Harry Potter remembered lessons he'd never been taught, standing up straight as he eyed the Order members entering the room. He found himself wondering, as the Twins had undoubtedly done ages ago, exactly how he'd take on each of them. Whether he'd win - and whether it would be worth the cost. The lot of them had gathered in the parlour (which strangely had a large desk in the back, as if they didn't have a full study or smoking room. Well, it was the Blacks. Maybe it was for dignity and hauteur), leaving a ten pace space in the center of the room - it crowded with furniture. "Alright, you lot." Harry spoke up crisply, catching the sidealong look from Ron of all people - seemingly not understanding what he was saying. "Anyone who doesn't want to get hurt leaves the room. Anyone who can't protect themselves, leaves the room."
Molly herded Ginny out of the room, and Hermione tugged Ron out. Harry breathed a sigh of relief as most people followed. The twins, apparently, had decided that they were going to stick themselves to the top of the room. "Won't work, you two. Out!" Harry snapped, his voice in a well-practiced parade rest. Making faces at him - and then saluting - the Twins left with as much grace as could be mustered while you were colored all the colors of the rainbow.
Dumbledore was still in the room, and Moody. They were both in corners, and Harry glanced a question at Snape, who nodded firmly. "No spells that leave the room, as best as can be managed. Hermione-" Harry called, "Set a shield, strong as you can make it. Have Ron spell you if needed."
"Yes, sir." Hermione responded, the term not of mockery but of ... pure instinct. Hermione always liked figures of authority, after all - and she recognized just who Harry was copying.
Harry Potter approached the center of the room, as Snape, who had been lounging in a corner - trying his best to look laxadaisical, though Harry had noted his deliberate tensing and releasing of muscles in his arms - approached at his normal stride.
They bowed to each other, eyes tracking the other as their heads lowered. Snape hissed a spell, "Stupefy." Dodging the red spell was child's play, as Harry Potter instinctively dropped into a sideways roll. His wand was already waving, sending a crash of water out at Snape - the flood broad enough to sweep anyone off their feet.
Snape, naturally, wasn't there. He was on the roof, clinging to transfigured handholds. Outside, Harry was dimly aware of people muttering at Snape's "treachery" - hadn't they even listened to the rules? The bow was part of the dance, not something to be done before it. Harry had only briefly touched the forms of a formal duel - and he had specifically said they didn't apply.
Snape sent out a wicked looking slicing hex, and Harry responded by shielding himself, that Protego that they had practiced so often in the DA. He dimly heard Ron's cheering, and Neville's hoot.
Snape sneered at him, thrusting out a dark hex that Harry had only seen him use one time before. Off the floor-immediately, he thought to himself, sparing the thought to transfigure his robes into a spiderman costume.
"Peter, peter, pumpkin eater." Snape snarled, his voice cold. The next hex he sent flew at Harry directly, as Harry concentrated on a finite incantem. He had to time it just so... and get the distance, and volume right. As he dropped to the floor, Harry spat, "Finite Incantem" - and it almost, almost worked. There was only a thin black streak of tar tying his legs to the ground. Without looking, Harry heard Snape approaching, his cruel laughter echoing around the room. Outside, there was only silence.
Fools. Did they think he'd be defeated so easily?
"Ignis" Harry said, his whispered spell setting the tar aflame. He rolled, as he'd been taught, the burn leaving a red welt encircling his leg. Still functional, so bully for him.
Harry sent a whirlwind after Snape, his wand following it with a slight summoning spell. There! He had it.
Snape dealt with the whirlwind - a particular spell to quiet the air, and Harry tensed. Snape started incanting, a long spell that Harry Potter knew well. It was not something he'd expect to see in any battle ever - but that was part of the point. This was a blunt challenge, and Harry raised his wand, beginning to transfigure the ground under Snape's feet. Carefully, carefully, Harry sent out his magic, deliberately undermining the floor. "Avada Kedavra," Harry Potter cast, to the absolute astonishment of everyone in the room (Harry knew it was unlikely to kill Snape, as he hadn't been thinking of Snape in the first place, and magic was all about intent - but of course, Snape wasn't (currently) in his mind.)
