Harry was storming off to Transfiguration - not having time after Snape's class was an unfortunate consequence of him devouring all the classtimes for all four Houses. As he crashed down the stairs, his footsteps booming like a giant's, He heard an odd chirping noise from... above him?
Harry looked up, easily spotting Luna Lovegood. "Luna?" He asked, erasing the what the hell are you doing up there?
"Harry! Your wrackspurts are forming a hideous horde!" Luna said, for once seeming scared.
"Oh, really?" Harry asked dryly. "I'd never have guessed."
Luna patted the stone beside her (her feet were dangling off the oddly jutting bit of stone... balcony, you might say. "Come up here with me!"
Harry shook his head, smiling indulgently, "I've got Transfiguration next, and Professor McGonagall doesn't like people being late."
"Not today." Luna said, smiling, "Today, you'll do better with me."
Harry paused, thought about it - specifically, at how angry he was, and how much that interfered with him concentrating. "You're right, Luna, just hang on."
As he turned around and rushed up the steps to the level which Luna was on, he felt curious - what/why had Luna asked for him? Was it to study the wrackspurts - whatever they were?
Hermione saw him coming, and groused, "You've got transfiguration next, Harry - McGnagall hates it when anyone's late."
Luna said, loudly, from above, "Refer to Section 4, paragraph 92, line 3."
Hermione turned her head upwards looking at Luna with wide eyes. Eventually she finished her recall search, saying, "Luna! I should have known." With a chagrined smile, she looked at Harry and said, "Have fun!"
Harry was amused, himself, at the ability of Luna Lovegood to work miracles. Anyone who could manage to get Hermione to allow him to skip class? Miracle worker!
Harry darted through the crowd, now that he was no longer completely lost to fury, it refused to part for him on instinct. When he scrambled off the stairwell onto the fifth floor, he started searching for the path that would lead to Luna's airy balcony. It was difficult to find - more than five minutes searching, and he'd know where it was, too!
Luna started as she saw him, and Harry would have worried she'd have fallen, if it wasn't Luna Lovegood, Resident Miracle Worker. Luna would probably just fly. "Oh! we aren't going to stay here. As the sun's up, let's try the top of the Astronomy Tower."
Harry would have said something about Luna burning, but she kept a pretty brutal pace, and he nearly had to jog to keep up.
Luna twirled when she got out in the sun, giggling a bit. Harry watched her, a small smile on his face. Luna was always so carefree, even when people had been bullying her, she'd risen above it, like a balloon. And sure, they'd probably tied knots in her string, but it was almost as if she hadn't cared. Harry himself strode out into the sunlight, looking up at the sun for a moment, before looking out at the Forbidden Forest.
"Do you ever think you're a fly, trapped in a spider web? Struggling and struggling and unable to win free?" Luna asked.
"No," Harry said, looking out. "Worse comes to worse, I can always just fly away." It was almost even true. He wasn't the Chosen One anymore, right? That had to be good for something!
Luna was also staring out at the Forbidden Forest, as she asked, "Then why do you act like you are?"
Harry stood there silent, for a while, trying to think about what she'd said. Truly, he'd have a hard time explaining why he got so angry. Ron got angry, and shouted and yelled, but somehow with him it was different. The next day, it was as if the anger hadn't been.
Finally, after a long time, he said softly, "I don't know, Luna."
She turned to him, giving him a kind smile, "Well, that's good at least. Knowing what you don't know is the first step to finding the answers."
"I know, Luna." Harry responded, with a genuine smile.
"I know what I think." Luna said softly, "I think you let every emotion you have hit you like an olyphant." Harry didn't need a dictionary to remember what those were, big trunked things with floppy ears, bigger than a dragon's body.
"You're right," Harry said smoothly. Luna, even when she was sad, always seemed to float over everything. Harry envied her that trait. There were numerous times when he hadn't wanted to care nearly as much as he did.
"You need to stop, Harry." Luna said, facing him fully. "You were pushing people around on a staircase. Someone might have gotten hurt! You know the firsties don't know which stairs are tricky yet."
"I'd like to," Harry said, wondering if those were thestrals out between the trees. "But I don't know how."
"Here," Luna said, holding a five petalled flower on a chain.
"What's this?" Harry asked.
"It's a synecdoche." Luna said with a soft smile, "If you look at it, you can monitor your emotions."
