Chapter 32
Harry woke up next morning, thankfully a Sunday, rolled over and slept til eleven. He'd finally got to his bed just before two, and gratefully passed out.
He found a note on his bedside table when he woke.
Room of Requirement. 2pm. Bring all your fellow strategists. SS.
Wow, the man didn't let up.
"Good afternoon, Mr Potter, I hope you all slept well," said Snape by way of greeting. The twins looked wary as if they might not be invited. "I invited all of you, you are all welcome," he added, eyeing them.
The room contained a table big enough for them all to stand around with a pensieve in the middle.
"Cool!" breathed the twins, "Action replay!"
"Why do you put up with them, Mr Potter?" asked Snape. Ron choked down a laugh, very unsure of Snape's humour, assuming he had one. "If you have no objections, it would be useful to see where your ideas worked and where they can be improved, don't you agree?" Snape asked.
"Is it necessary?" asked Harry.
"If you don't learn from your mistakes it may one day cost you dearly, Mr Potter."
Harry reached his wand up to his head, concentrated and pulled out a silvery strand. He placed it in the bowl.
They began.
"Congratulations on waiting until you were out of sight before pulling out your cloak and map, Potter. Who's idea was stop and think first?"
"Mine, sir," said Ron.
"Five points to Gryffindor, Mr Weasley." Ron looked stunned.
The memory continued.
Snape looked at the map when Harry checked it before shrinking to cut through further on the course.
"Good use of plotting a course through to farther on. Whose was that idea?"
"Mine, sir," said Hermione.
"Have five points, Miss Granger," said Snape. "Mr Potter, what did you fail to do here?" he asked, just before Harry was surprised by Krum's appearance.
"I didn't look at the map, sir. I thought he was still a way aways."
Snape nodded. "Five points from Gryffindor, Mr Potter."
Snape frowned. "Do any of you recognise that cutting spell?" They all shook their heads. "Good, keep it that way."
"Why a Patronus over a Riddikulus, Mr Potter?"
"Can you think of how to make Dementor funny, sir? I could hardly put it on roller skates in Mrs Longbottom's hat!"
"Five points for the logic, minus two for the cheek, Mr Potter."
They continued.
"Discuss. Should Mr Krum have stunned Miss Delacour?"
"Totally!" said Hermione. Fred and George nodded in agreement with her.
"No, it's just not playing fair!" said Ron. Harry nodded.
"The aim of the … game … Mr Weasley, was to avoid all obstacles and get to the middle. She was an obstacle. He dealt with her. He even fired red sparks for someone to retrieve her. What's your objection? Or rather, what would you have done?"
"I'd have avoided her and gone the other way, or at least announced I was there to give her a fighting chance," defended Ron.
"And I thought you were a strategist. Remind me to lend you some books by people who survived battles, Mr Weasley. Fifteen points for and ten against Gryffindor. I rather like the unconscious pink on the map."
"Thank you, sir," said George.
"Have five points."
The memory had gotten as far as Harry waiting in the hedge while Krum and Diggory fought.
"And your reason for staying hidden, Mr Potter?"
"Ron suggested if it comes to it, let anyone take out Krum, because well, we assumed I'd lose!"
"Five points to Mr Weasley. Does anyone have a comment about Mr Krum's choice of spell?"
This time, no-one commented. They'd learnt from their points loss over Fleur.
"Mr Potter, please explain why you lowered your cloak."
"Any chance you're not going to take points?"
"None whatsoever. Which bit of Gryffindor logic did you use for the decision?"
"Well he must have known I was there!"
"Assuredly, but not exactly where! You could have ducked and quietly moved to the side, then hit Diggory with the same spell, remained hidden and claimed the prize."
"But I just couldn't do it!"
"Mr Potter, Death Eaters don't play fair. They don't play to gentlemen's rules. Gentlemen die doing that. You cast spells until either they are down or you are down. Remember that. Twenty points from Gryffindor."
"Sir!"
"I'm not arguing about it, Mr Potter."
They watched the duel.
"Mr Weasley," said Snape to Fred, "Tell me something about the duel."
"Harry conserved his energy, he focused on his shield and used effective spells that needed less strength to cast."
"True. Was his shield ever going to hold out against Mr Diggory's?"
"Probably not, Diggory's strong," replied Fred, honestly.
"So how can he fight without either using a shield himself or having to break his opponent's?"
"He dodged the first couple. But then Cedric got his eye in."
"So how could he distract Mr Diggory?"
"Oh, I see. Something like the Avis spell, or something to disturb the ground, Aguamenti to soften the ground, make him slip. Something that doesn't need to beat his shield."
"Very good, five points."
The memory came to an end.
"Not bad, Mr Potter, we might manage to keep you alive yet. Has anyone been keeping a tally of how many points I have to take off in Potions tomorrow?"
"Eight, sir," said Hermione.
"I suppose you can keep that many," said Snape magnanimously.
On Monday evening, Harry went to Snape's office as usual. He didn't know if he was supposed to. The rest of the school had finished their exams the week before. He'd finished the tournament, but he quite liked talking to Snape. It was grounding.
Harry knocked on the door.
"Come in, Mr Potter."
In Snape's office was Healer Jones, the man who'd done a health check before the task.
"Oh, should I not be here?" asked Harry.
