Chapter 13
The Letter
When Harry woke up the next morning he found himself lying on top of his own bed, still in his robe from the previous evening. His glasses weren't on his face but he found them on the bedside table next to his bed. Underneath them was an envelope with his name on it.
Putting on his glasses, Harry looked around the room. It was early; