Not that you could tell some days, but Harry Potter generally tried in all his classes. He tried to learn (though he'd never take as many notes as Hermione, nor ask as many questions). Magic was about motions, and how were you supposed to draw those, anyway? Hermione had her system, but Harry was sure if he looked over at Chang, or Bones, or Nott, they'd have a different one. Harry tried to memorize more than write down things, anyway. He tended to learn better if he was watching and not writing.
Today? Today was a bloody different story.
He hadn't listened a whit to the teachers, nor to anyone at lunch, breakfast or dinner.
Is it odd, to have something you desperately need to look at, and yet know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he dared not even think about it in class?
Yes, yes it was extremely odd.
Ron, Harry was pretty certain, had never felt this way. Harry was abruptly wondering if Ron could feel this way. Ron was a hothead, and even if he didn't want to talk about something, it was still pretty obvious. Harry began to think that maybe Ron couldn't move his mind off a subject... not even onto Quiddich.
The thing was, when you had something you couldn't think about... Harry'd let his mind latch onto the simplest, closest, purest things. Objects, colors. At breakfast he'd stared at Dumbledore's robe. In Transfiguration, he'd stared out the window and tried to count the leaves that he could barely see.
Nothing as open-ended as class.
Concrete.
Harry didn't want to go to their Defense group meeting. He really didn't want to. But his feet turned him that way anyway, and he began waving his wand, experimentally. "Expecto Patronum" he said, over and over again, letting himself be lost in the memories. He wasn't choosing them at random, either. He was letting memories from his youngest life come into his mind, drifting slowly towards the present day.
Nothing. Not a shred of silver, not a mist, not a sparkle.
Nott was inside, quietly sharing a book with Granger. Harry marveled, for a moment. Yesterday, Malfoy had nearly been ... well, Harry wasn't sure what... to get those books.
Today, Hermione was sharing without even a hint of a fight.
Harry went back to conjuring memories. He was curious to see if any of them would work. Any memory at all. And which would be his first, he wondered?
Why had he come, Harry thought to himself. It wasn't a good idea to be here, Harry knew, not in the state he was in.
Oh. He'd gone because if he didn't, someone would look for him.
Harry was abruptly dragged back to reality by the sounds of a rather large and impending argument.
It wasn't actually all that bad, Harry discovered, as he looked around. It just had the potential to get that way.
Danger senses tingling, Harry started listening, before the pitchforks came out.
"What happened?" Someone asked - hopefully not Smith, though it sounded like him. "Why are you getting along?" And that sounded like Goyle, speaking slow as ever, and thumping harder than usual. Harry stood, jumping up to see above Goyle's shoulder. Ron, of course.
Thankfully, Ron wasn't bright red and punching. He actually managed to look somber, which was a relief.
"Down, boys, down," Draco Malfoy drawled in that annoyingly unconcerned tone Harry hated, "Or are you really just beasts? If you want an explanation, it's forthcoming." As Goyle turned around to force people to give the two young men some space, Harry saw the look of confusion on Goyle's face. Which it, shamefully, took him about five seconds to get. Oh, that's right, he's not supposed to understand English, just the small words please.
Harry fingered his wand, wanting to be sure that if fighting broke out, it wouldn't be two against twenty. Nearby, he saw Theo and Hermione both ready - Theo with his hand half up his sleeve, in a gesture that seemed purely Snape (Harry abruptly wondered if the man had taught it to his Slytherins. If so, Malfoy hadn't paid any attention whatsoever.), and Hermione's wand, well, from the way her hair was sparking, it might not matter where it was, so Harry stopped looking for it. He hoped Neville and Luna were ready too.
Ron was speaking, somehow first - had Draco really yielded the floor? It'd make Draco sound all the better, letting Ron's stuttering go first... "You don't think, when you're eleven, exactly why your parents say someone's bad. Evil. Scary. Whatever." Ron looked around the room, and then did the utterly unexpected, "Who here, at the tender age of eleven, actually knew why they were afraid of Lord V?" Feet shifted uneasily around the room. "See? Your parents told you, and that was that." Ron said, in an unexpected burst of humility, "I still don't know. But I know people who do." Ron's eyes sought out Neville, and then Harry. Ron's bold tone lowered, got a bit more somber, as he tilted his head up, deliberately looking above everyone's heads, "Maybe more than I think."
"It was stupid," Ron said, "That's all I can figure. Parents telling kids that someone's bound to be evil, just because of what House they were from." Ron nodded, "It wasn't just Malfoy. I heard it about everyone. Nasty slimy sneaky Slytherins."
Smirking, Draco Malfoy stood up, "We are sneaky. And sly. And if we don't know what you're going to do before you do it, then something's gone horribly wrong."
"I think you forgot smug!" Neville shouted out.
"And Arrogant!" Potter found his own voice adding.
"That too, although you're the one who catches the Snitch." Draco Malfoy bowed to the crowd, "See? I can admit that I'm not the best." He smiled as if this was some sort of personal victory, which Harry doubted, until he realized that wasn't why Draco was smiling. He liked the crowd... more specifically, the crowd's approval. "At age eleven, I'd heard nasty snide things my father said about the Weasleys. Didn't matter, I was going to school with him whether he was poor or not, wasn't I? But I didn't like it when my second cousin decided he'd rather be friends with Ron Weasley instead of me. No, it didn't take my parents wisdom to make eleven year old me certain WeaselKing was evil." Draco Malfoy smirked. "Seems silly now, doesn't it?" The crowd laughed - seemingly having forgotten the entire unpleasantness. "Now that Granger's been willing to cede the books, I've got a fascinating lesson in store for you..." The crowd groaned, as Malfoy had used the precise intonation Hermione would use for interesting.
Harry lost himself in the motions, hanging out towards the back and letting people's movements and the lesson wash over him completely. He'd have to catch up later, he thought without a trace of chagrin. He wouldn't have been there at all, except that his friends would hunt him out if he wasn't.
Harry was finally, finally alone. He exulted in it, dancing barefoot on top of the Astronomy Tower. The wind snapped at his hair, tossling it beyond recognition (not that it was all that good in the first place). He grabbed onto the railing, leaning out over the edge, and closing his eyes.
