Disclaimer: Don't own it. Isn't it obvious by now?
A/N: I'm so proud of myself. I actually worked on this chapter the day after I posted the previous chapter, something I haven't done in a while. I've been so busy and swamped with homework and exams here at college that I never have time to get started right away. But, I have the next two chapters in my mind, so I'm writing now.
0000000000000000 Chapter 23: Bleak Dawn, Bright Afternoon 000000000000
Harry had no idea how long he sat there, staring at the other wall. His legs were drawn up to his chin, while his arms were wrapped tightly around them. He was sore and stiff from sitting so long, but he didn't move an inch. In his mind, he kept going over and over his argument with Snape, ending in that terrible sentence. Already, he'd labeled it a betrayal, the worst that he'd ever felt.
He couldn't seem to stop it from replaying in his mind, and each time it did he thought he could imagine more and more the expressions on the other student's faces. Most would figure out quickly that Snape was not joking. They would realize.
And nothing he could think of could unsay what had been said. It was final.
At some point, he became aware of the form of someone standing a little bit down the hallway. He blinked a few times, then turned his head. "Remus?" he asked. Why was Remus here?
The werewolf smiled weakly and walked closer. "Harry," he said softly. Harry just watched as Remus leaned against the wall next to him, then with an aged groan slid down the wall until he, too, was seated leaning against the stones. "Albus owled me."
"How did he know…?" Harry asked. "How long has it been?"
"Your friends looked for you for an hour after class," Remus told him. "Albus thought it best to let you gather your thoughts alone first, and then he told me. I insisted on coming."
"I'm fine," Harry said automatically, anticipating the question. Remus chuckled.
"I stood there for over ten minutes, Harry," the man told him. "You're not all right. What Severus—"
"Don't," Harry said, voice devoid of feeling. "I know what he said. I can't seem to stop thinking about it. It was wrong, and it was a gross betrayal of any semblance of understanding that we might have had between us. I know that."
"He is the one that went to Albus with what happened," Remus said quietly. "It was a grave mistake on his part to lose his temper like he did."
"And yet, he still did it," Harry said softly, staring at the far wall. "I've made my fair share of mistakes, and I've certainly made some mistakes that I can never hope to atone for…but I have never mentioned to anyone beyond Sirius and you what I saw in Snape's pensieve. I've never mentioned anything at all about him being a spy. Nothing. No matter how mad I was, no matter how much I hated him…"
"I know he never shows remorse for his actions, Harry, but I know that he truly regrets what he said," Remus said gently. Harry shook his head.
"Don't you get it?" he said, feeling frustrated. "It doesn't matter if he were to come here on his hands and knees and beg me to forgive him…not that I wouldn't appreciate the gesture…" Harry admitted with a small smile, "but what he said can't be taken back. I don't care if he's sorry. I know he'd never forgive me if I even just told my friends what I saw in his pensieve, so how can he expect me to forgive him now?"
"He hasn't asked for forgiveness, Harry," Remus reminded him. "He just wished to express his regret, as hard as that is for him to do."
"I'm starting to think that he'll deserve it when Voldemort find him out," Harry said, the words echoing false and hollow in the hallway. Remus shifted to look at him sternly.
"Don't ever say that, Harry," he said gravely. "Don't ever presume to pass judgment on someone, no matter how terrible they may seem."
Harry stared into Remus's eyes, trying to convey the utter despair he was feeling. "And yet you would have me pass judgment on Tom Riddle," he said softly. "All of you. I have to do it. I have to kill him. Do I know if he deserves death? He killed my parents! He murdered dozens of families and aurors and innocent muggles! Do I have the right to say that he's got to die? Why should it be my decision?"
"That's a different situation entirely," Remus said, but Harry thought he sounded uncertain.
"I hate Snape more than I hate Voldemort," he said plainly. "Voldemort wants to kill me, I know that, but Snape…Snape has made me suffer for more than five years now. I can't remember Voldemort killing my parents as anything more than a few vague memories and my parent's last words. But I can remember the comments and the insults and the derision Snape has…bestowed…upon me very clearly. It's been building up. I guess it's reached its bursting point."
"Harry, Snape is human, just like the rest of us," Remus said softly. "He makes mistakes—the mark on his arm is his permanent reminder of the most terrible mistake he has ever made."
"And so that makes it all better?" Harry asked. "I don't care, Remus. I'm not going to forgive him. He and his comments mean nothing anymore. He can't possibly hurt me anymore than he already has."
Harry felt Remus's arm drape around his shoulders, pulling him against his guardian. "I'm not going to push the point, Harry. Just don't let yourself get stuck in a decision that you'll regret."
