Seven Drops and Asphodel Blooms
Summary: When Harry blows up his aunt during the summer, Dumbledore is much quicker to react. Snape finds him far before the Minister does, but his plan of dropping him off with a lecture and half a dozen additional summer assignments doesn't work out.
In which Harry spends the summer at Spinner's End.
Chapter 9
The carriage shook as one of its wheels caught on a bump on the road. Harry kept his eyes aimed up front as he was being jostled into Neville, and watched the castle grow larger by the second. He might have found comfort in the familiar sight, were he not still choking on his terror.
"Harry," Hermione started, flashing him a nervous glance.
"Fine." The creature on the train's icy cold had settled deep in his bones. He couldn't stop shivering.
Ron and Hermione (who hadn't taken their eyes off him since they'd climbed onto the carriage) shared a look. If one more person asked Harry how he was doing, he'd lose it completely.
"What do you think the new professor did to chase it off?" Harry asked.
"Dunno," Ron muttered. "I've never seen anything like it..."
Neville hadn't spoken a word since exiting the train. "It felt w-warm," he murmured, then fell silent as another shiver wracked his body.
Harry felt a bit better, knowing that his friends were as shaken as he was. Then again, he thought with burning cheeks, none of them had fainted and hallucinated people that weren't there.
Two more of the creatures loomed on either side of Hogwarts' gates. They all huddled together, an otherworldly chill falling over them. Neville whimpered and dug one hand into Harry's robes. The new professor – Lupin – had told them the dementors were here on Dumbledore's orders, but after feeling the fresh wave of despair wash over them, it was hard to believe.
Harry closed his eyes and opened them only once the cool – but no longer frigid – air of the castle fell over them. Compared to the outside, it felt like a cozy blanket.
"They aren't gonna be here all school year, are they?" Neville's voice trembled.
"Not if they manage to catch Black," Ron said.
Hushed whispers and pale faces decorated the Great Hall, replacing the usual buzz of excitement. While the four tables slowly filled with students, the teacher's table was still almost empty. They trickled in one after the other, all looking unusually grim.
Snape was one of the last to enter the hall. He swept in right after Flitwick, his billowing cloak matching his stormy expression. The new teacher, Lupin, trailed after him, his furrowed brows making him look a far cry from the kind man who'd given them chocolate on the train.
"What's gotten into Snape?" Ron whispered, peering over Harry's shoulder. "You'd think the dementors would be right up his alley."
"Ron." Hermione sent him a warning gaze.
"He should be delighted. Spreading misery and fear is what he's all about." He paused. "Maybe he's disappointed that now there's somebody who's better at his job than he is."
Hermione rolled her eyes and said nothing.
"It's even worse for you, Harry." Ron looked around cautiously, then lowered his voice. "You already filled up your Snape quota for the whole year."
Harry forced a laugh. Luckily the Sorting started before anybody could carry the conversation further.
Even though he'd missed the Sorting the last year – being preoccupied crashing a flying car into the only tree on the school grounds able to fight back – Harry barely paid attention to the pale-faced first-years that stumbled towards their table one after the other. Once the ceremony was over and the tables filled with food, Harry grabbed whatever was in front of him without paying attention to what it was.
Students and teachers alike started half-hearted conversations, but the atmosphere remained somber all evening.
"What a welcome," Ron muttered later on their way to the common room, trailing after the stilted cheer of an overeager prefect.
Harry looked over his shoulder just before they rounded a corner. Snape had followed the crowd out into the entrance hall and now hovered close to the corridor that led down to the dungeons.
He stood like a statue looking down at the entrance doors, his lips a narrow white line.
"I can carry them."
"You sure?" Ron leaned closer to peer into Hermione's bag, but she pulled it to her other side. "Because that's more books than I've read in my whole life."
"That says more about you than it does about me." Hermione adjusted her bag with her nose held high.
Harry followed close behind them and hid a smile.
Hogwarts was somehow both exactly and nothing like he remembered. Wizards whispered and giggled in their portraits only to fall silent at exactly the right times to make it seem like they were talking about you. Strange lights floated across the halls that could be either fairies that had escaped the Charms classroom or a nasty prank waiting to jump a gullible student. The hallways and floors seemed to morph at random, and even after two years, Harry and Ron still didn't manage to show up in time for their Astronomy lessons.