Snape ducked into a rough squat, which was exactly what Harry Potter had intended. Because the instant that Snape dodged the curse, the floor gave out beneath him.
Harry Potter struck a pose, looking valiant and vainglorious - except to Moody, who could see Harry's wandwaving. Harry gathered his energy, spun the spell, and held it on the tip of his wand. It was excruciating, and glorious at once.
Snape sprang out of the hole Harry had so kindly dug for him - but not at Harry, as Harry had been expecting. Harry's eyes widened, as he rolled left, taking cover behind a QueenAnne sofa. "Fulgur Catena," Snape bellowed, and Harry flattened himself to the floor, releasing the spell he had cast as he cowered under the ice wall he had meant Snape to run into.
"Petrificus Totalis" Harry said softly, as he sent the hex at the mirror he had arranged to point at the back of Snape's head. And then Harry bolted toward Snape, in a full on attack that was purely Muggle. Snape pivoted at the sound, his face turning into a truly wolfish grin. "Really, Potter?" he asked skeptically - even down a hand from the Petrificus, Snape clearly felt he was more than a match for Potter. Which was probably true, Harry thought - unless I get in close.
Harry Potter was running full tilt towards Snape, his mind thinking of three or four much smarter ways to be playing this. However, this was a battle, and faint heart was rarely the optimal solution. The instant Harry saw Snape's half-smirk, he knew he was in trouble. Instead of slowing, or stopping, he accelerated, hoping to be at Snape's hand before the spell was fully formed.
Alas, Snape snapped, "Hevia," and a white shield extended in a dome around him. Harry felt like cursing, quickly incanting, "Bai Kunglong," as a whisper of wind started to roll through the room, thickening and starting to roll the ball that snape was trapped in. Not quickly enough for Harry to not run full into the ball, of course - although his jump onto it left him more flying up and into the ceiling. Harry hit the ceiling with his arm, dumping enough momentum to fall downward, tucking his body into a roll that fell straight into one of the wooden chairs, breaking the back off it. Harry Potter crawled under a desk, and looked cautiously out, the entire room rife with blowing papers and other flotsam (a clock went flying by). Off someplace, Snape was cursing, and Harry idly wondered if one could use a curse as a spell.
Snape cast "Ignis fortuo," and it was as if the entire room lit with ribbons of fire, criscrossing the entirety.
"Typhoon Tazumuddin" Harry snapped, straining to put enough magic into the spell, as it would completely fizzle without the precise amount. The room turned into water and wind, as Harry struggled to his feet. He saw Snape in the middle of the room, and his heart sunk. He's favoring a leg, Harry thought, seeing the offbalanced man straighten to greatest effect. "Finite Incantem" Snape said, pushing as much of his power as he dared into the spell - it didn't always work, but for most light spells, it was a good shot. The whole place calmed, and Harry Potter started, "Expel-"
Snape raised a roiling, blue-purple potion and smirked at Harry Potter.
Oh, shit. This isn't good.
Snape dropped (okay, flung) the potion to the floor at his feet, the blue-purple smoke writhing out like snakes. Then he swished his wand, flinging it into the wards.
Harry Potter dropped to the floor, trying to avoid the potion. Who knew what Snape's idea of a potion to use in the middle of battle was?
Harry was mentally reviewing everything he knew about potions (a lot) and everything he knew about using them in battle (absolutely nothing). Better safe than sorry, Harry told himself. "Treat it as if it's Longbottom's latest exploded cauldron disaster."
Harry was holding his breath, trying to see if any nearby surfaces were dissolving, or sparkling, or anything that might give a clue as to what Snape had done.
Dryly, Snape said, "Thirty seconds, Mister Potter."
Harry peeked out, one green eye showing from underneath his shaggy hair (which was in his face, again). Snape wasn't smirking. Shite, this was bad.
Well, doing nothing was the lamest way to lose a battle, Harry Potter thought, so he started spelling - It was an obscure spell, and he hoped Snape didn't know the counter. Hermione had found it (of course), and it was brilliant.
In this case, Harry meant that literally. In moments, the room was entirely coated in rainbow colors - and worse, they were moving, dancing. Hermione had called it a magical disco ball... As Harry had said at the time, brilliant.