"I know," Harry said heavily. "I just don't think there's any other decision to make right now."
Remus seemed to have no response to that, and the two sat in silence for several minutes. Harry continued to stare at the stones, trying to ready himself to face the school once more, and Remus didn't move or say a word the entire time.
"Do you feel like heading back to the castle proper now?" Remus eventually asked, a note of normalcy finally filtering back into his voice. "That is, if I can get back up again."
"Where are we exactly?" Harry wondered, trying to sound like everything was all right as well. Remus shrugged.
"Some unused wing, I suppose," Remus said. "You have no idea how many stairs I had to go up and down to make it here. Albus had the gall to suggest that I take provisions and a blanket with me."
"He didn't give you any Lemon Drops as rations?" Harry asked mildly, willing to let himself be pulled from his depression. Remus laughed aloud, and Harry watched with amusement as the man pulled a small tissue-wrapped package from his pocket.
"There's exactly two," Remus said.
Harry took one with a smile, popping it in his mouth, and then pushed himself up from his position. His joints popped as they protested the sudden change in position, but Harry ignored it and turned to help pull Remus to his feet. "I think I'm as ready as I'm going to get. Let's get back."
"Are you sure, Harry?" Remus asked seriously, pocketing the other lemon drop. Harry nodded, knowing that he probably didn't look that convincing.
"Er…how much has what Snape said spread?" he asked nervously. He didn't know if he wanted to know the answer to that question.
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Ron and Hermione didn't say a word about what had happened. They just smiled and stood up, looking relieved to see him whole.
He came in the portrait-hole with Remus beside him, and they walked up to Ron and Hermione by the couches and the fireplace.
"I'm fine," he assured them quickly. "I was—upset," he offered, knowing they wouldn't even begin to believe that he was totally fine with what had happened.
Ron smiled grimly. "You're always fine, Harry," he said. But Ron didn't sound like he was joking. More like he was very tired. Harry shrugged.
"I just needed to be alone for a bit. Snape had no right to say anything," he said, then stopped. He didn't want to get any closer on that subject. Hermione patted his arm with a supportive smile on her face.
"You know you can talk to us anytime, Harry," she said.
"I know," he agreed. Of course they were always there…which was why sometimes he just needed to get somewhere on his own and think things through alone.
The portrait-hole swung open behind them suddenly, and Harry turned to see Neville standing in the doorway. "What is it, Mr. Longbottom?" Remus asked, alarmed. Neville shook his head.
"No, no, everything's all right," Neville got out. "Er—the Headmaster needs to speak with you both, though. Something about a silencing charm."
Harry actually laughed. It was short and he cut it off an instant later, but it was there and he felt some relief from it. "I'd forgotten about that," he said.
Remus blinked. "Huh?"
"I 'Silencio'd' Snape," Harry explained. Remus nodded.
"So that's why he wrote what happened, instead of saying it," Remus mused. "I had wondered."
"I don't want to undo it," Harry said. Remus mock-glared at him.
"Tsk tsk, Harry," Remus said. "Come on. You can't leave him like that."
"Fine," Harry sighed, serious once more. "Why doesn't Dumbledore undo it?" he asked suddenly.
"Not sure," Neville said. Harry sighed and followed Neville out the portrait-hole, Remus, Ron, and Hermione all following after him.
When the group came into Dumbledore's office, Harry immediately noticed Snape skulking in a corner, arms folded and his face shadowed. Harry was only slightly surprised that he felt nothing when he saw the man, and immediately turned to Dumbledore.
"Sir?" he asked. Dumbledore smiled at him.
"I see you have brought some…friends, Harry," Dumbledore commented. Harry looked back at his friends, all hanging about the room now.
"They came with me voluntarily, sir," he said. "What did you need me for?" he asked, trying not to be blunt but not feeling very normal at the moment anyway.
Dumbledore smiled gently again. "While I cannot force you and Professor Snape to reconcile, I would ask that you remove the silencing spell that you cast upon him. There will be no punishment for its use, as well."
Harry waved his wand carelessly at Snape. "Finite Incantatum," he said, no anger even evident in his voice. He watched Snape sweep from the room without a word before turning back to face Dumbledore. "Is that it? I'm really pretty tired, sir," he lied.
Dumbledore's blue eyes seemed to stare straight through him, and sadness and understanding shone in them for a moment. "All right, Harry," he said. "I really don't have much else to say…but perhaps we could talk alone sometime?"
