He found himself, as always, in the Great Hall. All the expletives have left him it seemed for he only found himself capable of awe as he gathered he was once again in his eleven year old body. He tried to voice all the curse words bubbling inside him to no luck. He seemed to be unable to speak of for that matter move. He glanced at the teachers' table only to find the twinkling eyes of Dumbledore – alive and well and so utterly impossible as well as the scrutinizing gaze of Snape – full of venom but life as well and fuck it, this had to be his destiny because he hadn't felt as good in at least a year.
"POTTER, Harry", McGonagall called and his feet hurried on without his permission to the front of the room. "Leave the rest alone or it will put you behind…" he thought. Okay, so he was incapable of doing anything. Now that was a nightmare.
The hat was put on him but instead of what it'd done the last time, now it seemed mute.
„ You can't put me in Slytherin", he said calmly to the Sorting hat, elated that he could speak at all.
"I can't put you anywhere. You're already a Gryffindor."
So, this was it. He was eleven again but with very limited input. Touch only what you have to save and leave the rest alone...or it will leave you behind. So he was supposed to speak with Snape - at least the picture had shown Snape. Otherwise, he had no say in the events. Okay, it was something, if very constricting. "Would you do me a favor then?", he said to the hat at last.
"Why? What?"
"Could you shout Gryffindor for them? They seem to expect me to be put somewhere…"
"What? Ah..sure…GRYFFINDOR!"
Harry sighed and battled the urge to turn around and see Snape's reaction to his placement. But it hasn't been part of the original timeline and so it wouldn't be in this one, he ventured. Most probably Snape wasn't surprised. James had been in Gryffindor and so was…ah…so was she. Look at me. No, he wasn't going to. Not until it was absolutely necessary.
He didn't hear the cries of the other lions as he stepped away from the podium and off to the Gryffindor table. There at last he sneaked a peek at the high table. So much distance and so much hatred stood between him and Snape. Would he ever be able to cut it? Why was he here at all and what did he hope to achieve?
Thankfully it was Ron's turn so his attention turned to him. He clapped along with the others and then, after congratulating Ron sank into himself once more. Suddenly he felt a nudge in his stomach coming…from within? Oh…sure. His scar was supposed to burn right about… now. He turned to look at Quirrell and of course Snape…Snape whose expression as usual was full of…loathing.
"Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head.
"What is it?" asked Percy.
"N-nothing."
Once in his well-remembered four-poster bed, Harry sighed deeply trying to reign in the cacophony of what was happening. Too busy with light, noises and people, he had barely stopped to think what this meant. He hadn't had a single drop of firewhiskey today and yet… "You were too late, but now you are in time. Touch only what you have to save and leave the rest alone or it will leave you behind" The words echoed in his mind. He'd felt it – the compelling urge to repeat history exactly as it had happened. He couldn't talk with Ron, he couldn't speak with Neville, nor anyone really, freely – he could just… repeat. Tonight, when he'd seen Scabbers for the first time, his hands itched to strangle – and yet he could only repeat what had already been done, had been said, and nothing more. And when he'd tried…he felt the incredible urge to repeat things as they'd been. He'd tried not to, he had to at least try – but then he'd been transported forward to a place where Scabbers was no longer in the room. "Touch only what you have to save…", he mused. Maybe Snape was the answer – nevertheless he would find that soon enough.
Harry wasn't sure but thought it was likely he would be able to push forward some creativity over the instance in which Snape bullied him for the first time. Only, he wasn't sure if it would be the best course of action. And that wasn't all he was worried about. His older soul seemed to react a bit odd with his eleven years old body. So much that he proved to be absolutely unable to look Snape in the eyes, something he thought he imagined until this day. He was proving to be too emotional to top it all.
So when on the roll call, Snape paused at his name, Harry wished he was fighting Voldemort once more.
"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new — celebrity."