"Fifteen seconds, Mister Potter."
Harry pooled his magic, starting to change, willing the room's surfaces to transfigure as they colored with the light. White for ice, red for fire, green for acid, blue for water, yellow for shock.
"Ten seconds, Mister Potter." Snape's robes billowed as he loped, springing towards Potter.
Harry looked up, despite his spellwork, ducking quickly to hopefully avoid whatever Snape planned to do. For just as Harry had been going full tilt against Snape, here Snape was plummeting straight at Harry, his face a mask of fury.
Snape crouched right below Potter (quite a feat, considering that Snape was the larger man, and far more lanky), his fist at Potter's chest, clutching at his robes. Snape's other wrist was on Potter's throat, as he channeled the momentum into slamming Potter against the wall.
"One." Snape's low tone whispered from five inches away from Potter's face. Harry was still trying to figure out what exactly was going on...
"Now," Snape said in a voice softer than a whisper, barely a breath. Harry dropped five good inches, as Snape released his fist from Potter's robes.
Harry was choking - the only thing keeping him off the floor was Snape's wrist his neck. I know this! Harry thought suddenly, his arm grabbing Snape's, and his whole body rotating, his leg kicking out to land on Snape's belly - off a little, his foot landing on Snape's groin instead. Still, Snape's arm went slack, and that was good, as Harry's vision was starting to go (nothing new there, Uncle Vernon had taught him plenty about slowly reaching unconsciousness). Harry rolled away, launching a stunner at Snape's even paler than usual face.
Snape blocked it almost casually, casting a "Finite incantum" to rid the room of the colors (Harry was actually glad, as that fire really hurt, even if it wasn't actually smoking anything.)
In the ensuing pause, Harry swore he heard Ginny saying, "I told you he was a vampire!" Maybe that had been George, throwing his voice again... Ron chimed in, "Nothing but a Vampire moves that fast." Hermione, bless her soul, was saying, "I don't think it works like that guys..." And Fred was saying, thoughtfully, "I want that potion." Meanwhile, from behind the Queen Anne chair, Harry almost swore that Moody's eye glimmered approving. Which was ridiculous, as Moody wouldn't have approved of Snape bowing to the Queen of England.
Harry tensed, where he was, as he heard the slithering. He sprang, onto the nearest chair (a Queen Anne) and was quite thankful he didn't just fall through. Snape - Harry's jaw fell open, as he saw snakes slithering out of Snape's robes, crawling and falling out of them, as if there was no longer a Snapebody inside, but just snakes, and more snakes. From the corners of his eyes, he could see more snakes, crawling and sliding around the corners of the room. Harry hissed at them, "Hello friends."
...
And they didn't respond. It was then, that Harry knew true fear. Whatever this was, whatever those things were, they weren't snakes. Not real ones, at least. "Stupefy!" Harry shouted, taming a wild shriek into something that would actually spell. The red streak hit Snape square - and nothing happened. Not even a falling, stupefied snake.
"Finite Incantem!" Harry howled, intensely hoarding his magic as he saw the spell uselessly splash outward, the room rippling but nothing changing.
"Finite Incantem!" Harry intoned, his voice low and controlled, but thrumming with the sound. Harry felt a bout of rage boil through his veins.
"Finite Incantem." Snape's silky voice intoned, soft as a whisper - and as penetrating. Harry watched as the snakepit dissolved, leaving a rather battered room with Prof. Snape standing directly in the center.
Harry stared, confused, not sure what had just happened. "Expelliarmus," Snape said, his eyes bright.
Harry didn't even feel a tug. Absolutely nothing, from the wand in his hand. He looked down at it, shook it once, started to gather his magic for a simple "nox" - but before he could cast, he heard Snape's next words.
"Accio stick!" Snape said, looking impossibly smug... as if smug had so completely suffused him that there was no room for thought, for emotion, for anything except smug.
And so, it was no surprise to Harry, that his 'wand' flew through the air and directly into Snape's hand.
Confusion gave way to both panic and fury in equal quantities, and Harry - his mind still clawing at 'what just happened' - reacted with pure blind instinct, diving behind the stout writing desk near the back of the room. For it had been drilled into his head, that battle was time to strategize, to react - but never to think. In his memory, Snape intoned firmly, "thinking will get you killed."
