It felt odd for Harry Potter to be striding back into Grimmauld Place - the dark building feeling suddenly twice as cramped. He wasn't a minute in before the arguing started. It wasn't Snape's fault - as usual. Moody - of all people! - was boasting about what a solid member of the Order Miss Granger would make. Molly Weasley took exception to this, and started to wail (because she really wasn't arguing) that they weren't ready to be members yet! They were too young!
Harry's patience was fraying with every word of that timeworn argument - what had been the point of training them, if not to let them join? A discrete look up at Snape [a/n: Harry had no idea how much he looked like a dog looking warily at its master] gave Harry the idea that Snape's patience was threadbare. Abruptly, Snape stalked to a corner of the room, waiting for the rest of the trainers and trainees to arrive. Augusta and her grandson came through, each giving the room the gimlet eye before settling down at the table.
As was typical for the order, there was no set placement at the table, and the newfound profusion of young men and women made the whole meeting room even more cramped than usual.
Ten minutes had gone by, and Molly Weasley was still arguing. At last, Lupin and the Twins spilled through the door, still blackened from the floo - or another disaster of an experiment. Harry was in the middle of the room, sitting in a seat cattycorner to Dumbledore, his head on the table and his eyes closed softly. "Look at him, he looks so cute and innocent there!" someone squealed - which would have been fine if it was Gin, but it was Molly, who was determined to mollycoddle them until they graduated, at least. Rather than sitting up and shooting her a glare, Harry considered what he'd have to do in order to target one of the spells he'd learnt this summer towards Molly. Several thoughts came,and he chased them down with a vengeance, before finally thinking how fun it would be to simply, while still laying down, fling a quill at her, spattering her lovely umber dress with ink. Perhaps it might improve the dress, even.
Snape spoke up, in a tone that bristled with danger, "Care for a wager, Mrs. Arthur Weasley?" his soft purr of a voice was stilted with formality. Even so, Molly heard him and quieted down.
It was Arthur, sworn to uphold his ladywife in everything she wanted - or maybe it just seemed that way, who spoke up next. "What's the wager?"
"I propose a demonstration of how well these children have been taught. Should they be successful, they may all join the Order. Should they be unsuccessful, there will be consequences." The last word was uttered darkly, as Snape's gaze seemed, strikingly nonchalantly, to land on Lupin.
"You'll name the scenario, won't you?" Moody asked, his grizzled appearance sharp with the glee for a good fight.
"Urban combat. Capture the flag, if you will, with - Potter, grab me a trophy -" Snape snapped at Harry, who leaped to his feet, finding a "Best Player" trophy (that he rather suspected wasn't about Quiddich), and bringing it back with better decorum. "This as the flag."
"Just one?" Moody asked.
"Indeed. All the members of the Order versus Fred and George." Snape looked at the twins, and then frowned. "Or is it George and then Fred?" Irritably, he said, "It hardly matters. The Weasley twins, in whatever order and name they like." Lupin was trying not to gawk like a ten year old at Snape. Plainly, he'd have bet all his gold in Gringotts that Snape wouldn't have chosen the Weasley twins for this exercise.
"Confident, aren't you?" Tonks said with a grin.
"Will you take the bet?" Snape asked, his voice and face pointing towards Arthur Weasley, but his eyes on Molly and Dumbledore.
With an audible sniff, Molly Weasley said, "Yes!"
Dumbledore laughed a belly laugh, and then said, "This should be interesting."
Snape looked at the twins and said clearly, "Room of Requirement, twenty minutes. Don't be late."
Basking on the couch in feigned stupor, Harry's not-so-tired eyes slid half shut - noting as they did that the twins were whirling their way upstairs, the conversation as usual carried on half silently, in a code that the twins only knew - and used primarily for pranks.
What was Snape thinking? Harry had thought at first, watching him - and he swore that Snape had said something to Lupin using his long fingers before they had stepped through the floo. This had all the hallmarks of a trap - but who was the trap's jaws poised to spring closed around? Thoughts swirled in Harry's head, and he faintly thought he understood - he felt the pieces configure themselves to leave the smallest gaps. Snape wouldn't choose something that would cost him credibility. He wouldn't like to seem foolish... And therefore the play he was making was likely true as a Slytherin could make it. While a Slytherin could come up with thousands of plans, eventually he had to execute one.
Lifting his eyelids with careful slowness - Harry had had plenty of experience with being utterly exhausted, it was an easy act to pull off, he asked, "Anyone want to bet on the outcome?"
By the time the twins bounded down the stairs - hefting sacks jiggling suspiciously, though Harry thought that what was attached to their belts was likely to wreck more destruction, Harry called out laconically "I've got fifteen galleons riding on you! Don't let me down"
"Flattered we are" Gred said, "But you needn't worry" Forge continued, "We've got this one." And they both gave a broad wink, "in the bag!"
The wait was horrible - at least for most of the young people waiting at Grimmauld Place. Harry Potter was unconcerned, and looked like he was drifting off to sleep, remembering the discussion he had had with the Potions Master yesterday.
He had woken at dawn, and found the Potions Master leaning over him, as he rolled away, grabbing for his wand in a panic. "No training today, Potter." The grin on Snape's face was fearsome. "Or rather, it's a different sort of training I have in mind..." Snape's drawl was practically a purr, and Harry had to suppress a shiver of fear. Whatever happens, he's NOT going to kill me! I hope. Harry simply looked at him, letting the attentive silence answer Snape's unasked question with its own patient curiosity. "Today, we'll train your mind, not your body." Harry suppressed a sigh - he had gotten rather good at training his body. This was likely to be unpleasant, if not exactly painful.
"Have you any idea what I've trained you to be, these last two months?" Snape said, his body still looming over Harry even as Potter stood to loose attention - parade rest, the muggle world would have termed it.
"An Order Member?" Harry asked, choosing the safe answer rather than anything else - because he truly didn't have another answer.
"A safe answer, but wrong. You've been trained to be a hero" - no one but Snape could twist that word into a foul travesty of what any Gryffindor would have used it as - "-and a distraction. There's a reason for every spell I've taught you, you know." And Harry found that he really did know - finding the aggressiveness inherent in his training.
"You haven't trained me a bit to work as part of a team, sir."
"You surprise me, Potter. Showing signs of a brain?"
"You want me to fight like a tornado - spinning against everyone around me."
"Almost. Like wildfire - carving a path of destruction through your foes. Whatever you do, Potter, do not stop and fight. I haven't given you any tools for that - strike, and dodge and strike again - each time a new target."
"And when the targets vanish before my eyes?"
"Turn and carve a path anew. If you see someone who you can't help but stand and fight - turn aside. If you do that, you very well might live to talk about a battle or three."