Harry who was staring at the far wall with blank expression was startled as he felt a tear run down his cheek on its own volition. Fuck.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making,"
he began. Harry barely registered he started the old speech. His voice reminded him too much of…
"— if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
He wished he could be a dunderhead if that would make this man happy enough to stop torturing him, be it unknowingly. But he couldn't be a dunderhead this time around, no.
"Potter!"
said Snape at last. Harry closed his eyes in trepidation.
"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
"Draught of Living Death, sir." – Harry bowed his head but didn't open his eyes. He didn't want to know the reaction his answer provoked. As it obviously wasn't a verbal response, he remained calm.
"Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?
Silence fell. Harry went back…or was it forth to his sixth year when Ron was poisoned on his birthday. And the poison wasn't meant for him. And then it was Snape there and everything…
But this was good, definitely, the mirror made sense now – he could only touch what he had to save. Could this mean that he had a real chance of saving Snape?
"You don't know, do you Potter?"
Snape's voice made him snap out of the daydream.
"In the stomach of a goat, sir"
"And why pray tell, didn't you say so when I first asked?", the silky tones of his voice where dangerous now.
Harry wanted to look him in the eyes and retort"It wouldn't give me the undivided attention from everybody in this room that I so obviously crave, would it, sir?!" But instead he lifted his head only to stare back at the wall.
"I wasn't sure I was supposed to, sir."
It was no good. He would think the same of him and Harry knew it. How did this man manage to evoke this much in him still? It wasn't even what he'd said now. The mere memory of the class and the silky hateful voice itself brought Harry back to the shack and to the inevitable conclusion that he would hate him soon once again anyway.
He was certain Snape's eyes were slits now, especially after he added, "Ten points from Gryffindor for your cheek, Mr. Potter.", but at least he left him alone.
As the the hour passed, Harry realized he couldn't leave it like that. Perhaps Snape's continual hatred of him was at least a part his fault. As the others stood to leave, he found himself telling Ron he would catch up in a minute. After he was sure he was the only one left, he went over to Snape's desk and bowed his head again.
"Sir?"
Snape's head snapped up from the text he was reading and Harry could feel the black eyes fixed on the top of his head.
"What is it?", the tone didn't suggest invitation in the least.
"I wanted…to apologize, professor. I offended you in class. I didn't mean it."
The fact that Snape didn't interrupt him immediately was strange in itself, the thoughtful silence was a bit too much.
"Look at me, when you speak, Mr. Potter.", he said quietly.
Harry's hands trembled and he squeezed them in fists. Don't ever say that.
"I'm sorry, sir, I can't.", he replied shakily and ran out of the dungeon. What the…
"Look at me"
Was it such a heavy phrase really? Had Harry grown to be so averse to it that he now found himself physically unable to look?
What chance did he have to save a man he couldn't even really see? There had to be something else to it. Those dark orbs were penetrating and Merlin, Harry could remember vividly. And Snape could somehow always see beyond Harry's lies, deep into his thoughts when he so desired. Merlin, was it Legilimency?
Harry had to think. If he was allowed aberrations to history as much as Snape was concerned, he had to think carefully to everything that was supposed to happen this year in order to act smart.
As time passed, Harry only saw Snape in classes. And it wasn't much seeing from his part either. He was starting to feel like a school girl, but no matter what, he couldn't make himself look him straight in the eyes. And on the other hand, the nightmares continued consistently, sometimes more than one per night. They were like a routine by now as was his staring at the far wall for the most part in Potions. If Snape noticed this, he didn't comment. On the contrary, he seemed determined not to notice Harry's presence in his classroom. Rather like in his fifth year when he saw his worst memory in the pensieve. That was a thought that would serve to change the theme of his nightmares soon enough.
And as time passed, Harry was awaiting with trepidation the end of the term. Of course it happened the same way. Fate wouldn't let him change anything of importance. And so he found himself next to a knocked-out troll on the eve of Halloween. Snape was there of course, and he again was bitten by Fluffy while trying to prevent Quirrell from procuring the stone. Harry's gaze went straight to Snape's leg and didn't waver for the whole conversation. He weighted the pros and cons in his head once again and decided not to miss a chance when he was offered one.