"And if someone else sees it?" Harry asked.
"Then they can help too! But you've got to wear it for it to work."
"Can it be anything, Luna? I don't like pink flowers..."
"Any flower would do, Harry - some other things, but they need to be separable, like flower petals."
"How about a Lily?" Harry asked.
Luna nodded emphatically. "That's perfect!" Luna then looked as stern as Luna could, saying, "Harry, you can't tell anyone I gave this to you."
"What, because they'll think I'm daft?" Harry smiled to take the sting out.
"I'm not supposed to have it, not really. It's just it asked so sweetly..." Luna smiled, "And I knew it could help..."
"No problem, then," Harry said with a broad smile, "I'll just tell everyone my Mum left it to me."
"I think you should meditate before you go to your next class," Luna said.
"I'm sorry for taking you from class, Luna." Harry said softly.
Luna smiled brightly, "Flitwick wants to Teach Us Properly how to create artifacts. He won't even let me show my way, and it's faster and better too!"
Harry mumbled agreement with Luna's logic.
Luna continued, "So I really have to thank you for keeping me out of class!"
After five and some years at Hogwarts, Harry still wasn't used to getting gifts. He absently tugged at the lily as he headed down for lunch. He wished that classes were less long than they were, because by the end of most classes, Harry was already getting bored with concentrating on anything. That had been the case for every single class last year, and this year, only Defense was generally ... interesting. Harry'd say fun, but he was concerned that if he even thought it, Snape'd change the curriculum just for spite.
Hermione and Ron made room between them for him, Ron with a "Hey, mate!" and Hermione with, well, a look. Harry just looked solidly at her, and nodded back. All clear.
Neville, of course, looked up and paused at the lily, "Harry, what's that?"
Harry shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal out of it, "Just something my mother used to wear." Oddity resolved, the Gryffindors went back to eating.
Up at the High Table, Minerva McGonagall had a pinched look on her face, as she turned to Severus Snape, whom she'd sat beside. Snape ought to have known that it was trouble, because she never sat beside him willingly. If he wanted to speak to her, he had to move to where she was, taking the initiative but losing the ability to reject the conversation.
Minerva put together a cucumber and cream sandwich, before looking up at him. He knew she was doing it just to bother him. "What is it, Minnie?" Snape snapped.
Minerva looked up, saying mildly, "That's the first time in years you've called me that."
"This is the first time in years you've willingly sat beside me. Do I smell?" Snape said.
"Always. Generally of cloudberry and oak, occasionally of bubotuber pus when you can't find a student to haul into detention," Minerva said.
Snape smirked because she was dead on target. "You know me well."
Minerva smirked at that, "Yes, but I do have to inquire as to what in blazes you did in class today."
"Only the usual," Snape said with a smirk, "Tried to bash two childrens' heads into their desks for the temerity of not paying attention to volatile cauldrons." Snape said wryly, the sarcasm dripping off his tongue, "They were in love."
Minerva chuckled, "Oh, to be children again."
"No, nay, never." Snape said, in that particular cadence.
"Will I play the wild rover..." Minerva finished, smiling happily. Referencing Scottish heritage was always a way to soften the old battleax up. Minerva took a gulp of her pumpkin juice (Snape thought it was probably too early for her to be spiking it with spirits, more's the pity). "So you don't know of any reason why Harry Potter wasn't in my class today?"
"No," Snape said dourly, "But I suspect I will know, soon enough."
"Ah, Severus," Minerva said crisply, "Are we perhaps regretting dropping the Irritable and Ascerbic Potions Master guise?"
"Never," Snape said, taking a good swallow of his port. It was, perhaps, a bit early for indulging.
Harry went to Herbology next, and was glad to sink into the fight against the noxious (and toxic) weeds that were encircling the Devil's Snare. It was a difficult assignment, as you had to spray doxyvenom on the weeds, while defending yourself against the cantankerous Devil's Snare with fire. Better yet, it was engrossing. If Aunt Petunia's garden had been like this, Harry thought with a grin, he'd have willingly weeded!