"And if my shield falls?"
"You fall with it, of course. Disillusion yourself if you can on the ground, otherwise, play dead - and spot out your foes. A Patronus or five may turn the tide."
Harry had studied Snape then, the proud, smug man with a mind as twisted as a maze, and eyes as sharp as a knife.
"I don't have any choice, do i?"
"Any choice you have, you've already made, hero."
"I have to do this by myself?" Harry Potter found himself asking, "Sir?", his question just as much for himself as for Snape - the tone more musing. "Hermione - Ron -"
Snape shook his head, saying, "They'll have other things to do. Wager that Granger finds herself a sniper, with Moody teaching her."
Potter nodded, carefully turning over what Snape had said. "It sounds dangerous, sir"
"Since when is a Gryffindor afraid of dangers, no matter how big or small?" Snape's voice was sharp and wry, his black eyes glancing briefly at Potter before turning towards the horizon.
"Since always, sir. It's not that we aren't scared, sir. We're just more afraid of what happens if we don't than if we do." Harry's face quirked into a ghost of a grin.
Snape's hard eyes raked over Potter, in a sharp glance. "Fear is wisdom bred deeper than bone. If you pay attention, it may save your life."
"Yes, sir." Harry Potter responded, and the conversation lapsed into a lull.
After a while, Snape said quietly, "I wouldn't have given you this assignment if I didn't think there was a significant possibility you'd live to tell the tale."
Potter suddenly snorted, "A significant possibility!"
Snape said, "I'm no optimist, you may have noticed. What training I've given you - and any more you pick up along the way, may allow you to survive your first three battles or so." Snape paused, looking briefly out at the woods nearby, the leaves rustling. "Should you live through those, your life expectancy would rise significantly."
[a/n: this isn't vietnam, where most all the greenhorns died. Snape's accordingly not nearly as closed off against "bonding" with the new recruits].
In the silence, Harry puzzled out that he'd have been much more anxious even a few months ago, sitting quietly with Professor Snape like this.
"Slytherins seem to have a hard time trusting other people, sir..." Harry said musingly, "It seems like something we might exploit against Him."
"Indeed, were that the case. Turn the thought a little differently - Slytherins like to know the limits of trust. 'Every man has his price.' No Slytherin would work with someone without knowing his price." Snape's half-smile was cold as ice, thinlipped and without a trace of teeth.
"My friends wouldn't betray me!" Harry Potter burst out, his mind wanting to call back the exclamation just as soon as he had said it. That was not the way to get Snape to... well, anything.
"Granger's price isn't gold, nor friendship. Hers lies in the simple maxim "Do Good." As with most simple things, it's generally wrong." Snape looked down at Harry Potter. "Do you think if you were about to kill Bellatrix Black, in cold blood, that Hermione would not simply stop you?"
"Of course she would! Sir! I trust her to do what's right!" Harry Potter said, his emotions seething and making him sound more unbalanced than his mind actually was.
"Everyone is wrong sometime, Potter." Snape said, in a cold, sure voice that somehow had the barest trace of gentleness to it, like the flat of a blade. "Granger won't reckon the gain of betraying you - she counts being Good so highly. She will feel that she will count the cost, the pain of betraying you. It won't stop her, though."
"So, what do I do, sir?" Harry Potter said, his tone frustrated.
"First, understand that Hermione Granger prides herself on being intelligent and logical. If there's time, she's likely to give you ample warning if she thinks a course of action is wrong. You needn't guard yourself against her except when time is short, and decisions are critical. Second, use wisdom if you must argue against her - and if wisdom fails, then use logic. And if not logic, then sheer numbers and that Gryffindor stubbornness you seem so unwontedly proud of." Snape rolled his eyes, before continuing, "Third, hope that she learns that Good is a costly choice, and occasionally a mere mirage. That is, after all, what you have teachers for. She has seen some of that, as she has worked with the house elves. The good of freeing them is not balanced well by the emotional suffering of doing so, and may in fact be outweighed by the 'you make yourself feel better at someone else's expense' benefit."
Harry wasn't about to just give this argument to Snape, no matter that he had something of a point with Hermione. The thing was, he trusted her to be more right than he was, to not be swayed by emotion... And yet, Snape was right - even Hermione Granger, smartest witch of the age, could be wrong. Letting her always be right was dangerous...
"I can't pay her price..." Harry said, shaking his head until his hair fell over his eyes, before brushing it back up.
"No, that's not the point. The point is to know someone else, truly." Snape said, his voice cold and contemplative, as if they were sitting in an igloo, rather than on a warm sunny day - and why wasn't Snape sweating? Even when he wasn't wearing robes, he always wore black.
"I... shouldn't let Hermione always get her way, should i? Even in the heat of battle, that sure certainty -"
"She won't like being your paladin, no. Particularly if her decisions turn out disasterously. Failing, in the heat of battle, would weaken her immensely." Snape said, the words offered in a slow purr.
Harry Potter found himself a little heartened at the thought of Snape agreeing with his analysis. When Snape had started down this line of reasoning, it had felt like poison - divisive and cruel and painful above all else. Looking again, it still felt skeptical - but the sharpness wasn't cruel, as a sword wasn't cruel - only its wielder. "And Ron?" Harry finally settled on asking, curious as to what Snape would say.
"Ron Weasley doesn't know his own price. Nor does he know what he would pay for it. This is in many ways more dangerous than Granger - with her, you'll know at a glance when you're in trouble - Gryffindors never hide their emotions when it counts." Snape paused with a sneer on his face, before continuing, "His price is fame - ambition worthy of a Slytherin. At least right now. If you held his sister hostage, it might change on a whim."
"He wouldn't betray me to be famous!" Harry Potter cried, his body tensing with a sudden need to be up and away - pounding out his frustration along with the worm of doubt that Snape's words had said.
"Not like Granger would, no. He'd reckon the cost, and the gain. Do you really think that if he was a Seeker you'd have easily made the team? Even though he knows how much you like it?" Snape tented his fingers in front of his face, a lone eyebrow raised as he looked off into the distance.
Potter shook his head in denial... and then thought some more, before looking down at his lap - a submissive move that Harry was unknowingly prone to. Probably from his Uncle's beatings. Looking up, dead on at Snape, he asked coldly, "Alright, what's your price?" His face and body were still, and yet not tense at all - this was Potter truly listening, curiosity overcoming everything else.
Snape's eyebrows rose slightly, as his eyes widened, and he gave a slight nod of acknowledgement, "Clever," he said shortly, and then sat there - Harry, as he watched closely, saw thousands of responses dancing through Snape's mind, sorted and discarded. Harry knew that a year ago, he'd have been convinced that meant Snape was lying to him, choosing exactly which words would work best.