So later that evening, way after curfew, he took his cloak on and went down to the ground floor. And there Snape was, limping visibly along the corridor. Harry dropped to one knee, took out the small oval box from his pocket, and rolled it forward on the stone floor. Snape turned at the sound to see the box next to his feet. He bent down and picked it up with an inscrutable expression, took off the lid and sniffed suspiciously. Harry averted his eyes but otherwise didn't dare move lest he made a sound and betrayed his position. When he heard the sound of steps, he finally looked up only to see Snape's back as he went off in the other direction.
The next time Harry saw him was as he remembered, the day before his first to be Quidditch match. Though he didn't limp this time, he noticed.
"What's that you've got there, Potter?"
Ah, nothing else has changed apparently. Harry sighed and showed him Quidditch through the ages.
"Library books are not to be taken outside the school,"
said Snape.
"Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."
As he walked away, Harry turned to Ron and Hermione, "See you up in the dorm, okay?"
They looked a bit puzzled but he didn't really care. If it was actually important, fate wouldn't let him say it, would it? As it was, he ran after Snape.
"Professor!", he didn't even slow down. "Please, sir, wait!" Snape's back straightened and he halted.
"What," he said slowly and deliberately, "is it that you want, Mr. Potter", he made his name sound as an insult.
"Have I done something wrong, sir?", Harry asked, eyes glued to a potted plant on the right of Snape, expression vacant. It wouldn't do to have these particular emotions he felt now show on his face in front of Snape.
"As I said," his voice full of distaste, "Library books…"
"What have I done to deserve your hatred?", Harry choked on the words and tilted his head to the side angry with himself for the way he was acting. Snape would surely think he was so spoiled he thought he could gain what he wanted with a few tears.
As it was, the Potions Master gained a hold of his chin and attempted to tilt his head so Harry would face him. The boy trembled and took a step backwards.
"Potter," said Snape warningly, "I hate repeating myself. Look at me when you address me!"
Fuck. The final straw…as usual.
"No.", Harry muttered.
"What do you mean 'no'"
"I mean please don't make me 'no'", his voice shook and then backtracked. "I'm sorry it was a mistake to enter this conversation...obviously, sir, if you'll excuse me, I.."
Snape didn't stop him this time, but he was sure his luck wouldn't last for long. Snape knew Harry was hiding something and he had pinpointed from the start that the boy couldn't look him in the eye for some reason. This therefore had to change, Harry thought while running up the staircase, but how, he didn't have the slightest. What he was about to do tomorrow in the match wouldn't help either he realized as he distantly remembered Snape spitting in anger on the ground after Harry had caught the snitch. Well that was one thing he wouldn't bother to change for him.
As time passed Harry remembered he was supposed to start brooding over the mirror of Ersied any time now. Nothing was different so far and he was getting a bit desperate. He hadn't made any progress about the eye-contact thing either, though Harry was determined that in the next class he would look Snape in the eyes even if it tortured him to madness. He was good enough in Occlumency that he could fend against wandless, or at least non-verbal attempt from Snape, so there was only the psychological thingy to be fought.
So when he heard the overly familiar swishing of robes in the Potions classroom, he deliberately looked up and fixed his gaze on Snape. Surprisingly the dread he felt slowly dissipated, partly perhaps because the Potions Master was so used to Potter staring at a wall, he didn't bother to stare at him anymore. It was as if he didn't exist and…It was…refreshing. And quite different from what he remembered. Perhaps it was the aftermath of a year and a half of nightmares of the man, but seeing him in this usual situation made him seem…human, normal, not quite the overgrown bat either. Snape's head snapped towards him in silence and his eyes widened a fraction when he first locked the boy's stare. Harry scrutinized every line on his professor's face as if trying to commit it to memory with the hope it wouldn't feed a new nightmare. Snape seemed lost in the gaze till he snapped his head away the same way as before and began his lecture. Harry watched him for a few more moments and then his gaze drifted off to the usual spot on the wall.