There was no place in the world Harry loved more.
If only the entire school year could be just like these first few days.
"Let's get this over with." Ron squared his shoulders and took the lead towards the dungeons like a soldier marching off into battle.
Harry had been dreading their first Potions class all week. The past summer already felt like an elaborate dream – or a very confusing nightmare. Now that the school year had started, everything would be back to normal: Snape would hate Harry, Harry would hate Snape, and both of them would make each other's time at school miserable.
"Sure feels like there's a dementor down here." Ron pulled his robes tighter.
Harry suppressed a shiver. "They'd probably feel right at home."
"Dark, frigid and depressing? Mate, you might be onto something."
They chose seats at the back of the class (Hermione tried to non-verbally urge them to pick a table close to the front) and waited for Snape to begin. He swept in with his typical pitch-black cloak, and Harry realized with a double-take just how much he'd gotten used to seeing him in Muggle clothes.
"As I doubt many of you have lifted a single finger in pursuance of your studies," Snape said, collecting their summer assignments with a wave of his wand, "I hope for your sake that you remember even a fraction of the material we've covered over the past school year."
He didn't spare Harry so much as a lingering glance. Had Harry not lived through it, he wouldn't have believed that up until a few days ago, he'd lived underneath Snape's roof.
"Maybe I'd remember if I'd actually learned anything," Ron whispered under his breath.
"Though for at least half of you," Snape raised his voice and sneered in the direction of the Gryffindor side of the room, "I sincerely doubt it."
He put instructions onto the chalk board and had them brew a potion they'd already learned, one "so simple that even the most dense of you ought to have little trouble accomplishing it."
Harry's heart wasn't in it. He couldn't concentrate. The class felt exactly the way it always did – but shouldn't everything be different? Things had changed over the summer. Hadn't they? How could they be back at school and go about their business pretending as though nothing had happened?
"Dude," Ron hissed after the third time he needed to stop Harry from adding the wrong ingredient. He tried to say more, but paled and snapped his mouth shut abruptly.
"Falling behind on the very first day of class," Snape drawled right behind Harry. "You must be striving for some kind of record."
A handful of students from Slytherin erupted into muffled laughter.
"You know me," Harry said, shaking off Ron's hand tugging insistently on his sleeve. "Always aiming for the top."
Snape scoffed. He leaned over to peer into Harry's cauldron, making a show out of dodging the thick fumes rising out of it. "If your goal is to send somebody to the hospital wing, your brewing is right on track."
Harry's lip twitched.
Snape, halfway to the next table, caught the motion. "Am I amusing you?"
"No, sir." Harry fought hard to keep a grin off of his lips. "It's just good to be back."
Beside him, Ron sucked in a sharp breath.
Snape looked at him for a silent, drawn-out moment. Harry felt at ease for the first time since entering the cold dungeon air.
"Five points from Gryffindor for the cheek." Snape's cloak billowed behind him as he turned, a fraction too late to hide the tug at his lips. "I suppose so, Mr. Potter."
One table over, Seamus stared after him open-mouthed.
"Someone pinch me," Dean muttered, peering suspiciously at his cauldron like he was wondering whether the fumes had gotten to him.
Nobody beyond their two tables seemed to have caught what had happened, and Snape returned to the lesson without another word. Next to Harry, Ron had gone silent.
"What was that?" Ron demanded as soon as they'd left the dungeons.
Harry looked stubbornly ahead. "What was what?"
"You! And Snape. What were you doing?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Are you for real?"
Harry's stomach cramped self-consciously. "What's the big deal?" he tried. "He took points, didn't he?"
"Exactly!" Ron threw up his hands. "How do you not have detention right now?"
Hermione looked conflicted. "It's not like he was being nice."
"So what? It's Snape. The guy who's hated Harry's guts since before he ever stepped foot into his class."
"He's a teacher, Ron. He isn't allowed to–"
"What? Play favorites? Treat his students like dirt? Have I hallucinated the past two years of Potions?"
Every single word coming out of Ron's mouth was perfectly on point. Past-Harry would have been appalled if he knew he wasn't right beside Ron in his tirade against Snape.
"Just drop it."
