Explain in six inches or more why the Sopophorous beans should be crushed with a silver dagger, rather than chopped using an ordinary cutting knife.

Harry had put off the essay until his free period after lunch on Friday. He had felt a little guilty about putting it off so long, but he'd spent most of Thursday in a bind with his Quidditch team. As it was, Snape still seemed impressed that he had managed nearly a full foot on the significance of the silver dagger, and why crushing was best used to extract the juices from the Sopophorous bean when all the texts said to chop. In matter of fact, it had taken actual physical research to discover the purpose of the essay. By the time he'd done, Harry was convinced that the author of the 6th Year Potions text was an unimaginative moron.

This experimenting had given him the added benefit of leaving him with an entire phial of bean juice for his Saturday 'lesson'. Unfortunately, Hermione did not see it this way, and forbade him from using it. Instead, he had to prepare 'fresh' beans. As soon as he began, she stopped him.

"Harry, if you aren't going to take this seriously, then I'm not going to help," She threatened. "Professor Snape is being nice enough to give us use of the lab, the least you could do is follow directions."

Harry looked up at the girl as he continued to crush the beans with the silver dagger from his potions kit. "But, Hermione, the book is wrong."

His friend looked as if she'd been slapped. "Harry James Potter, how dare you-"

"Why are you bickering when you should be working?"

Harry started, almost cutting his hand on the sharp dagger. Merlin, the man was as silent as the grave. When had he moved from his desk?

"Sorry, Professor, it won't happen again," He muttered. He continued crushing the beans, then spelled the juices that had pooled into a phial.

"You've been practicing, Potter," Snape said as he examined Harry's work.

Harry smothered the urge to grin. Somewhere deep down, there was First Year version of himself dancing giddily. It was the closest thing to a compliment that he'd ever gotten from the man, and it was the very thing he'd been aiming for in his first ever class. The moment was ruined when Hermione began arguing with the Potions Master.

"But, Professor Snape, the book clearly says that you're supposed to chop the beans, not crush them," She pointed out, holding up the open text.

Harry looked up to see a dangerous scowl on Snape's face. "Miss Granger, you will find that not all of life's answers can be found in a book. Sometimes one's own imagination must be utilized…even one as colorless as yours."

Hermione made a small sound at the back of her throat as she turned back to the table, and Harry flinched. He was going to hear about that later. Hermione hated when people insulted her imagination, even if it was true that she rarely exercised it. Wisely, he chose to say nothing, only took the book from her hands and continued with his brewing.

"Do you have any other recommendations for how to brew the potion, Professor?" Harry asked as his friend fumed silently beside him.

Snape smirked down at him. "I have one other. Let's see if you can discover it for yourself. What does the theory tell you?"

Harry furrowed his brow as he stirred his potion thoughtfully. He thought he might recall something on a single counter-clockwise stir affecting the potency of the ingredient it followed, but he couldn't remember if it was good or bad. He decided to risk it.

"I could give the potion a single counter-clockwise turn after adding the Sloth brain, but I don't remember if that increases or decreases the potency," He answered finally.

Snape's only response was to raise a challenging eyebrow. Okay, so no help there. But, at least he knew it wouldn't destroy the potion, otherwise Snape would almost certainly have said something. The Gryffindor battled internally. It was obvious the Potions Master wanted him to pass or fail on his own, which made sense, but that meant that if he failed, Snape wouldn't hesitated to grade him accordingly.

Sucking in a deep breath, Harry added the Sloth brain, lowered his heat like the book instructed, then used his stirring rod to twist the potion into a slow counter-clockwise rotation. Immediately, the potion darkened by an entire shade of purple. Frowning against the wave of disappointment over failing his first tutoring session, Harry added the Sopophorous bean juice and finished brewing the potion without looking up at the man still standing over his shoulder. When it was finished, the Draught of Living Death was a full shade darker green than it was supposed to be, almost black.

"I messed up, right?"

Snape still didn't answer. Instead, a long-fingered hand appeared over the cauldron and dropped a bright green leaf into the thin liquid. Harry watched with bated breath. For the longest moment, the leaf just sat atop it, then all at once it dissolved. The Gryffindor beamed at his friend, who was looking on with uncertainty.

"Not bad for a kid who barely maintained an A, right?"

Snape cleared his throat gently, drawing Harry's attention. "Potter, if you can tell me what the difference in the efficacy of the potion is, I will reward you with an O for today's efforts."

Harry frowned. How the hell was he supposed to know that? He looked back at the potion and thought about what had happened to the leaf. There wasn't anything in his texts, since the author didn't use this method. He could hazard a guess that the reason was that his method of juicing the beans left less pulp, and that the sloth brain was more potent, but knowing why wasn't the question. He thought about this silently for a long moment. Hermione was glaring daggers at the tabletop, apparently upset about something, and Snape waited patiently while Harry thought it out.

"Well," The Wizarding Savior said slowly. "If the effect translates, then…the leaf took a second to dissolve, instead of doing it right away like the book said. So, that means that, rather than activating immediately, there's a delayed response."

"Correct, Mister Potter, but that is only a part of the answer," Snape said curtly. "According to your book, the leaf should have dissolved slowly. Yours disintegrated completely all at once. Why?"

Harry frowned again. "Still assuming the effect translates, I guess it means that there is not only a delayed response, but that rather than getting nausea and dizziness as a precursor, the poison would simply knock it's victim out without warning."

Snape smirked and banished the potion. "Very well done, Mister Potter. You have earned your 'O'. Are you enjoying it as much as you had hoped?"

Harry grinned as he set about cleaning up is work station. "Well, it's kind of soon to tell, but…yeah. It's not just a sense of accomplishment for finally having gotten it right, either. I really did enjoy having to work through the problem, and discovering for myself new ways to improve the potion. You're right, the book didn't have all the answers. It was nice having to come up with them on my own," He admitted. "It felt almost as good as mastering a particularly difficult spell or maneuver in Defense."

"Indeed."

Harry stopped when he realized that the comparison might seem like an insult. He looked up at the Potions Master. "That's not to say Potions aren't fantastic," He amended. "I really did enjoy the experience. But, Defense will always come first for me. It's the first thing I was ever good at, and the one thing I'm really best at."

Snape smirked. "Understandable, Mister Potter. It is a widely accepted fact that the most successful witches and wizards achieve an aptitude with one form of magic over another. It's fine to be good at everything, but it's great to truly excel at one or two things."

This was the last straw for Hermione, and Harry flinched as she stormed past them and out of the room. Man, even when Snape wasn't trying to be a bastard he wound up insulting someone. It didn't make him a bad person…it just meant he was a bit abrupt. Harry actually thought it was sort of refreshing, since most people generally pussy-footed around a subject for fear of insulting someone. As Harry finished putting away most of his unused ingredients and cast a cleaning charm on his desk, Snape picked up his extra bottle of Sopophorous bean.

"What's this?"

Harry shrugged, putting the rest of his ingredients away in his potions kit. "That's from when I was practicing. Hermione said I couldn't use it, something about 'cheating'."

Snape hummed thoughtfully. "It would not have been. Most potion ingredients have a short shelf-life, which is why you must prepare them while you brew, but there is no harm in being prepared where you can. Sopophorous essence is one of few ingredients that have no shelf-life at all, as it never spoils."

Harry shrugged again. "Good to know. You can have it, if you like. I can't imagine when I'll ever need it again, since there aren't any other potions in the Sixth Year curriculum that require it."

The phial immediately disappeared into the black robes. "Much appreciated, Mister Potter. I have a number of uses for such an ingredient, particularly in reference to restocking the Hospital Wing."

The Gryffindor smirked as he picked up his bag. "Good news for me, then, since I'm in there about once a year," Snape shared his smirk and Harry grinned. "Goodbye, Professor. And thanks again for your help."

"Potter, stop."

Harry froze midway down the aisle. Damn, he knew there'd be a caveat; he just hadn't expected it to come so soon. "Yes, Sir?" He asked innocently, turning.

"How are the nightmares?"

He hadn't expected that, and for a moment he didn't know how to respond. "Um, better, I guess?" He said hesitantly.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Do not lie to me, Mister Potter."

Harry gave a nervous laugh. "Alright, um…" He sat heavily on a nearby stool. "They aren't really better, I guess…but I'm not reacting to them the same way since we talked, either. I'm still blaming myself, and seeing myself as a monster when I close my eyes, but when I wake up I don't feel as sick. It's the other dreams that keep kicking me in the teeth, sleep-wise. After you made me realize that it wasn't me committing all those atrocities I saw through Voldemort's eyes, it's easier to acknowledge as much when I wake up in a cold sweat. But some nights, I don't just dream about me in Voldemort's place, some nights I dream about him in mine."

Snape moved over and sat on a stool across the aisle from him. "Explain."

