Chapter 25 – How to Not Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

Harry was feeling even more nervous as he went down into the dungeons for his next Occlumency lesson. Snape had cancelled last night's session, without giving Harry any reason for it, so this was the first time he saw his professor after he had formed his plan.

Yesterday, Harry had remained in the library until it had become dark, researching blood oaths, blood magic, resurrection and Necromancy. Late in the afternoon, Remus had sought him out there, obviously intending to talk to him. Harry had been rather court with his former teacher, answering monosyllabically to Remus' questions and blocking off all his further attempts to talk to him. Harry knew that it was unfair, he knew that nothing about this situation was Remus' fault, and he wasn't really angry with him for anything. But still he had not wanted to talk to him just then, and after a few minutes Remus had left the library again, leaving Harry to his researches. Harry had had the feeling that Remus had wanted to talk about something with him, but even if that was true, Harry had not been in the mood for any conversation, no matter the topic.

This morning, Harry had returned to the library for his research, and now he thought he had as much information as the books would give him with so little time to study them. Time for the next step – extract further information from the most likely human source.

Carefully, Harry knocked on Snape's door.

"Enter!"

Harry did as he was bid, entered the gloomy office and closed the door behind himself. Snape was equally gloomy as his office, just as usual. He was standing behind his desk, putting a stack of parchments into one of the drawers before he looked up at Harry.

"Mr. Potter."

"Good evening, sir."

Snape nodded courtly and stepped out from behind his desk. "Well then, let us start. You are still having difficulties with stopping me to penetrate your mind. What you lack is focus. Let's see if you practiced what I told you yesterday."

Harry had, as he did every evening. Without any results which he could discern, but no matter how much he tried to clear his mind before falling asleep, it just didn't work. He had told Snape about that, more than once, but so far there had not been anything useful Snape could have advised him to do.

But for his nightly lessons he always was guarded, he always tried to clear his mind even before he entered Snape's office, to stop him from catching him unawares. So Harry was not really surprised as Snape without further preamble pulled out his wand and aimed it at Harry. Harry had his own wand out, and he, too, brought it up to defend himself.

"Legilimens!"

It was - to say it short - exhausting. For over an hour Snape attacked Harry again and again, with more or less success. Harry didn't manage to ward Snape's efforts off completely, but he also didn't allow his professor to penetrate deep enough to evoke the really painful memories, but still Harry was relived when Snape finally called an end to their lesson. He, unlike Harry, was not really satisfied with Harry's progress.

"You're still letting me in too easily, Potter. You've become rather adept at fighting me back to a certain point, but the main aim of these lessons is that you learn to stop somebody from penetrating your mind in the first place. You lack focus, but I'm slowly getting the feeling that this is not something in you that can be remedied, ever."

Harry bit his lip and forced down a remark in answer to that. He should know better by now than to let Snape goad him into an emotional outbreak. And he had something else on his mind, for which it would not be a wise idea to enrage Snape without need.

As Snape noticed that Harry made no movement to leave his office, like he normally couldn't do fast enough after their lessons, he threw an annoyed glance at his least liked student.

"Was there anything else, Potter? I have other work to do."

Harry took a deep breath. He had thought himself prepared, but at this moment he doubted that asking Snape was such a good idea.

"What is it, Potter? I haven't stolen my time, you know?"

"It's…I have a question, sir."

Snape raised an eyebrow, and as Harry didn't answer immediately he sighed exasperatedly.

"Potter, do I have to ask for every single word you say? You have a question, then in Merlin's name, ask it!"

"Why can't Sirius be brought back?"

"What?"

"I was asking why everybody says that…"

"I understood what you said", Snape snapped. "But how dare you ask me such a question?"

Harry crossed his arms defiantly. "Because I have enough of people telling me that I don't understand. Nobody knows better than me that there are a great many things which I don't know, but I'm not entirely stupid!"

"You will not talk to me in that tone, Potter", Snape said very lowly, very coldly. It did nothing to cool Harry's temper, though he did lower his voice.

"I'm not stupid", he repeated. "I have heard what Professor Dumbledore said about Sirius. He might not be within reach, but he is not really dead. And before they cut off whatever little connection is left with him, I tried to find a way to bring him back."

Snape suddenly looked as if all this greatly amused him. "You tried to find a way to bring Black back from the dead?"

"He is not dead!"

Snape turned suddenly and made a few steps towards Harry, towering menacingly over him. "Black is dead, and nothing Professor Dumbledore, Lupin or you do will change anything about it. Now stop pestering me with this nonsense!"

"There has to be a way to bring Sirius back!"