Harry winced, as he heard Snape taking potshots at him - more knocking things off the desk than anything. Was he really doing target practice? Instantly, another thought answered that, "no, you dimwit, he's giving you time to get back in the game."
Hermione's voice sounded behind his ear, telling him excitedly, "Why Harry! You've just been doing wandless magic! Do you have any idea how difficult that is... let alone the spells you were pulling off?"
Harry direly wanted to tell her to shut the hell up, but as he couldn't get through the barrier (trust Hermione to get through), he concentrated on ignoring her. Yes, he was well aware of what wandless magic was. That he was able... that he had... Snape had taught him... and suddenly, Harry had an idea - and he was quite sure that he got the same look that Hermione Granger always got when she had an idea. That bright, "oh, my god, this is going to work!" look.
Quickly, Harry grabbed for the middle desk drawer, smiling at his luck as he pulled out a white quill. He quickly broke off the feathered part...
Harry slowly began to gather not just his magic, but his emotions... Because wasn't wandless magic just a little different from accidental magic?
Snidely, Snape spat, "That will be enough interference, Miss Granger."
Gathering his fury, his hatred of being tricked, his anger at his inadequacy being revealed in the middle of battle, in front of the entire Order, Harry began to shake. Dimly, he was aware of Snape's potshots getting closer - now deliberately breaking chips off the desk.
"Aguamenti!" Harry shouted, as he stood - the word a careful distraction, as he pushed his hands out, wrist to wrist, and unleashed a wall of water - a tsunami.
Snape didn't block it. Instead, he stood his ground and cleaved it, the wedge sending the water out and away from him. Harry was used to the idea.
What Snape wasn't prepared for was the water coming back. He swiftly lost his balance, and fell, making a puddle of black robes that might have been funny if Harry hadn't heard a loud crack.
Snape had just broken his arm.
Snape stood haughtily, lips pressed tight - but Harry didn't give his teacher the moment to gloat. A crash of sound flew from his... quill. Snape blocked it with a shield, and as it rebounded, Harry did the same.
Neither of them missed the shrieks of everyone outside the room. Neither of them cared.
The battle slid into old, familiar terms. Attack, shield, defend, dodge. It wasn't that the battle ended quickly, so much as Harry Potter threw himself into it so fully that he wasn't thinking any longer. It was a dance that demanded full concentration, eyes on the entire room just as much as they rested on his opponent. In short, it was exhausting and enthralling.
Harry Potter heard Snape shout "Stupefy," and Harry dropped to the floor, already anticipating the red stunner. Instead, he found Snape's wand pointing at him, and felt the ropes curling around his body. What had just happened? Without struggling, Harry frantically replayed what he had seen and done. There! he thought, with a cry of defeated victory. Snape hadn't made the motions for Stupefy, after all...
Harry was abruptly jerked back to the present, with Snape's long wand poking him in the jugular. "Your next lesson," Snape said softly. Those normally hard eyes looked at Harry with an ineffable softness, as Snape growled, "Now yield."
Harry Potter remembered that they'd discussed this. "I Yield." He said quickly, in a loud voice so that all could hear. Snape nodded, undoing the ropes, and with a tug on Harry's shoulder heaved him to his feet. Snape's dark glance sought out everyone - piercing them with the force of his gaze.
Well, except for Dumbledore, who wordlessly waved the protections away with his wand. The smile on his face was most genial, and he clapped proudly. "Well done, my boys." He said, with enough warmth in his voice to hug an army. Harry paused, considering that he might have in fact done so, during the First War.
"You're using Avada Kedavra in practice duels, now, Death Eater?" Moody crowed, his mouth curling in a rapacious grin.
"Can't have the first instance be on the battlefield, now can we?" Snape shot back, his dark, imposing manner less like a bat and more like a dark mountain.
Ron and Hermione tumbled into the room, congratulations on the tip of their tongues... Before they could say a word, Molly Weasley let out a shriek, saying, "The furniture! The entire room! Gone!"
