Title: Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

Author: Japhu

Pairing: HPSS

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it.

Summary: For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)

Category: action/adventure/angst

Feedback: always highly appreciated

Chapter 25 – Testing Waters

Both Gryffindor boys stood thoughtfully next to each other, watching the rapidly emptying hall with lazy glances. One of them was very much occupied to find a way to possibly postpone the inevitable – namely the talk with the old man – even more; the other was just without something better to do than staying, hoping his friend would have an idea how to kill some time.

"So, Neville." Harry smiled easily. "What are you going to do with your unexpected free time?" Harry watched Neville from the corner of his eye. The boy clearly looked unsure of what to do with himself; nervously traipsing from one foot to the other, he seemed not inclined to leave him alone any time soon.

"Don't know." The boy mumbled and shrugged indifferently. "I haven't thought of anything."

"Huh." Harry himself had planned to go lazy for a bit. Dumbledore should not think he had him under his thumb. "You could go to the lake or into the library." Harry wanted to wait as long as possible before trudging up to the twinkling inquisition. He was certain that he was to be tortured with lemon drops when Dumbledore recognized that he would not be very much forthcoming with information.

"I could go with you." Neville said hopefully.

"What?" Harry blinked in surprise. "I don't think you're invited, Neville. Why don't you go to the lake? The weather's not that bad."

"I can do it afterwards." Neville explained softly. "It's a long time till lunch." Nervously, he still made no move to leave Harry alone.

"Oh, well. Alright, Nev." Sighing, Harry turned around. The hall was empty. Lessons had already begun. There was no one here but the two of them. "Alright, but no hurry." With some difficulty Harry reached around Neville's shoulders – the boy was only slightly smaller than Ron – and pulled the boy with him, opposite from where the headmaster's office was waiting for Harry.

"Where are we going?" Frowning, Neville looked around. He did not know precisely where the headmaster's office was, but it was certainly not outside.

Harry grinned impishly and led the boy towards the entrance hall. It would be good to catch a fresh breeze before he condemned himself to a whole morning in a dusty office. Harry did not look forward to be pumped for information by an old coot, all the while he would have the smell of lemon drops in his nose.

Harry let Neville go as soon as they reached the outside of the castle. Taking a deep breath, Harry reminded himself that tomorrow he would laugh about his anxiety. For the good or the bad, at this time tomorrow he would have dealt with Dumbledore. He shook his head and concentrated on his surroundings.

It looked as if rain would be falling soon; or rather a heavy storm seemed to be brewing. The towering clouds were nearly black and in the heavy gust of wind they changed forms continuously. The old trees of the Forbidden Forest shook with force, the leaves rustling heavily. It seemed as if they held on to the ground only by pure will when an even heavier squall caught them. Harry did not know it, but he smiled, watching as the end of the world seemed to announce itself.

They walked in silence, listening to the world; but it took not long until Neville stopped nervously. He was rather hesitant to move farther away from the castle's safety. Harry would not mind if lightning struck himself down. It would be the easy way out. Short and… enlightening. He chuckled with cheerful irony.

"So, Neville," Harry put his hands in his pockets and swayed on the tips of his toes, trying to hold out this way against the oncoming wall of wind. "What other classes did you choose for your NEWTs? History was certainly a revelation for us." Maybe Neville would finally go inside if the weather disturbed him too much.

"Er… I think…," Neville cautiously watched the ominous sky, "… you know… Herbology, History, DADA, and… uh… Divination."

"Divination?" Harry's brow rose in surprise, but he smiled at Neville's expression of insecurity.

"It's interesting. I mean… I'm not like Lavender or Parvati, but I like it." Neville did not sound so certain about that.

Harry thought it more likely that the explanation would be the same as the one for Neville choosing History. Anyone with a bit of imagination could get through this class – even without a wand. One did not necessarily need this 'inner eye' Trelawney was so fond of, either. Certainly, some things about Divination were interesting. If Harry imagined that the incompetent or Mars obsessed professors were not there; when he erased the crystal balls and the sticky air in dim lit rooms; when he forgot the death predictions and his visions of Voldemort and this stupid, probably all too true prophecy about him and that raving mad Dark Lord; Harry could probably be interested in Divination himself – but he doubted that it was going to be in this lifetime.

"Well, as long as you like it." Harry suppressed a grimace. "That's the main thing, isn't it? Don't let anybody talk you out of it."

Neville smiled with obvious relief. He had really thought that Harry would make fun of him. Harry shook his head. His friends – and Neville especially – should know better. When had he ever made fun of anyone? Of course there was Malfoy… and Snape… and Fudge… and Umbridge, and some other people – but that was not making fun; it was called retribution. Harry shivered when a cold gust hit him so hard that he had to step back to keep his balance. He loved the weather – it suited his mood perfectly – but he did not like being cold or being overthrown.

