20. Another Summons

Harry awoke feeling refreshed. He'd had no nightmares even though he'd forgotten to take the Dreamless Sleep, and decided that apparently, aggravation could be an excellent sleeping draught. His anger had evaporated, too. Snape's detentions – that must be the man's way of showing his acceptance of an apology, and the setting of a date for the lessons... It had been, too, a very convenient moment with Draco Malfoy and his buddies being within earshot, and no-one the wiser.

But why had they been down there at all?

He had not told his friends why he thought Malfoy and his creeps had been down at Snape's office. It would not be a huge surprise in the present light of things, but all there had been so far was wild surmise after Hermione had gone to see the Headmaster – a shot into the blue, mainly made to raise Ron's hackles at first…

Harry was sure that Snape was teaching the Slytherins Dark Arts, and probably other things, too. Of this, the events during the last Double Potions lesson were proof enough.

When they were heading for breakfast, Harry asked: "Hermione, why didn't you ever TELL Neville about the wards? You must have noticed that he had no idea about what was going on. He'd done better for knowing it, for sure!"

Hermione blushed.

"And did I ever mention that, since a couple of weeks, I got the feeling that things are easier for me in Potions? I wonder what that means..."

Hermione was happy not to have to talk about Neville. "I noticed that you seem less distracted, Harry, so maybe it's only your attitude toward Professor Snape?"

Harry grinned.

"Strange... that's just what Dumbledore said, and I am sure there's more to it... I don't believe it though. It simply must have to do with the wards."

His friends did not react to that.

"Yesterday, I asked Snape to exempt Neville from pranks, warding him for some time, until he's stronger."

"WOW! So you did see Snape again? And what did the git say?"

"You have one guess precisely, Ron."

"So, no, obviously."

"And right in one, too! I admit mentioning it was a bit of a pretext, too, sorry for Neville, but I don't think that any other situation would have changed his answer."

"That mean, greasy git!" interjected Ron.

"And he told me to send the Prefects for him to give the same answer to more competent persons."

"He is really...

"You already said that, Ron," Harry interrupted his friend, tired of Snape-bashing regardless of his own general feelings for the man, and added with a malicious grin: "And he's right, actually. Neville will do better if there's a need. In any case, I think you and Hermione should go see him on that matter, to try and get relief for Neville anyway."

Ron stared at him, trying to gauge the seriousness of Harry's words, but Hermione responded eagerly: "Of course, that is a great idea – Ron, let's go to the dungeons right away! The events in Double Potions yesterday more than justify protection for Neville! He could have been hurt, falling like he did!"

She was tugging at Ron's sleeve urgently, dragging him into the direction of the Potions classroom.

Ron rolled his eyes, not managing to jerk his sleeve free, and implored: "But, Hermione, not before breakfast... please? Snape will be there, too!"

She did not listen, but continued to pull him along.

Since Hermione was not looking at him anymore, Harry grinned widely and winked at Ron who in turn glared at him, and said: "Now that's the spirit, Hermione... Ron, why don't you support her? Do you think that's fair to Neville?"

Ron almost snarled at him, being dragged off in the direction of the dungeons, and said, "Oh, come on, Hermione, look at Harry, he's just kidding! After breakfast, ok?"

And, to Harry, when she still did not react: "I think it's no use! Hey, STOP IT!"

Harry finally came to his assistance: "Hold it, Hermione, there's really no use – I've heard and seen him say it."

But Hermione didn't stop to pull Ron in the general direction of Snape's office and said, between gasps of exertion from dragging her friend along: "Never mind, the ... git just has to... do something... about this... We have… to make.. that request… official…!"

"Hermione, stop! PLEASE listen to me! Remember what we said about Potions being Defence against the Dark Arts? Neville needs that chance for training just as much as we all do, if not more so! I believe if we tell him what is on, or even show him, he might eventually be able to detect mischief coming his way on his own, and defend himself! He'll need a real-life situation to train, too! You could teach him to protect himself. It's a great subject for Dumbledore's Army, as well – what do you think?"

Hermione had become thoughtful at his words, and slowed down. She let go of her Ron's garments, and nodded her assent.

"We'll try that first. But if it doesn't work, Snape'll get an earful!"

She turned and followed Ron, who had, upon his release, hurried to proceed into the Great Hall, likely as much because he was hungry as out of fear of being dragged off to the dungeons again if he stayed around.

"What is more," Harry said to her in a low voice, holding Hermione back, "is that we have to keep this under the blankets. Remember the detentions I raved about yesterday? I've come to think that they are an excellent pretext for learning Occlumency again, and that Snape intended just that!"

She looked at him ponderously and eventually nodded, already lost in thought.

When Harry was about to enter the Great Hall in the wake of his friends, he heard his name being called, and saw Minerva McGonagall beckoning to him. She motioned for Harry to follow. They ended up close to the staircase, well within sight of everyone but with a lot of open, empty space around them.

"The Headmaster asked me, Mr. Potter, to tell you to see him this afternoon, after lessons. He might not find another date to meet you this week for... your usual talk."

Harry nodded, saying: "I do have an appointment with- with Miss Snape, Professor…"

"Well, after that, then."

His head of house's demeanour changed, and the Professor eyed him with concern. She lowered her voice.

"Are you alright, Harry? I do not know myself all of what you seem to have to learn from the Headmaster, but what I do know of it is no pretty story."

Harry said: "I am fine, Professor, thank you," and smiled at her to show his appreciation for her concern. "Thank you for telling me."