Harry Potter took a look around the room, his eyes wide. It did appear that their fight had turned most everything into kindling or matchsticks. Smothering a grin, Harry Potter drawled out, "I never liked the colors of the room anyway."
Ron looked at him sharply, and said, "Blimey! You sound just like Snape!"
Harry's eyes, though, weren't looking at Ron - they were entirely trained on Lupin, whose face had gone white, as he stumbled - caught very much offguard by Harry's comment. Lupin shot a quick glance at Ron, and then said, "Not Snape... Sirius."
"I rather think Snape matched the decor, anyway." Harry said, his eyes sparkling with the smile that didn't reach his lips. Snape let out a rather loud snort, and Harry carefully didn't look at him.
Almost instantly after, Harry was swept up in congratulations by the twins - and practically all the Hogwarts students. He was, actually, rather a bit surprised that Lupin wasn't there to congratulate him too. Harry tried to keep an ear cocked to what the Order members were saying to Snape - he had a distinct feeling that Snape's retorts were a lot more incisive than these bland congratulations. Well, almost all of them were bland, at any rate. Hermione's was babbled at the speed of light, a sense of wonder completely infusing her words. And the twins were, as usual, the twins. Gin swept him up in a "victory hug" and he had to stop himself from lowering his head to rest against her shoulder and inhaling the scent of her hair - that would be creepy, he thought chidingly.
Still, the hug seemed to have quieted his celebrants, at least for the moment. Professor Dumbledore, with his eyes sparkling kindly, spoke rather grandly to Professor Snape, "It's good to see you're finally learning to appreciate Harry for his talents." Harry Potter wanted to duck at hearing those words. Wasn't Dumbledore aware that Snape was unlikely to want to discuss any "changes of heart" that he'd had? And particularly, that he wouldn't want Dumbledore taking credit for manipulating them together? Although, Harry thought suddenly, it didn't look like this training was anything of Dumbledore's idea... Now, why do you suppose Professor Snape would voluntarily choose to train Harry Potter?
Snape's eyes held a fury that made even Dumbledore take a hesitant step backwards, as his melodious voice growled, "Gryffindors' only talent is dying well. With honor." Snape said the last part mockingly, his dark eyes raking across the primarily Gryffindor students. His eyes took on a determined coldness, settling into resolution as his eyes caught Granger's (filled with a brown fury that she'd never voice), and Snape said, quietly, "Prove me wrong."
Harry thought about what Snape had just said, even as Dumbledore arranged people for the Order Oathswearing. He always seems to be throwing down a gauntlet at the Gryffindors. I think that actually works, with Hermione at least. Even more quietly, Harry thought to himself, How well was that approach working with me, come to think...? Harry thought back to a few destroyed classrooms, when he had let loose his rage on things rather than Snape himself. And yet... Harry thought sharply, That was fourth year, wasn't it? If nothing... nothing else, Snape snapped me back to reality. Not once, not after his class, was I berating myself, too fisted up with mourning to pay attention to anything around me.
Finally, the whole setup was fixed, the Order members in a circle in the now destroyed living room. McGonagall intoned name after name, and Harry was gladdened to hear that they were being done in alphabetical order, so he'd go neither first nor last. When it was his time, he stood in the center, feeling the gentle wisps of fire twine around him as he said the words, "I swear to do all within my power to defeat Voldemort. I will stand with my fellows, and I may fall with them. Yet, as the Phoenix always rises, we will triumph, for our cause is just." Harry felt the power winding around his core, the oath etching itself into his being.
When the last Weasley was sworn in, the group dispersed - most of the Order members leaving for prearranged tasks. As was their custom, the Hogwarts crew stumbled into the kitchen - undoubtedly hungering for Molly's cooking. Harry was one of the last people through the door, and he was mildly surprised to see that Molly wasn't there. He was just about to ask who wanted some eggs (his trials at the Dursley's had taught him eggs to perfection, thank you very much), when Snape stepped out of the shadows, sprawling himself sideways on the chair at the head of the table. Harry forcibly suppressed the urge to jump - even with his invisibility cloak, he wasn't half as sneaky as Snape.
Snape flourished a half-full firewhiskey glass. "Allow me to toast your victory." Snape said in a sardonic voice dark as a death knell. "Today you join the Order, after all."
