Chapter Nine
Severus squinted menacingly at the far corner of his broom closet cum training room which dared to be bare of his choice floor covering. His wrist flicked upward with his wand rotating in tandem, and the mat he'd placed at his feet stretched and filled the final corner of the square room. The side of his mouth quirked; it would have to do, and he would have to accept the encroachment of his storage space. He refused to teach Potter somewhere where they'd sit at risk to any number of interruptions, such as an unused classroom or, Heaven forbid, the Room of Requirement. His resized closet was without a doubt the most convenient option for them.
All in all, he was quite certain even Minerva couldn't have done a better job of fixing the room. A plush but walkable surface covered much of the floor to absorb any falls that were likely to occur. He left room largely empty for the insertion of any training equipment they may need down the line.
It had been two days since their last real discussion. Severus assumed, as a master, it was his job to seek out and engage his apprentice. Unfortunately, both Potter and he were more than content to avoid each other whenever possible, which was more often than one might expect given they were now living in the same quarters. Never one to shirk his responsibilities when someone else would know of it, Severus knew he'd need to call upon the boy soon.
"Professor?" a voice called from beyond the room. A scruffy head popped around the door frame. The bespectacled boy glanced around the remodeled room. Severus wondered if his apprentice was secretly taking omnipotence lessons with Albus; the Headmaster had the same odd habit of popping up the moment someone even thought his name.
"Are we going to be doing a lot of training in here?" Harry asked.
"Where else would you suggest we go?" Severus sneered, though he did temper much of the expression's sting.
He took in his apprentice's clothing, the boy must have been intending to stay around the rooms that day for he was wearing his new clothes. Severus was noticing he only wore them when his friends would not see them. It irked Severus not leastly since he was the one who purchased them.
Harry shrugged, "I thought we'd just go to the defense classroom for practicals."
"That would be most inconvenient," the professor clipped. "Tell me, have you read through the book I gave you yesterday morning?"
Harry thought back to the very thin tome-let Snape had passed him the day before, before breakfast. Eager to get off on the right foot with the potions master, he'd set straight to reading it after breakfast, much to the amusement of his friends. Unfortunately, most of the book seemed to be written in riddles, and he could hardly make heads or tails of it even after reading it twice. He didn't relish the opportunity to tell Snape that. Instead, he determined vague answers were safer. "I did," he supplied.
"Good," Severus reached for the clasp to his own day robes, "then you won't mind if we start now."
Harry looked wildly, "Start what? The book didn't mention any specifics. I just wanted to ask your permission for something."
Severus cocked his head, "Permission for what? You and your little friends aren't planning anything, are you?"
"No," Harry assured flatly.
The silence stretched between them.
"Well?" Severus demanded, "Ask your bloody question before I take notice of the fact that you obviously didn't study your assignment well enough."
"I was wondering if you might convince Professor Moody to let me speak with Ron," Harry avoided Snape's eyes, hating that he'd been forced to approach Snape just to speak to his erstwhile best friend.
Severus's eyes snapped to his apprentice, "Is he currently restraining you from speaking to the youngest Mr. Weasley?"
"According to Ron, yeah, he is. I'm likely to freeze my bits off with the cold shoulder he's been giving me, and he drags Hermione and Ginny with him whenever he can, as well."
Severus regarded Harry, grimacing at the younger wizard's turn of phrase.
"And you wish me to what exactly? Take Auror Moody to task for not telling Mr. Weasley to play nicely?"
Harry shook his head in indecision, "Yes?"
"Hmm," Severus murmured, "I will make a deal with you. Prove to me now that you have actually read the book and absorbed some iota of information, and I will think about talking to your friend's master."
Harry squinted at the floor and nodded, fingers well and firmly mentally crossed.
Severus directed Harry to stand several feet before him; he straightened the younger wizard's posture with firm hands on Harry's shoulders then moved to stand similarly so.
"I've been watching you for the past couple days," Severus began ominously, "luckily for the both of us your youth coupled with your inability to sit still for more than two moments has led me to believe you are physically capable of leaning, at present, the very most rudimentary aspects of this skill.
