, those things
taste good? He hated Dumbledore's passwords. What did the old
coot do, use up all the names for sweets and start over again? The
two silently ascended the moving staircase and, without knocking,
Snape pushed Potter into the gleaming office.
Dumbledore was
stroking Fawkes and looking out a window, and did not look at either
of them as they entered.
"Ah, Severus. Please, both of
you take a seat. I trust Minerva and young Malfoy will be here
shortly."
Potter looked like he'd rather stick his head
into a bag of eels than sit down, but he plopped himself moodily into
one of the chairs near the Headmaster's desk nonetheless. Snape
cleared his throat.
"I have to stay, sir?"
Dumbledore
looked at the potion's master. "I think it would be best if you
did. I need to speak with you anyway."
Great, another
speech. Fucking brilliant.
Snape's onyx eyes narrowed to
slits. He turned and focused his attention on Potter instead. Hoping
Dumbledore would not interfere, he rounded on the boy.
"What
did you think you were doing, Potter?" he spat, glaring at
the young wizard.
Harry cast a filthy look into the fireplace.
"Malfoy was making fun of Sirius."
"I don't
care if Malfoy was making fun of your sodding mother, acting
as you did was totally inappropriate! Nor is your excuse sufficient
enough! I am growing quite weary, and so is Professor McGonagall, of
your idiocy. Both of us would love to retain some points for our
houses by the end pf the year, or have punishments not occurred in
that pampered little celebrity brain of yours? Have my detentions all
week not been making you even consider the fact that speaking
and acting out of turn come with consequences? I daresay --"
The
door opened and all heads turned as Professor McGonagall and Draco
Malfoy entered, both looking equally as angry.
Dumbledore
pointed to a chair across from Harry. "Sit." There was no
twinkle in his eyes. Malfoy sat.
"Potter," Professor
McGonagall said harshly, her eyes boring holes into the boy.
"Firstly, let me take fifty points from Gryffindor and condemn
you to a week's worth of detentions starting tomorrow at six o'clock
with Argus Filch. Secondly, I am absolutely ashamed at the moment to
admit to the fact that you are in my house! What on earth -
"
"Thank you, Minerva, Severus has already seen to
shouting at Mr. Potter," Dumbledore interrupted. He looked at
Snape expectantly.
"Fifty points from Slytherin,"
Snape said grudgingly. "But twenty points more for that quick
attempt at spell work, Mr. Malfoy."
Harry opened his
mouth furiously, and then closed it again. He looked at Malfoy with
some satisfaction instead: his jaw was bruising, his nose was rather
large and showed signs of bleeding, his eyes were puffing up and his
lip looked like it might have seen some of Pomphrey's healing
salve.
Professor McGonagall rolled her eyes at Snape and set
her jaw. Dumbledore looked very troubled.
"Boys," he
said. "This fighting cannot go on. It simply cannot. We have
tried to teach you. We have deducted points, given detentions...but
causing a brawl like that in the middle of dinner reflected poorly on
yourselves and your houses. It made you two look horrible. It
inconvenienced the teachers, the students, and me from my delightful
pork chop pie might I add. The light you shed on yourselves was most
disturbing. I know both of you are in different houses, have
different morals, different thoughts and feelings towards one
another, - " And here his eyes flickered to the faces of the two
professors in the room. - "But it in no way provides a sound
excuse for the poor behavior you displayed."
Harry and
Draco were glaring at each other as though wishing desperately that
daggers would shoot from their eyes and pierce the other. Harry
couldn't look at Dumbledore. As much as he loved seeing Malfoy
injured, the Headmaster's words brought shame to him. His cheeks were
suddenly tinged with red. His shoulders slumped and his chest heaved
with retained anger. Harry was only half aware of the stinging and
biting pain of his bruised and badly bleeding knuckles.
"Now,"
Dumbledore continued, walking behind his desk and sitting down. "We
can do this the easy way or the difficult way. The smart and
therefore easy path would be to cease fighting on all levels
entirely."
Is that possible? Harry thought
savagely.
"The hard way, if you boys will be so arrogant
as to choose, will be one hundred points each from your houses no
exceptions, a month's detention and suspension of privileges. This
would include forfeiting your positions on the house Quidditch teams,
Hogsmeade visits, and etcetera. Now, have I made myself
clear?"
"Yes," Harry and Draco muttered.
"Very
well," Dumbledore said. "Minerva, will you show Mr. Malfoy
out? Professor Snape, Harry, a further word if you
please."
Professor McGonagall shot one last horrible look
at Harry before prodding Malfoy out of the room. Dumbledore surveyed
Harry through his half-moon glasses.
"Harry, I hate doing
this."
Harry found an area just left of Dumbledore's desk
very interesting.
"It is quite deserved, however,"
Snape said smugly. "The both of them would be expelled if they
were in my school."
Dumbledore sighed. "Harry,
look at me."