"Lest you grow complacent in your winning, let us reckon the cost of what you've just lost." Snape's smirk was pitchdark, his humor as malevolent as the unquiet dead - and as spine-chilling, come to think...
"You have, by now, or will shortly lose your innocence. You will come to see friends as pieces on the playing field, and you may need to move them without consideration for anything except their abilities." Snape said quietly, almost as if he was talking to himself, though sheer force of habit kept the rest of the room effortlessly quiet.
"In a sense, you have lost friendship as well, and gained in its place a sort of battlefield cameraderie." Snape's eyes glinted knowingly, darting to and fro across the crowded room.
"Sir?" Harry asked quietly, confident that Snape's keen ears would pick his comment out of the hushed room.
"Alastor Moody and I are battlefield companions. We are hardly bosom buddies." Snape said coldly, his mocking words sharp and spiky with icy laughter.
"Have you ever wondered why you've been recruited to the Order? Untested children?" Snape asked, his sharp eyes catching the question dawning in Hermione's face, and the absolute bafflement on Ron's beside her. "I thought not." Snape said with a timetested, weary sigh.
"Children-" Snape said, his eyes catching the warning in Harry's own, as he briefly checked himself, "Adolescents, rather, have a distinct propensity for risk-taking, often to the point of recklessness." Snape's cold eyes raked the room, as if he expected someone not to be listening - or, rather, perhaps he was just hoping for the excuse to call someone out. "It takes a certain recklessness to enter the field of battle, you realize?" Snape's voice had dropped to a purr.
"The Order is composed of children, and people who have nothing left to lose." Snape said coldly, as Harry's gaze shot to Gin, thinking of her mother. "Oh, I suppose you are thinking of Arthur and Molly? They have irresponsible children, you see, and therefore they're in this to be the responsible ones. If you have any say in it at all, don't let them near positions of command. They aren't objective or rational, and can't be counted on to do the right thing for everyone."
Snape smiled a thin smile without teeth, "You have enough votes, collectively, to stop that from happening, should the need arise."
"I shan't tell you which one of you I have picked as the one who will first perish, but I do urge you to gird yourself against the possibility that any one of you may die." Snape said. "I'll tell you an old soldier's curse: 'may you outlive your comrades, their ashes falling through your fingers,' " Snape's eyes were filled, for once instant, with an emotion Harry didn't recognize. People who have nothing left to lose... Harry thought, as Snape continued, "You have months, perhaps a year or two, to continue your training. I will not go easy on you if I find you slacking."
No one quite managed to say a word as Snape rose, his thin frame standing tall above all of them, as he sardonically bowed, "Good luck, comrades. I pray you do not need it." Harry somehow got the feeling that Snape meant that last bit, truly.
Snape exited the room, and Harry caught Hermione hurrying after him. Harry dodged George's arm to slip out after her. They met Snape near the fireplace, his hand cradling a book as he opened the pig* of floo powder. "Ah, you two." Snape said in entirely unsurprised tones, "What have you come to bother me with this time?" he deadpanned.
"Sir, can I learn wandless magic, like Harry did?" Hermione asked, her body nearly vibrating with the strength of her curiosity.
Snape nodded quietly, "You may. In fact, you may also teach Potter the spells that you have learned. I have only one word of caution for both of you - Do not, under any circumstances, attempt to learn the spells Ron Weasley has been taught this summer." Hermione rather visibly bit back the question, and Harry suppressed a grin about the questions she was sure to pepper Ron with.
"Good Day," Snape said, stepping into the floo without waiting for a response.
Harry and Hermione spent the next week at the Weasleys' house - in the usual chaos and confusion, the babble of a dozen voices (nevermind there were certainly fewer people present, the twins liked multiple voices). Hermione, as was usual, was trying to learn the wandless magic that Harry had picked up over the past thirty days. That it wasn't going well was a massive understatement. Harry was content to watch, occasionally demonstrating what he could do (small things, never the warspells that Snape had taught him).