Dinner was one of those uncertain times, when Harry's mind turned to what was next - in this case Defense Study Session - whatever Zach was calling it this year. One of the Slytherins was supposed to be teaching, and Harry absently hoped it would be Goyle. They'd not done nearly what the DADA classes were supposed to do with magical creatures. Of course, that was because it was difficult to get a Hippogriff into the castle without questions. Maybe Goyle was better with notice-me-not charms? Or, knowing him, he'd just unleash a herd of crups, and chase the one that went up towards the 7th floor. When asked later, he'd simply say, "Didn't think they'd run off like that." Harry well knew there were times when being thought stupid was a good, lifesaving thing. He'd done it all the time at the Dursleys.
After dinner, Snape laid out a sobering potion, and three bottles of foxwine. It had always been his drink of choice when composing - and often enough when writing monographs. He couldn't use it while mixing potions, of course, but while brainstorming, it always inspired him.
To hell with the glasses, Snape thought, laying down the parchment and starting to write. I need this done quick, I've got homework to grade. Snape's mouth flicked up into a strange semblance of a smile at that.
Harry got to the Room earlier that expected, finding Draco Malfoy trying, unsuccessfully, to assert to Hermione Granger that yes, he had studied enough. Draco shot Harry a harried look, as if to say, Can you deal with This?
Harry Potter shut the door carefully, and then slowly strolled over, all the while listening to the unending questions that Hermione Granger was putting to Draco Malfoy. Unending in that she wasn't stopping for breath - let alone giving him time enough to answer. Hermione was nervous - nervous about Draco Malfoy's ability to teach. While, in principle, that was a good thing, it really, really wasn't helping.
Harry put a hand on Hermione's shoulder, causing her to jump and squeak. (He was quietly glad that Malfoy hadn't taken the opportunity to ogle Hermione's breasts). "Breathe, Hermione," Harry said, grinning.
"The answer's yes," Draco's drawl put in.
"To which question?" Hermione asked, as if she didn't realize how insane it was to ask twenty and then expect an answer to each.
"All of them." Draco Malfoy said. "Start stretching," He said coldly.
Harry smirked, "Dance practice today?"
"No, more's the pity," Draco Malfoy drawled back, stretching himself out. "Be a pleasure to watch you get cursed by your partner." Draco's silver eyes met Harry's with a look of wicked amusement, "Again."
Harry snorted, and got down to stretching too. As he did, he watched other people entering. Ron pretended to look upset, but Harry was pretty sure No One was fooled. Ron's anger was legendary, known up to the eagles and down to the snakes.
After most people had entered, and mimicked the three of them off in a corner, Harry asked, "Where is Goyle?"
"Greg's running interference." Draco Malfoy's drawl was audible across the room, "So we can have this meeting today. Thank him next time, will ya?" Harry heard that as "I'll be doing it next time," which was undoubtedly what Malfoy meant, though of course, you never could really tell with a Slytherin.
Draco Malfoy had selected what seemed to be one of the most boring bits of the books Hermione had taken (Harry'd had a peek at them a couple of times, there were way more interesting things to be practicing.). Here, Draco Malfoy was having them practice reading their opponent, and casting the correct counter or shield. The twist was that the Cruciatus curse and Avada Kedavra were being mimicked by similar looking spells.
It was a game of last man standing, and Harry had intended to win, before getting hit in the back by Neville Longbottom, who'd blushed, and said, "Sorry! I missed!" Not that it really mattered, Harry thought. He didn't need to win at everything. Really, he insisted to himself.
No one had killed Draco Malfoy. Or punched him hard enough to break his nose. Harry was rather surprised. Oh, he'd been sure Ron wouldn't do it - Ron was a good kid, underneath all the anger management issues. And he knew enough chess to know when a game was being played. But Zach? Heck, even Luna was a possibility. And Harry well knew Malfoy's ability to get under his skin.
Harry was about to storm up to the Astronomy Tower, cast a notice-me-not spell, and get to glowering over the fragmented state of his mind. Meditation, that was the ticket, he was suddenly sure. Harry was so busy moving, that he didn't notice Hermione until he nearly knocked her over. As it was, he had her two feet closer to the door than when she started. "Harry!" she yelled. "Earth to Harry?!"
Harry caught Malfoy looking curiously at this exchange, avidly almost.* "Um. What?" Harry said, tilting his head just enough to indicate that Malfoy was still here and listening.
"I need to talk with you, Mister." Hermione said firmly, and Harry's heart sunk.
"What about?" Harry asked, opting for innocence.
"Oh, you know what about, Mister," Hermione said, grabbing him by the arm and tugging him out the door. Behind him, Harry swore he saw the ghost of a smirk on Malfoy's face.