"Let's go inside, Neville. We can go to the kitchen, having a hot drink, and search for a quiet corner to lounge around."

"Oh, yes." Neville nodded fervently, cheeks and nose red, his eyes never leaving the line where sky and forest met. The trees seemed to be the last barrier before the storm came rushing down on them. "Inside!"

Harry grinned. What ever Neville did, he did it wholeheartedly. There was no cunning in Neville – and that was not an insult. It was astonishing that Neville could have stayed so trusting and – in lack for a better word – pure, even though he knew what people were capable to do. After all, he was repeatedly reminded of that whenever he visited his parents.

Harry wondered what would have happened when Neville had been the one marked. How would their lives have changed if Neville Longbottom had been known to be the Boy-Who-Lived? Harry sighed weakly. It was wishful thinking on his part. Neville was Neville, nothing else. Neville just was, and it made Harry able to relax around the boy. Now more than ever, because Neville wore his weakness – if it could be called weakness – open for all to see.

In Neville's world everything seemed to fit its supposed categories; life was easier that way. Despite everything what Neville had seen, there was no deception and not a chance of deceit. Everything was either one or the other; in that he was similar to Ron – only a lot more moderate, and Neville missed that hot temper and pigheadedness. Neville was not simple minded, far from it, after all he was a genius in Herbology; but Neville's world seemed simple in contrast to his own.

In his weaker moments Harry felt something that smelled suspiciously like envy, because for Harry the world was not meant to be simple any longer. Now he found it hard not to see the things between the one and the other. Only because certain people were believed to be good did not necessarily mean they were anything but. In Dumbledore he had a fitting example. Harry was relatively – not absolutely though, not anymore – sure that Dumbledore was in essence a good person; but he certainly was a bastard too, and Harry did not like that very much.

The old man thought he could get away with everything because of that stupid, knowing twinkle in his eyes. He was not omniscient. He could not be. No one was. With Dumbledore Harry just had to question what exactly – without doubt – the headmaster knew, and what that man read out of people's behavior when they stood opposite him, unable to keep their composure for whatever reason. It must have helped much to be a strong Legilimens; after all it made Dumbledore in other people's eyes all the more omniscient, never mind that he abused the trust the same people set in him when he invaded their minds without second thoughts.

Harry scoffed. He would not be one of those people any longer – he could not be and did not want to. He clenched his fists repeatedly. It did no good for him to fret. In a sense, Harry wanted to get the whole issue over with; but it was what always happened with simple plans, suddenly they did not seem enough to secure one's survival. The longer he waited the more Harry doubted that he would – and could – come out at the other side bearing not more but a scratch or two.

Blowing a strand of hair out of his face, Harry knew that he was dawdling. He just wanted the old twinkler to doubt – even if it was for only a moment – that Harry was showing up; maybe an hour to think things through, not to think about what could go wrong. To keep a Gryffindor façade in front of his classmates and friends was one thing, to hold onto it while Dumbledore was most probably rummaging through his head was another altogether. Harry hoped that it would not come to that. He was not certain that he could alleviate all of the headmasters 'concerns' when the nosy bastard started to use Legilimency; though, if he only took a look into Harry's mind it would go over well – most probably. There was just one thing that triggered Harry's doubts all the more. It was the tiny, little fact Harry would need to figure out only when he had already jumped into the proverbial hot, boiling cauldron.

Sadly, Harry could not leave Tom Riddle behind in the dormitory to wait for him until after his talk with Dumbledore. He shuddered to think what would happen when the headmaster, leader of the Order of the Phoenix and a figurehead for the fight against the Dark, found or felt the foreign presence in Harry Potter's mind – THE figurehead for the fight. Harry Potter, who was stupid enough to stay in the role that was forced upon him; a role, which in the very end would get him killed. Not thinking for a while, Harry followed Neville silently.

Being lost in thought once again, Harry did not really pay attention to Neville. Fruitlessly, the other boy tried to open him up to a friendly talk – a fact Harry did not even realize. Neville could have gone to hell and back again and Harry would have followed him without question so much was he caught up in his own world. Only when Neville stopped and pulled cautiously on his sleeve did Harry look up from the ground, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"I don't know where to go from here, Harry." Neville shrugged. "I've never been down there, though I heard some students talking about the kitchen being somewhere in this part of the castle." Harry blinked, grinning good naturedly and looked around. They really were not that far away from the kitchen. Just another bunch of steps and partway through the corridor on the left and they would be there.