Harry was still having a hard time coming to terms with what Snape had done. On the one hand, it had been rather a nasty trick, not even telling him what he was being taught. Or that it would take him more time to learn spells when he was doing it wandlessly. On the other hand, it had worked, and the skill was invaluable - because Snape was right, they were going to war, and that wasn't something you messed around with. Harry had the rather uncomfortable urge to both thank the Potions Master, and scream at him. While the second was a familiar feeling, the guilt that came with it was not.
Harry actually enjoyed the sessions with Hermione - it was fun watching her not be good at something, for once. Although the hex she sent his direction when she caught him smirking was not-fun. He was actively surprised with himself, with his increasing annoyance at the sheer boisterousness of the Weasley family - oh, it was alright for small periods of time, but he found himself wanting to find some space (often up on his broom) just for the sake of quiet (being with Hermione was helpful, because she was generally content to be reading, or something else that didn't require constant attention).
What was worse is that Harry found himself... almost missing Snape. That was a thought that would have had him convinced the person giving it was nutters, a week ago (yes, after training. He wouldn't have believed that he could, would, actually look for the callous man with the icy eyes).
Wanting to relieve some frustration, Harry got his broom out (flatly ignoring Ginny's offer of a Quidditch partner - he wanted to think, not be bothered by others). As he flew circles in the sky, he thought, I really do owe Snape a lot... I should find a way to thank him. Of course, the thought of Harry Potter formally thanking Severus Snape was ridiculous, Harry thought, So I'll just have to do better... Frowning, he thought carefully, as if there were hidden pitfalls all around him. Knowing Snape's temper, that wasn't far from the truth. What does Snape loathe? What does he hate to do? Harry thought, remembering... I'm not going to stop doing what's right, even if Snape feels like he has to prevent me from sneaking about. I won't do it if it's not important, of course... Harry said, flushing at the memory of Ron and Hermione sneaking out with him for a late night picnic third year. Shaking his head to clear it, Harry went into a barrel roll, letting out a hoot of glee. Snape loathed having to deal with Neville, but with luck that wouldn't be an issue next year - and even if it still was, Harry doubted he could fix the issue. Pausing for a moment, Harry remembered who else Snape was constantly complaining about. An instant later, a wide grin broke through the grimness on his face. Got it! Harry thought.
Hermione was turning into a great fuming, fire-breathing ragebeast, as she tried, time and again, to master what was considered by many wizards to be flat out impossible. Of course, there was the rather instructive notion that "Harry Did It", which was undoubtedly driving her crazy.
Harry Potter enjoyed watching this. It helped that he was perfectly honest (as it wasn't only Slytherins who could spot lies, women were worse, and Hermione was fast developing into a witchy one) when he told her that Snape hadn't told him a thing.
Hermione let loose a scream (luckily they were outside, otherwise Harry might have been deafened), as she tried to cast a stunner at a poor garden gnome. It didn't work. This was her third day of trying, and nothing worked. Harry was convinced, from the increasingly frequent displays of her temper, that this was the first time in her recorded memory that she'd managed to not get something academic to work (brooms didn't count).
The Weasleys had taken one look at Hermione, likened her face to Molly on a rampage, and were indoors. Well, the twins were sticking their heads out occasionally, undoubtedly plotting a prank (Harry hoped it was a Cheering Solution, as Hermione was likely to overpower it, and being both cheerful and rageful at once would be hilariously funny).
It was late, and Harry was thinking. Again. He was trying to work out something that Snape had asked him to do - and he had more than half of it unraveled. But that was the trick, and the tease at once. He was stuck. Harry Hated being stuck, but this time it was worse. Because, well, it had to do with Slytherins, and though Harry hated to admit it, he always felt like a bull in a china shop around them. Snape had been right, when he'd said that Slytherins crafted intricate plans. Well, Harry - for once - wanted to do something with them, and you couldn't very well recruit people if you just went blundering straight through their preexisting plans, now could you? Well, maybe a Ravenclaw, for sheer curiosity alone...
Harry Potter shook his head. It was Hogwarts tommorrow, and school the day after that. There was no shame in admitting defeat - so long as you were also as hard in the head as Harry was, and well willing to go through the wall if that's what it took. Harry figured that Snape would have some clever way around, though - and getting more information was always a good plan.
*like salt pig.
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