They were doing Shrinking Solution today. Just as well, Harry thought and went to business a bit overloaded with emotion for the day. He thanked fate his Potions skills weren't counted as something important and so he could scrape a perfect potion. The irony was beautiful and Harry couldn't help think what Snape would've said if he found out his precious subject wasn't deemed deserving attention by the stars. But he didn't get to laugh at the thought for too long. At the end of the class Snape as usual went to see the students' progress. When he came to Harry's cauldron, the boy averted his eyes. Not because it hurt him to look, but out of respect really, he told himself. Too close to look, it would've been awkward.
"Potter, stay after class.", he muttered and went to the next cauldron.
Harry sighed internally and stood motionless until they were quite alone ten minutes after.
Whatever he expected, it wasn't for Snape to leave to his private stores. He wondered for a second if he was supposed to follow but the Potions Master returned shortly with several phials in his hands which he lined on Harry's desk.
"Name them from left to right.", Snape commanded .
He blinked and stared. It was easy after they all had been practically drilled in his head by a certain Potions Master.
"Veritaserum, sir. Looks like water, tastes like one…or rather doesn't. And prompts the drinker to tell the truth..rather forcefully.", as Snape didn't interrupt him, he went on to the next one which he uncorked. The vile smell made him back away. "Draught of living death, sir. Very strong…smashed sopophurus beans?", he ventured. Okay this was a bit too much – he only knew that because of the Half-Blood Prince's book but he took the chance. He went on naming Skele-gro, Pain Reliever, Strengthening Solution, and finally what he would never mistake – Polijuice potion. Harry then looked up to see Snape's blank expression.
"Why is it that you know what you know of potions, Potter?", Snape asked it seemed despite his better judgment.
Harry blinked repeatedly trying to decipher any trap this question might hold. There didn't seem to be any.
"It is an interest of mine, sir.", he said in what he hoped was a respectful tone. Well it was the truth alright. At least it would have been if his professor hadn't been such a git the last time around. Snape looked defeated.
"Would you then…care,", he sighed, "to have additional lessons in the subject?"
Oh. So that was it. Dumbledore forced Snape to do this.
"Would you want me to 'care', sir?", he asked uncertain.
"This isn't the point, Potter!", he snapped angrily.
"Well it could be. If you don't want to spend some of your free time teaching me of all people, you could say to professor Dumbledore I'm doing good in the subject but I don't much care for the additional work.", he replied calmly. Snape stared at him and Harry stared back. He had nothing to hide…at least nothing Snape could gather without casting a dark spell aloud.
"You would do that? Why?", Snape hissed at last.
"For a simple exchange of course, sir. I wish to know the answer to my question, nothing more."
"…and why do you care for the answer?"
"So I can redeem what I've obviously done wrong, professor."
Harry was sure he could hear insufferable, little, but no real sentence, just these and other words lined up out of his mouth in a scowl.
"I don't trust people who won't even look in my direction when they address me."
"Lie. That's not it.", Harry narrowed his eyes. He wouldn't take excuses.
"What? You dare…"
"I dare, yes. It is a lie. Do you deny it?"
Snape stared at him with incredulity for a few long moments until he reached a decision.
"Fine.", his mouth was a straight line. "You remind me…of someone."
Harry nodded, not sure it was really a progress at all but it was at least something.
"Thank you."
"You don't care who?"
Harry smiled crookedly. "I'm sure the person is simply vile.", and he turned to leave.
"Am I to understand you refuse the offer?"
Harry stopped for a second to answer, "Whatever you want, professor Snape." And he left.
Did I do the right thing? He could've gotten used to me and I would've gotten time with him alone, maybe we could talk, maybe he wouldn't hate me so much after he started to know me…
Harry tossed his head left and right but the thoughts were stuck in his mind and nothing short of an answer would get them out.
