3. Potter Tries

Next morning, Harry awoke in a good mood, joking around with his friends on their way to the washroom – until he remembered what he had agreed to last night. Or almost agreed to… He'd finally decided to give the Headmaster's proposal a try, to get Dumbledore off his back. Meeting with the old wizard had not been bad at all. Dumbledore had answered many of his questions, and told him a lot about wizarding politics and the life of the wizarding community in general. He had, though, flatly refused to talk to Harry about his parents unless he agreed to aproach Snape, and had even admitted that this was a kind of blackmail.

All in all, Harry realised that he did not have much of a choice. Dumbledore had to get him to agree, of course. Ordering him, or Snape, to take up their lessons again would be useless.

Learning Occlumency would be for the better, there was no doubt about that in Harry anymore, but this was not the point. He'd been telling the Headmaster as much, over and over again: if it just hadn't to be Snape… What was worse still was that he'd have to try now and make good for his curiosity last year – Harry would have to apologize for his intrusion on Snape's memories int the Pensieve.

If he tried right away, soon, just gave it a shot, he could say he'd attempted it.

Harry was very sure anyway that this would never work out. He did not really feel sorry – if at all, it was for himself, because what he had seen of his father had given him quite a jolt – and he was sure that Snape would notice as much. The Professor would never go for a lukewarm apology!

Harry decided not to let his friends know yet. The decisions weighed on him heavily, but Harry knew that circumvention of the issue would bother him just as much. He was, in a sense, waiting for the right moment, and it came on Thursday afternoon. The day had run smooth and easy for Harry, and he felt up to the challenge.

Harry made his way down to the dungeons some time before Quidditch practice, reckoning slyly that flying would help him to soothe his mind and raise his mood if things really went wrong. He would see the Headmaster in the evening, to get a first instalment of the elusive story, too, and to be able to report success, or progress at least, would be good news and help his stand with the old wizard.

The greasy Potions master had no lessons at that time and was known to usually be in the classroom and grade tests, or to follow about a similar occupation.

Harry knocked, and was invited to enter.

Without speaking, he moved toward the raised platform where Snape sat behind his desk, and said: "Sir... you see, I'd like... a word, please... The Headmaster thinks..."

Oh, no good!

Snape waited, but Harry found himself unable to proceed; not that he'd put a lot of thought in advance into what he would say now. He could see that that was a mistake...

"Incongruent as ever, Potter. Have you ever managed a full sentence at all?"

Harry blushed, feeling the familiar anger rise at his Professor's contemptuous demeanour, just like it always did when he had to talk to him, but it was distant.

"See – I think I have to tell you that I am sorry..."

Snape interrupted him.

"Stop it, Mr. Potter. Since when are you complying with any teacher's request, or care to do as you are ordered? Not in my lessons in any case, and hardly elsewhere, or so I hear. Don't bother to act on the Headmaster's orders just now. Leave it be.

"I understand that a spoiled boy wonder like you does not truly appreciate the necessities and ways of apologizing, while at the same time you'd do well to feel sorry indeed for more than one incident. What good can an apology do if it is ordered, and brought forward merely on that account? Or, at least, if such an attitude is obvious to the recipient of the... honour?

"I am sure the Headmaster means well, but complying with his wishes just because he presses you to does no-one any good."

This was uttered in a weary manner, mostly lacking the usual bile, but the impatience behind the Professor's word was making itself felt nonetheless.

Harry shuffled his feet, feeling faintly angry about the Professor's attitude, and awkward, but tried not to rise to the assortment of baits Snape had lain out for him.

He realized again that Snape did want to do what the Headmaster intended about as much as he himself did, and tried to speak, but merely chewed around on his meaning.

Snape became irritated and said, "So, is there anything you MEAN to tell me, or would you care to leave now so that I may take a well-deserved break from you and your little moronic friends? I am in no mood for riddles!"

Harry felt still too subdued by the humiliation of the attempt itself and its obvious failure to become really enraged, but decided he could not do it, and turned to leave.

When he tried to open the classroom door, it wouldn't budge.

He turned around and saw Snape smirking at him.

"Let me go!" Harry said in a loud voice, getting nervous.

What did Snape want if he would not listen to his attempts to make good? He'd not even let him finish one sentence!

"Tsk, tsk, Potter! Now is that the attitude a teacher can expect of his student?"

Harry blushed once more at the sound of glee in Snape's voice, turned toward the Professor, and then felt his anger rise fully, like a wave, finding that a relief to the state of fearful paralysis he'd been in before.

He'd known this would never work!

But now, he could tell Dumbledore he'd tried, after all. If he only got away soon, without bursting with anger! If he couldn't, he'd just have another thing that both the Headmaster and Snape would consider to be in demand of an apology to make good for...

Snape waited for something, but Harry still did not speak.

"You've been so highly effective in deflecting all sorts of mischief coming your way and even protecting another lately that I find hard to imagine your having no clue at all what to do now... There are several possibilities..."

The realisation that Snape had been very much aware of the goings-on in Potions jolted Harry, but he could not rise to that bait either right now.

"Let me go now if you won't listen to..."

"No, Potter." Snape interrupted him. "I can at least try and teach you rudimentary manners here and now, if nothing else, due to your lack of grasp in general. One of the possibilities mentioned is simply decent behaviour. No wand-waving needed, merely a bit of deference..."

Harry breathed in deeply and raised his head.

"Please, may I go now, sir?"

"That is slightly better, boy, if not by the sound, then by the choice of words. Just remember what I said about honesty required of attempts. You are far too easily read..."

Once outside the murky room, he had to digest the fact that Snape knew about the attacks on him and Neville, and probably others, during his lessons. Harry had not had enough leisure to notice whether others were inflicted in the same manner, but did not remember complaints, either. On the other hand, most of it was done very slyly, so people might just blame themselves... Easy to read, he was? Now he would see to that, if it was by the exercises the same man had given him!

He was almost sure by Snape's admission that the git used his Potions lessons to teach Dark Arts since he was not permitted to do so officially; also, that Snape taught the sinister Arts themselves rather than the defence against them, too.

Harry remembered how the character of the attacks had changed every time, and never been the same, so that any preparation had been in vain... He also had to admit to himself that this was rather efficient and realistic a manner to apply not-quite-White Arts to learn to handle them... Defence against them, if only by inference, and "Constant Vigilance" too, of course...

But why had Snape not taken any points from him if he'd noticed they'd defended themselves? Had his words been a kind of compliment?

Harry snorted.

Yet, somewhere deep within himself, he envied the Slytherins their teachings, and this consideration strengthened his resolve to profit from his Professor's knowledge if he could at all.

Harry had to admit to himself, too, that he indeed would have done better to go prepared to a man like that, and that his failure was partly – mostly! – his own fault.

He amazed himself by thinking he might try again another day, not too soon though, to show Snape that he could dissemble quite well enough to make him accept his words. He'd apologise again, if necessary, and he'd ask Dumbledore about all of this.

After Quidditch practice, the shadow the conversation (if it could be called that) had thrown on his mood had vanished, and when he entered the common room, he'd forgotten all about the affair and was only reminded of it by the presence of his teacher at dinner. Harry did not feel awkward in the least about the attempt or the failure of his apology. It was almost like it never had happened.

There was something else that he was supposed to do, he was sure, but he could not remember what it was.

Harry meant to tell the Headmaster that his attempt at making good with the Potions Professor had been an utter failure just as it had to be, and would ever be, but he forgot about that, too.