It was almost like flying, being up here, all alone. Freedom. In the desert, you can remember your name, for there ain't no one for to give you no shame.
Harry could hear the strains of the music, and he let himself just be. In the cold scottish autumn, he could feel the press of the sun on his face, and feel the horse surging under his hips, rocking him to lazy sleep. He let himself draw to a fragile stillness.
I hope this works...
He opened his mouth, and began to sing, trying to immerse himself into the song.
Been a long road to follow, been there and gone tomorrow
Without saying goodbye to yesterday.
Harry found himself, in his imagination alone, looking into Snape's face. He'd never really said goodbye, had he? Not to anything, not really. Clinging to hatreds... and friendships? Stuck in that unimaginable inbetween where everyone he ever knew was on one side of pain or another.
Are the memories I hold still valid?
Or have the tears diluted them?
Harry was certain that he'd heard Snape talking about his mother, over the summer. Not just once, either. Mentioned fondly.
It seemed odd to think of Severus Snape as having anyone he considered a friend, let alone Harry's Mum.
maybe this time tomorrow
the rain will cease to follow
and the mist will fade into
one more today
If there was one person Harry wasn't annoyed with not telling him this, it was probably Severus Snape. Harry well knew that would sound odd if he tried to explain it to Ron or Hermione. They'd look at him like he was crazy. It's just - some people wore their hearts on their sleeves. Snape had worn a black hole instead, a great big sign saying "Secrets, Do not wake the sleeping Dragon!" Harry thought, I mean, seriously. The idea that Snape would...
And, abruptly, reality caught up to Harry. Because he suddenly understood that this wasn't just a secret, but a SECRET, and one that Snape the Death Eater probably had a number of reasons to not want to be known.
Shite. Harry was in deep shite.
Harry felt the panic trying to crawl out of his belly and into his brain. It was a familiar feeling, and he hated it.
But, just about now, the feeling was feeding itself, feeding his fear.
Lord Voldemort might hear.
Harry slammed his eyelids shut, and breathed in and out, slowly. He felt the wind on his arms, and thanked his good sense that he'd known to find a good place for this. He clung to the feelings, to the hard stone under his bum, to the wind and the chill, and the shiver he was holding back. Just be there, listening, an open jug filling with sensation.
Safety was solitude. Peace and contentment.
Harry wished he'd brought his Map. He could watch Snape (and Malfoy), and at least somewhat reassure himself that he hadn't... False reassurance. Harry didn't want to cling to lies, so he brought that comforting thought to a cold stop.
Taking another deep breath, Harry opened his eyes again. The fear was still there, but it wasn't growing and filling his thoughts. A sort of trepidation, just on the edge of his senses. That was good, it would keep him sharp.
Harry was going to deal with this, really he was.
Just not right now.
Taking another deep breath, he thought back...
something somewhere out there keeps calling...
Harry's eyes slid shut again, feeling the wind ruffling his perpetually unkempt hair. He imagined his mum ruffling her fingers through his hair. It felt warm, content. Was this what it felt like, to be loved? Harry really wasn't sure. He'd never had a real family, and the Weasleys would say they loved him (except Ron, who'd manage something unbelievably awkward to avoid saying that exact phrase, and then give him a hug that meant the same thing. And the twins would be unbelievably matter-of-fact about it, as if Harry ought to know that like he knew the sky was blue).
There was always a certain restlessness in him, as if the wind itself was tugging his feet along, promising something that he'd find somewhere else. It had to be from growing up with the Dursleys... Still... he hadn't found it at Hogwarts, not for all the friendships in the world. There was a sense of belonging, true, but it was an impersonal one.
In. Out, Harry breathed, stilling himself into thinking, "Mum? Da? Are you watching me? Are you proud of me?"
All he felt was the wind on his hair, the crisp chillness a sharp contrast to the desired warm breath on his cheek.
He'd known his parents in fragments - at first only the light, but he could see the dark too. What he was missing was the in-betweens. He knew how Hermione looked when she was studying furiously - or the look on Ron's face as he concentrated on chess. The small, unimportant things.
Maybe, someday, he could ask.
am i going home?
Hogwarts was the closest thing he'd had to a home, but it wasn't really a home, it was a school. And schools had mean and arbitrary rules just for the doing of it. It wasn't a warm, homey sort of place, even. You didn't even have your own bedroom. And, besides, he'd had too many near-death encounters to feel truly safe here. He opened his eyes, staring into the distance, trying to see a candle burning in a window... Harry's mind queried, Are my parents waiting up for me? Did they leave a light on, just for me? And if I see them, what sort of a story could I even tell? I know Hermione doesn't tell her parents everything - they'd have killed her, for some of the stunts we've pulled. Not that the Dursleys would care.
will i hear someone singing solace to the silent moon?
First year, Harry had loved Astronomy class - it had been the first time he'd seen the moon and stars. He loved the moon most when it was barely a sickle, the moon he'd seen morning and night, as he worked on Aunt Petunia's roses. It had lent a bit of consistency to being at class at midnight. Now, he looked up, wondering if the moon had seen his parents sharing a kiss beneath it. Did it mourn? And if so, what did it mourn? Or did it suffer the pangs of longing? Harry vaguely recalled a myth about that...
zero gravity what's it like?
It was just so easy to disconnect. To say to hell with the world at large, and just float away. The world had wanted him dead for years, and hadn't cared boo about the prophecy, had it? Harry let out a twisted, cackling laugh, like rustling fallen leaves. The world still wanted him dead, if on less of a Very Personal level.
It was a fond thought, just letting go - anywhere but bonnie jolly good England, he could really be Just Harry. He wouldn't, couldn't do it, he knew that, firmly in his belly (well below his heart, that wanted to just float away). No, it was a grande thought, but not one he'd be taking.
I love you, Harry said to the wind, testing the words.
Harry stood on the tower longer than he'd care to admit, as the wind grew colder and stronger. His hands gripped the railing at the edge, and all that echoed through his mind was -
am I alone?