Hermione pulled him into the first alcove she saw, casting privacy spells without waving her wand. "I'm impressed." Harry said quietly.
"You're getting a dressing down. It's not supposed to be public." Hermione said, and Harry thought Little late for that, Malfoy saw.
"What for?" Harry asked, still trying for innocence, though what he was really feeling was confusion.
"You got Neville to ask me to the dance!" Hermione said, her hands on her hips, as she was leaning within inches of his face. Harry quailed, internally, and thought that if she was just a bit more angry, she'd have sparks flying about her hair.
"...Yeah?" Harry said his confusion showing.
"Mister Harry James Potter, if you want to do something nice for me, don't you DARE do it behind my back." Hermione growled.
Harry gulped convulsively, "I"m sorry," He looked briefly pained, and then said, "Did you not want someone to go with?"
Hermione snapped back, "Not the point, Mister In the Doghouse. Ask first. Don't assume you know what I want to do."
Harry nodded, eyes wide. "I'm sorry Hermione."
Hermione smiled, and it was blinding - of course, that might have been her pearly whites, so close to his face - "Learn from it. And yes, I am quite happy to go to the dance with Neville."
Hermione left, and Harry leaned back against the wall, thinking, Women are scary. Or maybe that's just Hermione.
Have you ever felt so angry at so many different people, that you weren't quite sure where to start?
Harry Potter was having that sort of a day, and he credited his magic to keeping the slobbering* girls off his back. He knew if one of them had tried to convince him to ask her out - girls and their games, he'd have gone ballistic. Or, knowing his magic, possibly made her go ballistic.
It didn't matter, Harry thought as he rested, laid down really, on top of the Astronomy Tower. It didn't. Didn't make him less angry though. So he closed his eyes and listened to the wind.
He let his mind leap with the wayward wind, drawing forth fanciful thoughts as he imagined he could smell jasmine on the breeze. A foolish thought, he chided himself, before grinning, best to admit Harry Potter is a fool. Truths hurt less when you acknowledge them fully.
Snape hadn't had to - Harry thought, his eyes filling with fury as his hands clutched into fists.
No. Not Snape.
Harry wasn't here to get locked up in that perpetual shouting match.
He was here to think about Hagrid. Hagrid who'd not so much told him about his Mother's friend, Severus Snape. "Did you know my parents?" Harry'd asked, and Hagrid had. Had known them, surely, the entire time they'd been at Hogwarts.
Worse, Hagrid had told Harry that he'd written his parents' friends, looking for photos. You didn't wipe out a friendship without putting some work in, Harry thought wrathfully. Even if his mum had burnt every picture that had Snape in it - a female version of Ron or Ginny Weasley... Other people would still have the evidence. He'd have known. Unless, unless Hagrid had deliberately lied to him. Harry'd thought that Hagrid didn't know how to lie, not well, not convincingly. But this was Hagrid, who had tried, often enough, to tell Harry that Snape didn't hate him. Why couldn't he have just mentioned this? Or let it come up accidentally from pictures?
This was important. And Hagrid had kept this from him; it was a willful deceit. Kind, gentle Hagrid - it seemed unbelievabl
Why was it so wrong for Harry to want to know about his Mum? No one had as much as told him her favorite color (James' was a brilliant sky blue).
Harry sat, the sheer strength of the emotion causing little nail-marks to erupt on his palms, his fists clenched more than he meant. He wasn't sure he could forget this, or forgive it.
And, above and beyond all else, the question, the frustration, came out in a barbarian yawp, "WHY?!" Harry shouted at the sky, and then immediately hoped no one had left the window open.
Harry took the web of thought connections, and bundled them carefully into a memento box labeled Hagrid in his mind. There were other memories there, and they started to smoke a little, before Harry glared the fire out.
One person seen to, Harry thought. Hopefully -
Harry frowned, certain it was after curfew, I have to ask.
Harry had gone to bed, Ron not noticing because he was so thick with Lavender Brown. Neville noticed, but knew better than to ask.
He'd tried to go to sleep.
Truly, he'd tried.
But it was galling, the Slytherins' laughter, the smothered amusement in Snape's eyes - Harry hadn't needed to see it to know it was there. Making fun of him, saying that he'd never be as good as even Goyle (not that Harry had anything against the big bloke). Harry remembered Dudley making fun of him, his teachers looking down at him in elementary.