"No problem, Neville." Harry looked at the boy. "But why didn't you ask someone to show you the way before?" Neville shrugged wordlessly and Harry frowned. Did he think nobody would have told him, because they thought he would be clumsy enough to pierce the peach instead of tickling it? Harry sighed. "Pay attention then. It's right down there now."

His head already occupied with other things, Harry made his way down the stairs. He wanted the old coot to wait just a little bit longer, only long enough to question if Harry was ever showing up; and Harry sure as hell was nervous. If he came all too trusting Dumbledore would not buy it, not after the temper tantrum he had thrown last year. Nevertheless, Harry could show him a new, improved Gryffindor, though he had to balance it evenly as to not make the man more suspicious of him. It would not be an advantage to have him on his tail from the beginning, at least, not more than he was already. It would be a bit like walking on a rope with tied eyes and high heels. Stupid, conniving codger.

A sudden tickle where he knew the mark to be made him stop abruptly just as they were entering the corridor where the kitchen was waiting with food and hot chocolate. Neville looked worried, but Harry was certain that his puzzlement did not show through the bright smile he wore. Whatever the mark send through the bond – or the bond through the mark – it got clearer with every passing moment, but more confusing all the same. Someone was approaching. Harry straightened when he realized that it could only be one person, who was allowed walking the corridors while bearing the Dark Mark. What had confused him for a moment was the lack of hate. That was the reason Harry had not recognized the pattern right away. Snape had not seen them yet as he was still on the stairs, but he would soon now. It were his emotions Harry received through the bond; though, the mark had never been as easy to read as it was now.

Obviously, it would not be as quiet a year as he had thought earlier; but what was to be would be. Yesterday, Harry had been too dead tired to care for anything, but now he was as ready as he could get; and it was just as well that Ron and Hermione were not with him. They could catch some breath and Harry could make use of the opportunity that presented itself. Why should he not start now? What spoke against starting with Snape? There was no time like the present to start a new game. Harry mentally prepared himself for the confrontation to come. Taking a deep breath and not a step further, Harry waited for Snape to step around the corner, still face to face with an even more anxious Neville. Harry smiled reassuringly.

"I think I'll show you the kitchen another time, Nev."

"Why?" and the boy's breath caught next to Harry as he was looking in the direction from where darkness was descending upon them. Neville paled dramatically and Harry felt a twinge of regret reverberating in his chest for not having forewarned his friend of who was coming down the stairs. His concentration firmly intact, Harry lazily turned around.

"Professor Snape!" He cried out in surprise as he was supposed to and realized at once that he would not be able to read the man thoroughly with help of his own magic; either he would loose track of their conversation, or of the barely visible aura of magic surrounding him. However, the hate was there now, Harry realized. A hot burning fire of loathing, all of it directed at Harry Potter.

The mark would be a great help in his dealings with Snape; but as it was doubtful that Dumbledore had been marked himself, it could do nothing for him there. Harry had counted that he would be able to read Dumbledore's aura during their oncoming conversation. He needed a way to know the old man's intentions and possible motives, a way to assess the danger going out from him. It was easy to play them out if he knew their emotions. Harry did not like how much he relied already on that ability; but neither did he like guessing. Hopefully, Hogwarts would soon finish whatever it was doing, so that Harry could get his magic back.

Harry shook his head. The castle and the mark's bond (and what it could possibly do) needed to be laid aside for another time. He had to decide how he wanted to handle the git in the future. Harry thought quickly. He could not let him run loose, sniffing out everything at random. It was better to let him figure out something that Harry had prepared for him, lest he stumbled upon important matters where his interference could well mean the end of everything. However, it would not hurt to test if what Harry wanted to do when necessary was even possible, or if he had to think of something else to be ready when he needed to. For a first though, Harry needed to give to get something back. He just needed a reaction with which he could work. It was worth a try.

Neville gave a frightened squeak and bit his lips when Snape rounded on him. His eyes were wide and cautious in presence of his greatest fear, though he held himself well. Harry could not say that he would hold out that way when faced with his own greatest fear; although, Harry was not too certain what that would be now. His greatest fear could not be Voldemort, and he doubted that the Dementors were still on top of the list. Maybe it was Azkaban or even Dumbledore – or the future he was steering towards. It would be interesting to know what a Boggart would look like if that was the case.

Harry cleared his throat so that the other boy could marginally relax when Snape's attention returned to him.

"Neville and I where just talking about Herbology, Professor." Harry said innocently right when Neville squeaked again. This time there was surprise obvious in Neville's wordless comment. Harry heard it and Snape certainly did, but lastly it did not matter if Snape bought the little story or not. It was only for Neville he made it up at all. Neither was Harry interested in it, nor would Snape be when Harry had said his part. He just had to talk fast, lest the professor interrupted him and made his story useless with some petty insult. After all, he needed to get his point across.