"The book I lent you emphasized the foremost importance of concentration did it not?"
Harry furrowed his brow minutely; he supposed that could've been what the author was hinting at. "Er- yes?" he answered.
Severus let the uncertainty pass without comment.
"With practice, the concentration will become second nature; the hundredth time you call your magic to your will will be far easier than the first." Severus noted Harry's confusion and swallowed the instinct to chastise in favor of continuing. "Perhaps it would be better to learn by application?" He tried to make the question sound as gracious as possible. He had the unfortunate inkling he'd failed as his student looked even shiftier than before.
"Very well," Severus continued, taking Harry's silence for agreement. "Remember your reading and call your magic to you." He stepped back and watched Harry expectantly.
Hermione pulled another thick book from the high shelf in the restricted section. Being an apprentice to a Hogwarts professor brought more than one benefit. Her new status as "junior staff" coupled with her mentor's high level of trust in her granted her nearly unrestricted access to the normally off limits sections of the library.
The whole situation was quite fortuitous as she couldn't get her earlier conversation with Harry out of her mind. There was no reasonable explanaton as to why Harry's arrangement would be any more magically involved than her own. Hermione's agreement consisted solely of sitting down with Professor Sinistra, deciding what they wanted to accomplish, first overall and then specifically for the first year, and then signing a contract to that effect. All of it was very straightforward. There were no glowing papers or symbolic completions.
It was the blood factor in Harry's contract that bothered her most. Based on Hermione's admittedly limited practical knowledge of the wizarding world, particularly with contracts, blood contracts were never a positive sign in any arrangement. And since she knew Harry would never give it another thought until something came around to bite him in his fleshy posterior, it was up to Hermione to protect him once again regardless of any previous trust she may have placed in Professor Snape.
She flipped to the table of contents and began reading.
"Please stop telling me to clear my mind," Harry begged in exasperation.
Severus sharply turned from Harry, his robes snapping around his ankles. He clinched his hands rhythmically in an attempt to ease his frustration. He turned back to his apprentice.
The boy had his eyes scrunched, forehead wrinkled with concentration, and hands thrown out before him. Severus tilted his head to the side as Harry's face grew redder and redder.
"What on Earth are you doing?" he asked.
Harry peeked one eye open, "I'm trying to throw my magic, what else?"
Harry's hands began to shake with the muscle strain. Unfortunately, Severus knew the younger wizard was more likely to pull a muscle than produce a successful pulse.
"Stop, stop, Potter. Please just stop whatever it is you think you are doing before you hurt yourself." Severus rubbed the space between his eyes in an attempt to ward off a migraine. He cursed Dumbledore for throwing him into this. Severus remembered taking to pulsing like a crup to some of Molly Weasley's table scraps. By the end of his first day practicing with his father, the elder Snape and he were able to play an easy game of catch.
He could not fathom what hold up was keeping the Harry from any sort of progress. He expected Harry's current aptitude (or lack thereof) in Potions, not in something so similar to Defense. What was more, his instincts, and that he'd seen the boy wandlessly defend himself against his grandfather's machinations, told him Harry could leave the runway soaring in the skill, if only he just learned to flap. The thought of, dare he say it, faith in Harry's skills left a sour taste in Severus' mouth, though he supposed he should be proud since the boy was, after all, his very own apprentice.
Facing away from Harry, he pulled in a deep breath. "What," he gritted through clinched teeth, "seems to be where you're finding a problem?"
Harry glared at the floor, shaking out his arms. So far, all he'd succeeded in was getting his arse thrown to the mat a few times followed by a hopping forty five minutes of nothing as Severus tried to get Harry to throw his own pulses. His professor had even, oh so generously, lessened his own throws, and then it became obvious Harry would not be able to catch even the gentler ones.
"You say clear your mind and concentrate. I did read the book, Professor, I really did. I just," Harry took a calming breath as he prepared to admit the most cardinal sin of potions class, "I didn't understand it."