Finally he gave up on sleep when he felt the now familiar gut feeling. He was supposed to do something right now. It was time to go to the library, not find anything and then bump into Snape, Filch and the mirror of Erised. Sure why not. He was tempted to miss on the library part as it was a waste of time, but was pretty sure it wouldn't do.
There he was, in the forbidden section, reading a dark arts book for no reason at all but pure boredom. He went so far as to ask himself whether Voldemort became such an evil megalomaniac exactly because he was too bored to do anything else. The thought didn't help at all of course. In the end he dutifully dropped the lamp and ran. And sure enough not after long, he heard Filch's voice and knew well enough who he was talking to.
"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library Restricted Section."
Harry sighed. Surely Snape would forgo any dilemma he might have had about extra lessons.
"The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."
Harry stood rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape came around the corner ahead.
He backed away as he remembered the first time it happened pretty clearly and got himself behind the door luckily set ajar. He listened for the two men until their footsteps died away and then turned around. There was the mirror and strangely enough it didn't excite him in the least. Perhaps he was older now or…perhaps he was filled with trepidation about what would face him on the surface. It was fifteen minutes of fidgeting before he looked and it was a second later that he screamed a violent 'NO!'.
He was still panting when he remembered where he was and looked around rapidly. It was too late though, he wasn't alone anymore.
" Show yourself" if Harry thought that Snape would give up and go, he was a fool, "Take off the invisibility cloak…Potter", he hissed angrily. Oh fuck.
Harry stepped out of the shadows and dropped the cloak to reveal himself.
"Well, well… what do you have to say for yourself, Potter?"
"I…", Harry felt as if his breath was sucked out of his lungs. The vision was still there in the mirror surface waiting for him. Could a heart's desire be so horrible? He couldn't want this without knowing it, he couldn't accept…
"How very eloquent.", Snape sneered. "Get up and get out."
But Harry couldn't move just yet. He couldn't make himself look at Snape just now. It was really a bit too much considering everything.
"A moment, please.", he croaked and felt Snape's penetrating gaze on himself. "Just..a moment, sir."
Snape waited a few seconds but the boy didn't move. He seemed to be in a kind of a trance.
"What is it Potter?", he snapped.
"The…the mirror, sir.", he practically pleaded.
It seemed it was just now that Snape noticed its existence in the room, so he moved closer and a second later gasped audibly. Then it was silence, but before Harry could lift his head, he was grabbed by the arm and pushed through the door up to the grand staircase. Snape didn't say anything until they were in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"A week's detention, Mr. Potter. Tomorrow, eight o'clock in my office. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir.", Harry muttered and hurried to enter the dorm.
This whole night he would not sleep.
One night of course wasn't even close to enough time for considering either what had happened, nor what he was supposed to do next. He felt like going to the mirror and begging it to let him start the year over. And what was more, if what he saw in the Erised mirror was true (and yes, as the nagging voice in his head supplied, it certainly was the truth as a mirror didn't have anything to gain by lying to him), he should back off immediately and revise his plan. But how could he possibly back off from Snape when he was to attend detentions with him the whole week?
After much consideration the whole night and a part of the following day, he ended up scolding himself for wasting his time on his pitiful condition. He was here to change things. He was supposed to get Snape to trust him enough so he could end up saving his life instead of hearing those horrible three words again. No, he wouldn't waste time ascertaining his emotions.
With this decision he went to sleep. When he woke up it was almost time for his detention. Dressing quickly, he gathered a pair of gloves and a quill (as Snape hadn't specified what his work would entail) and set at a quick pace down to the dungeons. A bit early, he wiped his wet palms on his jeans, knocked and waited.
"Enter.", Snape's sharp tone served to carry the command beyond the closed door and Harry stepped inside. "You're early, Potter.", he said briskly and continued grading a paper. "Sit."