In some sense,he really was. He'd heard a teacher once say that you weer always alone when you went to meet your Maker, and at this very moment well, he felt just as alone. People liked to pray to God, but Harry'd always felt that was a little bit big for your britches. He was thankful, true, to be here. But...
Why was he here?
At some point, answers to questions like that had seemed silly. He'd been a student, and the answer was plain: He was here to learn. But, Harry thought, I'm not just a student anymore, am i? Someone decided to make me into a symbol, entirely without my consent - and when I was far too young to object anyhow.
There was a certain loneliness in that sentiment, along with a sudden understanding. Wizarding Britain had eaten the stories up, because they were afraid. Like he was, right now. Harry'd known for years that fear wasn't the worst thing - it had kept him safe from Dudley loads of times, after all. But, now he was starting to think, pretending you weren't afraid was worse.
Harry didn't want to be alone.
But since when had the universe ever listened to ickle little Harry, smallest in the class? He wanted to blame Dudley, but really couldn't quite bring himself to do it. Dudley had been five or six the first time he'd beat up Harry - that was a time when plenty of kids in school were rough and tumble, and where teachers intervened. It wasn't Dudley's fault the Dursleys had encouraged him.
And, truly, Dudley hadn't ever gone after anyone except Harry.
Not that this would stop Harry from punching Dudley's face in, if he ever got the chance. Sometimes you needed to use a bit of force to make a lesson stick.
Harry shook himself, cross at his own angst. He had friends, teachers who cared, even the Weasleys would look out for him - in mass if needed. All he needed to do was imagine Hermione's smile - and that dogged look on Ron's face. Even Neville and Luna, who'd run off to the Ministry with him.
Allies. Friends.
They might not be the familial bonds he wished, but he insisted, loudly, to that tiny portion of his shuttered mind, that he wasn't alone.
Harry let the wind sing to him, let it tell him strange tales of faraway lands, and through those unseen colors, he heard:
is somebody there beyond
these heavy aching feet
He was a soldier. He'd been in battle more than once. But it wasn't the thrillyfear and battlerage that bore down on him. It was the weight of everyone's expectations - now lessened, but only somewhat.
People didn't see him. They saw The Chosen One. They saw Harry the Hero.
Well, he'd give them what they wanted, and burn the prophecy to boot. But, all in all, it wasn't what he wanted. What he wanted was to have someone, some place to come home to.
To have someone waiting for him, leaving the light on.
He knew his friends would be charging with him into battle - they were Gryffindors, it would be base treachery to consider them doing aught else. And, assuming they won, he'd feel the swell of good cheer and cameraderie, same as anyone else, he figured.
But that wasn't what he wanted.
At the end of it all, when all the battles were won, Harry just wanted a hug.
Harry wanted someone who'd waited, who'd trusted in him enough to take care of himself, at least. Someone who'd cared enough to wait up and worry. He didn't want parents like Molly and Arthur Weasley, who'd run into battle to protect their kids. He wanted parents that were proud of him, proud enough to trust - and worry.
They might not manage to win this war, Harry knew that, sure as his heart still beat. But just as surely, he knew he wasn't going to get what he wanted, either.
still the road keeps on telling me to go on
Harry's feet ached, sure, and sometimes moving forward was hard. He wasn't deluded enough to want to charge into battle, but... you moved, you followed orders. And you hoped that there was something better beyond the next hill. The next objective, the next goal.
Harry's eyes closed. He wanted to remember this feeling of hopefulness, this idea that there will be something waiting, at the end of it all. In and out he breathed, letting the feeling settle into his creaky bones, his weary muscles, everything. Things would get better. They had to.
Harry felt this way, sure as Sunday, even though his gut told him things would get worse before then.
He had to hold onto this feeling, remind himself of it. Because he couldn't quite quelch the picture in his mind, of one of the witches in his DADA class, dead in his arms, tears flowing down his face.
You do what you can, Harry thought with an unexpected surge of determination. That's all. Can't blame yourself for everything, or you won't go on.
something is pulling me i feel the gravity of it all
Somehow, first year, it hadn't seemed to be such a big deal. Of course, it hadn't been a war then either, just a troll. And a disembodied Dark Lord.
Just.
Harry Potter was going to stand, he told himself firmly. No matter what, no matter who died.
Because there were things worth fighting for.
Idly, grimly, whimsically, he conjured one of Hermione's bluebell flames, letting it dance around the Astronomy tower, letting himself grow still as he watched it dance.
He hadn't resolved anything tonight, but somehow he'd abjured depression. If false hope and lies got him through to the endless beyond, well, at least he'd be there.
You know, after the war.
When Harry was done meditating, he left for the Gryffindor common room. It was beyond late, the moon had set, and... Hermione was still awake. Harry saw this with a mental sigh as he stepped into the room. He really didn't need any more shite.
"Sit down, Harry," Hermione said, in a tone that would not brook defiance.
"Okay," Harry said, sitting on the other side of the couch and turning to face his friend. He really just wanted some sleep. Well, that and time to unravel everything he was thinking. Abruptly, the idea that he'd thought of so many things at once that Lord Voldemort had gotten concerned was completely hilarious, so of course he started laughing.
Hermione was not amused. Frowning, she looked at him, looking him over twice. As his laughter died down to short gasps, Hermione said simply, "Maybe we should deal with this in the morning."
Good advice.
/~~~~~~~~/
Harry spent the next day completely focused on class, which was probably a good thing, considering he had Snape's class. Focus was hard to find, true, but once found, he walled himself off, as if he was in his closet again, and the outside world seemed so very far away, and definitely not worth thinking about. Find the exact motion in Transfiguration, the exact word in Charms.
Snape's class, as usual, was livelier than it had any right to be. Harry didn't know another class where the students showed up - and then glanced warily around the room, afraid to even gossip or talk to their neighbor. Snape hadn't pulled that trick yet, but Harry figured it would show up sooner or later. Possibly the day after Easter Sunday, just as a brutal reminder that sleep-deprivation isn't an excuse for letting down your guard.