Snape's black eyes met Harry's, as he said with a trace of a thinlipped smile, "My freedom." Leaning back, he stretched himself - lanky limbs tossed over his head, before bracing himself, leaving his eyes staring up through the light-spattered treetop overhead. "That's why the Dark Lord can never have a hold on me -despite this:" he rolled up his sleeve, displaying the dark mark. Harry's fingers reached out, all unknowing to touch it. "Better not to touch." Snape said, as he yanked his sleeve down. Snape continued with a smug surety, "He stands between me and everything I've ever wanted."
"What will you do with your freedom?" Potter asked, his voice full of a child's innocence at the myriad choices the adult world offered.
"To Hades if I know, I've been without it too long!" Snape roared, his anger turning into a baritone laugh that he used to wash the rage away.
When the laughter had stilled, and the birds and small creatures had at last begun to creep out of their hiding places, Snape - still looking upwards through the leaves - asked, "Potter, do you hate me?" And Harry Potter had to marvel at his Professor - not a drop of guilt, not a shred of expectation, not a hint of what he was feeling. It was as if he had asked whether Potter liked red tomatoes or green! Not even a classroom voice, just a simple question... As if he didn't care, at all, about the answer... How could Snape not care? Harry found himself asking... And then it clicked - this was the question of a man who had thought out all the responses, all the ramifications - who quite possibly had been wondering this question for years. And didn't want to impose that thinking on Potter's genuine response. It was all the odder for anyone to care about what Harry Potter thought - Harry was under no illusions that any of his Gryffindor friends could ask the question as Snape had - it would have been guilt, and an expected answer - and tears and wailing if he didn't give it. Even Albus Dumbledore couldn't have pulled off such neat unconcern. This summer, it had sometimes felt like talking with Snape was like balancing on the edge of a knife. Now, Potter thought, it felt like he was on the tip, blood running down the blade as he paused to think.
Harry at last found what he wanted to say - "For what, sir? Being a rubbish Potions Professor?" He said it lightly, a deft twist to undo some of the tension that had crept into the conversation and seemed to tighten down upon his neck.
"For that, if you like. Or for other things..." Snape said softly, his words a low murmur like that of a distant road.
Harry smirked, not noticing how much like Snape he looked when he did it, "Seems to me that's more Dumbledore's fault than yours, sir. He's the one that gave you the job, and kept you well past when it was of deadly necessity."
"Don't be so sure on that last count, Potter." Snape said softly. "I assure you that I make a quite decent Head of House..."
"And that's a deadly necessity?" Potter asked, his face twisted in thought... "Sir, are you there to keep control over your Slytherins?"
"Among other things, surely. You know Albus better than that, don't you?" Snape's voice curled in mockery -and Potter found that he could half-smile at it, knowing that it was halfway bent against Dumbledore himself.
"Redemption, Rescue, Protection." Harry Potter said, the last word twisting like a knife in his belly. Protection from the Dark Lord had nearly been his undoing, time and again.
"Perhaps you ought to hate me, Potter." Snape continued, implacably, in that obsidian cool drawl of his, that hinted at no emotion at all.
"For what? Lying to me, sir? I'm not sure there's anyone who doesn't do that!" Harry Potter found himself laughing, laughing to stop the screaming, the tears, the fury that wanted to unleash all of his emotions at once.
Snape tilted his head, and asked simply, "When did you figure that out?" His eyes burnt brightly in the sunlight, like black flecks from staring into the sun itself.
"Occlumency Practice, sir. You weren't surprised - at all." Harry sprung to his feet, started pacing about as he spoke, his hands moving in jerky motions as he burnt off excess energy. "Only a fool would stick to beliefs so soundly shattered." Harry's green eyes glared down at Severus Snape, "You, Severus Snape, are nobody's fool."
"Nobody's fool but my own," Snape said, the words light but the meaning bleak and gloomy. "Why would I be surprised? It was partially my fault, after all."
Harry's mouth tried to work, but the words got stuck in his throat. It didn't fit, what he was saying... this wasn't a man who would do that... sentence a child to an upbringing so like his own. Harry found himself searching Snape's curiously blank expression.
"WHY!" Harry howled, a yowl that echoed over the meadow, back from the trees.
"It was an evil thing to do - make no mistake about that." Snape paused, and said, "Dumbledore will call it 'for the greater good' - but that's a lie he tells himself so that he may sleep at night. Evil is counted in the tears of women, in the cries of a child alone and uncomforted in a cupboard." Snape paused again, and continued, "I do not know if Dumbledore knew what your family was like - but if he did not, it was a blinkered ignorance, willful - and I strongly urge you not to grant clemency to him for that. I had the distinct displeasure of knowing your family - of recognizing in your family echoes of what had been in my own."
Snape said softly, "I tried to get you away from them, as subtlely as I know how...I told myself that more was not worth the risk..."
"Was it worth it?"
"Only time will tell. Maybe at the end of it all, you can tell me."
"What did you buy with my hunger? With my bruises? My broken bones?" Harry asked, fearless - taking the acidic words of his Professor to heart, and heartened by the honest inherent in them.
"Secrets - secrets that burrow into my flesh, squirming under my skin, until I sometimes begin to wonder if I'm anything but secrets at all." Snape's eyes were blank, and Harry suppressed a shiver. Man, but Snape could be creepy!
"You wanted the truth, Potter. Did you think it would be gleaming silver?" Snape asked, his voice cold.
"no... but!" Harry was almost half a step behind in the conversation, still thinking about Snape letting him stay there. He might be pointlessly cruel, he was often impatient to the point of rage... but something here wasn't adding up.
"There are reasons you haven't been told everything, even when it's your own tale, and you've the right to hear it. Truth is rarely pleasant, and never kind." Snape said. Harry nodded solemnly, if a bit absentmindedly.
"Then tell me the truth - you said you spoke up for me... what did you say?" Harry asked, more hoping to see something accidental in the older man's words than anything else.
"I wouldn't count it as much good done, even if it had worked - you realize? A good deed that costs you little is nearly worthless."
"I still want to hear it." Harry said stubbornly, his implacable green eyes belying the softness of his tone.**
"Very well - it was two years, nearly to the day, from when you had been delivered to the Dursley's doorstep. The fanatical Death Eaters had been captured and imprisoned-"
"Except for Lucius Malfoy" Harry Potter chimed in.
Snape looked down his nose briefly at Harry Potter, and then laughed, his rich baritone ringing in Harry's ears. "Lucius has never been, and never will be a fanatic. He is a power-hungry fool, whose only motivation is aggrandizement and lust for power."
Potter tilted his head, and said, "Sir, if the Light offered him enough money, enough status - he would switch sides?"
