The Confrontation
Two weary men appeared suddenly in an alley behind the Hog's Head pub in Hogsmeade village. The younger stumbled as they landed, and the older tightened his grip on the young man's shoulder till he was steady again. Together they walked out of the alley and up the main road towards Hogwarts. Were it not rather late at night and therefore very dark, the inhabitants of Hogsmeade would have been surprised to see Harry Potter and Severus Snape calmly walking side by side.
Severus watched as Potter shuffled along, occasionally stumbling over a rock, and made the decision to postpone the interrogation he knew was coming in favor of another restorative draught for the young man. When they reached the front doors of the castle and walked inside, Potter turned towards the hallway leading to the headmaster's office. "Mr. Potter, the headmaster can wait a moment; follow me." Severus turned the other way, heading towards his quarters, confident that Potter would follow. The sound of footsteps behind him was the reward of his confidence. When he reached his quarters, the dark-haired man laid his hand on the door and it opened under his touch.
Pointing out the couch, Severus gave Harry a small push in that direction. "Have a seat; I will return momentarily."
Harry briefly glanced around him and vaguely noticed a sense of comfort emanating from the space around him; he found the couch and gracelessly lowered himself on it. In a short space of time Snape was back and handing him a vial of green liquid. Looking up, Harry raised an eyebrow in question. "It contains a much stronger restorative draught than what I normally carry with me," explained Severus.
Nodding his understanding, Harry removed the stopper and downed the potion. With a shudder at the taste he handed the vial back to the Potions master and mumbled a thanks. While the draught started working to put back some of the magical energy he had poured into defeating Voldemort, the young man looked around. The room was neat, as he would expect from Snape, but it also was surprisingly warm. That the main color was black was not a shock, but the touches of color, like the red patterned rug, the rich burgundy walls, and hints of silver were unexpected.
Harry looked up when he noticed Snape sit down in the black leather armchair next to the matching couch. "You were not expecting to live though your confrontation with the Dark Lord, were you, Mr. Potter?" That question was also unexpected, but undeniably accurate.
"No, I wasn't," was the softly spoken reply. "I just wanted it to end. I was sure I could take him with me, but I was expecting to die."
"Then why do it? Why not wait until you were confident that you would survive such a confrontation?"
The restorative was working now; Harry's brain engaged and he realized who he was talking to. He was confused; Snape seemed to care, and that did not make sense. "Look, Professor, I'm not sure why you care."
"Ah… the draught is working now." Snape smirked.
"Yeah, I feel a lot better, but I still don't understand why you're acting nice. I know you don't care if I live or die, not now. Voldemort's dead, I did my duty, so you can go back to being a bastard."
"Thank you, Mr. Potter, for your sterling evaluation of my character," was the tightly offered reply. "However, there are several reasons for me to behave in a civil manner towards you. It is possible that I was mistaken in my assessment of your character; your written apology suggests as much. Also, you have just incinerated an extremely powerful wizard, expending a great amount of resources in the process. All of the above are valid reasons to extend you some courtesy."
Harry looked at Snape, thinking, Shite, this is like second year. And fourth year. Everyone scared of me… I never thought I'd see the day Snape was scared of me. Turning away, he replied. "Oh, I understand; you're afraid of me now. Afraid I'll get pissed and burn you to a crisp, too? Guess I'll have to look forward to people fearing me now."
"On the contrary, Mr. Potter, I do not fear you; I might anger you, but I do not believe that you would purposely harm me because of that. I do, however, respect power, when it is used well, and I can't discern a better use for your power than the destruction of the Dark Lord. I was offering you that respect by treating you in a courteous manner." Severus looked over the young man seated before him, noting that his eyes no longer appeared as lifeless as they had been when they first met his; some of the drawn pallid look had also left the boy's face, and color was coming back into it.
"If you would like to take a moment to refresh yourself, the restroom is through that door." Severus pointed to a door on the opposite side of the room. Once Potter stood and went through it, he took a moment to collect himself and cast a cleaning charm to rid himself of the sweat that had dried on his body.
After a few minutes Potter came back into the room, with hair now damp, and face scrubbed clean. "If you are ready, Mr. Potter, it is time to speak with Headmaster Dumbledore."
"Yes sir, I'm ready." Harry followed Snape back into the hallway and they started towards the stone gargoyle guarding the headmaster's office. Harry walked with his head down, lost in thought. I will never understand Snape, I guess. If 'mistaken in his assessment of my character' is his acceptance of my apology, why can't he just say that? And how does he just know things, like that there is no more Golden Boy? That I expected to die? Now that I think about it, Snape has always known things like that about me. That is not comforting. Ugh, I've got to talk to Dumbledore; I do not want to relive what happened to Tom. It's Dumbledore's fault; if he had just listened to me, this entire mess could have been avoided. Plus there will be explanations about the power and stuff, ugh. I just want to sleep.