Harry complied and waited for what felt like an hour until the professor finished all the papers on his desk and stood up. "Follow me.", he said and went through the side door of the office. As Harry entered the other room, he found out he was now in a lab that was frankly way better equipped than their usual Potions classroom. He smiled weakly as he realized where Snape had inadvertently allowed him entrance.
"I thought,", he began, "as you're not a complete dunderhead,", he narrowed his eyes. It was obvious how much it annoyed him to be pushed to pay a compliment to Harry of all people. "I could put you to a different use for the duration of your detention. As it is," Snape' eyes travelled through the small room, "You'll be brewing the potions I require for three hours every evening." He stopped and fixed his gaze upon Harry who nodded immediately.
"What would it be tonight, sir?", he asked while looking over the ingredients. He remembered with trepidation his fifth year. "It's not Draught of Peace, is it, sir?", Snape only smirked and nodded. "But why…I mean it is a very difficult potion, professor. Should I be making it?"
"Well, Mr. Potter, do you have any idea in which year is the Shrinking solution studied normally?"
Harry gulped. So that's where he made a mistake. He shook his head.
"Third.", Snape supplied. "Now stop complaining and get to work. Here are the instructions," he pointed at the book that laid open at the table and sat in the chair opposite of Harry and the cauldron. "Do begin sometime soon, won't you."
Harry blinked and studied the text closely. A thought started nagging in the back of his head. It was odd there were no markings on the text.
What he was about to do was too foolish to even consider, so maybe that's why he didn't.
"Professor?", he tiptoed above the cauldron so to see the top of Snape's head.
"Yes?", he replied lazily.
"You're not about to think about something very important in the next couple of hours, are you?"
Snape's head snapped in the direction of the boy's voice.
"What are you on about, Potter?"
"I was wondering if it would be completely obnoxious of me to ask you to read the instructions for me. I'm afraid my eyes hurt and I might make a mistake.", which of course was a blatant lie that would serve to bring a couple of bonuses if not his early death.
"Very well.", Snape said somewhat resignedly and standing up he took the book and started to read the first instruction.
It went well considering what could have been. Of course Snape supplied nasty remarks here and there but overall Harry for the first time in his life succeeded in making something as complicated as Draught of Peace. In the end when Snape looked down and smirked saying it was passable, Harry felt light as a feather. He didn't dare thank his professor though, out of fear Snape would decide it was too much fun for him to be doing for a detention work. He only nodded respectfully and bid him good night.
When he went to bed though there was nothing to stop him to kick himself. He could count three to five times he lost all thought listening to Snape's voice reading. It was a miracle he managed to produce the potion out of the first try. Well alright, the second try.
That night the nightmare changed. It still contained the image of Snape – it seemed quite impossible now to exclude him, but it had morphed into something that looked way more like the image the mirror of Erised had given him and a most inappropriate dream for an eleven year old to be having.
The next day, not as shaken as he thought he should be, Harry forwent the breakfast for the sake of going to the library and reading second and fifth years potions books. He felt he should be progressing gradually from year to year but was sure at the same time Snape would want to continue with more difficult potions.
As it turned out he was partially right but marginally wrong. That is, yes, Snape wanted to continue with more difficult potions and he too had gathered it was for the best if they progressed gradually… so he made Harry brew a sixth year potion that night. He was starting to appreciate the genius that Hermione was as he struggled to brew Draught of Living Death. Meanwhile Snape watched his every move closely making him flinch the few times he chose to draw a sharp breath when Harry was about to drop ingredients in the cauldron. As he reached for the silver knife though, Snape resumed his seat across the cauldron and didn't look at all until the boy declared he was quite finished. The Potions Master chose not to comment but pursed his lips and crossed his arms.
At the end of it, Harry gulped and hurried to gather his things. What would Snape do to him next night? Make him brew a NEWT level potion? There at last Harry expected he would fail and restore the balance as it was obvious Snape wasn't at all happy with the knowledge and skill the insufferable Boy Who Lived seemed to possess. This wasn't working though. He was supposed to try and get close to the professor, gain his trust with time and maybe earn enough points so that he could save his life when the time came. With the way things were going Harry was starting to wonder if Snape wouldn't be perfectly happy to sacrifice his life in the name of ridding himself from the Potter nuisance.