When Snape strode into the room, Harry and Hermione and Ron looked at him, their bodies wheeling as he went towards the podium, "Portion yourself into groups." He said, and Harry saw the suppressed amusement in Snape's face as the students rapidly tried to calculate what the next groupings would be for. Hermione grabbed Ron and Harry, and - when Harry turned to her questioningly, responded, "At least we'll be in it together." Harry smiled a thanks back at her, and was gladdened, briefly, that she wasn't so mad at him (for whatever it was) that she would deviate from her normal behavior.
Of course, everyone said it was Harry who sulked - and they were right. Harry tended to sulk because he hated hurting people - and he'd rather demolish a metal suit of armor than hurt his friends, even with just words.
Almost without warning - and that was almost, the class had split into four groups. Harry's group had Hermione and Ron, of course, and - oddly enough - Malfoy, Nott and Zambini. Which was all to the good, as Harry really didn't want to try and figure out who was whom (surely they wouldn't be stupid enough to trade in Snape's class?).
Snape nodded crisply, before Harry'd really had time to notice more than most of the Hufflepuffs were together in one of the other groups, "Malfoy's group, to me." The group looked at each other, even as they started following Snape out of the classroom. Idly, Harry thumbed his wand up his sleeve. Then he realized that doing so had encouraged Nott to do the same thing. Harry sent a frustrated glare at the boy, who gave an exasperated smirk back, as if to say What did you expect me to do?
Up they went. Across the school and back again. Harry knew before they were there, that they were headed towards the 7th floor. The room of requirement.
Lovely. That meant Snape had something interesting planned.
The door opened into a green room, and Snape spat, "Line up. You'll be doing this one by one, with special instructions from me before you begin." Now everyone had their wands in their hands (as they were clearly in some sort of classroom.)
"Who's first?" Snape asked, his cruel lips quirking up.
"Me," Ron Weasley said, standing out of the crowd. Snape nodded, and said, "Follow me." Ron and Snape disappeared through a door.
The room was quiet. Quieter than quiet, as everyone tried to think what Snape was doing. Why the four groups? Well, that's what Harry figured everyone was thinking about. Hermione might just be preparing. And Zambini might be trying to find a way to flirt with Su Li, the quiet girl in their midst. Harry was mostly focused on not thinking about anything at all. It was too crowded in here to decompress.
Besides, Harry felt confident that he could take on whatever Snape threw at him.
Su tried to ask something of Nott, who shushed her, saying, "He's listening. Assume he's listening." After that, even Hermione didn't want to ask anything.
/^^^^^^/
Ron stumbled out with his robes half torn - a good swathe of his flank was showing, as was a bloody wound on his shoulder that seeped.
"Next," Snape said, ignoring Hermione's jut of the jaw.
"Hospital wing, Professor Snape?" Hermione spat, quicker than anyone could think to volunteer.
"Not that badly injured, Granger. Take care of your own." Snape executed a short bow, as if to say she was capable of it. "Or let him bleed. I do not care." The room paused a beat to let that sink in.
Then Zambini spoke up. "I'll go calm it down," Zambini said with a fluid smile, white teeth glistening between his dark red lips.
Cockiness was always a choice, Draco Malfoy thought. His instincts were screaming at him to let someone else go. And so he would. He wouldn't be cocky - that could get you killed, if you had a Slytherin for a teacher. Draco wouldn't put it past Snape to let someone die - or as good as. Cancel that, Draco thought crossly, I wouldn't put it past him to deliberately maim some of these idiots. And then call himself a hero for taking them out of the war. Because it wouldn't be Snape without having at least two ulterior motives.
Draco was surprised, however, that Potter hadn't gone first. That he... seemed about as wary as a cat in a room of rocking chairs. In fact... he had some of that wary stillness that...
No, that was truly odd. But Draco needed to keep his mind on the problem - and that was why Ronald Weasley had suddenly developed the ability to keep his knowledge to himself.
"That broke you up good, didn't it?" Draco Malfoy said, swaggering over. Information was as good as gold, at school at least.
Ron smiled, that big goofy warm smile, and said, "Suppose so."
"Did you forget to duck?" Draco Malfoy smirked, his condescension plain on his face.
"Something like that," Ron said. "You'll see in a bit."
"Unless he's doing something different for each person," Nott chimed in.
"Sounds like him, doesn't it?" Zambini gave one of his warm grins. All that was missing was Pansy trying to charm the thoughts right out of Ron's head by making him into her latest boytoy. Draco suddenly found himself wishing time would turn backward... wishing for a lot of things he couldn't have.
"What was it, Ron?" Harry said baldly - the flash of Gryffindor gold slipping straight through the Slytherin silver-and-green. And just as blunt and straightforward.
"Haven't you realized he's not going to tell you?" Su Li asked, the quiet Ravenclaw suddenly splitting the group with the force of her presence. Ravenclaws were like that, liked to be small as a mouse, until you tended to forget they had wings.
"Had to try," Malfoy said simply, "Might've worked anyhow."
"Really?" Su Li asked, cocking her head and trilling a giggle. "You'd have to be twice as subtle as you think you are, to pick up the pieces." Draco Malfoy raised an eyebrow at Li, more curious than disdainful, asking her to continue because he knew that pause. Su Li turned to Ron, and asked, "Truth-sworn, aren't you?"
Ron blinked, and gulped, and then said, slowly, "Yes... but not for this. I could tell you - but you'll!" Ron's face fought to turn purple. "You have to see for yourself!" Ron gave that goofy grin that Draco suddenly (and unexpectedly) wanted to break into a thousand pieces.
"Thanks, Weasel," Draco spat, and strutted off, determined not to show his disappointment. Ron smirked at Draco's disappearing back, as Harry Potter's green eyes flicked rapidly between them.
Zambini exited without saying a word, simply leaning casually against the wall near the door.
"Next?" called Snape, and the room shuffled. Well, most of it, anyway. Nott, Malfoy and Harry Potter were quiet.
"I'll go," Hermione Granger said boldly, and Snape felt the undercurrent of fear that she refused to feed.
Stepping into the next room, Snape led Hermione Granger, "Wands out, do your best, until death do you part."
Foolishly, Hermione Granger sharply looked at Snape, who was busy disappearing into the shadows, so all she saw was his face.
"Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in." Draco Malfoy stood in front of her, "All gone and muddy, little library mouse."
Hermione Granger's eyes seemed to spark, and - clad in darkness, Snape allowed himself a brief smile, "This mouse tires of mazes." As Granger began to speak, she'd begun to cast, and Draco Malfoy seemed to waver a moment, before solidifying again.
"Tricks? An Illusion may I be, yet still I'll make you bleed." Draco Malfoy said smugly, sending out a crackling firespell that Hermione threw up a hasty shield to avoid.
"Oh, you'll have to do harder than that."
"I intend to."
Snape watched the rest of the battle with sharpened eyes. Granger was still pulling her punches, but it was in an odd way. She was avoiding anything that might be illegal. Not Dark, mind, just illegal. The spells she did use, hit center of mass reliably. Moody had trained her well.
Granger tried a bodybind, and Snape nearly cursed with frustration - before seeing the cutting spell that she sent after. Malfoy had rolled away, of course, but it was the thought that count.
Granger finally dealt the final blow, sending him down onto a bed of roses, that she'd transfigured, thorn by rose, throughout the fight... and then splashed a paralytic poison on.
"Every rose has its thorn." Granger said primly, and then turned towards Snape and bowed, "Am I done, sir, or must we wait until he succumbs?"
Snape emerged, eyes flashing, commenting wryly, "You'd be waiting until eternity itself ended."
Hermione Granger's mouth twitched, as if she was afraid to laugh at Snape's wit. Well and good, it would be good if she could learn to be a little more a mouse and less a lion.
"Not a word to anyone." Snape said sternly.
"Of course not sir," Hermione Granger said, putting every inch of "I Don't Cheat on Tests" into her voice, belying the wanton child she really was.
Harry didn't even wait until Snape called the next person. "And?" he said, rushing over to Hermione.
"And nothing," Hermione Granger said primly. Ron was chuckling somewhere being Harry.
Goyle had seemingly materialized out of nowhere, and was heading into the other room.
Harry felt the burn of curiosity, wanting to peek over Goyle's shoulder (a hopeless task, Harry was over a head shorter than Goyle).
Goyle came out sporting enough small wounds that three of the Slytherins were casting on him just as soon as he came out. Of course, he also sported a goofy grin. "Why do you always do this?" Malfoy hissed, low enough that had Harry not been close, he wouldn't have heard at all. Goyle just shrugged.
Su Li stepped in next, and came out speaking in tongues. Snape, merciful Snape, said merely, "It will wear off before the end of class." And then Nott stepped through the door.
That left Harry and Malfoy, exchanging awkward looks.
"Duel for it?" Malfoy asked, smirking a crooked grin.
"In class? And without supervision?" Harry said, noting that the Slytherins were already forming a ring around them.
"Scared?" Malfoy boldly sneered.
"As if!" Harry said, smirking. "You know, I've learned a few things about duels since the last time you challenged me to one." Draco Malfoy smirked, and Harry could tell he was remembering that petty victory with pride. "For one thing, I've learned that the challenged gets to set the challenge."
Harry Potter closed his eyes, and asked the Room very, very nicely. He required two large circles of wood.
"Here you go," Harry said, passing Malfoy one of the beech circles.
"What?" Malfoy asked quietly, hating to be put on the spot.
"Oh. Forgot you don't know how." Harry said, "Hermione, will you demonstrate?"
Hermione gave one of her startlingly fiery grins, "Gladly," she said, seizing the circle out of his hand. With a careful flickup of the wrist, she swung the circle over her head, and around her waist.
And then she gave the hoop a whirl, and started to shake her hips. In a way, it looked like she was defying gravity, holding a hoop up with just the sway of her hips. Harry's careful eye glanced at Malfoy, who seemed a bit more interested in her hips than the hoop.
"Are we clear?" Hermione said brightly, grabbing the hoop and handing it off to Harry.
"Ten paces?" Malfoy asked, smirking.
"This isn't that kind of challenge." Harry said sternly. "Whoever's hoop hits the floor first is the loser. And has to go in first."
"Who'll start the count?" Malfoy asked, and before a skirmish could break out-
Su Li responded, "I shall." To the startled looks of practically everyone around her, "I wouldn't trust the rest of you to remember all the numbers."
People laughed, and she began to count.
Harry closed his eyes, for just a moment, and at the "Go!" they flew open. He was watching the hoop, timing his rhythm. In fact, he was watching himself so closely, that he didn't notice the door open.
Unfortunately for Malfoy, he had noticed the door opening, and at the dark scowl on Snape's face, had entirely forgotten to dance.
Snape sneered at both of them, and then stated simply, "Goofing around will not be tolerated in my class. Who's next."
"That would be me, sir," Draco Malfoy said, doing his best smarmy courtesy - which, as Malfoy wasn't a terribly respectful person, always seemed entirely faked to Harry.
Snape exited the room with Draco Malfoy, his grumbling voice audible to the entire room as he groused, "I turn my back on you for one second..."
Then the door was closed, and Harry Potter was the only one in the room who didn't know what was going on. "Oh, come on! Tell me!" he wanted to say, but the resolute looks on everyone's face...
Harry had a sudden idea, throwing an arm around Su Li's shoulders, "Su, su, su - what's Snape up to?"
Su blushed, which was a pretty look on her wheat-colored skin. "I can't tell you..."
Harry spun around the room, generally making a pest of himself. Of course, since no one had anything better to do (other than Hermione, who'd started on History Homework), they wound up watching him.
"Take the gloves off," Snape snarled, stepping back into the shadows. Draco Malfoy saw ... Harry Potter appear in the light mist in front of him.
Harry hollered, "Expe-"
Draco elected not to listen to the rest of that, rolling his way out of the line of the spell. Not seeing any cover, Draco started making some, transfiguring rocks and bushes out of the ground beneath them.
Potter wasn't trying to hide, he was casting, over and over again - cutting curse, Bombarda (that hurt, the rocks exploded, sending rocky shrapnel into Draco's leg).
Behind a rock, Draco cast the stinging hex, watching Potter dodge.