"Oh, um…" Harry thought about this. Snape had already made it clear that talking helped, so why was he having so much trouble doing so? A small part of him wondered if it wasn't because he was afraid Snape would use this against him. He took a deep breath. Snape had already proven he was trustworthy, and even if Harry was still on the fence about his personal feelings for the man, it was good enough to be able to tell him the truth. "The truth is, Professor, sometimes I dream about a normal day here at Hogwarts. But, in the dream, everyone keeps calling me Tom, not Harry. Inevitably, I'll wind up looking into a reflective surface and I'll see the face of Tom Riddle staring back. Not the Dark Lord, but the kid from the Headmaster's memories, the one from the diary. Those dreams are harder to deal with. It's not just that I'm seeing him as me, which still scares the hell out of me, but it's also because…that's the man I killed. I didn't just put an end to the Dark Lord, I killed the frightened, messed-up kid that was inside of him, a kid who only ever wanted someone to take care of him. It scares me because…No one knows what caused him to turn to Dark magic. Sure, he might have been that way all along, but what if he wasn't? What if it was just a culmination of all the darkness he'd had to put up with practically since he was an infant? And then I wonder…what if I go Dark without realizing it? In Professor Dumbledore's memories, he started consciously asking questions about Dark things, but that was only in his Sixth and Seventh year, so what if his interest grew from a previous affinity?"

"Potter, you aren't going to go Dark," Snape said firmly.

This angered Harry. "How would you know?" He demanded. "I already have an interest in Dark magic. Sure, right now I tell myself it's because I have to know my enemy to properly defend against it, but what if I'm just kidding myself? What's to stop me crossing that line someday?"

"I won't let you," Snape answered calmly. It was so surreal, and so…believable, that Harry felt tears well-up behind his eyes. He blinked them away. "Do you still feel guilt over the Dark Lord's demise?"

"I-I don't know…" Harry answered honestly, looking away. "I guess I do. It's the same question, isn't it? If I could become Dark with just the right push, then what's to say he couldn't have been helped, even after his second coming? I know logically that he had long ago left the Light side, but…I can't help but wonder if, by killing him, I didn't destroy what could have been the most powerful Light wizard of our time."

"And what if you hadn't killed him?" Snape asked softly. "Yes, there are a million scenarios for what could have been done, but there are also the hard facts of what he would have done if he'd continued to live. Maybe, over time, you or someone else could have turned him to the side of light, but what of your friends, the people you see as your family? They might all have been sacrificed in the crossfire."

"That's still a 'what-if', though," Harry argued.

"Then let me give you an absolute," The Potions Master said firmly. "We'd have both been killed if the Dark Lord had been allowed to live. I was a spy, and you are the Boy Who Lived. Even if, by some miracle, the Dark Lord had eventually been turned, he still had followers, and many of them wouldn't have hesitated to kill the two people who were most involved in the war. Maybe your friends could have escaped a drawn out war unscathed, maybe the Dark Lord could have one day returned to the side of Light, if he was ever a part of it to begin with, though I seriously doubt it, but it wouldn't have stopped his followers. The majority were insane and psychotic, and we would both have been killed before the end came. I was a spy, and you were his number one enemy, greater even than the Headmaster. There was no other escape for either of us than his death or ours."

Harry stared at the floor morosely. "I'm sorry," He mumbled.

"Why?"

"Because you're right," Harry said, looking sadly up into the coal black eyes of his professor. "I never realized that it wasn't just my life on the line. I mean, I knew that other people were at risk, but it never occurred to me that someone else could have been just as assured of death as I was. You must think me so selfish."

"I don't think you're selfish, Potter, even if you have got a bleeding heart." Harry couldn't help a small chuckle. "I told you before, the simple fact that you're this broken up about what you were forced to do says that you could never willfully harm someone else. You weren't given a choice, and you paid a terrible price: his life, and your innocence, for the lives of millions. No one can fault you for struggling to find some other alternative, even after the fact. It means you're human, and it tells me that you will never become the monster you fear."

Harry smiled sadly. "Thanks…that actually really helps." He stood from his stool, and Snape did as well.

"I'm glad I can offer my assistance in this matter," The Potions Master said diplomatically. He paused, and then… "If you find yourself weighed down by this guilt, or your fear, again, I want you to come to me. The road that you walk is perilous, and I'm willing to guide you when you start to feel lost. Not only because you are my student, but because this is a weight that should never have been put on your shoulders in the first place."

"I appreciate you saying so," Harry said. He looked away again, drew a deep breath, and when he looked back up, he was smiling, his pain and fears once more buried deep. It was easier, now, to bury them, and it helped that he'd had long practice. It was one of the few things he had learned, growing up with his abusive relatives, and it was one thing he never seemed to lose the need for. With a final farewell, Harry left the classroom, not missing the slightly bewildered look on Snape's face at his sudden change in attitude.