Disclaimer: Mine, sir? No, not mine, sir, but twere it mine, thou wouldst be the first to know.
A/N: As always, I must lament the inability of the modern internet to allow for dispensation of baked goods. Alas, tis something for science to work towards. You should all have some cake on me. With ice cream, if you're not lactose-intolerant.
Ok, herein you will see the first glimpse of our primary bad guy – outside of Voldemort, of course – as well as some Harry/Draco interaction, a peek into the mind of Snape, a tiny bit of quidditch – mainly because I suck at writing sports-related stuff – and a major confrontational scene between Dumbledore and Harry.
Chapter Thirteen: A Bit of There and Here
She knew he was still alive. His mark, though faded, was not gone. If she could concentrate, she could still feel the familiar tingle of her master's magic through it. It was this observation during the second year of her imprisonment that allowed her to keep what little sanity remained in her possession. She still raved, but it was a calculated raving, designed to lull the guards into believing she, too, had succumbed to the dementors' chill.
She had worked, daily, ever since feeling that distant tingle that let her know her lord and master still lived. On the day she saw her cousin escorted past her cell by Dumbledore, she redoubled her efforts. It wouldn't be long now, and she would be free to rejoin Lord Voldemort.
It was amazing what a basic understanding of physics could do. She knew that applied application of force over time led to erosion. Time was something she had in spades, though a spade she had not. She could be patient. More than a decade of patience and application of force and time. She hadn't spared a thought to her husband – he didn't matter in the grand scheme of things, only her master mattered.
She would escape. She would rejoin her lord. She would be rewarded beyond her wildest imaginings.
She wouldn't have it any other way.
The much-anticipated date of Thursday, November 13 arrived. Harry had already informed his teachers at Stonewall he wouldn't be attending today, and so had already done his assignments for the day. He and Remus met up with Sirius and the trio used Sirius' floo to arrive at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. After a brief chat with Rosmerta over some oat porridge, the three meandered their way up to the castle. Remus had to speak with Dumbledore, Sirius tagging along, and Harry wanted to hunt down Snape to explain in more detail the potions program. He was really hoping that he would be able to get the potions master to visit and see the program in person; it would be wonderful to have a professional make sure the information in the program was completely accurate.
Dumbledore met the three in the entrance hall, and escorted Sirius and Remus to wherever they were going after explaining to Harry where to locate Professor Snape. Harry was also informed that the professor had no classes today, as all double-lessons had been cancelled to make time for the upcoming match.
Following the twisting corridors through the castle, it took Harry a bit longer than he had anticipated to locate the dungeons, and once there, he could have sworn he'd walked past the same statue three times, but wasn't absolutely certain. Just when he was wondering if he had to resign himself to wandering the confusing hallways for the rest of his life, a drawling voice caught his attention. "Who do we have here?"
Harry whirled around to see a blonde teen step out of the shadows. He was a good six inches taller than Harry, and had a sneer plastered across an aristocratically pointed face. He was wearing the robes of a student, and had his arms crossed over his chest. There was a hard glint in his eyes that Harry didn't like in the least. With a subtle flick of his wrist, the release on his wand-holster engaged and his wand fell into his hand. He held it so that the other boy would be unable to see it. "I'm looking for Professor Snape. Do you know where I can find him?"
"In his office, no doubt," Harry was beginning to wonder if the kid did anything but sneer.
He sighed, "Obviously. Where do I find his office?"
"What's in it for me if I tell you?"
Harry shook his head, "Forget it. I'll locate it on my own. You can scuttle off to wherever it was you slunk out of."
Anger flashed across the other boy's face and his wand was out in a flash. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly, counting to ten in his head. He hated people like this. "If you think you're intimidating, let me be the first to tell you – you aren't. From this short meeting, I know enough about you to know that I no longer wish to be in your company. Now, put the wand away and go."
The blonde laughed coldly, "And just what are you going to do if I don't?"
While he had been talking, Harry had finished removing his wand from his sleeve. He aimed it at the blonde and sighed, "I guess you just have to be the agent of karma every now and then," he said to himself. "Stupefy." The jet of red light collided with the blonde's chest and he crumpled, unconscious, to the floor. "Mobilicorpus." With the blonde floating a few feet behind him, like some macabre balloon, Harry continued in his search for the potion master's office.
