HARRY POTTER and the DARKEST NIGHT
Chapter 17 - Meeting Mandragora
By: Zero Star (zrostar)
------------------------------------------------------
Once seated in his office, Snape appeared to be worse off than Harry had realized. Sitting wearily behind his large black
desk, Snape seemed to be weak, tired, and more than a little grumpy. Harry recognized the circles under his eyes, similar
to ones he had himself. Snape's already hollow, thin face seemed to be more so than usual, showing the faint outline of
his skull. Snape's sallow face had lost it's sickly greenish-yellow hue and taken on a pasty grayness.
Harry closed his eyes to refocus on the issue at hand.
"Potter, why were you in the Slytherin Portrait Room last night?" He was firmly to the point, but his voice was weak.
Harry opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Why was he there? To break the rules and have fun.
"What? No excuses for me?" Snape stated in mock shock.
"I'm sorry, sir." Harry pressed out. His tone utterly devoid of sencerity.
Snape scowled at him, pulling his lips back to reveal his yellowed teeth, breath held. It was obvious what the Potions
Master wanted to do, every day of his life, but somehow kept from doing it. Snape wanted to tear into Harry for the
wrongs James Potter had done to him. He wanted to rip Potter's boy into little pieces and tell him what a horrible
man his father really was. The marauders had done a number on this Slytherin. Even if Snape sorely had it coming,
Harry could understand. After spending his whole life, until Hogwarts, being abused by a family that didn't want him
and the subject of torment from his cousin Duddly and Duddly's brute friends. Harry looked at Snape for a long moment,
he silence grew between them. Yes, Harry Potter could understand Severus Snape's bitterness and hatred for the
'Boy Who Lived,' but reminded himself of other things. He reminded himself that just because he could understand it didn't
justify it at all. Even if Duddly had abused and beaten Harry all his life, he never joined a gang of others to retaliate.
Harry had never lowered himself to what Snape had done out of petty vengeance.
Snape narrowed his eyes. "You're sorry, isn't an answer to my question, Potter!" He spat the boys name in disgust.
"Why were you in the Slytherin Portrait Room? I know you were there, I can prove it without a doubt, and I can
drag the evidence before the Headmaster." Snape suddenly drew his thin lips into a wicked smile. "This year the
Headmaster isn't tolerating insubordination, especially with sneaking out at night."
Harry didn't know if the truth was one of the things that would hurt him or benefit him, in this case. He took a
moment to evaluate the situation: He and Ron had snuck out after class to snag a bunch of goodies that had been
hidden by another pair of trouble making Gryffindors that Snape hated. And in doing so, broke several rules and
invaded Slytherin territory, to an area of the dungeons Snape seemed to hold dear to himself.
Hmmmm. Harry pondered, no the truth was certainly out of the question.
"Sir, I don't understand how a chocolate frog wrapper can accuse me and Ron of anything. A careless Slytherin
must have left it behind." Harry knew he was in trouble, but couldn't help but struggle. He hated Snape, as
much as anything and wasn't going to let him bully him.
The Potions Master sat calmly and grinned in a sly snake-like manor. Harry didn't like this look at all. "I did not
tell the Headmaster about the little candy wrapper I found. Which, doesn't seem like evidence at all, but when an
aura charm is cast upon it, it tells me the last person in contact with this piece of litter was Mr. Weasely. I
seriously doubt he would go anywhere without you, POTTER!" Snape jumped to his feel to scowl a little closer to Harry's
face and revealed his rancid teeth in a full wicked grin. "I didn't tell the Headmaster because, I believe this year
you would have a better time at home with your muggle 'family' than with the events that will pass in the next few
months at Hogwarts." At this Snape lost his grin and became serious. "So don't thank me, Potter. When this year is
finished, you may never want to come back to school again. Now, one last time... WHY were you in the Slytherin
Portrait Room?"
Harry frowned, he was so angry, Snape had to ruin everything Harry tried so hard to do, or at least tried. Harry clenched
his teeth and repressed the urge to bring up his Professor's role as a death eater. He could have retorted how no one loved
Snape because he was a vile waste of magic that was more concerned with catching trouble makers then teaching his classes, and apparently had a serious lack of bathing in his life.