"Drop it?" Ron sounded outraged. "You seriously gotta tell us what happened over the summer."
"Well, too bad," Harry bit out. "Because I don't want to talk about it."
"Well, too bad!" Ron snapped. He made a sharp turn, blocked the corridor and forced Harry to a stop. "You gotta explain something."
"What he means," Hermione said pointedly, "is that we're worried. You've been acting weird since we arrived."
"Did he hex you? Blackmail you? How come you're suddenly okay with him being a gigantic git?"
"I'm not! I just– I don't know." Harry crossed his arms, feeling both annoyed and defensive. "I know he's awful. I guess I just got used to it."
"Seems more like being brainwashed."
Harry shouldered past Ron none too gently and ignored all other attempts his friends made. Hermione at least got the hint and changed the subject, but Ron didn't stop scowling until Professor Flitwick's Banishing charm gave them something different to worry about.
They stopped talking about Snape. Every walk from and to Potions was spent in frosty silence, and Harry made an effort not to interact with Snape more than he absolutely had to.
As the first week of the school year went by, they were slowly given back their summer assignments. McGonagall gave him a smile while handing out his good – though still nowhere near Hermione's – results in Transfiguration, and Ron peered over his shoulder and muttered, "Seriously?" at spotting Harry's top marks in Herbology. Harry simply shrugged, feeling pleased.
He didn't try explaining to Ron that if anyone was responsible for his sudden improvement, it was Snape for bullying him into rewriting his essays at least half a dozen times.
Defence Against the Dark Arts – after their previous experiences with evil or incompetent teachers – would have been a pleasant surprise, had Snape not made an appearance and given him a splendid reminder of why they'd spent two school years loathing each other.
"Good for Neville," Ron said gleefully, stifling giggles at the thought of the boggart-turned-Snape. "About time he got some payback."
"I don't know." Hermione sounded distracted, digging through her endless supply of school books. Her hair looked even more disheveled than usual, and she seemed out-of-breath. "I'm not sure this was such a good idea for him."
"Are you kidding? Snape had it coming."
"And what do you think he's gonna do when he hears about what Neville did to his boggart? Oh, for the love of..." Hermione crouched down and shoved both of her arms into her bag.
Ron and Harry slowed to a halt beside her.
"It wasn't Neville's idea," Harry said slowly.
Ron rolled his eyes. "Because it's always been important to Snape to have the full picture before casting judgment."
Hermione scowled down at her bag with an irritated huff of air. "You go ahead. I gotta reorganize these."
"Or you could follow my advice," Ron said, "and leave half of them in your dorm."
"I need them, Ron."
"All of them? In one day? Last time I checked, there were only so many hours in a day."
Hermione ignored him. Harry and Ron kept going, leaving her to figure out her impossible school bag.
Ron's words got Harry thinking. It would be very much like Snape to punish Neville for something he hadn't had a choice in doing – but Harry couldn't help but to think back to the beginning of Lupin's lesson.
Snape treated most – though not all – of the other teachers with mutual respect. But not Lupin. Harry could have understood if Snape had been angry after the boggart debacle, but he'd already been hostile towards Lupin long before that.
Had they still been at Spinner's End, Harry might have dropped a comment or two during one of Snape's better moods. But at school? He couldn't just stay behind after class, either – not when Ron still regularly sent him sour glances during Potions.
The next lesson proved Hermione's prediction correct. Snape pierced Neville with such an intense look of loathing, Neville's shaking hands knocked over his cauldron during the first five minutes of class.
"Two years, and still Mr. Longbottom has not learned which end of his cauldron faces upwards," he said, his voice slick from satisfaction.
Neville trembled so badly, he only managed to set up his cauldron after Lavender crouched down to help him.
Malfoy's snickering had Harry clench his hands to fists and cemented his decision. He didn't expect to dodge a detention this time – though with any luck, it would be exactly what Ron needed to stop getting on his case.
After class, Harry pretended like he'd forgotten a textbook in the common room, and – instead of following the others to lunch – doubled back to the dungeons. Snape was still inside, rummaging through the closet that held their Potions ingredients while a self-writing quill scribbled notes onto a parchment hovering beside him.
"Misplaced something during class, Mr. Potter?" He peered into the closet and the quill added an item to his list.