"Yes." Harry nodded fervently and left no break for the man to cut in. "We talked about animals. There are some, who can hurt special plants really bad. I thought it would be good to cut those things to pieces," Harry shrugged as if apologizing for not knowing better and looked his Potions Master in the eye, "but did you know that a worm's tail can move on its own even when the body's cut off?" He held the black, hardened gaze only an instant longer and directed a twinkling eye to Neville. The bond seemed to vanish for a moment before it returned with vengeance, every emotion tenfold.

"It was really fun talking with you, Neville." Harry smiled hard pressed, knowing their talk was over for now.

"Yes!" the frightened boy all but managed to breath out, trying to stay calm. He took a quick step back, nevertheless, because he was the one who received the forbidden stare above Harry's head.

"Longbottom!" Snape bit out sarcastically and sneered when the boy flinched. "Don't you have to watch a plant growing?" Neville swallowed nervously. Whatever he said in answer to that question would obviously be the wrong one. "Go and pot one as that appears to be the limit of your abilities." The sneer widened when Neville stood like rooted to the ground. "Do it somewhere else, Longbottom! I don't want to have to bear your stupidity between classes when I've just gotten you out of Potions." A contemptuous snarl followed and Neville, with an apologetic glance toward Harry, made his way to safety as fast as he possibly could. Harry stayed silent, but his fists clenched without his own accord. He wanted Neville to leave him alone, but he did not want the boy unnecessarily frightened.

Both remaining wizards followed the fleeing Gryffindor boy with determined gazes. Only when Neville rounded a corner and his feet could be heard rushing up the stairways in a frenzy they jerked their eyes around, assessing each other silently. With Neville gone, it was Harry now, who took the step back.

"We really did talk about Herbology, Professor." They had done that. Harry did not lie. Neville had told him after all that he would take Herbology for NEWTs level class, so to some point it had been a talk about Herbology, even if they had not mentioned certain worms and their tails.

"Did you now, Potter?" Snape's eyes were icy cold, mere slits burning with hate; the proverbial pits of doom. The hate that was continuously reaching Harry through that crazy bond they had made him nearly want to vomit, the sheer emotion almost bending his knees.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for lying to a Professor; another ten for involving another student in your own foolishness; and twenty points off for not realizing when you have been caught, Potter!"

An amused smile wanted to play around Harry's lips. Gryffindor had to be short of a hundred points in the negative by now – he tried to keep count – all due to Harry. Suppressing his facial expressions fast, before Snape could realize that House points did not really bother him anymore, he swallowed any uncalled comments and decided instead for feeling unjustly punished. However, it would be interesting how that negative top rank would make his friends react toward him. Maybe it would not be so cosy in the common room, after all.

Abruptly, the Potions Masters black pearled, narrowed eyes pierced the wide open, angry ones of the boy with disturbing fierceness. Without another word the man pulled the barely protesting boy from the well overseen part of the corridor down into another dark corner, one he very likely had often used to lurk around, hunting for students out after curfew.

"Now talk!" The man did not let go of the boy, barely refraining from shaking him until his neck broke; and that was the reaction Harry had been waiting for. It was good that the git remembered what Voldemort had said to him so many years ago – right before he swore him to secrecy. It left hope that Snape remembered all those other times when he had kept secrets, too. Hopefully, it would make dealing with the git a bit easier for Harry – or at least less like handling a raging Hippogriff.

"What about?" Confused, but even more angry at being manhandled, the Gryffindor stood straight while trying to free himself from that claw like grip (which kept him balancing on his toes) without actually having to touch the man.

The Potions Master should take some time to think about possibilities. He could not be certain that Harry had not talked about real worms. Before Harry made his next move the man needed to cool down; though, it would be one way to get back at Snape, riling him up until the bastard eventually lost that control he seemed to treasure. Perhaps Harry would do that later when his conversation with the headmaster was done; and only when other students – favourably from all houses – were watching. It was time for a different topic now, though.

"Do you mean the red robed wizards?" Harry shook his head and again spoke before Snape could get a word in otherwise. "I don't know much about them, sir. You were there, too." Harry tilted his head, thinking. "I mean, my vision gave not that much away." Harry blinked innocently, apparently completely unaware what he had given away. Snape did not look surprised, but he did let go of Harry's robes and the hate that rolled through the bond changed to puzzlement before it quickly became suspicion. Such a small word and so much consequences. Harry sighed.