"I haven't been sleeping well..." Harry confessed, his teeth still clenched. "I was out for a walk because I had to clear
my thoughts. I thought it may help me get back to sleep." Harry's face was bright red.
The Potions Master hadn't been expecting that, and sat still for a moment to observe Potter. "Why was Weasely with you?"
"He was worried about me." Harry stiffened little more. "The nightmares seemed so real, Ron wanted to make sure I wasn't going to hurt myself."
Snape sat back down, his gaze turning inward. Something heavy was on his mind. "Potter, how did you find the room?"
Harry remembered it was supposed to be hidden, and wouldn't have found anything if not for the Marauder's map.
"By accident, sir. I tripped and fell through the wall." Harry looked down at his lap, hoping to sound pitiful
and innocent, knowing he was utterly failing at it.
Snape scowled again. "So you decided to follow a hallway that was blocked off from students and just happens to be near the
Potions classroom stores, for what reason?"
"I..." Harry was set to defend himself, realizing that he could not. Yes, sir."
"Mr. Potter, you are reckless and suicidal. This year is not the time to seek out your pathetic adventures."
Snape paused, the corners of his mouth twitching, as if he were suppressing a smile. "If I were someone who wanted you dead
Mr. Potter, I'd encourage you to return to the portrait room. More than one student has gone missing there. Keep that in
mind."
They stared at each other for several moments in heated silence. Harry's eyes wide with the threats made against him
and Snape's eye narrowed with the denied worry for Harry's safety cuppled by his eternal hatred of the boy.
"Mr. Potter, you have done a very, very foolish and dangerous thing! I doubt I can properly explain or relay to
you how foolish or dangerous, but rest assured Mr. Potter if you do it again I will not be the one to punish you."
He left the unspoken name to linger in the air. "Now, back to the classroom, Potter." Snape ordered, rising from his desk.
"And for your failure in telling me the complete truth, you shall serve another detention, tomorrow night, ALONE."
---
Harry's steps became heavier the closer he drew to the Potions classroom. The fear inducing energy that issues from
Snape's mentor could be felt in the hallway, as if he permiated the area with a death aura.
When he finally managed to get through the door, Harry could see Ron sitting at attention at his usual seat in class.
His eyes wide enough they could have fallen out of his head. The black-draped figure at the front of the room wasn't
moving at all. They seemed to be staring at each other, in complete silence.
"Weasely! My office, now!" Snape shouted from the doorway of the Potions room, just behind Harry. The sudden sound
startled Ron enough that he had jumped from his seat and fallen backwards to the hard stone floor.
"Y-y-yes, sir!" Ron looked at Harry and rushed from the room as fast as possible. Who would have thought Snape to
have been the saviour of a Gryffindor.
Harry looked at the black figure and felt as if ice were running down his spine. The hooded black form turned his
head and looked back at Harry.
"I need un asseestunt." A deep hissing voice whispered from beneth the hood. The accent was strong and difficult
to make out.
"Me, sir?" Harry thought he'd asked for help.
"Da, come to me."
Harry felt like running, but for some reason one of his feet took a step forward. His senses told him not to get any
closer than he already was, but a second step brought him even closer. Before he knew it, he was standing only a few
feet away fighting his nerves and looking for a face benneth the shadowed hood.
"Stir, slowly, clockvise'." He was instructing Harry to help with the man sized cauldron. Stiring clockwise had a
purpose in Potion making, but Harry could never remember the purpose for it. Part of the reason for a below average
Potion grade.
Harry reached for the large wooden spoon that was already in the cauldron, it was difficult and he had to use his
full body strenth and the entire length of his arms to stir it correctly.
He assumed he was doing it correctly when the dark clad wizard turned his back slowly, and walked away. Harry stared
after him, uncontiously. It's a natural human instinct to want to know where potential danger is, at all times.
However, he couldn't help but notice the other's movements were slow and hessitant. He walked leaning considerably forward,
as if a heavy weight were on his back and shoulders. His gate was uneven, and occationally he took a shakey rasping breath.