Harry nodded. "Sure," he agreed. "Tomorrow after classes, sir?" he offered. Dumbledore nodded.
"That sounds like a wonderful plan, Harry," he agreed. Harry managed an only halfway forced smile, and then turned to go. Ron and Hermione left first, and Harry paused a moment, knowing that Remus probably had to leave now.
"I suppose you have to go again," he said.
"I'll see you again soon, Harry," Remus assured him, patting his shoulder in a sort of gesture that Harry had seen Mr. Weasley do with his sons.
"I'll just have to have another mental breakdown in a hallway," Harry joked flatly. Remus didn't look amused.
"Try not to, please," he said mildly. "I'd rather visit you when there's some happy news to share."
Harry smirked weakly. "I'll try."
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The whispers started at breakfast. Harry ignored them as best he could…until Malfoy showed up.
He hadn't really thought about it, but so far Malfoy hadn't really bothered him much. Their fist-fight before school had started seemed to have worked most of the aggression out of the Slytherin, and Harry had been too preoccupied to find time to pick fights with Malfoy. It just seemed so…juvenile…to fight with Malfoy anymore.
But now, said Slytherin was standing across the table from him, arms folded on his chest and a very nasty smirk on his face. "Poor little Potter," Malfoy announced. Harry looked up and frowned.
"Yeah, something like that," he said flatly. "What do you want, Malfoy?"
The other teen just smirked wider and shrugged. "Just thought perhaps you'd be interested in rooming in one of the cupboards in the dungeons," Malfoy said. "I hear their much more roomy than what you're used to."
"Get lost, Malfoy," Ron said, and Harry could hear the suppressed anger in his friend's voice.
"Seems Potter's relatives wish he had," Malfoy said, triumphant. "Tried to hide you away in a closet for ten years…that's pretty pathetic."
Harry tried not to flush, but he could feel it creeping up his face anyway. "Just get out of here, Malfoy. We haven't got anything to say to you."
"Really?" Malfoy asked, looking mock-hurt. "I'd watch yourself, Potter. You might think you're safe here at Hogwarts, but I know differently."
"I repeat; get lost, Malfoy," Harry growled. Malfoy shrugged.
"Of course, of course," Malfoy said, voice deceptively easygoing, before turning and sauntering back to the Slytherin table.
Whispers started up anew after that, and Harry lowered his head to his breakfast, feeling like some sort of circus side-show.
"Just ignore them," Ron advised grouchily from behind his own food. "They're being stupid." He munched moodily on his breakfast, glaring around at the rest of the hall.
"It'll pass over in a week," Hermione said, but Harry could tell she wasn't sure. Who knew what would catch the notice of reporters?
"I wish they'd all just stay out of my business," Harry growled. "Haven't they got anything better to do?"
"No," Ron said fake-cheerily. "School would be pretty boring if there wasn't 'The Famous Harry Potter' around." Ron didn't sound at all jealous.
Hermione suddenly sat up, smiling brightly. "I just thought of something!" she said.
Harry eyed her dubiously, and she huffed. "You have all those letters, Harry," she told him. "Let's go find some of those people and tell them why they didn't get responses!"
"Er—" Ron started slowly.
"Actually, that sounds okay," Harry said. He couldn't hide from everyone anyway, so he might as well pretend like nothing at all had happened. "We'll have to wait until this evening…well, and after Quidditch practice…er…"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "This weekend, then," she said. "But you can make a start today. I found Ms. Julie Thomas, that fourth year Hufflepuff."
Harry groaned. "The one with the fan club?" he asked, vaguely remembering that first letter. Hermione nodded, and gestured over towards the Hufflepuff table.
"She's fifth down from the right," Hermione said. "Mid-length blond hair."
Harry saw her after a little looking. The girl had her back to him, so he didn't know what she looked like, but she was talking with her friends and giggling about something. He didn't realize he was still looking in the girl's direction, thinking back to his birthday, until one of the girl's friends looked up, saw him staring, and gasped.
All the girls turned to face him, including the admittedly pretty Julie Thomas, and he reddened and looked away quickly. The girls at the table giggled and fell back into their rapid chatter. Harry groaned. "I hate girls," he groused, then grimaced. "Except for you, 'Mione, and Ginny, and…well, Luna, er…" he stopped, feeling stupid. Hermione laughed.
"Boys aren't supposed to understand girls," she assured him. "It's a fact of life, whether magical or muggle."
Ron threw up his hands in mock exasperation. "Now she tells me!"
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"Everyone was whispering all day."
"It will die down, as long as you do not conform or deny it."