Hadn't hurt as bad then, had it?
That thought rested uneasily in his mind, until his mind turned from it to a building anger.
Everyone else was long abed.
Except Harry.
Harry had questions to ask.
Now.
Severus Snape had long ago sent the missive he'd written, drunken his SoberUp! potion. Late as it was, he was marking potions papers. Somehow he never seemed to remember how long they'd take. At least Granger wasn't writing her usual four times the assigned work. He hadn't the time for it. As he marked someone who couldn't tell the difference between coriander root and leaves (how blitheringly stupid did you have to be?), he sighed.
It was passing midnight, and Snape's door nearly rattled on its hinges, when someone pounded on the outside. Hagrid, Snape thought, standing up, and relaxing his face as he opened the door for the man.
Snape spent a moment blinking in surprise - though no other trace of it passed his face, as he found Harry Potter standing in front of his door. Blasted boy knew better than that, surely?
Snape's longfingered hand was on the middle of Potter's back, pushing him through the door as he efficiently covered the child from peeping eyes. "Were you seen?" Snape snapped.
"No," Harry Potter said, took a breath, and said, "Invisibility cloak."
"Well," Snape drawled, "The spoiled little boy admits it." Snape raised an eyebrow.
Harry looked back at him truculently, but refused to rise to the bait. That was an improvement over general Gryffindor Psychology.
"You will learn better without crutches." Snape said, holding out his hand.
Harry nodded, putting the invisibility cloak into Snape's hand. Unexpected, that. Children love to have devices to defy authority figures.
"What brings you hear, this time of night," Snape said.
Harry's answer rolled off his tongue, Likely thought of on the way down, "Order Business."
Snape looked him over, raising an eyebrow, "Oh? Not terribly urgent I'd imagine, from the relative sluggishness of your arrival."
"I couldn't sleep," Harry started.
Snape couldn't resist interrupting, in his customary sarcastic drawl, "Did you come to me for warm milk?"
"Answers, really," Harry said, still in his day clothes.
"Does this have anything to do with your new jewelry?" Snape asked, his eyes fixated on the hot pink lily that seemed to spark every so often. "A new paramour, perhaps?"
Harry gave Snape such a look - easily translated as Very Funny. "No, that used to be my mum's." Harry said, looking a little sad and chagrined.
Lily had always hated anything with lilies on it. "I had not realized you were so adept at lying." Severus Snape shot Harry Potter a look that his own Slytherins would have understood as approval. Snape doubted Potter would recognize it that way. He's learning but... years behind.
Harry's green eyes lept up to Snape's, and he snapped back, "How did you know?" Harry paused and then said, in a much softer tone, "I wasn't supposed to say where I got this..."
"I recognized the handiwork," Snape said, which wasn't strictly true. However, there was only one artificer in the castle good enough to create something this unusual. Well, perhaps good was a poor moniker. Batty and brilliant was the better appelation, surely. Luna Lovegood believe that all her artifacts were alive, and so she regularly talked with inanimate objects. The child was around the bend, had lost her marbles, and was on a bus so short... But enough. Snape had sworn to himself, that he was never going to tell Lovegood how objectively clinically insane her ideas were. Because they worked. The blasted sylph had enough power of belief that when she talked to inanimate objects, they actually listened. Daft, but brilliant.
"Oh," Harry said, at last, tilting his head up to look Snape in the eyes.
"Yes, oh. And I sincerely doubt she wanted you to lie to teachers." Snape's eyes briefly flashed as he spoke.
Potter shrugged, "She didn't say."
"So you admit the crafter was female?" Snape said, smirking.
"Yeah, I do," Harry said, a wisp of a smile on his face.
"I must confess to some curiousity. What is that pendant? supposed to do?" Snape asked.
"Something about my emotions," Harry said, "Help me control them." Potter was still biting off his words, but the pendant had stopped sparking at least.
"Help you, or help others?" Snape asked rhetorically.
Harry shrugged, and Snape continued, "You had questions? It's high past time you got to bed." His voice had an edge in it that his Slytherins knew meant get on with it. If Potter didn't know by now, well, he'd learn.
"Why'd you make fun of me in class today? What's the point of a lesson when you're showing me worse than I can actually fight? Wasn't that supposed to be showing people better than they are now?" Harry asked, petulantly.