"Is that all you got, Drakey-boy?" 'Potter' called, and Draco Malfoy rapidly started to reevaluate. This clearly wasn't Potter, he wasn't clever enough to come up with that nickname, and wouldn't bother using a nickname someone else had come up with.
"Flippendo," Draco Malfoy tried, and then, in a split second, transfigured two mirrors flanking 'Potter'.
"Avada Kedavra," Draco Malfoy cast, the green curse rebounding from one mirror to the other, hitting Potter on the third bounce, when he was in the middle of jousting with Malfoy about his lack of aim.
"Well done," Snape said softly, and Draco wondered if he'd imagined the cast of disappointment on his face. Probably not. He'd known Snape since he was very young, after all.
No one else had cottoned on, Harry was Pretty Sure. He was actually feeling a bit nervous, but he hated feeling nervous, so he was taking it out by trying to wheedle information out of everyone. By the time Snape and Malfoy had come back, Ron was laughing, Hermione had hexed him (lightly!), Su Li was bright red, and Zambini was winking at him (Uh..?).
"My turn!" Harry said brightly, drawing his wand.
Snape nodded genteely, and turned around, holding the door open so that Potter could enter first. "Where is your wand, Potter?" Snape snapped, "Don't hold back."
With gritted teeth, Harry gave a grim nod. He says to not hold back, but in nearly the same breath, use my wand.
Hermione Granger, her bright eyes fierce, faded into view, the fog blowing away. Hermione's good at long range spells, Harry thought, but her accuracy is unparalleled.
Harry stepped to the side, casting a duplication spell. With this flat ground, the duplicates would seem to act just the same as Harry. It would look odd if they ran through rocks or trees, but here...
"Try again," Hermione smirked, circular stones appearing all around her.
Shite, Harry thought, this was getting bad fast. Snape was right - it was time to cheat.
Harry didn't cast a spell with his wand, instead, he leapt forward, desperate to close the distance. Hermione wasn't as strong as he was, physically, and she had all the advantages if he kept his distance.
So he charged, but not like a bull. No, he leapt like a jackrabbit, left and then right. But he used a thin tendril of magic, to balance his feet and send him just a bit farther, just a bit less far. Jigging it, so he was harder to hit, and, using it just enough to circle around Hermione a bit. Hermione sent stinging hex after stinging hex at him, and as he slid to a jerky halt, Harry cast a full protego.
And then Harry jumped, taking his ball down on top of Hermione Granger, crumpling her underneath it. Efficiently, he cast a full body bind, and then wrapped an arm around her jugular.
"I win. Call it." Harry said, not wanting Hermione to lose consciousness.
"The fight's done," Snape acknowledged, as was typical, avoiding mentioning who'd won, even though it was bloody obvious.
Harry'd take it as a win that Snape wasn't rebuking him for his use of wandless, wordless magic.
Snape strode out of the auxilliary room, saying, "I trust you can refrain from any... competitions until I get back?" Without waiting for a response, Snape strode out of the room.
Malfoy, with that smarmy grin, remarked, "I didn't realize Muggles knew how to hoopdance."
Harry must have given it away with his face, because suddenly Ron was laughing, "Oh! He thought that was just a Muggle thing!"
And suddenly the whole room was laughing.
"A galleon this is to teach us how to murder each other," Harry said, smiling mirthlessly. Snape's class had been enough to distract him from things he Wasn't To Think About until later in the evening; but, Harry hated the standing about.
"Bit steep for betting, isn't it, Harry?" Ron asked, and they both knew that he didn't have a galleon to spare.
"Oh, that's not the opening bid. You can bid a knut for all I care. Whoever's right wins the pot." Harry said.
Draco Malfoy said, "Five galleons on reaction time."
Hermione Granger said, "A sickle on offense makes the best defense."
"So unconfident, are you?" Malfoy sneered.
"No. It's what's in my pocket right now, and I suspect we'll want the pool handled as soon as possible."
Nott snorted, "As if we're going to be paying up while Snape's watching us. Ten galleons on trying to get us to kill each other." Around him, plenty of people exchanged glances. Harry could see the glances, but wasn't quite sure what they meant.
"A knut on how to bleed," Ron said, smiling that goofy grin.
Goyle, for once covering for Ron's poverty, said, "Another on how not to bleed. You always did like hard knocks, Weasel." Ron gave a good-humored smile back at Goyle.
Su Li for her part looked lost, sniffing out a "I don't believe you're betting on lessons..."
"Why shouldn't we?" Harry said, "Snape means for us to be thinking, and this just means we'll think better for the stakes."
Harry smirked as the rest of Snape's class (the entire year of students) filed quietly into the Room. Unnaturally so. Apparently there was nothing so quiet as students trying to avoid Snape's wrath. Were it any other teacher, the students would be whispering to each other, or giggling, or even elbowing each other.
Snape must have done something, Harry thought, but he rather thought it was Snape's personality and scowls that had everyone so quiet.
Luckily, they had stopped taking bets moments before Snape had walked thorough the door. Zambini, the last to bet, seemed to be trying to turn pale, which, given his dark skin, would have been quite the miracle.
Harry blinked as Snape entered the room. The room itself seemed to waver, and then seats sprang up all around them. "Sit down," Snape growled, and everyone hopped to a seat. The way the room was situated, the quarter of the students who had been here first were seated in the back.
"Who wants to go first?" Snape asked, his tone sharp. It was as if he wanted to ask for a fool - who would volunteer to go first, carte blanche? Not knowing a damn thing about what Snape was about to ask for? Arrogance or sheer stupidity.
Or, in this case, a combination of both. Zach Smith stood up and said, "I'll go first, if no one else wants it." At least he had some understanding of what he was diving into, Harry thought with a grin.
"A Running Report, if you will." Snape said, casually - no, smugly, leaning against the wall. And he started the projector. Harry had no idea how this worked, still, but it allowed the entire room to see a magical movie.
Draco Malfoy, in living color - well, as much as you expected from the albino at least - appeared on the screen. Snape, in his usual intimidating fashion, said, "Take no prisoners." and then promptly faded into the surrounding darkness.