Snape said with a sharp-edged smile, "Most likely. And if we hatched a scheme that depended on Malfoy being on Dumbledore's side for a few days, it might be worth it." Potter waited rather than interrupting, "When someone's price is power, they are always on sale to the highest bidder. And the Dark Lord would bid highly to win Malfoy back - it would crush morale if he allowed one of the arch Pureblood Supremacists to leave him, to fight against him."
"What's Draco Malfoy's price, sir?" Potter asked, secretly glad that he managed to keep the twist of hate out of his voice.
Snape said sternly, if kindly enough - for a Snape, "That is adult knowledge you're asking for, child. You'll use it accordingly, or you'll suffer the consequences."
"I think I've had enough detentions for one lifetime, sir." Harry Potter said.
"That has yet to be determined," Snape said, his scowl completely masking the grin he felt - the idea of Potter managing a year without finding some way to need a detention was laughable. "But a man's trouble isn't limited to detentions. Draco Malfoy is the type of person who is unpredictable when pressed - and I needn't tell you how dangerous a Slytherin can be, if properly motivated."
Harry simply nodded, thinking about Draco Malfoy - a more spiteful and arrogant, vindicative boy he'd never known. Dudley wasn't nearly as bad (at least he knew he was fat).
"Draco's weakness, his price, if you will, is his family. More specifically his mother. Trouble her at your peril." Snape said gravely, before smirking, "In school, I have always thought it best that children train themselves - so long as the cubs keep their claws sheathed and the snakes remember not to poison everyone in sight. If you wind up calling him a mama's boy, that's perfectly appropriate. Hurting his parents is well outside the bounds of playful activity."
Harry Potter nodded, thinking wistfully about his father and mother - wishing that he had enough memories of them to care as much as Draco did about his parents.
"Neville Longbottom - there's a child whose price has already been paid, and in full. You've made him belong - with friendship and caring that few have shown to him. You needn't worry about him stabbing you in the back - if he does develop other ambitions, he'll be slow to turn from you."
Eyes wide, Harry Potter looked at Snape - it was one thing for Snape to talk... civilly, with Harry Potter, but to say such accurate things about Neville Longbottom!
With a soundless chuckle, Snape shook his head, "Gryffindors rarely even understand the principles of House Slytherin. The first one is to seek truth, be it acid or bitter. How does anyone expect to be able to lie, if they don't even understand the truth? Tell a lie that someone wants to believe, and they'll fill in the holes for you." Snape's bitter half-smile spoke multitudes - but Harry Potter knew he wasn't understanding a single word.
Snape eyes Harry speculatively, his black eyes glancing up and down. It's a strange look on Snape - one Harry Potter's never seen before. Snape's always seemed so certain, about everything. Ideas, goals, decisions - everything. What is he thinking about?
At last, Snape says with a quirked twist to his lips, "Idle hands are the devil's workshop - or so the old saying goes." With a sigh, he stretches - letting the moment itself stretch out - seemingly to infinity. "Merlin knows, you've managed to get up to enough trouble every single year..."
"You can blame Malfoy for my Second Year, you know, sir. It wasn't me that loosed a basilisk on hundreds of schoolchildren." Harry said with a bit of asperity.
Snape's bright glare froze Harry where he sat, "You didn't, not once, try to get help from anyone competent." Does he just mean himself in that category?
Harry Potter shook his head, staring away from Snape's glare, into the distance, "First year, sir, we tried to get McGonagall to help us. It might have worked, if we hadn't been so hell-bent on telling her you were after the Stone." Even this far away from everything, Harry kept the reference vague. No sense in making it easy for eavesdroppers, after all.
"You told her what?!" Snape laughed, a deep rumbling sound, "No wonder she sent you packing!"
Tense like a cat, Harry Potter looked at Severus Snape in something approaching wonder, "Sir...You're... you're not upset?"
"I should hope not! The day I can't even baffle eleven year old children is the day I take a vacation." Harry Potter blinked, and started to see a few threads weaving themselves together.
Sidelong, Snape eyed Harry Potter, almost seeming to watch the thoughts assemble themselves in the Gryffindor's mind. When they were nearing completion, Snape spoke, "Every year, the Sorting Hat says that Hogwarts needs to create unity between the houses. I'm not -" Snape breaks off, pauses a scant moment, and continues, "None of the teachers can fix the deliberate divisions that we've helped create." Again, that inscrutable, speculative look appeared on Snape's face, "If you want a task next year, think on that. You can even ask for advice, if you like."
"I'd almost have to. How in the world would I get the Slytherins to do anything? They seem terribly guarded..." Harry Potter said, his voice considering.
"The direct - the Gryffindorian approach would be to work with Draco Malfoy." Snape said with a hint of a sneer. "Put together a plan, and if you like, I'll help you vet it."
Harry Potter nodded absentmindedly, his brain already turning over ideas.
The floo glowed green, and Snape stuck his head through, saying, "Come on through, there's much to discuss." It had taken Harry only a glance to know that the Weasley twins had won - Snape had such an air of smugness about him, that Harry suddenly wanted to know... well, everything. Harry Potter went from lazing about to at the fireplace in less than three seconds - a rather hardearned habit acquired while living with his relatives, who were apt to demand results with little warning. And it had never done to keep them waiting.
As Harry Potter stepped through (half stumbling, as usual), he steadied himself. Molly Weasley was crying out, "You can't possibly think this battle counts! My two sons against the entire Order!"
"The Order lost, Molly." Snape shot back, his voice cold and calm as ice.
Harry Potter turned, listening to Lupin's cautious question to Severus Snape, "Severus, why are they glowing?"
Before Snape could even open his mouth, Fred and George had taken off, doing their bit - "Why yes, George, it does appear you've got a problem!"
Fred responded to his brother, "Oh, but just look at you! Your hair has developed a taste for the rainbow!"
"My hair - just look at your skin!"
Luckily, the rest of the room was saved from more skit by Hermione Granger tumbling into the Room of Requirement - straight into the Weasley twins. It was somewhat comforting to know that she was just as bad - if not worse -at floo travel. Somewhat.
Snape, as usual, looked unamused at the crumpled pile of Gryffindor limbs, as he cleared his throat.
"Why are they changing colors?" this was from McGonagall, and she was not looking amused in the least. She more than anyone knew that transfiguration was not Snape's field.
Affecting an air of nonchalance (his back to a nearby corner as usual), Snape said, "Ahh... that." He paused, letting the entire room's attention focus towards him (including Ron and Gin, who had just entered via the floo - but who both understood the air of anticipation, almost of tension). "That would be a contact poison. Inevitably fatal in 24 hours. Which is ironic, really, since the antidote takes 25 hours to brew. It's called the Chromatic Aberration, and tends to leave victims writhing in agony as they suffocate."