"Professor?" He asked cautiously, aware that the man could explode any moment – it would not be often that the bastard found himself prevented from insulting the one he talked to.

"You have seen them before?" Snape's voice sounded barely restrained, the point of his knife scratching Harry's throat already. Harry marvelled in how the bastard managed to appear relatively bored of this conversation, all the while looking as if he had swallowed something vile.

"Huh?" Harry looked very much confused. "Oh! The vision? Yes, sir." He said eagerly with displayed pride, but not too much – Snape would not think him stupid but brain dead if Harry overdid it. The boy shrugged indifferently. "It was an old one, Professor." his face displayed just so what the Potions Master expected to see. Martyrism at its finest.

The man's large nose wrinkled in disgust when the idiot boy looked as if he was expecting to be praised for his suffering. That brat was not sixteen but six, even if he seemed to have grown out of these sickly sweet child's features.

"Why didn't you say so before, you insolent wretch?" Snape rounded up on him again, boredom suddenly gone when Harry just blinked at him stupidly. "You impossible, ungrateful child! Don't you realize that we're at war? Are you having a brick wall for a head?" The man fired down one question after the other, somehow managing to grow in height even more. How did he do that? Harry shrank back to the wall before remembering to be a Gryffindor and doing the same, oozing righteousness (or in Snape's eyes the typical stupidity Gryffindor's often displayed).

"You didn't ask, sir." Harry stated indifferently in midst that very uninformative rant and pulled a face. "It's not my fault that no one thought of it; and I didn't know that it was important."

"Another poor excuse for not being overly bright, isn't it, Potter? That will be another ten points." Harry glared vigorously and bit his lips. Snape must be having a bad day. His insults lacked the usual color, and his reasons for taking points had been much better in the past.

"It doesn't matter, sir. I had that vision right after coming back to the Dursleys – if it was a vision."

With an abrupt shove Severus Snape pushed the boy a good deal away from him, for he hardly could restrain himself from throttling that child for real now. With a hateful gaze he changed his mind, taking the boy hard by the collar and striding forward, dragging the ingrate boy to where he should be since breakfast.

"Hey!" Harry tried to wriggle out of the grip. "Let go off me!" Snape did not even graze him with a look, he only pulled the boy with him a bit faster than before.

"The wizards were only standing around doing nothing, anyway." he defended himself indignantly as he felt himself being hauled off towards the stairs. Grudgingly, the boy crossed his arms.

"Are you making fun of me, Potter?" Snape asked in a dangerously low voice, while bending down to him. A hint of disbelieve showed through the bond. Snape would not know a lot of people, who were foolish enough to openly disagree with him, worse – playing him on. Harry realized that he was just a tiny little bit more than a head shorter than that spiteful man; not as before when he hardly could reach the git's waist without getting stiff in his neck.

"No, sir." Harry furiously muttered and took a step back. He could not move much more on his own, for the Potions Master's fist held him resolutely. "Why would I, sir." An offended look on his face, Harry smiled secretly. For now, everything went according to his plan.

"I don't take it well, being lied to, Potter!" The man spat out, holding in his yearning for knocking the boy's head against the nearest wall. He had to swallow when he imagined the look on Potter's face should he do just that. However, the boy looked honestly surprised.

"Really." Harry thought out aloud, while scratching his chin thoughtfully, unaware of the violent pictures ghosting through his professor's mind. "Who would have thought that we finally find something we do have in common – after five years – and something as fundamental as that, too. Astonishing." Disbelieving, Harry shook his head sarcastically, and even though his voice seemed playful, his eyes betrayed his solemnity.

Snarling, Snape's eyes flashed with a dangerous glint as he watched the boy. Not finding what he sought, Snape growled something incoherent and whirled around. He refused to think about that idiot Potter. Forcefully, his robes billowing, Snape rushed off, to Harry's envy completely soundless. He never let go of Harry, leaving the boy to stumble behind with a lot less grace.

"Let's see what the headmaster is saying to that stunt, Potter." Harry sighed and took a deep breath. He had to act really well to keep Dumbledore out of his business. Hopefully, Tom kept quiet during the talk, though Harry did not think that the former lord would like very much whatever Dumbledore would concoct out of an information like that – or even without. Harry kept quiet during their uncomfortable walk up to the old man's office, trying to think of everything, keeping in mind what was about to happen.

Right before Harry felt himself being roughly shoved into the headmaster's office, he had one fatalistically, last thought. He hoped with all his might, that Tom had some sense of self preservation. Harry would have advised him to be – and stay – quiet for once. If Tom could make himself invisible, now was the moment for doing it. Harry did not want the headmaster to know where Voldemort was hiding. Did Tom?