It wasn't long before he finally, finally managed to locate the office of the potions master. Harry nearly wept with relief. He really had thought he would spend the rest of his life wandering the dungeons of a magic-filled castle. He knocked, and was met with a muted, terse order to "Come in."
Harry opened the door, which didn't squeal, but opened smoothly on well-oiled hinges. Professor Snape sat behind his desk, scowling at a roll of parchment as if the inanimate roll of messy handwriting had done him a personal wrong. "Sir?"
Snape's eyes flickered to the green-eyed enigma in his doorway. "What do you need, Potter?"
Harry smiled, "I had a couple of questions for you, and in trying to locate your office, I had a bit of trouble with one of the students. I thought I remembered Remus saying you were the head of Slytherin, and this, I believe," here Harry stepped fully into the room, directing the blonde teen's floating form to hover over a worn wooden bench across from the teacher's chair, "is one of yours. Unless I confused Slytherin and Ravenclaw's house colors, that is."
Severus mentally banged his forehead on the nearest hard surface, Lucius is going to be livid… Outside his own mind, though, he merely quirked an eyebrow at Draco's unconscious state. "No, you have the right of it. Malfoy is a student of Slytherin house, of which I am the head. May I ask as to his current state?"
Harry blushed and looked at his shoes. Snape failed to catch what the boy said. He asked that Harry repeat himself, "What I said was that when I was looking for you, he rather snuck up behind me. I might have mentioned something he could have misconstrued as insulting, and made to curse me. I merely beat him to the punch." Harry tentatively met Professor Snape's gaze.
Mentally, Snape was roaring with laughter that the arrogant little ponce was out-thought by Ponce Sr.'s sworn enemy; and how that happened is a tale for another time. Needless to say, it appealed to Snape's sarcastic sense of humor. "Very well, Potter. Set him on the bench. I trust your questions won't take long?"
"No, sir, I don't think they will."
In the pause, Snape gave Harry a look that clearly stated "Get on with it, then, so I may stop this useless prattling and get some work done."
Harry cleared his throat and began explaining the program that Jennifer had created.
The crowd of students, professors, and parents stood, hissing loudly and booing with great vigor. Warrington, one of the Ravenclaw beaters, had just been called on fouling the Gryffindor seeker – a tiny, little mouse of a girl by the name of Stone – when it had been obvious to all and sundry that the seeker had been the one at fault. Despite the apparent blindness of the man who had replaced Hooch as quidditch coach and flying instructor, the penalty stood and Gryffindor was allowed a free shot at the goal, securing another ten points for that team.
"And with that miscarriage of referee work out of the way, Hunter takes the quaffle, Ravenclaw in possession," the voice of the commentator lazily boomed over the crowd.
"What was all the booing for?" Harry asked Remus, who was a bit more sensible about explaining the fouls than Sirius.
"What the ref called was purposeful targeting of something other than a bludger by a beater. What happened was that the seeker wasn't watching what she was doing and got in the way. It was a complete accident, but a penalty was called anyway."
"Oh. What's that the other kid's doing?" Harry pointed to the Ravenclaw seeker.
"Classic scanning pattern; he's looking for the snitch." Sirius said through a mouthful of roasted chestnuts. "He'd do better to tail Stone; she's got a better eye. Spotted the snitch twice, but it got away from her both times."
"Why would he want to follow the other seeker? Wouldn't that put him at a disadvantage?"
Sirius shrugged, "You'd think so, wouldn't you, but – Oh, come on, ref! This isn't a professional match! You never get called for that in a house game!"
Remus sighed and leaned over to Harry's ear, so that the teen could hear him over the angry crowd. "He'd want to follow her because he's a better flyer. If he lets her find where the snitch is, then all he has to do is out-maneuver her to it."
"Oh. This is a bit more complicated than football." Harry snuck a chestnut from the half-crumpled cone Sirius held.
"Gryffindor in possession, nice Hawks' Head formation by chasers Brown, Clarke, and Smythe, quaffle being passed between Clarke and Smythe. Endive cracks a bludger their direction, looks like Mothis and Nguyen are too far away to run interception, luckily Clarke spots the oncoming bludger and breaks formation."
Harry sighed, wondering if maybe he might have had more interest in the sport if he had come across it earlier in life. As it was, he just couldn't dredge up the enthusiasm required to really enjoy sitting outside in forty-degree weather, with snow threatening on the breeze. It's really just too complicated to really get into. I mean, it doesn't really serve a purpose, does it? Just a bunch of foolhardy kids flying about trying to kill each other over a ruddy ball. Just like football and rugby, only much more dangerous… Though, I do have to admit that flying – without the killer-balls – looks like it could be fun. Wonder if Remus or Sirius will teach me how to fly?
Harry managed to miss the majority of the match by daydreaming about flying around the countryside on a broom.
When the quidditch game was over – Ravenclaw won, though just barely – Harry, Remus, and Sirius were waylaid by Hermione in trying to exit the stands. She insisted that they should wait for Ron. While waiting, however, Albus Dumbledore noticed them and made his way to the quartet. He did have some things he wished to discuss with Harry. "Good afternoon, Ms. Granger, Sirius, Remus, Harry." He nodded to each of them in turn.
And who is this and why did he call me 'Harry' like he knows me? Oh, yeah. The headmaster. Why call me 'Harry' and Hermione 'Ms. Granger?' Does he not like her or something? Is it because she's still a student? Harry shook his head and brought himself out of his musings in time to hear Dumbledore ask if he could talk with Harry alone.
Harry cast a wary glance at Remus, who nodded. "Um… Okay. I guess. What did you want to talk about?"
Dumbledore motioned for Harry to follow him. Harry saw Remus make a shooing motion with his hands; He must know what this is about. He did talk to Dumbledore when I was down with Professor Snape. He nodded and followed the tall man wearing bright green robes trimmed in lemon yellow. Harry wondered idly if the man was trying to blind everyone. Before he realized it, he was standing in front of a gargoyle inside the castle. The headmaster said, "Blood pops," and the statue sprung to life, revealing a stone spiral staircase. Harry found that the stair led to a cluttered office, filled near to bursting with gadgets and gizmos that Harry would bet he'd never find what their purpose was.
"Harry, my boy, please have a seat." Dumbledore motioned to the chair opposite his desk.
Harry hesitantly sat, declining an offered candy in the process. "You said you wanted to speak with me?"
"Ah, yes, Harry. I wanted to know how you have been?"
Harry wrinkled his brow at the query. He wondered why this man cared one way or the other. It wasn't as if Harry knew him. "Frankly, sir, I don't see why that matters."
"Nonsense, of course it matters. There have been so many changes to your life in the past few weeks, I was just curious as to how you were dealing with the changes?"
"No offense, sir, but… What's it to you, what goes on in my life?" Harry was starting to get a little on edge talking to the man. He knew that Remus spoke with him regularly, but Harry had assumed it was regarding his studies. The man was a school official, after all.
Dumbledore's eyes seemed to dim a bit at Harry's question. "Let's just say I have a vested interest in your welfare, young Harry. Myself and many others."
Harry sighed. "This is about that silly prophecy, isn't it?"
"I don't think it silly, my boy, it's –"
"Pardon, sir, but it is silly. I'm destined to fight some random evil guy in order to save the world? Pl-ease. I'm seventeen. I'm still in school. I didn't even know that magic was real until I met Remus. How, exactly, am I supposed to defeat this guy? A man, might I add, that no one has seen in fifteen years. How do you know that he's still a threat?" Harry's nerves were rapidly fraying in the presence of this ancient wizard.
"We have our methods of verifying his existence, Harry," Dumbledore said, slightly disturbed at the youth sitting in front of him. Dumbledore had expected a hero in the making, and had received a cynic.
"And why haven't you finished him off, yourself? Remus keeps telling me how powerful you are." Harry wasn't sure what it was about Dumbledore that seemed to grate along his nerves, but he was rapidly coming to wish he hadn't agreed to the interview.
"Because, Harry, the prophecy clearly indicated you would be the one to defeat him."
Harry shook his head, "I've heard that prophecy, sir, and it's not all that clear. It merely states that 'one with the power to vanquish,' and so on. It doesn't state 'the only one with the power.'"
"Harry," Dumbledore sighed, "After interpreting it, it can only be you. You are the one fated to face Voldemort."