"Sugar Quills." The sound of Snape speaking the password broke Harry from his thoughts. They rode the stairs up to the office. Once inside, Snape said, "Have a seat. I'll get the Headmaster." Harry took a comfortable looking arm chair off to the side of the gigantic desk. Letting his head fall back, he closed his eyes and tried to keep his mind free of thoughts. He could hear voices in the other room, things opening and closing, and finally the inner door opening.
"Harry, my dear boy, what happened?" Harry opened his eyes and took in the sight of Albus Dumbledore in bright blue night robes with moons flashing from new to full and all stages in between.
"Didn't Professor Snape tell you? Tom Riddle is dead." Harry let his head fall back and closed his eyes again.
"Severus, why don't you start, and Harry can explain when needed." Harry half listened as Snape recounted the last few hours. When he finished, Dumbledore sat back and seemed deep in thought for several minutes. Suddenly Harry's stomach remembered it had not been full in a long time. "Headmaster, could I have a sandwich, or maybe some tea?" he asked.
"Of course; forgive me, my dear boy. Dobby!" A small excitable elf popped into the room. "Dobby, could you fetch young Harry a sandwich, and bring some tea for all of us?"
Dobby twisted around and, upon spying Harry sitting there, answered, "Oh yes, Dobby be getting Harry Potter whatever he is wanting." The little elf popped out; in less than a minute he was back, staggering under a tray filled with sandwiches, cakes, and a large teapot and three cups. "Is there anything else Dobby can be fetching for Harry Potter? Anything?"
Harry shook his head and said, "No thank you, Dobby, this looks wonderful, thanks."
"Oh you is being welcome, Harry Potter, sir, you just call Dobby if you is needing anything at all." The little elf popped out of the room for the last time.
Harry leaned forward and prepared his tea, took a plate and loaded it with sandwiches and cakes. Sitting back, he demolished two sandwiches and several of the small cakes before taking a second cup of tea. The older men simply sat and watched with amusement as the teenager plowed through the food as if he would never eat again.
After the necessities of food and drink were taken care of, the expected interrogation began. "Now, Harry, perhaps you could tell me how you defeated Tom?" Although the request was expressed as a question, Harry knew it wasn't by the look in Dumbledore's eyes.
"I burned him with Black Flames," Harry stated as if it were self-explanatory, which, to him, it was.
"Yes, Harry, that is what Severus said, but Black Flame can only be wielded by a member of the Black family, which you are not."
He got no further as Harry interrupted, "But, Headmaster, I am a Black." This simple statement caused the two experienced wizards to sit open-mouthed, blinking for a minute as they struggled to process the statement.
"Harry, how can you be a Black? Your father was James, who was most definitely a Potter, and your mother was Muggle-born, so there would be no Black blood there either. You must be mistaken. Now, please tell me how you made it appear that you used the Black Flame." Frustration laced every word Dumbledore spoke. From the ire in the headmaster's eyes, Harry got the distinct impression that the very thought that someone had kept such a secret from him was an outrage.
Not to mention, Harry couldn't believe what he heard; it sounded like the headmaster just called him a liar. "Headmaster, I am a Black…"
"Harry, stop this nonsense at once, you are most definitely not a Black," thundered Dumbledore, but Harry had had enough.
"Bloody hell, if you would let me finish a sentence, I would tell you. It is not nonsense, I am a Black; Sirius and my parents did some kind of blood adoption thing when I was a baby. That made me a Black by blood. According to the information Sirius left me, I inherited all of the Black Magic, and apparently I'm powerful enough to wield it. So, to summarize, I burned Tom Riddle to a cinder using the bloody Black Flame." By the time he finished, Harry was on his feet, shouting at the headmaster. Snape shot him a calculating look before nodding and turning back to the headmaster.
Severus watched with admiration as Potter defied yet another powerful wizard; the air was crackling with barely suppressed magic as the brat's temper rose. He needs to learn to control that, he mused. Perhaps I could be of assistance. Blood magic… Black and the Potters must have been desperate to stray so far from the light, although the results are impressive. No wonder Albus in unsettled; all his Golden children have been tarnished.
Dumbledore sucked in a deep breath of air. Clearly unnerved by Harry's display of temper, he said, "Harry, please sit down and let us discuss this; I'm sorry I seemed to disbelieve you, this was simply a very unexpected development."