Severus felt the vein in his forehead twitch; they had been at it for nearing an hour and now the boy just says, "I don't get it."
"Fine," Severus snapped curtly. He paced back and forth across the mat searching for a new approach. A light bulb illuminated above his head. "Potter, just forget the book," he ordered. "Forget what it said, forget what I said. Remember the feeling in my grandfather's test room." He tapped his lips quickly as he thought the possibilities through. "Wandless magic is in itself a unique and difficult skill to develop. However, it is not so unique that there are no similar practices. Pulsing can almost be called a variation of it. Admittedly, there are certain key differences; however, since you stumbled into your wandless capabilities with characteristic blind luck, pulsing should not be outside your grasp.
"Now, recall the precise sensations you experienced when you produced your Patronus. What do you remember?"
Harry rubbed absently at his recently bandage free arms. "It burned. My entire arm felt like it was heating up."
"And when you cast a spell with your wand, what do you feel?" Severus urged.
"What do I feel?" Harry repeated.
Severus huffed, feeling for all the world like a penny psychiatrist, "Yes, Potter, what do you feel? How do you feel? You do feel something, boy, don't you? You don't just go bodily numb for the half second it takes to wave your wand?"
"Stop getting ticked," Harry protested, hands raised as he sensed a Snape snit on the horizon, "I never really stopped to think about it."
"Then cast a lumos and think about it."
Harry took out his wand. He felt the wood warm in his hand as usual. He rotated his wrist and quietly enchanted the spell, lighting the tip of the device. He concentrated on the feeling at his fingertips, tracing it back through his hand and up his arm. It was beyond faint and nearly too familiar to take note of, but he could see where Snape was going. When he cast the lumos, the feeling was like a muted variation of the wandless Patronus Charm.
"It's similar," he said softly, feeling as if he for once got something under Severus' instruction right.
Since the younger wizard's head was bowed, Severus allowed himself a congratulatory smirk; they could only build from here. First, he'd have his apprentice get a handle on wandless magic. Then they'd move on to pulsing proper. Dare he say it, the boy's feathers were indeed beginning to grow.
Harry collapsed into an open chair beside Hermione amongst his friends at Gryffindor table, noting all were present and accounted for with the exception of Ron who was more than likely touring the aurory with Mad-Eye's old partner whilst his master was otherwise occupied. The other Gryffindors (Ravenclaw, and the Slytherin seated several places down) had been cheerfully kicked out of the staff room so that the "senior" staff could have one of their summer bimonthly meetings. Harry was simply happy for the chance to escape Snape's now regular morning training session. Neglecting the spread presented for their breakfast, Harry folded in on himself and buried his face upon his crossed arms.
"Well, I can't believe forcing us into school during the summer can be legal," Harry murmured to the table top.
Across the table, Neville paused, spoon halfway to his mouth, "I don't know, Harry, it's not so bad. This morning, before sunrise, Professor Sprout showed me these fungi, the Amanita muscaria veneficus, that when agitated releases a spore that causes hallucinations even under the briefest of contact. Normally-"
"We get it, Neville," Ginny interrupted sourly, "you love plants, Sprout loves plants, and life is great. Some of us aren't quite so lucky and would rather be at home during the summer hols instead of stuck at Hogwarts. Although," a catty sneer inched its way to the corner of her mouth, "I bet Hermione nearly wets herself every morning at the thought of another day at Hogwarts near all those yummy library books." At the last moment she smiled playfully in a mocking attempt to pass her words off as jest.
Hermione folded her fingers over the top of her borrowed book and leveled a cool gaze on the ginger Gryffindor, "Well, Ginny, perhaps if you paid more attention to Professor Flitwick instead of whether or not I'm wetting my pants you'd be having a better go at it and, in turn, would be happier." She shrugged and smiled before looking back to her book.
"Charms for the charming, Ginerva," Luna offered whilst playing with her fork. After several seconds of contemplation upon the utensil, she set it down and started eating with a curved shell off her necklace.
Harry moved his arms and allowed his head to bang against the table.