Snape suddenly sneered at Harry. "And just how far are you ready to go to achieve that aim? Which borders are you willing to cross, which means are you willing to take just to 'bring him back', Potter?"

Harry did his best to hide how intimidated and even scared he really felt at that moment and gave Snape his most defiant glare.

"I'd do anything to bring him back! But nobody seems willing to even try to help me with it. Everybody has already given him up."

Snape sank down and relaxed back in his chair, his hands building a triangle in front of his face which didn't do anything to hide his big sneer, either. He was enjoying this immensely, far more than Harry would consider to be good.

"And you come to me in order to ask me to help you. How very touching, Potter, but I'm afraid that the answer is no. Now, if you'd be so kind and leave me alone, I'm afraid there is some work I need to do which is more important than worrying about your precious godfather. Counting newt livers or staring out of the window."

Snape got up from his chair and - indicating that for him the conversation was undoubtedly over - went towards the empty cauldron which sat next to an open book on his workbench. Within moments the sour Potions master seemed to be completely absorbed in his work. Harry still stood in front of Snape's desk, slightly flushed and a look of complete and utter disbelief on his face. With a few quick strides he stormed to where Snape stood at the workbench.

"So that's it for you, isn't it? How very convenient! I'd bet that even if there was a way to bring Sirius back and you knew about it you would not tell me, just to take revenge for a couple of stupid teenage pranks my father and he played at you, isn't that so? Just because you're a sour and disgruntled man who was never able to forget, you're risking his life right now!"

A couple of different emotions passed across Snape's face as he for a moment just stared at Harry, and before the teenager knew what happened the man had grabbed him by the front of his robes and had pushed him non-too-gently up against the wall.

"Don't you dare, Potter, don't you dare to talk about things you can't even begin to understand! Are you even aware what you are talking about here? Are you aware what it is you're asking of me?"

Despite his inferior position, Harry still matched Snape when it came to anger and strength of will, and he had no intention of giving in just now.

"All I'm asking is you to help me find a way to bring Sirius back. Because I know there is one, I know there has to be one. And whatever it takes, I'm going to seize a chance when it offers itself."

Snape let go abruptly and stepped back as if he had just realized that he was close to strangling a student. For a long moment he stared at Harry, then he slowly shook his head.

"You don't understand it, Potter. This is not about whether or not I want you to bring Black back. It is not about Black. My answer would be the same if it was Lupin or any of the Weasleys, Draco Malfoy or even Professor Dumbledore we were talking about. Let me ask you one simple question, Potter: why did you come to me with your request? Why me and not, for example, Lupin?"

"Because you know more about those things than he does."

"Those things, Potter?" Snape shook his head as if he was deeply disappointed. "So that is the famous Gryffindor daring and courage? Not even able to name things? I know more about the Dark Arts than anybody else you know, that's it, isn't it?"

Hesitantly, Harry nodded. Up until that moment, he had not even dared to think those words for himself, but the moment Snape had said them he knew them to be true. And what did it matter if it was Snape's knowledge in the Dark Arts that helped to bring Sirius back?

"Sit, Potter."

"What?"

Snape sighed and folded his lean frame into his chair. "I said: Sit down, because I want your attention focussed completely on what I am going to say right now. I don't intend to repeat myself every other day just because you didn't listen properly."

Fighting down the urge to remain standing just for the sake of disagreeing with his least favourite professor, Harry sat down in the visitor's chair in front of Snape's desk.

Snape nodded at him.

"Now listen and for once in your life do not interrupt me. I cannot help you in bringing Black back, even if it were only for the reason that I don't know a way to do so." Seeing that Harry was about to protest, he raised his hand and silenced the teenager with one hard look. Harry had not thought it possible, but something in Snape's gaze made him obey. "I said don't interrupt me, Potter.

Do you actually know what it is that you are asking for? Are you aware what this 'anything'you're willing to do to save your precious godfather could cost you? How much you might have to pay for bringing him back, if there was a way as the one you are talking about?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything, Snape continued.

"No you don't. Otherwise you would not have dared to ask in the first place. You say you came to me because I know more about Dark Magic than Lupin or maybe anybody else you know. By now you're maybe convinced that you'd be willing to use Dark Magic to bring Black back, but you would not be asking at all if you knew what that meant.

Do you know which ways there are to bring the dead back, Potter?"

Harry shook his head. "Professor Dumbledore always says that the dead can't be brought back. But I just couldn't believe that."

Snape chuckled mirthlessly. "Professor Dumbledore is right, Potter."