The next morning Harry went straight to the library again, this time studying carefully the seventh year curriculum in potions. Though at the fifth hour of reading he had to admit it didn't prepare him the least and he still felt just as sure that he would fail whichever potion Snape assigned him. He missed lunch altogether, but managed to go to dinner for a quick bite much to the amazement of the remaining staff members to which he was oblivious as his mind was overly consumed by anxiety.
But when he went to Snape's office and knocked no one answered. He sat there for what felt like a couple of hours until finally the door opened.
"Your detention is over, Potter. Now go to your dorm and don't bother returning tomorrow.", Snape said coldly and shut the door.
Harry blinked a few times staring at the wood ahead disbelieving. Snape could be such an unreasonable prick sometimes…well alright, often. He started at leisurely pace the walk back to his dorm thinking frantically. He had overdone it of course and had inadvertently shown Snape he outshined him in potions which when he thought about it was pretty stupid of him. The man had practically had one pride in his life and now it was taken away by the clone of his most hated enemy. Which clone was really a dunderhead and should have stayed one for the sake of fragile peace. What could he do to minimize the damage now?
He was at the foot of the stairs leading to the portrait of the Fat Lady when a voice startled him out of his musings.
"Ah , Harry, good evening. A word please," Harry turned and cocked his head at the headmaster as this was a first, but followed nonetheless. "Is something on your mind, my dear boy?"
He thought about it and when certain he would be able to speak his worry, he replied.
"Professor Snape ended my detention."
"So he said he would.", Dumbledore answered thoughtfully. "Am I to take it you don't agree with his decision?"
"No.", Harry hastened to say. "I'm sure he has his reasons…"
"But,", the headmaster prompted and Harry was tempted to send a glare his way. This man could be infuriating but on the other hand there had to be a reason he was here as he wasn't the first time around, not to Harry's memory at least.
"It was the best detention I've ever had.", he said quietly.
To his annoyance the headmaster smiled at this and said "I see." The conversation dead, the boy was escorted back to his common room and left to himself.
As Harry went to bed he found himself hoping Dumbledore might say something to Snape and change his mind and cursed himself for putting hope just there.
It was as though he hadn't changed anything. Time progressed and the only indication something was different was Snape trying not to notice him whenever they crossed paths.
He witnessed dutifully the exchange with Quirrell and started plotting the saving of the stone without mentioning the DADA professor as the culprit.
It was surprising however that it still happened.
"But what can we —"
Hermione gasped. Harry and Ron wheeled round.
Snape was standing there.
"Good afternoon," he said smoothly.
They stared at him.
"You shouldn't be inside on a day like this," he said, with an odd, twisted smile.
"We were —" Harry began, without any idea what he was going to say.
"You want to be more careful," said Snape. "Hanging around like this, people will think you're up to something. And Gryffindor really can't afford to lose any more points, can it?"
Harry flushed. They turned to go outside, but Snape called them back.
"Be warned, Potter — any more nighttime wanderings and I will personally make sure you are expelled. Good day to you."
He strode off in the direction of the staffroom.
This was the final straw. Harry decided to let Snape be for the duration of the year. After all he had five more to earn his trust and he was pretty sure he needed much more time in contemplation before acting as the facts had shown plainly.
He wasn't as surprised as was proper that the events unfolded much the same way. Harry felt indignant, surely something should have been changed at this point.
When Dumbledore explained to him Snape's motivations in the aftermath, he felt dazed. He should have seen it the first time around. Snape had a very difficult task to do and he had to keep up appearances as well as save Harry's life on every turn. He felt he owed the man to try and not get killed more often than necessary. Still, whatever he did didn't seem to make impact on events whatsoever.