"You need to eat, Harry," Hermione chided when it became obvious her friend would happily bypass the meal in favor of a quick nap.
Harry grunted and pulled his plate back towards him before reaching blindly for a serving spoon. Briefly a vision of a Snape and hassle free day flashed before his eyes. Smirking to himself, he mechanically started eating with a dare to dream.
In what seemed a past life, Tobias Snape had been the dutiful son of a World War I veteran. Later, he'd honed all of the traits he'd picked up from his father's military background while practicing his own "muggle" brand of magic. So, it was with muted amusement he endured the likes of the wizard Lucius Malfoy.
The man was dangerous, no doubt, but with such an overinflated sense of worth that Tobias had trouble taking the man seriously. However, he admitted, he did need the wizard's help.
From strategically posed and misleading questions to the various manor occupants (most of which were baffling creatures called house elves), he learned many different things.
He'd learned his father-in-law was still in charge of his bodyguard company. His son, Severus, never had much contact with his family, neither his grandfather nor his mother. Tobias assumed this meant Eileen was thus tucked away by her father and, therefore, out of Tobias' reach should he escape Malfoy Manor. His conclusion – Tobias would be unable to obtain aid from his wife.
Severus, the one Tobias remembered, at any rate, would never allow Marcus Prince to control his life whether they were in close contact or from afar. His son was now a teacher at that school, Hogwarts, a place where Tobias had never been and did not know how to find. Conclusion – whilst Severus might not be as unwilling as Malfoy alluded to helping him, he was still largely inaccessible.
His final obstacle discovered from his reconnaissance, was in the continuance of his erstwhile brethren's organization. It was only a short matter of time before they started searching for him. There was no love lost between Tobias and their leader, assuming it was the same man as when Tobias fell into his coma. They likely would have some sort of capture or kill order on his neck.
So for the time being, he needed Malfoy's protection. The only way out he could see would be to build up his own strength before dispatching of the list of enemies he'd acquired.
Severus swooped into the usual training room, a scowl already fixed upon his face despite the early hour and absence of the other dunderheads, as Harry had often heard his friends described. Atypically, Harry was there waiting for him. He'd decided the only way to really not be late in Snape's book was to be ridiculously early. Since he'd been up early anyway, he tried his hand at beating his mentor at his own game.
"You're late, Professor," he informed cheekily. "Have you been able to talk to Professor Moody, yet?"
Severus gave a half-hearted snarl in Harry's direction before withdrawing an envelope from his robes. "Have you proven to me you are capable of pulsing, yet? I will speak with Mr. Weasley's instructor once I am convinced you are on the right path. Until then, you do not need any additional distractions.
"On another note, I received a missive from Madame Malkin. Your robes are ready to be retrieved from her store. Perhaps we will not go today, but instead you can spend your time scrubbing the dungeon floors?"
Harry's mouth twitched as he repressed a grimmace, "No, sir.
"Why didn't she just send them with the post?"
Severus tilted his head as was his wont when he thought someone was being particularly dense, "Were you or were you not present when we last attended her shop. The woman holds a specific and passionate dislike for me. Her admiration for you does not negate it.
"We will be forced to retrieve them in person."
Harry perked up, "So, no lesson this morning?" He felt a small twinge of annoyance since he was already dressed in his sweats and trainers, but he could overlook that if it meant he didn't have to spend his morning repeatedly failing to produce Snape's desired results.
Severus smirked evilly at the boy's excitement. "I would never neglect your instruction, Mr. Potter," he assured innocently. Harry's face fell almost comically. "Of course, we will have our lesson before we go."
Thanks for reading. Please read and review to let me know what you think.
This story won't be abandoned, I've got the entire thing outlined, it's just finding the time to write that is my issue. So, I apologize for the time between updates and hope you'll bear with me.
On a side note, apparently the athletes at my uni call non-athletes muggles. Every time one of my friends say it, I have the nearly inescapable urge to come back with, "Yer, a wizard, Harry," of course in a Hagrid-esque type voice. Then they look at me weird. :)
3/20/2012 – revised.