Harry shook his head. "But I've read that…"

Snape raised a hand to stop him. "Finally stop interrupting me, Potter! Professor Dumbledore is right in saying that the dead can't be brought back. When somebody dies, there is no bringing them back just like that."

"Then what is Necromancy, if not a way to resurrect the dead?", Harry asked, not minding Snape's repeated orders not to interrupt him. Snape reacted as if he had been slapped into the face. He paled, if that was possible with his normally ashen complexion, but a dangerously red colour slowly rose up from his neck towards his jaw. Harry thought he had never seen his professor this angry before, and his heart was beating hard in his throat.

"It is nothing you need to waste your time with, Potter", Snape finally brought out between clenched teeth. Still, his voice was dripping with ice. "I don't want to hear you ever talk about it again."

"But I read that…"

"I don't care what you've read!", Snape bellowed, jumped up from his chair and slammed his palms on the table. "There are certain lines a wizard should never cross, Potter! This is such a line! And if you had truly researched the topic, then you would know that if anything, Necromancy is no way to bring back your precious godfather. It isn't a way for anything, actually, other than creating problems far too big for you to deal with. And now this conversation is over."

"No, it's not!", Harry yelled right back. He didn't particularly care about Snape's earlier reprimands anymore, he knew he was right, he knew that his research had yielded a way to bring Sirius back, he only didn't know how to use that way. Not yet, in any case. But he intended to find out.

"I won't accept that as an answer, sir. There is a way to bring back the dead, or people who are trapped, like Sirius is. You said so yourself, earlier. You wouldn't have asked me which ways there are to bring the dead if there were none. Why can you never give me a straight answer to any question I ask?"

"Because sometimes you have to work for the answers you want to have, Potter. Don't expect that there will always be others presenting you the answers to all questions on a silver platter!"

"Why won't you tell me about Necromancy? If you think that it's no way to bring Sirius back, then there has to be a reason for you to think so."

Snape shook his head, as if he couldn't quite believe that Harry would not let go off the topic.

"Yes, I have reasons why I think so. Reasons which are based on experience, quite unlike your hunch that brought you to investigate Necromancy. Now tell me, why should I reveal those reasons to you? Why is it that you simply cannot accept it when somebody tells you that they know better than you do?"

"Because I need to understand whyit can't be done! If I already have to accept that Sirius won't come back, then I need a reason that I can understand!"

Snape shook his head, the same expression on his face which he always wore when he was confronted with a particularly thick student. But after a long moment during which Harry did not back down, he crossed his legs and stared hard at Harry.

"What is magic, Potter?"

"Pardon?"

"I asked you a simple question, do I really need to repeat myself?"

"No, I just don't understand why you're asking me. Magic is…it's hard to describe. It's a way of achieving things, a way which the muggles don't have."

"Yes Potter, but what is magic? For a wizard, what is it?"

Harry frowned, surprised by the question. Was this some kind of test, or would any pure-blooded wizard who had grown up as such immediately know the answer?

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."
"What I'm talking about, Potter, is that for every wizard magic at first isn't more than an inborn ability."

"You could have simply told me that."

Snape glared coldly at Harry, but didn't comment. After a moment he continued.

"For a wizard, magic isn't any different from the ability to walk - it is potentially there but without any practice it can't be used properly."

Harry bit back another comment and tried to focus on what his teacher was saying. He only hoped that Snape would start to make sense soon.

"So what I'm trying to say is that just like a child can theoretically walk into any direction one day with a bit of practice, wizards can use their magic in any way they wish. Some are more powerful than others, but then again some people can also run faster than others. You can follow me so far?"

Harry nodded a bit dumbly, wondering what Snape was driving at with this strange comparison. When the Potions master continued his voice was sharper than usual and his eyes were reduced to mere slits.

"What do you think makes Dark Magic dark, Potter? Because if you think for just one moment that you can think in those black-and-white categories here, then you are vastly mistaken."

He didn't even give Harry time to think about an answer for his previous question. Instead he lifted himself out of his chair and started walking up and down slowly in front of the fireplace, his hands folded behind his back, not much unlike he did in lessons.

"What you have come to know, fear and fight against as 'Dark Arts' or 'Dark Magic' is not dark or wrong per se, Potter. It becomes that because of the intention of the wizard who uses it. And because many a wizard and witch used certain spells and practices with the intention of gaining for themselves without caring about what borders they had to cross to achieve this - that is why certain practices were banned from usage and declared 'dark'. Not because they are dark in their nature. Most magic isn't good or bad. Dark Magic comes into being the moment a wizard decides to use his inborn abilities to walk into the wrong direction - which would be where we come back to our previous comparison."