Harry Potter's mouth twitched slightly, thinking, That was really a bit much, sir! Not everyone cares to know all the details about your field of study.
Molly Weasley, turning as bright red as her hair, said sharply, "Really! Surely Severus, you've got the antidote already brewed."
Snape nodded slowly, saying carefully, "Of course I do - no potioneer would be so careless as to use a poison without access to the antidote." He paused for a barest second, before continuing, "However..."
Arthur Weasley was by this point restraining his wife - and Luna was somehow restraining Ron, probably with nargles. The picture of calm, Arthur said, "Go on, Severus" in a kindly voice.
"However, my potion stores are for Order members." Snape smiled, his teeth unseen.
"Why you! You utter bastard!" There goes Molly Weasley. Off to scream, as she's not going to stop us from becoming Order members. Not now, even if she doesn't approve.
"I suppose the vote to allow young blood into the Order will be unanimous, will it not?" Snape said coldly.
From the other side of the room, Dumbledore chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "I daresay it will, Severus." And Harry Potter felt a chill run through him - so this is what Snape looks like, when he's pushed beyond his breaking point. Vengeance, now served cold. It was a particularly disturbing thought, because Harry realized (and so did the twins from the looks they were shooting at each other), that they had never seen him like this before... We only thought he went spare...
"Severus? A moment..." Lupin said in his gentle voice, as Luna and Nevile stumbled through the floo.
"An excellent idea.! How unusual." Snape purred, in his delight nearly forgetting how to be properly catty towards the werewolf. **
Loudly, Snape said, "I'm afraid everyone is going to have to exit the room of requirement, for a moment. It would appear that the wolf has prepared us all a treat." Harry fought back against a grin at the thought of Lupin preparing doggy treats for everyone. Snape would of course eat them with his everpresent scowl. Come to think of it, he's been scowling a lot less lately. Probably hard to hold it constantly - and I have been spending a lot of time with him.
Everyone filed out, Moody giving the room a final reproachful glare before stepping out, as if it was its fault that he had lost against two wet-behind-t'-ears lads.
"Allow me," Lupin said kindly, as he stepped through the door into the Room of Requirement. Harry's eyes got wide - it resembled a movie theater! While Harry was gawking, Arthur and Snape had both -somehow- gotten through the door.*** Snape's glare had probably intimidated Arthur, Harry thought, playing the scene over in his head.
Molly bustled the "everlasting gobstopper" twins through, as Hermione began to speak to Neville and Luna, filling them in on what a movie theater was. "Mate?" Ron asked, as he came beside Harry.
Harry said simply, in a tone of wonder, "It's a movie theater... at Hogwarts!"
"What's that?" Ron said - they were the last ones through, and it was a bit crowded beside all the chairs.
"Let Lupin explain." Harry said, as Dumbledore's twinkly eyes caught his unexpectedly.
"If everyone will take a seat." Lupin said, pausing a moment as the twins began levitating theirs, and with a touch more asperity said, "If everyone will sit down on a provided seat." The twins sprawled, their legs straddling the backs of the chairs. "If you put your back against the chair's back, you will be in the expected orientation."
"Oh, we never do the expected!" one of the twins said.
"That's right! Often even the unexpected isn't enough for us." the other said.
"In other words, the impossible, rather than the improbable..." Snape purred from halfway across the room, and Lupin entirely gave up on the twins as a lost cause, throwing up his hands.
"If everyone who wants to watch the information I have prepared would be so kind as to sit down, facing north" Lupin pointed at the twins, who made a face, "unlike the twins who are facing south..."
Everyone filed in, and there were just enough seats for everyone, which left Gin and Art serving as a buffer between Molly and the twins.
"Begin," Lupin said, dramatically clapping his hands together.
Lupin pushed the "play"button, and the reel started to roll. Each and every person from the Order of the Phoenix stepped into the Room of Requirement in turn. As they all divided into their usual divisions, on-the-reel Snape said, "Choose the partners you trust, and take positions you can hold. You have time, so pick well." Around him, Dumbledore's eyes seemed to sparkle, and Moody tottered off, with a suspicious glance towards Snape - a jerk of his head the only thing that attracted Shacklebolt towards him.
"You should halt it, wolf." Snape's voice purred across the darkened room. "We have things to discuss." His voice seemed practically overwhelmed with a feral sort of hunger. **
Lupin pressed the pause button, and said, "As you say, scamp." A new nickname, Harry thought, or at least I think it is. A new beginning perhaps?
"Well, class, what do you think of the battle so far?" Snape said, and Harry could hear his drawling voice smiling a very wolfish smile.
Vance piped up with a huff, "Why, nothing at all! There's been not a jot of fighting and I don't see why you're wasting my time!"
"Typical impulsive little Gryffindor," Snape's quiet voice stole the floor - somehow even more fearsome in the near darkness. "Now which of you brave Gryffindors wants to answer the question, instead of ignorantly dodging it?"
Gin spoke up, her voice cutting through the twins hushed whispers. "You weren't helping them, sir, were you? You were setting them up to fail."
"What gave you that impression?" Snape's voice was cold, but Harry detected a small trace of smugness. He's baiting her a bit, wants to see what she's observed.
"You don't want to split up - not against Fred and George. You want to hit them hard, and fast, and take them down."
"Why's that?"
"Because! Because they're creative. Creativity won't guard against 10 stunners, sure... but ... well, you saw! You know!" Gin said, her temper interfering with her ability to communicate.
"Anyone else?"
"Sir?"
"Yes, know-it-all?"
"You picked the battlefield, too. Close combat, close quarters. Maximal interference from multiple attackers. I'm not sure it would have been the best tactic to all bunch together. Maybe if you outflanked them..."
"They didn't question your orders, sir. We're sitting here saying there's a debate, but there they are jumping to, without even a thought to why."
"Better" Snape said, and Potter thought incredulously, Was that a compliment, or was he saying do better?
In her dreamy voice, Luna spoke up, "It wasn't them snapping to - you asked them to do what they know - no, what they wanted to do. Of course they weren't going to try and get you to do things they didn't want to do. Even if they were right."
"You didn't look for spies, didn't spare a glance for anything out of the ordinary, did you?" Either Fred or George spoke up, "Maybe we should work on that idea..."
Snape rounded on them, his black robes whirling like a black whirlpool in the near darkness. "And what would you have done differently with the information?"
"Why nothing, Sir Snape. But then again, why should we? You were fighting on our side."
"Sabotage." Moody said, grumbling under his breath, "Simply sabotage. Why, Severus, did you choose that as a tactic, with people you hope to work with?"