Snape realized that Potter had been thinking - no, stewing - over this. Likely since the end of class. "Did you want to yell?" Snape said, only his eyes betraying his temper, "I can cast a silencing charm if you'd like?"
Harry's shake of the head was like an axe chopping a tree. Firm and headlong at once. "Just answer the questions."
When Snape spoke next, his voice was cold as iron, "I refuse to give pointless lessons, Potter."
"Are you saying that I'm hopless?!" Harry projected, his voice still a speaking voice, but with enough air behind it to make the entire stony room ring.
"Would I have taught you this summer if I thought that?" Snape said, his voice still low, soft - and penetrating.
"What's changed?" Harry asked sharply.
"Nothing, on that front," Snape said, turning away from Harry to return to his side of the desk. "Sit down," Snape said, not in the mood to yell at Harry about belting his words, apparently.
"I gave the same instruction to everyone who walked into that room: go all out, to the death." Snape shot a withering look at Harry Potter, "Except you, of course."
"Because I know wandless magic?" Potter questioned.
"No." Snape said softly, "Because you're the only student in the room that I can count to actually do it."
Harry's eyes widened at this. This was certainly not what he'd been expecting.
"Or, perhaps, I should say this. Commanded by someone you trust," The implication that Snape was not to be trusted was clear. Snape continued, "You might be ordered to kill Miss Granger or Mister Weasley. You'd do it, too."
Harry opened his mouth, both in shock, and in impulsive need to deny it.
Snape overrode Harry's objections, "War is rarely pretty. I won't leave behind the lessons of previous Wizarding Wars." Harry considered this, knowing that Snape was a spy. Possibly - probably, had friends on all sides.
And then Snape said possibly the one thing that Harry wasn't thinking of, couldn't, wouldn't have thought of, in a million years. "Albus Dumbledore vanquished his best friend, Gellert Grindenwald. It was only by Fawkes' wing that Grindenwald lived."
"They were friends?" Harry finally managed, his throat running dry from the implications.
"For quite some time," Snape said, his reticence resurfacing.
"You have the makings of a fine soldier, Potter, if you manage to survive your first battle or three." Snape said, and his eyes somehow burnt tired. "A task made easier if the other side underestimates and misjudges you, is it not?"
Harry's eyes widened, "Yes, sir."
"Your fellow pupils from Slytherin House have eyes, Potter, not just poisonous forked tongues." Snape said, smirking, "Do you really think they'd believe my judgement of your capacity?"
"i... I hadn't ... thought." Harry stammered.
"No, you hadn't. Instead, you felt." Snape said, his tone uncompromising, the disdain clear.
"I'm sorry sir." Harry said, having trouble understanding how he was supposed to be sorry for feeling - but feeling it anyway. Bastard.
Snape paused, his eyes arrested, "Your lily - it's now pale pink."
Harry looked down, and then said, despite knowing that Snape didn't, couldn't, care about his feelings. "I'm feeling embarrassment."
"Unless it fuels change, shame is not a tool, but a chain around your neck." Snape said, looking smug. "Fix the problem, Potter."
"Yes, sir," Harry said, leaving out the door. He hasn't, not this whole year, taken me back to Gryffindor Tower. Trust is a sometimes thing.
Harry was too tired to wake up the next morning. Didn't matter. He thought, thankful, that he'd managed to get five hours sleep. He was running, and that was that.
In fact, as his feet started to pound on the grass outside, he found himself smiling at the world, as the physical exercise woke him up. There wasn't anyone around, and the animals were happy. Was that the Giant Squid waving at him? Well, maybe not.
Harry let his mind wander, and he touched very, very carefully on the fear that he'd experienced after Voldemort had tried to raid his mind. It, well, was scary. He knew so many things, so many things he didn't want HIM knowing about.
Still a little scared, Harry asked himself - what was so different? He'd been so angry, many times, feeling more - but no response, no question from HIM. Harry frowned, it had to be, he was suddenly sure, the mixture. Not elation, not anger, not confusion and exhaustion, but all of them wrapped together.
Harry was done being angry for a while. He'd had enough of it. He was just going to smile, and everything would be alright.
He'd barely got the thought into his head, before Snape tried to knock it out with a Stupefy. Harry rolled to avoid it, his robes flapping around him. Harry sighed, and shot back a nonverbal stinging hex. His mind inserted Is that the best you've got, Potter Though of course, Snape, under his invisibility spell, wouldn't say a word. Harry felt one of his legs lock, and he flexed his hand, releasing the hold.