The camera zoomed out, and showed, from behind Draco, Harry Potter emerging in front of Draco. Draco barred his teeth in a snarl, and immediately shot out an Avada Kedavra, rolling even as he cast it. The Harry Potter dodged it neatly, but the second Avada Kedavra, brilliant emerald green like his eyes, hit him straight. He fell to the ground, unmoving.
"Too offensive. Perhaps appropriate for the assignment. But you can't expect to win by simply using your most powerful spells either. You win, first and foremost, by not losing. Malfoy left himself too open, as did Potter in this one." Zach looked at Snape, and said, officiously, "Next."
Snape sneered back, but continued.
Theo Nott was the next person on screen, and this was more of a fight. Pansy parkinson stood there, well, for a moment, at least. Then she was wind, light and agile - her spells quick and cutting.
Theo... Theo didn't shield. He ducked, and then sent a spell through a stone. How did that not bounce? Harry thought, and then frowned. Something... something wasn't right here. Harry's eyes ran across the crowd, looking to see if anyone else was... bothered by this. No one looked bothered, Harry had to admit, though honesty with the Slytherins, he'd have been surprised if they'd looked bothered.
Zach said simply, "Immobilization might have worked better, or..."
"Tar," Harry whispered, not meaning to overrun Zach's contribution.
"Potter," Snape snapped, "is there something you which to share with the class?"
"Tar," Harry said, just barely catching himself from saying sir. He really couldn't say whether it was a bad sign or a good one that calling Snape sir was becoming automatic. "Something sticky to immobilize - and tricky to dodge. Hot if possible, would burn quite nicely. And it doesn't wash off."
From off to his right, and nearly behind him, Lavender and Parvati were raising their eyebrows at each other. Harry noticed, turning towards them and saying, "It's war. All the way means hit 'em as hard as you can. And an Avada Kedavra isn't any good if you can't hit them."
"Continue," Snape said, which - coming from him, mind,- was high praise. Nothing to correct, at least.
Goyle was up next, and it was almost as if he'd forgotten his wand. Hagrid was his opponent, and from the instant Goyle decided to bum rush Hagrid, Harry had understood why it had to be Hagrid. Imagine if Snape had let him bumrush pretty little Tracey Davis. That was just not on. Hagrid was casting slicing hexes but Goyle let them hit him, choosing to sacrifice some blood to clobber Hagrid like a giant's fist. Goyle took Hagrid down with him, Hagrid, however, just laughed, rolling onto Goyle, who wasn't resisting. And then Harry saw the rock, his breath pausing as Goyle slammed it into Hagrid's face again and again.
"Stupid, brainless imbecile." Draco Malfoy muttered, and Harry belatedly realized that Malfoy wanted to be overheard. Goyle was better than that with spells.
"Crude, but effective," Zach said at last, the violence having made him pale. "Still, quicker would work a lot better. Never can tell when someone's got a partner."
Snape's dark eyes flickered across the room, staring at the odd person in the crowd. Harry nodded silently, Snape's actions confirming his conclusion.
Zach continued to plough on, but Harry's mind wasn't on Zach. Or, for that matter, on the screen, nevermind that Harry realized he might pay for that later. Trust Snape to expect everyone to not only have eyes in the back of their heads, but to be able to see out of them too! Harry was concentrating on the small motions, on those little movements you don't realize you're making.
Someone else knew. He wasn't the first. Slytherins on screen, Harry thought, They've got to know. Harry's bright eyes turned to the Slytherin contingent. Oh they knew better than to gather together. Like snakes, they each sought their own den, twining together with a friend or two. Potter's eyes found Crabbe, and he wondered if he knew. Harry focused on him, for lack of a better word, as Zambini showed his face on screen. Harry nodded, gently considering... I think he knows.
The Slytherin girls didn't look like they knew... although Pansy seemed to feel that something was wrong. She had that look of a deaf dog, knowing that everyone else was hearing something really interesting, and yet unable to hear. Were she really a dog, she'd be waggling her tail to get someone, anyone to tell her the news.
Hermione hadn't noticed a thing, not that it was surprising, with how many notes she was taking. Harry didn't envy her the revising...
Oh, Joy, Gryffindor Time, Harry thought dryly. Oddly enough, it wasn't him first - it was Ron, using some of those oddball skills he'd learned over the summer. Flip chop dice, break. It seemed like he'd just been learning his Mum's kitchen spells! Harry wanted to sputter in laughter at the thought. His mood swiftly darkened, as he viciously thought, Oh, sure, I'm not allowed to use what I've learnt, but Ron's allowed to!
Harry let the rage fade back into the shadows of his mind (the back of his mind was getting kinda crowded, but he'd deal with that later). He needed to be sharp here. Su Li caught it next, her fingertips to her lips as her eyes shone with that truth-devouring grin that Hermione often grew on her own face. Ravenclaws, Harry thought with wry amusement.
Then it was Hermione Granger's own time on screen, her spells - as expected - as obscure and twisted as you could imagine. The first spell she cast twisted the Pansy-like figure out of sorts, becoming a gumby as her limbs refused to bend, and instead stretched as she tried to cast a spell. Without the proper arms, the gestures failed entirely. Hermione's wand balled the wailing Pansy up into a ball and shoved it into a very familiar glass jar. "Am I done here, Professor?"
But that wasn't the important, nor interesting part of the scene. Harry Potter was avidly watching Hermione Granger. She'd actually dropped her quill, sending spatters of ink over her desk (the only one in the room - considerate of Snape? surely you jest. Bet he'll get a kick out of her rewriting those notes, though!) Then she leaned forward, analyzing the fight. On the edge of her seat, even.
Harry appeared on screen, and, unlike most of the others, his style focused more on evasion. Harry spent minutes, diving, twisting, springing upright to cast a hex, somersaulting. It would have been a masterclass on evasion, Harry thought wryly. Eventually, Harry ended it, by popping up behind a suspiciously tombstone looking rock, and using Expelliarmus and then a Hold Person charm that wrapped the Malfoy in ropes.
"That took you how long, Potter?" Malfoy drawled, the scorn light on his tongue. The other Slytherins laughed - particularly Pansy, who had a surprisingly grating bark-like laugh. It sounded like the whole room was echoing with laughter.
Harry generally considered himself an even-tempered person. He didn't get upset when people made fun of his mistakes. But these - these weren't his. They were Snape, deliberately making fun of him. Harry backed towards a wall, less for the security than to evade people's scornful looks. Harry wasn't trying for it, but he caught a glimpse of Snape's bright eyes, and that smug smirk he wore on his face. He knew I'd be upset, the bastard!
Seamus showed up on screen next, and now it was Dean's turn to frown, choosing, ultimately not to ask why Seamus was wielding fire with his usual reckless abandon - and mixing it with gouts of water, making steam. Seamus took down the Dean-alike with a clout to the head.
Harry hadn't really been looking at any of that, however. He'd been breathing hard, and looking down at his feet. Hermione had paused her writing, looking at him in concern, when Ron gave a slow shake of his head, warning her off. Harry, of course, hadn't noticed this either.
He'd been busy picturing his anger as a pulsing heart, with him inside it, choked off from everything. Harry concentrated on his breathing, as other students appeared on the screen. He was not going to lose control. He just wasn't. Of course, the ribbon of fear that Voldemort might hear threatened to wrap around his neck and strangle him. In. Out. He breathed, concentrating more on the exact placement of his lungs, his gut, his spine. Letting everything fall away.
Around him, the silence grew even as he struggled with his temper. His curiosity started to get the better of his anger. He wanted to see who had figured it out. He wanted ot know who had decided to be silent.
With one long, slow breath he opened his eyes. Su Li was on screen, performing some sort of spell that seemed half made out of interpretive dance. She was lithe and graceful, and her spell, once cast, blew the target dummy to flinders and shrapnel.
Oddly enough, it was Padma who spoke up. "Su Li doesn't know that spell! That spell's private, and isn't- Who is casting that?!" She sputtered.
"A very good question," Snape said, stalking up from behind Padma, as if he'd known who would speak up from the beginning. "Theories?"
"You've already shown that this room is capable of producing copies of people," Draco Malfoy said, "Who's to say any of this is real?"
"Magic must have a source, and spells can't be cast by inanimate objects." Hermione Granger countered.
Harry blinked, starting to get concerned. He had thought they were just practice dummies, albeit very, very good ones. Had someone actually been ... dissolved? Exploded? Squished into a bouncy ball?
Harry felt his hair start to prickle...
Slowly, Harry turned around, trying to make it look like he was just looking at the Ravenclawish folks vying for an answer. Even Susan Bones was chiming in. Snape just leaned back, smirking, letting the class have it as a discussion. Well, it certainly was lively.
There was something Harry was missing... that was what his senses were telling him. He'd turned completely around, surveyed the entire room, and yet, there wasn't anything! Closing his eyes, he concentrated on hearing, albeit with the additional difficulty of three different shrill arguments going on at once. Now that was an odd thought - Snape, perhaps the quietest teacher in the school, the grim Potions Master who demanded perfect silence so as to not interrupt others' brewing... Liked the conflicting, tussling arguments that were raging through his classroom. Blinking, Harry realized that, as a teacher, he'd have liked it too. The kids were not just participating, they were enjoying developing ideas. All wrong of course, Harry thought with an inner smile that he didn't let show.
"That is enough, class." Snape said, his soft low voice cutting through Hermione's hollering and Draco's curt barks. "Nine out of ten conversationalists completely missed t he idea that the spells didn't have to come from the Dummy." The Ravenclaws were showing signs of distress, and Harry swore he saw Theo Nott nearly break a quill. "I stood behind, casting the spells as needed." Snape didn't smile, so much as his lips thinned. "Your attention was on your classmate, anyway. Part of the point of a critique." Snape paused, for a moment and then asked offhandedly, as if he didn't know the answer, "Now who were you watching?"
Apparently the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had had quite enough of the focus of the room being on the other two houses, as they struck up a spirited debate. Glamours, Polyjuice, even notice-me-not spells were mentioned. Not to mention Ernie had dredged up ideas about artifacts, goblin-made or otherwise. Snape let the shouting match, happy-go-lucky though it was, continue for a spate of time.
Eventually, however, he had had enough, "Who?" He asked, his harsh tone cutting through the din.
The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs looked at each other. Susan Bones shrugged, and posited, "Professor McGonagall with Human Transfiguration."
"If only I was so predictable," Snape said in a sarcastic drawl.
Slowly, Hermione Granger's hand rose, from her position on the floor, with a quill and a Punnet Square. "The other Defense Professor. She's the only one with a free period."
"Very good, 5 points to Hufflepuff." Severus Snape said, and before anyone except Ron Weasley's jaw could drop, Professor Tonks began to change, turning into her normal form - with black and yellow striped hair.
Harry Potter started to swear, but he kept it from reaching his lips. How had she managed to do that, in the middle of class - undetected, switch out for Hermione, of all people. At least he'd been right to look around. Probably a disillusionment spell, he thought with some chagrin.
"Since you were all focused on your classmates, I could afford a bit of dissonance between spells cast and motions of the practice dummy," Snape said smugly. "Your assignment, should it not be obvious, is to record as many interesting bits of information about yourself, as others don't know. Write a few lists - one that only your best friend should know - at least 25 on there. Write at least ten that your house knows, and others do not. And Three that could be used by whichever side of the war you happen to be on."
Harry's eyes had quickly left Snape's, and were looking at everyone else. Surprisingly, people seemed okay with the assignment - even the Slytherins, who loved keeping secrets. Of course, Harry thought, it helped that they thought he was on their side.
Hannah Abbot spoke up, "Then what was the point of the specific spells and techniques demonstrated, sir?"
Snape smirked, and said simply, "Not one of those I selected passed the assignment. As shown before the class, this is what you should aspire to. It is quite one thing for me to demonstrate a curse. Another when you see your own skin, flesh and bone executing it perfectly."
Snape had made Harry look like a perfect idiot. Harry's hands had curled into fists, and he nearly stormed out of the classroom as Snape dismissed the class. Unbeknownst to him, Snape's black eyes followed him, with just a trace of a frown.