"It's training. We need to be able to recognize it, so we can take advantage of it." Snape purred.
Ron Weasley cracked a hand down onto his own thigh, the slap ringing as attention turned towards him. He rose slowly, giving Snape the opportunity to say, "Yes, Mr. Weasley?" For once, Harry thought, it wasn't confusing.
Ron had murder in his eyes, a killing intent. "That's ridiculous." he said, his usually laughter-filled voice now throaty with suppressed anger.
"Go on." Snape drawled abruptly, and Harry was oddly reassured. Snape was still in teaching-mode, his ever volatile temper still leashed, even as he let a bare sliver show through his billowing black robes.
"You're not going to sabotage the Death Eaters -" Oddly, it was Hermione who stiffened at this one - her hiss of Ron! dying in her throat, as Ron's voice overrode hers. "Not if you want to live, at any rate."
Snape simply raised an eyebrow, regarding Ron with slightly more interest than he'd ever shown before. It rather looked like a scientist inspecting a bug under the microscope. Only this one still squirmed.
"Slytherins have a reputation for being both deceitful and mistrustful." Harry wondered how Ron could manage to say that without roaring it in anger - but Snape's face merely darkened - that was a nerve, Harry thought, wondering - not for the first time- whether this one was personal or professional. "You could pull off the sabotage, but be torn down by the ambition that surrounds you."
Ron paused a moment, taking a deep breath. "I don't know much about you. But dying like that would be a waste. And that's just not your style, sir."
Snape, his expression blank, strode up and back, before he turned to Ron again, "Alternatives?" he asked crisply, and Harry Potter felt himself beginning to relax. At least someone had managed to pass whatever test Snape's mazy mind had devised.
"You play it straight. Teach us that instead. Let competence shield you from envy and ambition."
"A competent plan, straightforward too. Are you not worried that someone would see through it?" Snape said, leaning forward, his hands crossed behind his back.
"No more than they see through anything you do. If they catch even a whisper of you working for the Order, your life is forfeit."
"Indeed. Is there anything else?"
"My brothers weren't wrong, and neither were you. Knowing where the forces start is bloody useful." The room shivered with dry chuckles from many mouths.
"Sit down, Mr. Weasley." Snape said flatly - in a different time, from a different man, it would have sounded kindly, maybe even a bit respectful.
"What have you learned, class, from this exercise?" Snape asked crisply, looking more towards the Order than the students.
"I learned that you're just here to waste our time!" Mrs. Figg said crossly, as Harry's lips pursed, in lieu of a wince. This was not going to be pretty.
Harry Potter looked at the screen, as did nearly everyone in the audience (save Snape, and the Weasley twins, if for different reasons. Snape, because he was watching the audience's reactions, and the Weasley twins because they already knew everything, having been there).
The scene unfolded on the screen, a ramshackle village with alleys and cross streets - and probably a village Green, although that was hardly in evidence. The camera stood in the middle of High Street** and, adding to the oddity, there was a high hedge growing across the entire street. It was hardly something decent for stealth, that was for sure. Then again, the scene depicted was that of a deserted street - were they aping that the people had already been evacuated? It was unclear. Perhaps the Room didn't have enough resources to create an entire town and populate it with citizens.
"Oh my! That's a very great big hedge you've got there, isn't it, Professor Sprout!" One of the Weasley twins sprang to his feet to say.
"We rather thought that Shrinking Violet would make you rather cross with us!"
"Not to mention poor Violet!"
"Why, she might even turn purple!" With rage, one supposed... A few lips in the audience were twitching, but far more faces bore frowns. The elders in the gathering were not overly fond of the Twins in the first place - and their levity was falling like poorly cast stones, sinking lifelessly into the lake. The twins were not ones to shy away from such disapproval, however. One rather had the idea that they relished it.
Above, on the ledge of one of the shoppes, Professor McGonagall napped. Or at least so it appeared. None of her students were the least bit fooled - and few of the elders were either, after they saw her ear twitch.
"Leave nothing but footsteps, take nothing but candid photos!" one twin cried.
"And if you're wise - which we aren't - skip the footsteps as well!" One grinned at the other, and then they said, "Have you got it yet? How do you sneak past a cat?"
The silence in the room crackled with irritation, and yet they let it stretch out. On occasion, even a Gryffindor could match the Slytherin appetite for drama. Especially this lot.
"Why, with Catnap Dust, a light touch, and just a bit of a scamper!" And the film began to roll again (Harry wasn't quite sure how they were doing it, but the simple answer was that the Room was conforming to their expectations and desires). A cloth mouse (complete with stuffing and stiches), crawled across the ledge in front of the cat. For a moment or five, Minerva's eyes were fixed on the mouse, as it moved across. Checking to see if that's one of them, I bet. Minerva's eyes fell closed, though her tail was twitching irately.
Then there was a whumphy sound of cloth catching the wind, before cracking straight again - and a soft, glittery - was that lavender - powder settled on Minerva's fine feline pelt. Within a few moments, it was obvious that the Cat was Catching a Nap, if a rather involuntary one.
The film rolled on for about two minutes, and then the Weasley Twins paused it. "Did you catch us?" They accused the audience, hands on their hips. "I think you didn't." Harry quickly glanced around the room, and other than Snape, whose perpetual smugness was less aggravating than usual (as he wasn't holding anything over Harry's head this go round), nearly everyone looked confused.
Lupin spoke up finally, confidence in every solid word. "Half a minute ago or so. You may not have left any footsteps, but you did scuff the shingles."
"Right he is!" One twin called. "Little slow on the uptake, isn't he?" The other responded.
"Just waiting to hear if anyone else knew, before I volunteered."
It seemed Filius Flitwick was up next. He was a sitting duck (okay, not really) in the middle of the street. Harry looked keenly at the diminuitive professor - Hermione had mentioned that he had been a formidable duelist back in the day. How had the twins managed to get past him?
In a nearby alley, the twins were setting up mirrors, bouncing light back and forth. Quietly, they both started chanting a spell. The light changed into sparks, in myriad colors. With a smile, they pulled up one of the mirrors, and sent the stream of cascading sparks out at Flitwick. He was clearly mesmerized, too busy chasing after it, "What charm is this? Oh, look at the pretty colors! How many charms is this? Why can't I see them?" Prof. Flitwick was busy throwing up barricade after barricade, hoping to capture the charm before it exploded into it's intended magical form.
Whistling softly, and looking entirely too casual, the twins walked by, as if nothing was wrong.
Harry hadn't thought anything was wrong, actually. Push the Charms professor's professional interest, and watch him whirl and caper. It took one glance at Hermione to revise that. Was she actually taking notes? Shaking his head, Harry thought wryly that sometimes the Room of Requirement could be too helpful.