Minerva McGonagall nodded.

"Good day to you, then, Mr. Potter!"

Unsmiling, the Gryffindor head of house turned to go.

Lost in thoughts, Harry watched her walk away. Since the attack by Umbridge and her helpers, Professor McGonagall frequently used a walking stick, although not right now, and rumour was that she'd been at St. Mungo's for treatment most of the summer. The head of Gryffindor house had always been rather haggard, but the lines in her face had become deeper, and somehow, she seemed more cat-like than before.

Harry had not quite forgotten that, though being the only person to speak to him openly, or as if he understood and had a knowledge of things last year, before – he avoided that thought –, she had not bothered to explain anything to him either, or told him what was up, what was expected of him, and why. He'd felt utterly deserted and betrayed, by all of his teachers, and she wasn't to be exempted from that. She was his head of house, after all.

Even from what she had said just now, he still had to piece things together for himself, and could not stop himself from again blaming the grown-up wizards and Order member for what had happened later, in part at least. What was it with all that secrecy and him not being old enough to act appropriately? Keeping things covered up obviously had not been the point in the end, had it?

How could they expect him to know about all those things, like intrigues in the Ministry of Magic, or the implications of Dumbledore's being relieved of all his functions? He'd been raised a Muggle, and still spent all his summer with Muggles! Hermione might have explained some things to him, but Harry was sure that even a more careful and in-depth lecture of the Daily Prophet would not have furthered his understanding of the situation much then, or prepared him for what was to come... Or made him more careful when it came to his godfather being in danger…

'Leave it be, Harry!' he told himself, and walked over to his friends. Ron had tucked in heartily already while Hermione was waiting for him.

'You ought to have listened to Snape though,' a very tiny, ugly voice at the back of his head said.

The git!

He'd be having detention with him later today, whatever that would be like now, or one of those most exerting Occlumency lessons – the latter if he was lucky.

Right now, Harry was curious what the Headmaster's tale today would be, and determined to push aside the thought of facing Snape for as long as he could. Maybe the old wizard would even be willing to give him a couple of hints on how to treat the irascible Potions master.

He made his way to the greenhouses to meet Silva Snape. He'd ask her, too.

---------------

Harry spent his second very intriguing and very nice afternoon with Silva Snape in assisting her to recall the basics of wizardry. They practiced many basic spells. He'd been amazed how very fast she was picking up what she claimed to have never used for twenty-odd years, and she'd said something like "old habits die hard". Silva Snape needed to practice hardly anything he suggested more than once.

She had not been of much help to him about how to treat her brother, claiming he had expressly demanded that she not talk with Harry about him in any detail, and that she did not want to ignore his wishes now that they were reunited, sort of. Silva said, too, that Snape was not happy at all when he found out who was to tutor her, but said that she'd given him a bit of her mind when he'd tried to talk her out of it.

Harry couldn't quite make it out. Silva had not struck him as being compliant or even accommodating toward her brother, but she seemed unwilling to ignore his orders here. It was almost like she couldn't. As soon as Harry noticed that talking about her brother caused her discomfort, he'd left the subject anyway, not wanting to anger or aggrieve her.

They had been halfway through the second year curriculum, or at least through what Harry remembered of that, within two hours the first time they practiced, and had finished that off today after another hour, after that starting with third year stuff. It turned out that Silva could teach Harry almost as much as he could her, once her memory returned, little by little. Magic really must be ingrained with Silva – more than once, she had known a spell and performed it flawlessly, only to realise later that she had no idea really what it was supposed to do before she cast it, or where and when she had learned it.

In the end, Harry came to merely throw the names of spells, hexes, and charms at her. Silva would then try to perform them instinctively, hardly ever failing, and only after this, Harry related the basics and theory of them, or what he did remember of that. They had agreed that this was the best course of action, giving him the chance too to recapitulate the theory of what he knew. After that, Harry checked with the textbooks and read out the correct information to Silva, more often than not telling her what she was doing and why when she did it, and generally surprising himself with how much he really remembered, and quite correctly as well. This was most gratifying!

Yet Harry found there were a lot of things that he had already forgotten himself, and there were bits of information that he was sure he had missed out on entirely the first time around when he learned the spells. None of it was crucial, but it added a lot detail and depth to his knowledge.

All in all, this was intriguing, and they were laughing a lot. Silva's quirky mind provided scores of associations and ideas that Harry had never thought of before, some of which were really amazing. They were having a load of fun that way, joking and throwing cues at each other like practised Muggle stand-up comedians.

Harry felt more relaxed with her than with anyone else except his two best friends, and than he had in a very long time.

Finally exhausted, Silva Snape and Harry Potter sat on a rickety bench behind the greenhouses. Hardly anyone ever came there; unless they knew they were by themselves, that was. Professor Sprout had agreed to their meeting there, fully accepting that Silva preferred to practice her magic in private.

Silva knew that, since Harry had grown up with Muggle relatives, there must be many whens and hows and things he would not know about which went without saying with children from wizarding families like the Weasleys, and appeared incidental to them.

Ron had shown Harry many wizarding peculiarities already, often exhilarated by his questions. Naturally, he also lacked the distance to understand what Harry might need to know but did not and, hence, could not ask about. That Hermione was deeply interested in the things Harry asked as well and seconded many of Harry's requests and inquiries, tended to subdue Ron's hilarity quite a bit, which was a help.

Harry Potter found that, within the mere two hours today alone, he had learned more about the wizarding world and society than even during his recent meetings with Dumbledore, or by inference.