The cloaked figure had retrieved a small box hidden in a locked cabinet. The exact same one Hermione had stolen
from when they needed restricted ingredience for the polyjuice potion. When he made his slow unsteady way back to
the cauldron, Harry could tell, it was many of the same items Hermione had stolen.
"Am I so inter-estink?" He whispered. "That you are, oblivious to your own be-hav-iour?"
Continuing to stir the cauldron, which was slowly becoming harder and harder to do, Harry quickly closed his eyes.
"I'm sorry, sir." Harry's throat had gone dry. "But you sound familair."
The black hood turned it's head ever so slightly.
Harry wasn't lying, his whole aura and appearence did seem familair, as if a part of his brain were having
de-jevu and didn't tell the rest of him exactly why or how. Something else occured to him. Mandragora's
accent reminded him very much of another.
"You're accent, sir." Harry's voice sounded so quiet and small to himself. "It reminds me of a student, two years ago."
Harry had to pause to catch his breath. "Victor Krum, he's a pro quidditch player, he was from Bulgaria."
"That es enough." A pale hand stretched out to stop Harry's stirring. "T'ank you. I am no Bulgarian, I am Romanian."
The last time he had seen Mandragora was outside the castle with Hagrid, and he was wearing black gloves. Now Harry
could see his hands, secretly wishing that he hadn't. Long white fingers contrasted with the surrounding black, but
each of the ten digits was tipped with an inch long claw, thick and yellow from the potions he brewed. Despite being
very well used, all ten of his vicious fingernails looked razorblade sharp.
Mandragora lowered a silver ladel into the liquid and brought up a sample. Against the pale metal it looked blood red
and thin as water, which astounded Harry. While he had been stirring it, it felt as thick as mud and just as difficult
to stir. Harry took a step back as the fumes hit his face. It smelled like a cross between sulfer, vinegar, and horseradish.
Mandragora nodded in agreement as Harry coughed and choked. "Good, es progressing very vell."
"W-what are you brewing, sir?" Harry tried to ask, but his voice no matter how much force he put into it was thin and dry.
"Ah! So you vant to know... Do you rrreck-ognize it?" Mandragora's voice was calm and strong, despite the thick accent
well heard in all areas of the room.
"N-no, sir." Harry shuddered, the sudden attention from his man made him feel trapped and paniced.
The door of the classroom opened slowly and Ron had returned, he was looking rather nervous, with Snape striding
behind him, much more satisfied with Ron's answers than he had been with Harry's. He looked pleased with himself.
"Oh for Heaven's sakes Potter, it's a basic sleeping draught. It's one of the first things a first year student learns, no
wonder your marks are less than average." Snape sneared, seemingly unaffected by the nasty aura projected from his elder.
"Now, Weasley you'll have to chop some spider legs and Potter you can get started on---"
"Nu! Severus, is late." The deep voice was directed at Snape this time.
The Potions Master was befuddled. "Sir, They still have time to serve."
"Nu. Is late." The figure in black leaned forward and with a terribly painful sounds coming from his spine as he did so.
"Cine nu primeste sfat nu e nici de ajutat." As the foriegn words rolled off his tounge a cloud of black smoke seemed to
rise from each breath and plumed from under his hood.
Snape's jaw dropped. It took several moments before he regained his composure. "Potter! Weasely! You're dismissed. Don't
you dare try anything like that again. And Mr. Potter, don't forget our appointment tomorrow."
Harry and Ron glanced at each other then practically ran for the door, Harry pausing
to observe Mandragora one last time, then the two dashed off away from the class room as fast as possible.
================================================================
Wink At J00 and SilverWolf offered advice when I wasn't sure what to do
about Mandragora's accent. I hope this works. When I hear an accent of this
type, it always sounds stronger to me than it is actually writing it.
This chapter feels tense, I think i like that.
Mandragora's statement:
Cine nu primeste sfat nu e nici de ajutat.
Can be translated roughly to:
In vain he gives advice and does not follow it himself.