Harry shifted on his feet, trying not to feel awkward. At school, he'd only ever been alone with Snape while serving a detention.
"My time is extremely limited," Snape started.
Harry cut him off. "Do you have a minute?"
Snape's lips thinned. After a heavy pause that almost sent Harry scrambling for the exit, Snape jerked his head towards a chair at the very front of the classroom.
Harry obeyed and sat down, his eyes lingering on Snape's desk. He hadn't yet cleared the vials holding their potion samples he was going to grade.
"If you have nothing to say," Snape said, eyes aimed at his rapidly filling parchment as though Harry wasn't even worth pausing his efforts for, "I suggest you go on with your day instead of wasting mine."
"What do you have against Professor Lupin?" Harry bit his tongue as soon as the words left his lips.
Snape snatched his quill out of the air, stray drops of ink sprinkling all over his desk. "I rather believe," he bit out, "that is between him and me."
"Sorry," Harry muttered. "You're not really being subtle."
Snape's jaw worked soundlessly. He scowled into the middle-distance like even the sight of Harry would push him over the edge. "Is that what you've come here for? Sating brazen curiosity?"
"No, actually." Harry muscled on before he could change his mind. "Do you have to be so hard on Neville? He's having a bad enough time as it is."
Snape's eyes widened before narrowing dangerously. "Excuse me?"
"He's only bad at Potions because he's terrified of you." Harry glared at the desk instead of Snape in a fruitless attempt to hold back his temper. "You should see him in a subject he feels confident in. He's a natural at Herbology."
"A pity he doesn't showcast that talent during Potions."
"If you weren't looming over him–"
"Enough."
Harry sourly shut his mouth. The silence felt oppressive, heavy with the uncertainty of whether he'd crossed some sort of line.
"Professor Lupin taught us that a boggart turns into our greatest fear," Harry said tightly. "Doesn't it bother you that Neville's turned into you?"
Snape's expression told him that being the greatest fear of one of his students didn't bother him in the slightest.
"Whatever." Harry had no idea what he'd hoped to accomplish by coming here.
The silence stretched on. Snape copied the list he'd had his quill write with a tap of his wand, put one of them into his desk drawer and folded up the other into one of his pockets.
Harry couldn't help but to think of the boggart again. There was more about it that bothered him than Neville's unfortunate escapade.
"Are you finished?" Snape folded his arms in front of his chest. "Glaring into the distance is hardly an improvement."
"It's not that." Harry pressed his lips together. "Lupin had us fight the boggart."
Snape's expression turned stormy. "So I've gathered."
"He didn't let me have a turn," Harry admitted bitterly. "He stopped the lesson right when it came near me."
"So now you're under the impression that he didn't let you fight because he did not think you capable of it," Snape summarized flatly.
"Why else?"
"Think for a moment," Snape said curtly. "What would most people assume to be famous Harry Potter's greatest fear?"
Harry's frown deepened. "I can just go if–"
"Based on your past adventures," Snape interrupted, rolling his eyes, "what would be the most obvious conclusion?"
Harry went silent. Back during Lupin's class, before he'd thought of the dementor, he'd thought his boggart would be... "Voldemort," he said quietly. Spotting Snape's sour expression, he hastily added, "I mean You-Know-Who."
"Indeed." Snape's voice grew quieter. "As a teacher, would you have risked a class of thirteen-year-olds being confronted with wizardkind's most infamous tyrant?"
Harry thought of the way most wizards flinched when hearing Voldemort's name. "I guess not." He felt a weight drop off his shoulders. He didn't know why the possibility of Lupin thinking he was weak bothered him so much.
Before he could think better of it, he asked, "Sir? What does your boggart look like?"
Snape went very still. Something flickered over his face, too swift to register. "Know that there are only few questions more personal to ask a wizard."
Harry decided not to test his luck further. He excused himself, hoping to still make it to lunch in time so his friends wouldn't become suspicious.
Snape did land him in detention this time. Although Ron was annoyingly happy about it, the two hours preparing Potions ingredients reminded him so much of the summer, Harry felt like he was falling back into an old routine instead of being punished.
A/N:
Harry: lands himself in detention
Ron, tearing up: balance has been restored