He stopped behind his desk and leaned forward, both hands on the polished surface. For a long moment, black eyes bore into green ones and the tension in the room grew thicker.

"Why do you tell me that?", Harry finally dared to ask.

"I go the lengths of telling you this, Potter, because ever since Black got himself killed you are dangerously close to walking into the wrong direction, and believe me, once you turned there, it's unbearably hard to find the way back again. You came here under the illusion that a little Dark Magic can easily solve all your problems - which is absolutely wrong -, that I have ample experience with performing so called 'Dark Magic' - with which you are right - and that I'd willingly help you if I could - I don't really need to tell you that this assumption could not be more wrong, do I?

Potter, to put it in simple terms even you can understand: it cannot be done, and even if it could, I would not be the right person to ask for help. In any case, Necromancy will not help you to achieve what you want. Necromancy is one of the few branches of magic which are simply dark in their nature, no matter the intent with which it is used, and definitely the wrong direction in which to walk. Maybe you should instead focus your energy on keeping yourself alive and on the right side of this war."

Harry's eyes widened at the implied statement. "I know perfectly well which side I stand on!"

He indignantly jumped out of his chair, outraged that Snape even dared to think something like that.

But Snape only sneered at him coldly.

"I'd do anything to bring him back!" Snape's high-pitched imitation filled the room mockingly. But before Harry could find his voice again Snape grew serious and rose from his chair.

"Be careful what you wish for, Potter. And be especially careful what prize you are willing to pay for your wishes. Because there are some people who might offer to fulfil your wish, people who do not stand on the same side as we do now. What would you do then, Potter?

I know that you don't usually listen to advice no matter who gives it, but be told that nothing is worth selling your soul for. That prize is simply too high, no matter what you're offered in return. Take this from somebody who has more experience in selling his soul than you will hopefully ever have. Necromancy is no solution to your problem, and it is nothing that will ever bring Black back to you. It will only make your problem worse. Necromancy is not a way to bring back the dead, it's a way to interfere with death. Death doesn't like to be cheated with. I know that it sounds tempting, but the consequences might be too high a price for the possible results it could give you. Let Black go, it's the only way. Nothing can bring him back from where he is now.

And now get out of here. I don't know why everybody thinks they can steal my time during the holidays, but I have work to do."

Harry did, though in the end he could not remember leaving the office, or walking back up to Gryffindor tower and into his dormitory.

What he didn't know, what nobody ever saw that night, was that Snape didn't return to his work immediately. Instead, the potions master remained seated at his desk long after Harry had left his office. Outwardly he looked calm, but inside, he was fighting down a turmoil of emotions the likes which he had not experienced in a long time. But he would not allow Potter to push open a door which he had struggled to keep closed for such a long time. He simply could not allow that to happen.

After a very long time, Snape drew a deep breath, rose from his chair and turned to walk out of the office. His private quarters were a number of rooms located close to the Slytherin Common Rooms. The heads of the houses were the only teachers who didn't have a free choice of where they wanted to reside. The other teachers, if they cared about it, could choose between a number of quarters that were spread all over the north and western wing of the castle, but the heads of the houses were supposed to be close to their charges in case of an emergency. In all the years since Severus had started teaching at Hogwarts, not even the most curious student had managed to find out where his private quarters were – though it wasn't for a lack of trying – and he intended to have it remain that way.

Passing the hidden entrance to the Slytherin Common Room on his left, he went farther down the corridor, turned right into an outcropping so narrow that it didn't entirely qualify as a corridor, then turned to the right again into a small and dark alcove. From the corridor, nobody could see how Severus raised a hand and placed his palm against a certain stone, whispering a password at the wall. Noiselessly, a partition of the wall glided aside and revealed an old but solid looking oaken door. Another password was whispered, upon which a doorknob appeared and Snape opened the door. The whole process had taken less than ten seconds and had not caused any noise aside from the low whispers. Severus entered his living room, waved a hand to light a fire in the fireplace, then went over towards a small cupboard that stood against the wall.

Pouring himself a glass of scotch, he sank down in his favourite armchair and numbly stared into the flames, his thoughts drifting far away to his earlier conversation with Potter. But after a while, he downed his drink, shook off those thoughts and got up again. He'd not continue to brood about this for an entire evening. Snape put the empty glass away, got up from his armchair and walked over into his bedroom. On his way there, he stopped in front of a low cabinet that stood against the wall in the corner. He checked twice that it was securely locked, then he nodded to himself, pushing his concerns and worries into the back of his mind where he firmly locked them away. Right now he needed to sleep. Snape left the living room and went into the bedroom, closing the door behind himself.