Dumbledore's tone was conciliatory and he appeared sincere, so Harry sat down and said, "I'm sorry for swearing, and for shouting."
Dumbledore waved away the apology. "It is of no consequence; you have had a very trying night. Now, can you tell me how you appeared at Voldemort's headquarters?"
"I walked to the park and told Lucius Malfoy who was waiting there to take me to him." Harry was almost getting used to provoking the looks of astonishment on the headmaster and the Potions master.
The headmaster had more experience with the unexpected, especially from Harry Potter, and recovered first. "Harry, why would you do such a dangerous thing?"
Harry shook his head. "Headmaster, I've been telling you for two weeks that they were planning to kidnap me, but you wouldn't let me leave, so I decided to take away the advantage of surprise and use it against them."
Again, Snape gave him on of those calculating looks, and then he spoke for the first time, "Where is Mr. Malfoy now, Mr. Potter? You entered the room alone."
Pulling two wands from his pocket Harry slapped them on the desk. "I stunned him and the other guy with him as soon as we got there; they should still be bound somewhere outside that ugly house."
Snape nodded and turned to the headmaster. "Albus, perhaps you should have several Aurors head out there; I gave you the coordinates earlier, they should find five more Death Eaters in the throne room along with Mr. Potter's contribution."
Dumbledore nodded and headed to the fireplace; soon he could be heard describing the events. Meanwhile, Snape stared at Harry, who found it very disconcerting.
"What, have I got mustard on my face or something?" he snarked. "Stop starting at me."
Well, well, the brat manages to surprise me yet again: overcoming Lucius, defeating the Dark Lord, standing up to Albus… The Golden boy really is dead. This new Potter is interesting; perhaps my assistance won't be rejected because of our past difficulties.
"My apologies, Mr. Potter, I was just adjusting my assessment of you." Before Harry could ask what the man was talking about, Dumbledore was back. "Now, Harry, we need to discuss you rash actions…" Dumbledore fixed Harry with a look.
Harry was exhausted. I killed Voldemort for him and Dumbledore pats me on the head and treat me like a child. I can't take it anymore. "Headmaster, my rash actions, as you call them, ended the threat of Voldemort. I'm tired, I'd like to find somewhere to sleep tonight, and I want you to stop treating me like a child. What's done is done; at least it's over now."
"Ah, but Harry, it's not over," Dumbledore said sadly.
Harry whipped his head around and looked at the headmaster incredulously. "What do you mean, it's not over? Tom's dead, what else is there?" Even Snape looked stunned by the fact that Dumbledore did not think this was the end.
"Harry, do you know what a Horcrux is?" At Harry's negative response Dumbledore continued, "A Horcrux is an object which houses a portion of a person's soul; it is the darkest kind of magical object, because the only way to split a soul is to murder someone in cold blood. Once the soul is split, one part is then placed in an object, and that object becomes a Horcrux."
"Why would someone want to do such a thing?" Harry was feeling ill with the talk of murders and soul splitting. Was he missing part of his soul? Was it torn in half? Great, another thing to worry about, he growled to himself. Now I'm going to be a monster with only half a soul.
"The type of person that would create a Horcrux is one who is looking for immortality. A Horcrux protects that bit of soul inside it, should something happen to the body holding the other part of the soul."
Unfortunately, Harry thought he could see where this conversation was going, but he had to ask, "What does this have to do with Voldemort?"
The headmaster looked at him sadly before replying, "Voldemort created at least one Horcrux; I believe that, in fact, he created several. With a Horcrux and the right spells, he could be brought back." The headmaster rose and began tinkering with one of his silver instruments, tactfully giving the two men time to digest the information.
Harry sat in shock for several minutes trying to process all of the new information flooding his brain. He glanced over at Snape who looked a little green as he rolled up his left sleeve and looked at the Dark Mark; Harry could see that it was still as black as the first time he saw it. Thinking back over the last several months, Harry tried to come to terms with this new threat, just when he thought he was free of the prophecy. Wait, the prophecy… that reminded him of the conversation they had had after Sirius died. Trying to remember what it was that caught his attention, he thought again of the Dark Mark. "Professor, when Voldemort marked you, was it in Parseltongue?"
Snape looked at him, seeming to weigh his words before answering, "Yes; why do you ask, Mr. Potter?"
Harry took a deep breath, unsure as to how this would go over, knowing how prickly the Potions master could be. "I think I can remove it for you, Professor Snape, if you would like?"
This time the only hint of shock came from the slight widening of Snape's eyes. "Mr. Potter, if you believe yourself capable of removing this eyesore from my arm, then please be my guest. I would be pleased to be free of that rabid monster."