As the twins ducked behind cover, the film stopped again. "Did you actually transfigure light?" Snape snapped, his eyes cold. But, thought Harry, the fact that Severus Snape doesn't know what they've done... Harry quietly began to suspect that they had done something impressive
"I think they did!" Prof Mcgonagall said, her tone more shocked than awed.
"Into what did you transform the light?" Asked Dumbledore - and it was moments later before Harry remembered that Dumbledore's specialty had been Transfiguration.
"Into sparkly light!"
"Filius seemed to find it grand." the other twin said swiftly.
For whatever reason, the Order had made a trail of breadcrumbs... or rather, order members, leading towards their goal. Gred and Forge found the next trap in an alley - Electric Sparks fizzled and leaped from one side of the alley to the other. It looked deadly serious, and not truly in keeping with training. Harry approved - and realized Snape would as well, from his smug place in the corner near the screen, arms crossed as usual.
Gred and Forge approached along the sides of the alley, using tossed chaff to determine that the effect was stable and not going to suddenly rush out to hurt them. From sheltered nooks (behind boxes) they began to scan the alley, eventually determining that Fletcher was directly across from them - on the other side of the wooden crates Gred was hiding behind.
They used a "Notice Me" spell on a galleon, and sent it rolling down the middle of the alley. In moments, Fletcher was grabbing for it, and failing to duck a precisely timed stunner.
It took them ten minutes to defuse his field (though Potter was privately sure they could have gone over it), and they carried on, after placing the electric doowiz into one of their expanding pouches.
Unlike the others, Dumbledore stood in the middle of the alley, in his hubris not laying a trap or anything, really. His robes shone, with a steady, low light. The twins whispered to one another behind the barrel, "You think he saw?"
"Not sure, but he's twinkling."
"Assume he saw. Now what?"
"Dumbledore. Transfiguration Master, amused by childish things. Likes to play like he's a dash dafter than he actually is." Harry suddenly noticed that the twins in the room were grinning wide grins, while their Mom was attempting to glare at them. And Snape? he was leaning slightly forward, his perpetual sneer blending smoothly into a smirk. He knows they got past Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, but he's wondering how. As am I for that matter.
"If you can't baffle them with expertise"
"show them what a smile will do!" the twins chorused, with wide grins.
Behind their barrel, a cavalcade of rubber duckies began to form. Alongside them, a belljar, a cauldron with chicken legs, and a broomstick that sprouted four arms. As they continued to wave their wands, the cascade of completely implausible objects dancing in place behind the barrel. One twin stood (barely turning to avoid a simple stunner), as he waved them all on.
Dumbledore was dumbfounded, a wide grin suddenly sprouting on his face, as the entirety of the parade gathered him along (tossing him up with their hands, and carrying the old man past both twins).
"Bon Voyage, Professor Dumbeldore" The two twins waved, with scarves in their hands.
Dumbledore gave a booming laugh in return, "Best Fun I've had in ages! Well done, you two!"
Molly gave an audible sniff, and sent a glare at Dumbledore, who looked back, grinning and completely unrepentant. "A truly remarkable piece of transfiguration, Misters Weasley" Minerva McGonagall was hear to say. "I'd have had difficulty downing that many implausible objects. It's hard to find a weakness when the object itself is pure fancy."
Next up was Mr. Diggle, and the twins dealt with him by means of a rather complex befuddlement charm - Harry could tell it was complex because of the astonished exclamation Hermione gave, and that Filius Flitwick was nearly bouncing in his chair in glee. Harry, of course, had no clue about exactly how difficult it was - but from the other reactions, he gathered that it was notably difficult and interesting. In that particular brand of interesting that both Hermione and Prof. Flitwick seemed instinctively attracted to, at any rate.
The next trap was a lot more difficult. For one thing, these were the first two who were hiding. Rather surprisingly, Harry thought - didn't anyone know the basics of strategy around here? Perhaps they had all been underestimating the Twins. Or, Harry frowned, perhaps not everyone wanted them kept out of the might explain Dumbledore's positioning - that or he figured his reputation might cause the Twins to stop. If so, he was sorely mistaken.
It was difficult at first to tell who was shooting - red and grass green bolts flew out of narrow, arrow-slit windows in the alley. The twins, taken by surprise, had barely gotten a shield up in time. They were back to back, defending each other, and were quite clearly on the backfoot. "Strategy Bat!"** One twin cried, and the other said, "Time to fly, fools!"***
The camera did not follow the twins running towards the other end of the alley. Instead, Harry heard Arthur's voice, sharper than usual, less diffident, say crisply, "Pursue?" Molly's broad contralto rejoined, "Of course!"
The camera continued on, as Harry felt his heartbeat begin to rise. It was one thing to fight two on one, or two on two, but with two snipers to their back? It was a risky gamble... Harry's breath quickened in anticipation.
"Hey, Prof!"
"ess-or die!"
The twins rattled off, in a semblance of their usual humor, even as they heard the elder Weasleys coming out from behind them.
"Whatcha got for me now, boys?" Lupin asked, his voice casual as his wand in his hand.
"Just This!" The twins cried together, and chucked a dungbomb at his head. It hit, and the smell - made much worse by werewolf senses, had Remus Lupin clawing at his nose.
Quick as a flash the twins galloped by him, and they ducked down the next corner, relieved to not see anyone there. "Think we lost him?" One twin asked.
"I think I lost my nose."
"Teach you to forget the Bobble"
"That's cause I've got more head than you!"
"Oi!"
"Lucky no one's right here,"
"Leprechaun luck." The other twin said.
"You haven't done anything you haven't told me about, have ya?"
"Nope, but look at the hair."
They crept along the side of the alley, peering around a suspicious corner to see Shacklebolt and Tonks, ready and alert.
"Uh, oh, I think I've lost..."
"My marbles!"
Harry Potter couldn't help but smirk at that one - if he wasn't quite imagining it, he thought he saw Snape smirk as well out of the corner of his eye. Harry shook his head, - as the twins started to set up their next "prank" aka battle tactic - he considered. Snape always seemed to smirk, never to smile. Harry considered this a bit more, as it was starting to bug him. It wasn't Sirius's carefree grin - or Ron's - hell, Hermione was serious as anything, and she still smiled. Snape just had this way of taking situations - even victories - and smirking through them. It was arrogance personified. That was all. In a flash, Harry had it - it was arrogance, but it was also the act of someone insecure. Someone much, much more confident in their deeds than in their social standing... a person who relied on deeds for social standing, and seemed to ask of everyone, "didn't you think I could do that? of course i could, I just did." It was odd to even contemplate Snape as unconfident - he seemed to ooze confidence and resolution. And yet, now that Harry had thought about it, it was impossible to unsee.