Written: 01-26-03
Updated: 06-10-04
Chapter 17 - Meeting Mandragora
By: Zero Star (zrostar)
------------------------------------------------------
Once seated in his office, Snape appeared to be worse off than Harry had realized. Sitting wearily behind his large black
desk, Snape seemed to be weak, tired, and more than a little grumpy. Harry recognized the circles under his eyes, similar
to ones he had himself. Snape's already hollow, thin face seemed to be more so than usual, showing the faint outline of
his skull. Snape's sallow face had lost it's sickly greenish-yellow hue and taken on a pasty grayness.
Harry closed his eyes to refocus on the issue at hand.
"Potter, why were you in the Slytherin Portrait Room last night?" He was firmly to the point, but his voice was weak.
Harry opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Why was he there? To break the rules and have fun.
"What? No excuses for me?" Snape stated in mock shock.
"I'm sorry, sir." Harry pressed out. His tone utterly devoid of sencerity.
Snape scowled at him, pulling his lips back to reveal his yellowed teeth, breath held. It was obvious what the Potions
Master wanted to do, every day of his life, but somehow kept from doing it. Snape wanted to tear into Harry for the
wrongs James Potter had done to him. He wanted to rip Potter's boy into little pieces and tell him what a horrible
man his father really was. The marauders had done a number on this Slytherin. Even if Snape sorely had it coming,
Harry could understand. After spending his whole life, until Hogwarts, being abused by a family that didn't want him
and the subject of torment from his cousin Duddly and Duddly's brute friends. Harry looked at Snape for a long moment,
he silence grew between them. Yes, Harry Potter could understand Severus Snape's bitterness and hatred for the
'Boy Who Lived,' but reminded himself of other things. He reminded himself that just because he could understand it didn't
justify it at all. Even if Duddly had abused and beaten Harry all his life, he never joined a gang of others to retaliate.
Harry had never lowered himself to what Snape had done out of petty vengeance.
Snape narrowed his eyes. "You're sorry, isn't an answer to my question, Potter!" He spat the boys name in disgust.
"Why were you in the Slytherin Portrait Room? I know you were there, I can prove it without a doubt, and I can
drag the evidence before the Headmaster." Snape suddenly drew his thin lips into a wicked smile. "This year the
Headmaster isn't tolerating insubordination, especially with sneaking out at night."
Harry didn't know if the truth was one of the things that would hurt him or benefit him, in this case. He took a
moment to evaluate the situation: He and Ron had snuck out after class to snag a bunch of goodies that had been
hidden by another pair of trouble making Gryffindors that Snape hated. And in doing so, broke several rules and
invaded Slytherin territory, to an area of the dungeons Snape seemed to hold dear to himself.
Hmmmm. Harry pondered, no the truth was certainly out of the question.
"Sir, I don't understand how a chocolate frog wrapper can accuse me and Ron of anything. A careless Slytherin
must have left it behind." Harry knew he was in trouble, but couldn't help but struggle. He hated Snape, as
much as anything and wasn't going to let him bully him.
The Potions Master sat calmly and grinned in a sly snake-like manor. Harry didn't like this look at all. "I did not
tell the Headmaster about the little candy wrapper I found. Which, doesn't seem like evidence at all, but when an
aura charm is cast upon it, it tells me the last person in contact with this piece of litter was Mr. Weasely. I
seriously doubt he would go anywhere without you, POTTER!" Snape jumped to his feel to scowl a little closer to Harry's
face and revealed his rancid teeth in a full wicked grin. "I didn't tell the Headmaster because, I believe this year
you would have a better time at home with your muggle 'family' than with the events that will pass in the next few
months at Hogwarts." At this Snape lost his grin and became serious. "So don't thank me, Potter. When this year is
finished, you may never want to come back to school again. Now, one last time... WHY were you in the Slytherin
Portrait Room?"
Harry frowned, he was so angry, Snape had to ruin everything Harry tried so hard to do, or at least tried. Harry clenched
his teeth and repressed the urge to bring up his Professor's role as a death eater. He could have retorted how no one loved
Snape because he was a vile waste of magic that was more concerned with catching trouble makers then teaching his classes, and apparently had a serious lack of bathing in his life.