"That's what Hermione says. Malfoy said some things…I wasn't sure what he was talking about, and that worries me. Not that I've every believed anything he's said, but he didn't sound like he was making idle threats anymore."
"I am keeping an eye on Mr. Malfoy, I assure you. I promise that I won't let this get out of hand. Are you still angry?"
Harry shifted, shaking his head. "I'm not angry about it."
"Harry, it's not a good idea to keep anger in."
"I'm not angry," he said again.
But Dumbledore just watched him with that all-knowing expression. Harry knew for a fact that the old wizard didn't know even close to everything, but that didn't seem to stop that expression. "How could you not be?"
"I'm way past angry," Harry said, flopping down in a chair tiredly. "I just—it was enough. Completely and totally enough. I used to hate him because he wouldn't even try to understand me. Now, I just don't care whether he does or not."
"Are you sure that that's what you want?" Dumbledore asked quietly. Harry sighed. He liked how Dumbledore more often than not talked to him like he was an adult now, but he sometimes wished that he had more guidance from someone with so much experience.
"I don't know what I want," he admitted. "Everything's always so complicated."
"Ah, life," Dumbledore said with a smile. "What would it be without its complexities?"
"A lot easier," Harry sighed.
"But not as rich, I suspect," the aged headmaster rejoined. Harry nodded reluctantly.
"I suppose," he admitted. "But…what's my life been? Dursleys locking me up until I was eleven, and then I find out that I'm a celebrity, and then I find out I have to murder someone, and then I find out that he's related to me, however distantly. Some richness."
"Ah, but you're only looking at the bad," Dumbledore pointed out. "You have great friends, loyal friends that will never abandon you. You have those that would die for you in an instant, and those that would aid you in any way they could. Friendship and love are things you cannot truly live without. Friends that would sacrifice everything for you."
"I wish they wouldn't," Harry said softly. "It hurts more when I know they've been hurt in my place."
"And you could not even begin to imagine how much they agonize when you are hurt," Dumbledore reminded him. "You have not had to stare down a raging Molly Weasley when she wants her black-haired son at home."
Harry laughed, imagining that. "I'm no-one's son," he said, then looked away. He hadn't meant to say that thought aloud.
He turned back to the deep silence that had descended, and saw that Dumbledore's face was actually buried in his hands. The old man breathed a heavy sigh, then looked up again. Harry was shocked to see that those blue eyes looked much too wet. "You are a son to so many, Harry," he said gently. "I wish you would see that."
Harry laughed nervously. "I didn't mean it that way," he said. "Er…"
"If you were to ask Remus, Harry, he would assure you that he has no want for any son other than you. Molly will never regret not having another son—she has you. I'm sure Ms. Granger never wants for a brother, because she has you. And…"
Dumbledore trailed off. "It seems recently our conversations have been rather…emotional," he said with a trace of his normal amusement. "I am just glad that you are still willing to trust an old fool like myself." Harry smiled an unhappy smile as well, feeling unbalanced.
"I was so upset with you last year…I didn't understand what was going on, and after fourth year, I guess I just felt like I wasn't a kid anymore," Harry admitted. "But after five years, almost six now, I guess I just can't imagine you wanting to hurt me. You've never given me any true reason to distrust you." Dumbledore nodded slowly, eyes on Harry.
"I was afraid you would hate me, after last year," he admitted. "I made so many mistakes…"
"I think I understand that now," Harry said softly. "I've made my own mistakes, too."
Although Harry didn't say it, both he and Dumbledore knew that he was thinking about Sirius and his terrible mistakes that night.
"I regret that no one ever spoke with you at length about that night," the old man said. "It was not right to leave you by yourself, isolated and uniformed. I thought I was protecting you."
"We all make mistakes," Harry said, thinking of the Department of Mysteries. That had been a mistake, a terrible, unforgivable mistake…
"Indeed," Dumbledore said softly, then suddenly stood. Harry looked up, alarmed. "I do believe that I've made you late for a certain practice!"
Harry jumped up as well. "Blood—" he cut the curse off, remembering who he was talking to. "Er—thanks for listening to me," he said. "I'd better get out there before Ron comes after me."
"Of course," Dumbledore said with an amused smile. "I wouldn't want you to go without practice."
Harry grinned, melancholy lightened, and hurried out the door.
For the first time since the day before, he felt much better.
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"Er—Julie Thomas?" Harry asked awkwardly. He hesitated when she didn't turn at first, checking again on the letter in his hands that the name was right.