Harry crossed his arms over his chest, he honestly hadn't thought overmuch on the prophecy since hearing it, and now he was forced to do some fast thinking. "Fate, sir? I'm sorry, but I don't really believe in fate. I believe we make our own destinies. The only prophecies that seem to be accurate are self-fulfilled. I'm sure, had you not heard this prophecy, you would be more than willing to finish off Voldie yourself. However, since you did hear the prophecy, then you have trapped yourself into believing that the only one that can defeat him is me: an under-trained, under-sized, teenaged wizard with less knowledge of potions than chemistry, more knowledgeable about physics than charms, and that still thinks most of this magic stuff – though really cool – won't help one iota in the real world."
Dumbledore sadly shook his head, "I hate to disagree with you, my boy, but magic… It is the real world. How I wish your aunt would have allowed you to come to Hogwarts…"
"Hold up. Just what do you know about the Dursleys?" A drop of dread formed in his stomach.
Dumbledore knew he wasn't likely to get around the question. The Harry before him bore little resemblance to the one he had hoped to meet. This one was shrewd, observant, and suspicious. All good traits, to be sure, but they shouldn't be aimed at him, for Merlin's sake! He'd only ever done what he thought best for the boy.
"Sir? You haven't answered me."
"Very well, Harry," Dumbledore mentally shook off his musings on expectations versus reality, "I feel I must apologize to you. It was my decision that you be placed with your aunt and uncle when your mother and father passed on."
Something uncoiled and snapped in Harry as he rapidly processed the information. He stood and began pacing, forcing his words through clenched teeth, not trusting himself not to shout, otherwise. This was the man that caused everything. This was the man responsible for the Dursleys. "I'm sorry, sir, but I don't know you from Adam. What gave you the right to determine with whom I was left? You're only a Headmaster, not even the executor of my parents' wills – Remus had that honor – so, who gave you the right to leave me with those horrid people? Did you even bother checking on them beforehand? Did you know if they were nice people? Didn't you listen to Remus when he returned and told you how much Mum hated her sister?
"Correct me if I am wrong, but weren't there several hours between the deaths of my folks and when I was left with those bastards? Why wasn't I given to Sirius at that time? Why did you keep him from me and me from him? Were you threatened by the possibility of the two of us developing a relationship?
"It is entirely your fault why I was left with people who despised me. You should be thanking your lucky stars that I'm as 'normal' as I am. Yes, I'll fight in your petty little squabble, but only because it's the right thing to do, especially since you crippled yourself with that damn prophecy. For everything in my life that is indirectly and directly your fault, however, do not expect me to live in your world. I likewise expect you to keep your meddlesome old nose out of my business. If you have information that I will need to get rid of this moldy-guy then tell me now or send it through Remus. We are not now, nor will we ever be friends. I do not expect to spend social time together, nor do I want to, old man.
"I'll fight because it's my choice, but I'll be damned if I let you control my life like you've controlled others' lives. Don't mistake me for a fool, Dumbledore, I can read between the lines as good as or better than the average person. The only reason Severus Snape works here is because he believes his freedom tied directly to your good will. From what I was able to observe, the man doesn't belong teaching children; he would be happiest in a research laboratory. But you continue keeping him here, even when you've received applicants for the position over the years. And before you ask, I got the information from Remus and checked it through a back-log of newspaper articles. It's rather amusing, how everyone seems to fall over themselves just to help me." He glared at the flabbergasted headmaster before suddenly turning and striding from the room.
He nodded at a gaping Snape, who was standing just outside the doors to the headmaster's office. And the puzzle that is Potter grows even more…
A/N2: This will likely be the last update for at least a week. I'm going to somewhere where the internet is somewhat shaky at best. Hopefully it's enough to simultaneously stimulate your need for more and quench that longing for new chapters, at least for a couple of days.
Review and let me know if I need to fix anything. I've started a list of minor alterations I need to make to the story, mainly correcting Americanisms and that issue with the name in chapter one/two. Let me know if I screwed something up! My beta is also American, so she doesn't catch the Americanisms, either, and the little stuff like the name is easily overlooked by anyone. So, all you hawk-eyed folks out there, if you see a glaring error (keeping in mind that this is AU) then tell me so, and I'll add it to the list. Alternatively, if you liked or didn't like something, feel free to say so. Especially if you didn't like something. If that is the case, then let me know the why of why you don't like that bit and what bit it is.
I think I've rambled enough. Later!