"I haven't been sleeping well..." Harry confessed, his teeth still clenched. "I was out for a walk because I had to clear
my thoughts. I thought it may help me get back to sleep." Harry's face was bright red.
The Potions Master hadn't been expecting that, and sat still for a moment to observe Potter. "Why was Weasely with you?"
"He was worried about me." Harry stiffened little more. "The nightmares seemed so real, Ron wanted to make sure I wasn't going to hurt myself."
Snape sat back down, his gaze turning inward. Something heavy was on his mind. "Potter, how did you find the room?"
Harry remembered it was supposed to be hidden, and wouldn't have found anything if not for the Marauder's map.
"By accident, sir. I tripped and fell through the wall." Harry looked down at his lap, hoping to sound pitiful
and innocent, knowing he was utterly failing at it.
Snape scowled again. "So you decided to follow a hallway that was blocked off from students and just happens to be near the
Potions classroom stores, for what reason?"
"I..." Harry was set to defend himself, realizing that he could not. Yes, sir."
"Mr. Potter, you are reckless and suicidal. This year is not the time to seek out your pathetic adventures."
Snape paused, the corners of his mouth twitching, as if he were suppressing a smile. "If I were someone who wanted you dead
Mr. Potter, I'd encourage you to return to the portrait room. More than one student has gone missing there. Keep that in
mind."
They stared at each other for several moments in heated silence. Harry's eyes wide with the threats made against him
and Snape's eye narrowed with the denied worry for Harry's safety cuppled by his eternal hatred of the boy.
"Mr. Potter, you have done a very, very foolish and dangerous thing! I doubt I can properly explain or relay to
you how foolish or dangerous, but rest assured Mr. Potter if you do it again I will not be the one to punish you."
He left the unspoken name to linger in the air. "Now, back to the classroom, Potter." Snape ordered, rising from his desk.
"And for your failure in telling me the complete truth, you shall serve another detention, tomorrow night, ALONE."
---
Harry's steps became heavier the closer he drew to the Potions classroom. The fear inducing energy that issues from
Snape's mentor could be felt in the hallway, as if he permiated the area with a death aura.
When he finally managed to get through the door, Harry could see Ron sitting at attention at his usual seat in class.
His eyes wide enough they could have fallen out of his head. The black-draped figure at the front of the room wasn't
moving at all. They seemed to be staring at each other, in complete silence.
"Weasely! My office, now!" Snape shouted from the doorway of the Potions room, just behind Harry. The sudden sound
startled Ron enough that he had jumped from his seat and fallen backwards to the hard stone floor.
"Y-y-yes, sir!" Ron looked at Harry and rushed from the room as fast as possible. Who would have thought Snape to
have been the saviour of a Gryffindor.
Harry looked at the black figure and felt as if ice were running down his spine. The hooded black form turned his
head and looked back at Harry.
"I need un asseestunt." A deep hissing voice whispered from beneth the hood. The accent was strong and difficult
to make out.
"Me, sir?" Harry thought he'd asked for help.
"Da, come to me."
Harry felt like running, but for some reason one of his feet took a step forward. His senses told him not to get any
closer than he already was, but a second step brought him even closer. Before he knew it, he was standing only a few
feet away fighting his nerves and looking for a face benneth the shadowed hood.
"Stir, slowly, clockvise'." He was instructing Harry to help with the man sized cauldron. Stiring clockwise had a
purpose in Potion making, but Harry could never remember the purpose for it. Part of the reason for a below average
Potion grade.
Harry reached for the large wooden spoon that was already in the cauldron, it was difficult and he had to use his
full body strenth and the entire length of his arms to stir it correctly.
He assumed he was doing it correctly when the dark clad wizard turned his back slowly, and walked away. Harry stared
after him, uncontiously. It's a natural human instinct to want to know where potential danger is, at all times.
However, he couldn't help but notice the other's movements were slow and hessitant. He walked leaning considerably forward,
as if a heavy weight were on his back and shoulders. His gate was uneven, and occationally he took a shakey rasping breath.