"No, you're expected," said Snape, "Take a seat." Harry sat.
"Harry," said the Healer, "I have spent quite a lot of time in the last few months talking to your godfather. I understand you'd like to spend time over summer with him."
Harry hadn't seen this conversation coming. He should've, but he hadn't. He briefly wondered if leaving now was an option.
On principle that the Healer's last statement was a statement and not a question, Harry didn't reply.
"What do you know about the blood wards around Privet Drive, Harry?" asked the Healer.
Harry didn't want to go there either, but the look on Snape's face suggested he thought Harry was being rude.
"I know they're why I have to live there," said Harry. "For some amount of time each year. I don't know for how long."
Jones nodded. "Professor Dumbledore has looked into it. Two weeks."
Harry was silent. There was just enough teenage angst in him to rage along the lines of why the hell had he had to stay there for all of the last three summers then, instead of at the Leaky Cauldron in a room, or at the Burrow, or bloody anywhere for essentially the whole holiday minus two weeks.
Harry looked down to hide whatever anger was left in his eyes. Blowing up at the Healer with Snape in the room wouldn't be a good idea.
"Sirius and Remus would love to have you stay after that, but Sirius needs a bit longer, Harry. Azkaban has taken a toll. However, you have been invited to the Burrow for the four weeks after the two you need in Privet Drive. Perhaps after that Sirius will be able to have you stay."
"But he visits here, and Professor McGonagall let all of us go over there," argued Harry.
"Visit isn't stay, Harry, I'm sure you realise that. However, for the first two weeks of the holidays you can go visit him during the day, for the whole day, two or three times a week. But he still needs some space, especially if you go round with your friends. Remus will also be there. To keep the blood wards active you must sleep at Privet Drive for a fortnight. "
"Why?!" demanded Harry.
Snape raised an eyebrow at his manners.
"Why must I keep the blood wards, sir?" asked Harry, moderating his tone. "If next summer, and the one after I can stay with Sirius, why do I need them now?"
"For the reason myself and Professor McGonagall were unable to successfully argue with Professor Dumbledore, Mr Potter. If at some point you need a secure, unplottable place, to which Death Eaters are unable to apparate, or even to find, it is a good backup plan. Do you have an argument against that that myself or Professor McGonagall were unable to make?"
"Yeah, my relatives live there," grouched Harry.
"About your relatives, Mr Potter," said Snape innocently, "You might find they are a bit different this time."
Harry could have asked 'What do you mean, different?' But that question would imply Harry hadn't learned anything about his mentor this year. Oh, God, Snape had visited Privet Drive! What had he done?! Were they all toads? Was Dudley a pig with a tail? Was Vernon a walrus flopping around the living room? Was Petunia a horse?
"What are you thinking, Mr Potter?" asked Snape, watching Harry's face.
"Wishfully, sir," replied Harry. "Er, I don't really know how to ask this, but, um, have you, um, done anything?"
"I don't know what you mean, Mr Potter. Surely your family has read all about your exploits this year in the paper and realised what a gift you are and will treat you accordingly."
Harry heard the sarcasm. Snape's done something. Plausible deniability.
"What about after the Burrow if I can't stay with Sirius?"
"A bridge to cross later, Mr Potter, but it will be a very cold day in hell before I allow you back to Privet Drive."
"Thank you, sir."
"Go enjoy your evenings with your friends, Mr Potter, that's what this week is for."
"He is a very adaptable boy," said Jones after Harry had left.
"Very resilient. He'll be very wary of going home, but I think he knows that Albus and I are not like muggle primary school teachers. If he'd told them anything it would have got back to his relatives and there would be hell to pay. I think he knows my threats ... apologies, Artemis... my 'friendly conversation with them', means something. No-one in that house will lay a finger on him."
"I'm glad you're on his side, Severus."
The last week of term was fun. Dumbledore had removed the maze and there were a lot of impromptu quidditch games played. There were a lot of rusty players too. Madam Pomfrey had announced on Wednesday lunchtime that the next person in her infirmary with a quidditch related injury would need a healing balm for their backside after their visit. They all played more sensibly after that.
Fred and George spent the week testing their map. Harry wanted to see what they'd do with it, but all he got from them was, "A good plan takes time to mature, seventh year will be soon enough." Damn, he really didn't want to have to wait.
Too soon it was the last day of term. All packed, Harry took the train back to King's Cross station. He hugged all his friends, promised to see Ron in a fortnight, if not sooner if Ron was allowed to visit Sirius with him, and he got a proper hug from Hermione.
"It's only two weeks. You'll be fine," she said. Harry sometimes wondered what she knew or suspected given what he'd told them, whatever humorous spin he tried to put on things.
They went through the barrier. Aunt Petunia was waiting on the concourse. For once there were neither Vernon nor Dudley. Harry approached Petunia, not wanting her to have to hang around.
"Good afternoon, Harry," said Petunia evenly.
Harry nearly passed out. He was never addressed politely by name by her. Referred to, yes, called by name nicely, no.
"Hello, Aunt Petunia," replied Harry.
"Bring your things, Vernon and Dudley are at home." She turned towards the exit. She saw what Harry hadn't. Behind Harry leaning idly on a pillar watching her was a tall man dressed in black shirt and trousers, his long black hair only partially covering his face. The lack of wizarding robes didn't make him any less menacing.