And here is another chappy, Snape and Harry finally have their talk. Enjoy!
Many, many thanks again to my wonderful reviewers and my superb beta cecelle, she does a marvellous job!
Disclaimer: not mine, and no money made ...
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Chapter 6: Apologies and Drops of Blood
When Severus Snape woke up two hours later, he found himself on a sofa in the Potions classroom. The pain in his side was still considerable, but bearable in comparison to the maddening agony it had caused before. The potion seemed to work. He still felt dizzy and weak and feverish, but there were things he had to do, no time to idle around and play sick. First of all, he had to see McGonagall, and then the Potter brat. And then return to his master. He would need to spin him a convincing tale, too ...
Slowly, he sat up. Madam Pomfrey was quietly snoring in an armchair nearby. His shirt and cloak sat on a table close to the sofa, beside two small bottles filled with the amber liquid, and the silver goblet. He poured himself another goblet of the potion, downed it in one gulp, removed the bandage around his head and dressed, careful to not make a sound. He pocketed the bottles and sneaked out of the classroom, for once closing the door noiselessly behind him.
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The way up to the headmistress's office was long and laborious, but finally Snape stood in front of the Gargoyle, panting and drenched with sweat. Shit, he didn't know the password, nor did he have his wand to send his Patronus. At a loss, he leaned against the wall, thinking frantically of words McGonagall might have used for a password.
The sound of feet on the stairs made him retreat even further into the shadows of the wall. Who would come to see the headmistress so late in the evening?
It was none other than Harry Potter hurrying up the stairs. Harry reached the Gargoyle and spoke the password, when suddenly a shadow moved behind him. In a split second, he drew his wand.
"Potter!" Snape hissed, "Haven't you done enough damage with your wand already?"
"P-Professor Snape. I didn't know ..." Harry stuttered, hiding his wand behind his back, his face turning a deep crimson.
"Get on that stair, I don't have all day."
Harry stumbled backwards through the gap in the wall and onto the moving spiral stone staircase, closely followed by Snape.
Before Harry touched the brass knocker of the door leading to the office, he turned around.
"Professor Snape," he said, taking his courage in both hands, "I need to apologise. I didn't know you did it on Professor Dumbledore's orders, that you were still loyal t– "
"Cut it, Potter," spat Snape, "Neither am I your professor, nor am I willing to listen to your gibberish. Will you knock already? I have business to talk with the headmistress – and with you."
Harry didn't think twice; he banged the knocker and hurried into the room at McGonagall's 'enter' as quickly as he could.
"Harry. Severus." The headmistress, who was sitting at the huge, claw-footed desk that used to be Dumbledore's, motioned towards two chairs opposite her. "Take seats. I'm glad to see you up and about already, Severus."
Snape ignored the chair in front of him. "Did you get my message, Minerva?" he asked abruptly.
"Yes, but unfortunately, it was spoiled. I hope you can enlighten me as to what it said?" McGonagall cast a glance at Harry.
"Potter may stay, as it concerns him as well," Snape said with a sneer. "There will be a major attack soon. The Dark Lord is rallying his forces. He intends to break any resistance once and for all. So, expect the Order to be his chosen target for the assault."
"When?" McGonagall asked, having paled considerably.
"I don't know yet. I'll send my Patronus. But it may be on very short notice. Better be ready."
McGonagall nodded.
"My wand?"
The headmistress pulled out a drawer in her desk and handed the long, slender wand made of polished birch over to its owner.
"I'm so sorry, Severus ..." she began, but was interrupted curtly.
"Don't be," Snape hissed. "Where's the mirror?"
"The mirror? There was no mirror ..."
Raising an eyebrow, Snape let his eyes wander from McGonagall to Harry. "No mirror? How strange, indeed ..."
"Sir, I – I found it in the grass, under the Astronomy Tower," said Harry, not daring to look Snape in the eye. "I just wanted to tell Professor McGonagall. That's why I came, actually." He passed the small package over to the headmistress. McGonagall threw her former colleague a questioning look and, as he gave an almost invisible nod, opened it. She gasped.
"Ravenclaw's mirror!" she exclaimed.
"I thought it would be broken," Snape said, looking at the mirror gloomily. "Better you destroy it, Minerva; but be careful, there might still be some Dark Magic in it."
"Don't you think you are a bit paranoid, Severus? Rowena Ravenclaw never used Dark Magic. It would be a shame to destroy it!"
"Do as I tell you, Minerva, for your own good. And now I have to speak with Potter – alone." Snape motioned towards the office door. Not at all amused about being thrown out of her office by a much younger wizard, McGonagall made to protest, but was cut short by a piercing dark look from said wizard. She turned on her heels and left.