Look at you. You want me to look at you
after you ignored me all last year...
Harry's insides
clenched and he ripped his gaze away from the floor and slowly met
Dumbledore's eyes. They seemed to be searching him from the inside
out. Looking for something. Harry was scared, uncomfortable,
furious.
He was everything.
He wanted to cry. To break
something. To scream.
"Harry, is there something you need
to tell me? Did something happen that's influencing this behavior?
You never used to be like this until Sirius passed. Was it Sirius,
Harry?"
Are you purposely trying to get me going? Why
are you talking about Sirius? Why?
Harry groaned inwardly.
His eyes grew cloudy, unwilling to let anyone see into his soul. His
stomach felt like it needed to expel its contents.
"No,
sir."
Snape tutted from beside him. "Of course not.
He's being valiant and sparing us further misery, how Gryffindor of
him."
"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said
quietly, his eyes still locked on Harry's.
He's trying to
get to me. To break me. No, I won't let it happen.
"I'm
fine, sir."
"You are not fine, Harry."
"His
beloved godfather just died, what do you expect?"
"Thank
you, Severus."
Harry was on his feet. "I'm fine!
I'm OK! Nothing happened! Can I go now, sir?"
Dumbledore
sighed and looked sadly at the boy. "Very well. Straight to your
dormitory, Harry."
Harry almost sprinted the length of
the office. He wrenched the door open and was gone, blinded by his
furious tears.
As
soon as the door closed Dumbledore ran his hands over his tired face.
"Severus...what am I going to do?"
Snape's eyes
widened in surprise. Dumbledore asking his advice? This wasn't
in the job description, taking care of insolent little wankers and
playing the councilor...he would have to be sure to send Dumbledore
an anonymous hate letter later...wow, Albus asking him?
"I
would suggest writing to the families," Snape said icily. "But
the Dursley's wouldn't give two shits if Potter died let alone if
he's behaving in school, and the Malfoy's...well...I don't think any
owl knows where to find a large group of Death Eaters evading the
Ministry."
Dumbledore smiled sadly. "True."
"The
idiot's need to be watched at all times," Snape went on. "At
least, Potter does; he's the one doing the physical things more often
than not..."
The old wizard nodded. "I think,"
he said, apparently coming out of a deep thought. "That Harry is
keeping something from us."
"Albus, the boy could
fill volumes with the schemes and things he's keeping from us. Spare
me a further headache and elaborate, please."
"His
past," Dumbledore said, a small twinkle betraying his amusement
at the man before him. "How we was treated. What these past six
years have done to him."
"He'll be fine."
"There
are danger signs, Severus."
"He's a bloody
Gryffindor! He can take care of himself!"
"He has
had to endure things that fully grown wizards have not had to!"
"He
doesn't want help. In other words, he wants us to fuck off."
"I
cannot let him - "
"And who do you think will
help?" Severus was on his feet now too. "Me? Minerva?
Sybil, for god's sake? Have you ever gotten past your
unfortunate love for this child to see how pompous, bigheaded and
moronic this boy is? I would rather drink Stinskap than even consider
wasting my precious free time with that...that..."
Dumbledore
looked crestfallen. Snape fell silent, hating Potter with every fibre
in his body. He stared defiantly at the Headmaster.
"You
can think what you like of Harry," Albus said quietly.
"I
am very much obliged to," Snape hissed.
"I think,
however," the old man said, his eyes turning cold. "That
you need to get over this childish hate of him."
Snape
gawked.
"Any disagreement you had with James Potter was
in the past. The fact that Harry is James' son shouldn't prejudice
you against this boy. He did nothing to you. If I am not mistaken, it
was you who insinuated the hate and arguments between the two of you.
I do not mean to point fingers, Severus, but this feud is almost as
silly as Potter's feud with Malfoy."
Snape glared
mutinously at the Headmaster, at loss for words.
"You
will keep tabs on Harry and report any disturbing behavior to me.
Talk to him if you can, in a nice way please...you're fairly
observant, you'll be perfect." Dumbledore sat back in his chair
and put his fingertips together below his chin.
Snape suddenly
felt like crying. His free time...what little he had left...would be
swallowed by that goddamn child. His walls buckled even more and he
would have liked to do nothing better than to run to the comfort of
his office and summon a bottle of Firewhisky from his liquor
cabinet... The pain in his head gave a particularly nasty lurch and
he closed his eyes, once more pinching the bridge of his
nose.
"Severus?"
"Mmmmm?"
"You
aren't saying anything."
"I am aware of that."
The
potions master opened his eyes and studied Dumbledore wearily. "Fine.
Whatever. I am going to go down to my office now and get horribly
drunk...perhaps that will help me forget the pain. May I leave?
Sir?"
Dumbledore chuckled slightly. "Certainly.
I would ask to join you but I fear I might do something in a drunken
state that I might regret later."
Snape shook his head
and Flooed himself out of the old git's office.
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