"What—" the girl started to turn, caught sight of him, and froze. She blinked several times, gaping, and then stepped back. "H—H—H"
"Harry…" he helped her. "Er—"
The girl gaped suddenly, and her blue eyes opened wide. "Harry Potter!"
Harry reddened, nodding. "That's right," he agreed. "Er—"
"You—you're…"
"Look, I just want to tell you that I got your letter!" he finally cut in, wanting to get this over. He held the letter up higher, and she caught sight of it. Her face went beet red.
"M-my letter?" she echoed. "Give me that!"
She snatched it from him almost faster than he could snatch a snitch from the air, and scanned over it quickly. "Oh Merlin," she groaned. "Oh Merlin…"
"Er—I just thought you might wonder why I never wrote back," he told her, feeling awkward. "It's—well, my mail was kept from me until this year."
She finally looked up at him, face still red. "You aren't mad about it?" she asked. "It was pretty pushy of me."
"I got a lot of letters like that," he said with a shrug. Julie frowned.
"I see," she said. He thought she sounded put out, and blinked.
"I just mean that I guess I can't really get mad at you when about a zillion other girls sent the same sort of thing," he tried to explain. He reddened again, glancing around at the mostly-deserted hallway. "Er—there isn't a club like that here, is there?" he worried.
She seemed to study him for a full minute, scanning his face closely, and then to his surprise, she laughed aloud. "You really don't like it, do you?" she asked.
"Like what?" he asked suspiciously. She laughed again.
"The attention. The fans," she said, with a general wave of the letter in her hand. "Hate to break it to you, but there's a very active Harry Potter fanclub. It's just kept quiet and secretive." Julie gave him a small smile, and for some reason Harry felt a little fluttering in his chest. "I promise, I'm not part of it…well, since first year, anway."
Harry glanced around, feeling as if at any moment a girl might come popping out of a doorway, screaming for his autograph or something. "Er…I'm not going to er…visit…or anything," he said. The girl laughed.
"You're hilarious," she said. "Thanks for returning my letter, anyway. I'd forgotten about that completely."
"Er…yeah," Harry said, wanting to get as far away as possible. The girl laughed again, shaking her head. "I—I'm just going to go now," he said, then turned and pretty much ran away. He could still hear her laughing as he hurried around a corner and out of sight.
And ran right into Hermione and Ron, both wearing twin amused expressions. "That was smooth, Mr. Famous," Ron said, grinning. "I've never heard anyone say 'er' so many times in my life."
"I'm still alive, aren't I?" Harry said, turning red again.
"You did fine, Harry," Hermione assured him. "Just think, one down, and something like fifty more to go."
Harry groaned and leaned against the wall. "Please, please don't remind me," he begged. Hermione just laughed.
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Potions Thursday afternoon was oddly calm. Snape did not insult him or ever talk to him. In fact, he acted very much as if Harry was not there at all.
Harry didn't mind at all. He did the same thing, in fact. While Snape lectured, he kept his eyes on his paper, and as Snape walked about the room, eyeing their attempts at whatever potion it was that they were brewing, Harry kept his eyes on his potion. As far as he was concerned, Potions had no-one teaching it.
He bottled his potion without a word and turned it in with the others, setting it on Snape's desk without looking up. Not until he was out in the hallway did he speak. "That was…tense…" Ron said, shaking his head. Harry shrugged.
"It went all right to me," he said. "I think I might have actually gotten the potion done correctly."
"Well, that's all right then," Hermione said, though she sounded like she didn't mean it. "Though…I think maybe you should talk to him, Harry. It's not good for it to go on—"
"Hermione, drop it," Harry said, trying not to get upset. "I don't want to talk about it, I don't want to think about it."
"But—"
"DROP IT!" he shouted, surprising even himself. Hermione looked frightened a moment, then sighed.
"All right," she gave in. "All right."
Harry realized he was breathing hard and took a few moments to slow it back down. "I'm sorry I yelled," he said.
"I shouldn't have pushed it," Hermione apologized. Harry shrugged. She was right. She shouldn't have brought it up. It was his business. He was sixteen, and he could take care of it himself. He would take care of it himself.
"Let's get to dinner, all right?" Ron suggested. Harry agreed, as did Hermione.
But he caught her concerned glance just before he started after Ron.
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A/N: This chapter would have been longer, but I decided to cut it here and put the next thing into the next chapter. It just didn't fit well here, and anyway, it was a lotta pages so I decided it could be its own chapter. On the up side, I'm posting earlier than I planned for this chapter, and probably the next chapter as well, so you can't complain.
Hope there's no terrible, glaring mistakes, but it's late.
Thanks for reading!