The cloaked figure had retrieved a small box hidden in a locked cabinet. The exact same one Hermione had stolen
from when they needed restricted ingredience for the polyjuice potion. When he made his slow unsteady way back to
the cauldron, Harry could tell, it was many of the same items Hermione had stolen.
"Am I so inter-estink?" He whispered. "That you are, oblivious to your own be-hav-iour?"
Continuing to stir the cauldron, which was slowly becoming harder and harder to do, Harry quickly closed his eyes.
"I'm sorry, sir." Harry's throat had gone dry. "But you sound familair."
The black hood turned it's head ever so slightly.
Harry wasn't lying, his whole aura and appearence did seem familair, as if a part of his brain were having
de-jevu and didn't tell the rest of him exactly why or how. Something else occured to him. Mandragora's
accent reminded him very much of another.
"You're accent, sir." Harry's voice sounded so quiet and small to himself. "It reminds me of a student, two years ago."
Harry had to pause to catch his breath. "Victor Krum, he's a pro quidditch player, he was from Bulgaria."
"That es enough." A pale hand stretched out to stop Harry's stirring. "T'ank you. I am no Bulgarian, I am Romanian."
The last time he had seen Mandragora was outside the castle with Hagrid, and he was wearing black gloves. Now Harry
could see his hands, secretly wishing that he hadn't. Long white fingers contrasted with the surrounding black, but
each of the ten digits was tipped with an inch long claw, thick and yellow from the potions he brewed. Despite being
very well used, all ten of his vicious fingernails looked razorblade sharp.
Mandragora lowered a silver ladel into the liquid and brought up a sample. Against the pale metal it looked blood red
and thin as water, which astounded Harry. While he had been stirring it, it felt as thick as mud and just as difficult
to stir. Harry took a step back as the fumes hit his face. It smelled like a cross between sulfer, vinegar, and horseradish.
Mandragora nodded in agreement as Harry coughed and choked. "Good, es progressing very vell."
"W-what are you brewing, sir?" Harry tried to ask, but his voice no matter how much force he put into it was thin and dry.
"Ah! So you vant to know... Do you rrreck-ognize it?" Mandragora's voice was calm and strong, despite the thick accent
well heard in all areas of the room.
"N-no, sir." Harry shuddered, the sudden attention from his man made him feel trapped and paniced.
The door of the classroom opened slowly and Ron had returned, he was looking rather nervous, with Snape striding
behind him, much more satisfied with Ron's answers than he had been with Harry's. He looked pleased with himself.
"Oh for Heaven's sakes Potter, it's a basic sleeping draught. It's one of the first things a first year student learns, no
wonder your marks are less than average." Snape sneared, seemingly unaffected by the nasty aura projected from his elder.
"Now, Weasley you'll have to chop some spider legs and Potter you can get started on---"
"Nu! Severus, is late." The deep voice was directed at Snape this time.
The Potions Master was befuddled. "Sir, They still have time to serve."
"Nu. Is late." The figure in black leaned forward and with a terribly painful sounds coming from his spine as he did so.
"Cine nu primeste sfat nu e nici de ajutat." As the foriegn words rolled off his tounge a cloud of black smoke seemed to
rise from each breath and plumed from under his hood.
Snape's jaw dropped. It took several moments before he regained his composure. "Potter! Weasely! You're dismissed. Don't
you dare try anything like that again. And Mr. Potter, don't forget our appointment tomorrow."
Harry and Ron glanced at each other then practically ran for the door, Harry pausing
to observe Mandragora one last time, then the two dashed off away from the class room as fast as possible.
================================================================
Wink At J00 and SilverWolf offered advice when I wasn't sure what to do
about Mandragora's accent. I hope this works. When I hear an accent of this
type, it always sounds stronger to me than it is actually writing it.
This chapter feels tense, I think i like that.
Mandragora's statement:
Cine nu primeste sfat nu e nici de ajutat.
Can be translated roughly to:
In vain he gives advice and does not follow it himself.
Written: 01-26-03
Updated: 06-10-04