Harry got out of his chair and knelt at the dark-haired man's feet; taking Snape's left arm, he looked at the snake intently. He placed his right hand on the mark and began talking to the snake. "Leave this man, he is no longer a servant to your master. Free him from the mark he no longer wishes to bear." Harry could feel the mark fighting him but he was determined to win.
Severus could feel Potter's magic surround the Dark Mark, fighting to free him. Sweet Merlin he is powerful, I can almost see the magic. I was correct in my assessment; Potter would make a very worthy ally. Thank Circe I have not alienated him completely, not if he is willing to do this for me. Plans must be made to make him see that allying with me is worth his while, and to prove that I can be loyal, regardless of what the old coot thinks. After several minutes passed Severus felt a burning sensation deep in his forearm; just short of the point when he would be unable to bear it silently, the pain abruptly stopped. He looked down, and for the first time in almost twenty years there was no trace of the brand of a madman disgracing his flesh.
Harry climbed back into his chair, flushed with victory over the mark when he remembered what had been bothering him. "Headmaster, when we talked after the Department of Mysteries, you said you had told me everything; why didn't you tell me about the Horcruxes then?" Harry swore to himself that if Dumbledore said anything about sparing him more pain or in any way treated him like a child, he would leave.
Albus returned to his desk and sat down, afraid what he was about to say would make Harry unhappy. "Oh, my dear boy, how could I have told you then?" lamented the headmaster. "You had just lost your godfather, and I had to lay the burden of the prophecy on your shoulders. I felt it best to wait a while before I told you about the Horcruxes."
Hanging on to his temper by a rapidly thinning thread, Harry asked, "How long have you known about the Horcruxes?"
"I have suspected for many years, but the proof came in your second year," Dumbledore stated.
"And how exactly did that happen?" Harry knew this was the last attempt to get the headmaster to be completely honest with him he'd make.
Albus settled back in his chair to explain now that Harry appeared willing to discuss it. "At the end of your second year it became clear that Voldemort had made at least two Horcruxes. The diary that nearly cost Miss Weasley her life was one. Tom would not have been so careless with a piece of his soul as to leave it with Lucius Malfoy if he did not have others."
Harry felt his anger rising with each word Dumbledore uttered. The headmaster had known for the last four years about the damn Horcruxes and never said a word about them. That bit of information with the realization that his life was still bound to that stupid prophecy pushed Harry to the brink of his endurance. It was clear that the only way Dumbledore was going to give Harry the information he needed was piece by piece. On the headmaster's timetable, not Harry's. Harry peeled his hands off the arms of the chair he'd had in a white-knuckled grip in an attempt to contain his rising resentment. "I've had enough of this shite," he growled.
"Of course you have, my boy. It's been a horribly trying day for you. I'll just have one of the house-elves make up a room for you. We can continue this when you're feeling more yourself," Dumbledore said, not realizing his patronizing words were shredding Harry's remaining tolerance.
Harry jumped to his feet, this time feeling no intention of apologizing for shouting or swearing; he planned on doing both. "That's it, old man," he yelled. "You bloody well told me that you told me everything, but you damn well lied to me and you are still treating me like a child. I haven't been a child in a long time. Sirius emancipated me in his will, so I'm no longer under your control. I'll contact you when I can refrain from hexing you."
Harry strode forcefully to the door, fully intending to find some place to curl up and sleep till he was tired no longer, but he was brought short by, "Harry I can't let you leave. It's not safe; you can sleep here tonight." To Harry's ears Dumbledore sounded condescending. He turned and glared at the old man, decided he was too angry to speak, and turned the door knob, only to find that it was locked.
"Let. Me. Out." By this point Harry was reduced to growling.
"I'm sorry, Harry, but I've instructed the castle to lock the door, and Hogwarts answers only to me." Albus slowly rounded his desk, walking towards Harry.
When the hair on his arms stood up from the magic in the air, Severus moved quickly to the other side of the office, determined to be as far away as possible when Potter acted on his anger.
"Last chance. Open the door and let me out," ground out Harry.
Dumbledore shook his head in a sorrowful 'no'. With a frustrated growl, Harry reached deep inside himself and ground out, "Open." The office trembled, the windows rattled, and the door suddenly wrenched off its hinges.
As soon as the door opened, Harry stalked through it and down the stairs. He was out of the castle before Headmaster Dumbledore recovered from his shock. When Dumbledore looked around, his office was in shambles: tables were turned over, the glass from the windows was now on the ground, and the door was now just a broken piece of wood lying on the floor. Severus had left sometime after Harry, but Dumbledore barely noticed, trying desperately to reconcile the boy he thought he knew with the man that had just destroyed his office, for the second time in two months.