Marbles spilled out towards Tonks and Shaklebolt, the Twins sending cursory spells at them - Stunners, and a few Aquamentis, just enough to make the entire alley treacherous. Then the wind spells started coming, the twins hunkered down behind barrels, sending windspells out as the aurors conferred, their response being fire. But the marbles and wet were swirling and the twins only shrieked as a nearby barrel was set on fire. A stunner flew by them from behind, and Fred - or was it George, squeaked. One of the twins sent a Protego behind them, the shield not quite strong enough to do more than deflect - and then Harry saw what it was trying to do - take the Stunner and send it toward the other sniper. Was that Arthur or Molly? Harry wasn't quite sure.
Tick, Tock, Tick Tock. "Well, well, well, what have we here?" Moody groused, coming up from behind the aurors. Tonks fell in a heap at Moody's words, her legs knocking Shaklebolt over. As luck (or was that fate?) would have it, Tonks was out for the count. Shacklebolt cursed as he scrambled back up, standing full and straight into a Stunner reflected from a mirror spell above him.
Tick, tock, tick, tock. Kablam!
The entire area exploded into colors, sparkling and flashing and dancing all around them. Green, cerise, Magenta, cyan, brick red, blood red, pine green, royal blue, sandpiper, beige - there were colors Harry hadn't realized even existed, ultramarine and some blackest reds. Blinking, the entire audience attempted to get their vision back (including the twins, who were shouting "I'm blind!" at each other, until they descended into a round of Marco Polo. Amusingly enough, even while blind, they managed to wander the room - entirely due to the fact that Snape was in a corner, and thus not likely to hex them for running him over.) Harry simply lifted his legs when he saw the two twin-shaped shadows approaching.
As everyone's vision resolved, the screen showed five members of the Order of the Phoenix, staring mesmerized at a dipping bird. "How does it work?" Arthur Weasley asked, as the screen faded to black.
The screen flashed brightly again, showing the twins together, inspecting the end of the alleyway, in which there stood a cup, as if it was a courtyard. And, Harry thought, perhaps it was. The building around the court looked surprisingly solid. "Where's Snape?" One twin asked the other.
"Dunno. You want to... "
"Take a risk?"
"Absolutely. We're"
"Gryffindors!"
At that they both ran full tilt for the cup, grabbing it and apparating back to the starting point. An instant later, Snape dropped his Chameleon spell, and winked at the camera, his wand in full view. The screen turned black. Harry Potter blinked, as the room plunged into near darkness. Yes, Snape had been wearing gloves.
"Why was Snape even there, if he wasn't going to fight?" Molly groused.
Harry let his voice rise up, "He did fight. He was the only one who managed to truly hurt them, after all."
"Harrumph" Molly groused. "We'd have taken them on a second try."
"Not the point, Molly," Snape purred in his deadly fashion, "The point was how badly you underestimated them." Harry found himself nodding. If they couldn't even reliably know the strengths - and weaknesses of their own children, why exactly were they so deadset against training them? Harry Potter didn't even want to- now that he knew that it was an option, at any rate - run straight pell mell towards Voldemort. But that was different from letting everyone you cared about run into battle without doing a damn thing. "We could fold bandages" Harry found himself muttering grimly, his mind on a Florence Nightingale flick. Anything was better than sitting around doing nothing.
"It's a quite a good demonstration, Severus." Moody began, his eyes bright with a peculiar sharpness that said that he was well pleased. "I'm persuaded that the Twins might be of use to the Order - if not in battle, then in product development." Snape merely shook his head at the words, his smirk firmly embedded on his face. "And I'll stand for Granger as well - there hasn't been a spell she hasn't managed, and quicker than quite a few Aurors, I'll note." Harry's eyes flicked to Hermione's face, seeing the quiet pride there - and that was a change too. Earlier years would have seen Hermione positively glowing at the grizzled Auror's praise. "However, I can't say the same for the rest of these young fools. And it's all too easy to turn a young fool into a dead one. Severus, you say that these children can handle their own. Prove it with your own charge, at least."
Remus spoke up next, his tone challenging, even if his soft eyes said otherwise. "You've expounded at length on the character flaws of one Mr. Harry Potter. I'd like to see how he's stood up to your tutelage. Prove it indeed."
Molly looked irate, ready to float off like Aunt Marge had done - but Arthur put a hand on her arm, as he said quietly. "Show us, Severus. I must confess you've piqued my interest."
"Well, then, we're all decided," Albus Dumbledore said jovially. "Mr. Potter, do you have any objections to meeting Severus in a duel?"
Harry Potter stood, as much to be seen as to see the people around him. "Objections? No. Conditions, always. First, we'll duel back at Grimmauld Place." Home turf advantage, or at least so it would seem. In reality, the Room of Requirement made Harry a bit uncomfortable - he'd never pushed the room to its limits, and he rather suspected that Prof. Snape had. Which meant it gave his opponent an edge, and he was not going to let that happen without trying to avoid it. "Second, it's a fight. Usual rules - until either party yields, or until one is unable to continue. No real Avada Kedavras, simulated only." There was a muttering from the crowd; unusually, it was Neville Longbottom.
"Are you sure about this, Harry?" Neville asked, his doughty form reflecting his doubt.
"We're asking to join a paramilitary organization embroiled in a no-holds-barred fight. Either we're worthy, or we're not. And the old fool's right, I'd better prove it." Harry said, catching the frown that Snape sent him for letting his mouth run off like that.
"If you lose, you'll stay out of the Order?" Molly asked hopefully, her eyes pleading with him to say yes.
"Absolutely not. The Order will judge my skills regardless, and I'll of course abide by the vote." Harry Potter said calmly, his mind wending through a few of the strategies Snape had recommended, if the Order was daft enough to not let the younger warriors in. Abiding by the vote wasn't a promise not to fight... merely not to eavesdrop, or do other childish things to "grown wizards who thought they knew what they were doing" - Harry schooled his face to a more practiced taciturnness - no need to smile and confuse everyone.
Harry was the first one through the door to Grimmauld Place. They'd still need to cover the other rules - the ones about bystanders. The order had asked for a fight, and Harry and Snape intended to give them one. Harry gave one thought to how fatigued Snape had looked - but looking at him stepping through the Floo, Harry was reassured. Not that Snape was not fatigued, but that whatever he was concealing wouldn't interfere with the current scheme.
** only snape gets the ".!" punctuation. It's said as a statement, with the exclamation happening altogether with his eyes.
*** Yes, we're aware that Harry was gawking through the door that the two people just got through. When a person gets bedazzled with old memories and unexpected thoughts, sometimes their awareness fades.