"Potter. You know what that is?" asked Snape, pointing at the broken mirror.
"Yes, sir," said Harry, raising his face and looking into Snape's for the first time. "But how do you know? And where did you find it? We've been searching for it for –"
"It should suffice that I know – all of it," answered Snape haughtily. "The 'where' is none of your business. I'll take care of Nagini, too," he sneered at Harry's astounded face. "I told you I knew all of it, didn't I? Then it's up to 'The Chosen One'," he curled his lips, putting a delicate stress on the last words, "to fulfil the prophecy."
"And how – HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DO THAT?" Harry stood up, suddenly bursting with long bottled anger. "Can you tell me? All Dumbledore's enigmatic talk about 'love' and how powerful it is, but he never said how I could use it!"
"Sit down, Potter, and compose yourself!" Snape spat contemptuously. He turned away from the agitated young man who stood only a few feet away from him, shooting daggers at him from fiery emerald eyes. Lazily, he sat down on the headmistress's chair, steepling his long, pallid fingers. Finally, he continued. "Actually, I can tell you, Potter. You still have my old Potions book, don't you?"
"Yes – well, I mean, no –" Harry stuttered, taken totally by surprise by the question.
"Make up your mind, Potter, do you still have it?" Snape barked.
"It's in the Room of Requirement, I hid it there when –" muttered Harry.
"When?"
"You know when!" Harry shouted, anger quickly boiling up again. "When you searched my books in the boys' bathroom!"
"You might not be aware of it, and neither was I at that time, that Dumbledore himself made sure you would have that book. And he did so for a reason." He paused shortly to make his point. "And before you ask, he confiscated the book. A certain headboy had let slip that it was the origin of the hex that same headboy had enjoyed using so much only shortly before." Snape's unhealthily pale face darkened. Obviously, Dumbledore had not been amused.
"You will need to get it back," Snape continued coldly. "Tonight, Potter. You don't have much time to prepare. Chapter on Maniuplative Draughts. The very last recipe, understand?" Harry nodded mutely. "You follow my instructions, precisely. And then – " he bent down to retrieve quill and parchment from the topmost drawer, "you do exactly what I'm going to write down just now." For a long while, there was only the sound of the quill scratching over the parchment. Finally, Snape reached over and handed Harry the roll.
"Here – after your unexpectedly successful performance last year, you should be able to do it."
Harry looked at the list of ingredients on top of the crammed page. His eyes went wide.
"What? I need – how should I possibly get hold of three drops of – Voldemort's blood?" he asked incredulously.
"Think, Potter," Snape smirked, obviously satisfied with Harry's reaction. "What did Wormtail use in the potion to revive the Dark Lord?"
"He used –" Harry closed his eyes at the horrific memory. "He used my blood ..." he whispered, realisation dawning on him. That was why, for a fleeting instant, Harry had thought he saw a gleam of something like triumph in Dumbledore's eyes when he had told him about his role in what Voldemort had called his 'rebirthing party'. The headmaster had known already then.
"So, I simply use some drops of my own blood?"
"Three drops, Potter, no more and no less," Snape drawled. "Any more questions?"
"No, sir."
"You may talk to Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger about the potion. But nobody else." Snape gave Harry another piercing stare. "And you are supposed to brew it yourself. On your own. Or it won't work. Have I made myself clear?"
"Yes, sir." Harry clutched the parchment to his chest and got up. "May I leave now?"
Snape nodded curtly and stood up himself. He swayed, gripping the edge of the desk to steady himself.
"Professor, you OK?" Harry asked, honest concern in his voice.
"How often do I have to tell you not to call me this? I'm not your professor!" Snape gritted through his teeth and straightened up, sending Harry one last glare full of loathing. In a swirl of black robes, he swooped out of the office.
TBC
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birch wand: Birch with its rather light wood maybe does not seem to fit for our dark Potions master, but for some of the wands in canon, Rowling chose the wood of the trees from the Celtic Tree Oracle corresponding to the birth date. Since Snape's birthday is the 9th of January, his would be birch. I wonder why Rowling chose that date, though (I know it's not because it's also my birthday ...)? I do hope it's because of the symbolic meaning associated with the beginning of January, the rebirth motive! That would back up our theory that Snape is not an evil traitor and murderer ...
Here you can find more about Celtic Symbolism: wwwdotgeocitiesdotcomslashArea51slashShireslash3951slashdryadart.html
Hope you enjoyed the chapter!