Snape faded back, and Harry slowed, not daring to stop, just wanting to - He shot a green curse, and Snape went down.
Lesson passed.
Except, that Harry still had half the castle to run around. And Snape wasn't going to let him rest on his laurels.
As if to prove Potter wrong, Harry went down, again and again, before he made it back to the castle.
Ron looked at him like he had had sex with an Ent, "Mate, what happened to you?"
Harry shrugged, said, "Couldn't sleep. Went running."
Seamus looked up and said, "Running into the muddy ruddy lake?"
Dean said, "More likely running from the Farmer!" Harry didn't laugh at that last one, not appreciating the idea that he'd be rutting that early in the morning.
By the time Harry'd made it down to breakfast, they'd stopped ribbing him on how filthy he'd been. Harry ate slowly, letting his mind drift onto other matters. Like Snape and his mum. Lily. What had that been like? The way Harry saw Snape - well, in six years of knowing him, he hadn't seen the bastard smile. Not Once. Even Dumbledore smiled, could let down whatever he was working on. Not Snape - Snape the workaholic. Harry wondered if Snape'd been like that with his mum. Maybe she'd badger him, like Ron did Hermione, until Snape gave up and got out of the library.
That was a surprisingly peaceful picture. Harry knew real life wasn't that way.
Had they hidden their friendship? Was it something that led to soft laughter by the Black Lake? Had they flung it in the faces of the racist bastards and the intolerant arses? Harry'd known, for some time, that his mum and father weren't friends, to start. Was that way? Had James' hatred for Snape turned Lily against him? Harry wouldn't be surprised if it had.
"Earth to Harry," Hermione said, and not for the first time. Harry just gave her a quizzical look, noting, over her shoulder, Malfoy's brow creasing at the words.
Harry tried to build up walls, over the course of the day, tried to just be Harry - oblivious kid. It didn't work, the questions still tried to poke through the seams of the box that he'd made. Every so often, even when he wasn't thinking about them, they'd rattle a bit.
Harry nearly skipped dinner - only the though tthat Ron wouldn't let him forget it, and the further knowledge that he had to make an excuse at RoR, or he'd never get peace and quiet. He figured with Hermione there, Malfoy and Ron wouldn't kill each other.
Malfoy's face didn't change when Harry gave his excuse. Hermione looked silently concerned, and Ron just said, "Come back soon, mate." In that offhanded way that he'd had.
Up on the Astronomy Tower, Harry stated to think of Dumbledore. Who, if memory served him right, he'd wanted to strangle dozens of times. But perhaps never more than today. Dumbledore had outright lied to him when he'd asked,"Why does Snape hate me so much?"
And it wasn't even a convincing lie. Hell, Harry today could come up with a better one, "Gryffindor logic chafes his hide." That would have at least been the truth, or at least a shred of it.
Dumbledore didn't need to say that, either, though, he could have just said, "I have no idea," or "you should ask him yourself." Not that Harry doubted an eleven year old Potter wouldn't have been chopped into Potions Ingredients for the sheer chutzpah.
Harry frowned, That seemed deliberate. Why would he care so much about shifting my focus onto my father? Was I really supposed to idolize him just as much as Malfoy idolized his da? Here I thought Dumbledore didn't want me spoiled.
Harry clenched his fists, feeling the power of crimson rage pulse through his body. He wanted to yel at Dumbledore, to ask him why he couldn't just answer a simple question without lying. The echo of that statement caught him offguard, because he'd often accused Snape of doing the same thing.
Dumbledore had lied to him. Harry hadn't thought he'd do that. Of course, he'd also told Harry - and seemingly everyone - about the prophecy. That seemed unintentional, but it almost seemed worse.
At least Snape regretted Harry's stay at the Dursleys, Harry thought with fire leaping into his eyes. Dumbledore thought it was a good thing. Keep me humble. Yeah, keep me on my knees, my lips to the dirt. Even moreso when I'm back at Hogwarts, only then it's not cowardice, it's sheer happiness.
*Have you ever thought about what it would be like to know there's a whole world out there, and that you couldn't possibly set one foot in it? Then to see it by little glimpses and pieces, from people who weren't even your friends so you didn't get to ask questions? Malfoy's a curious sap.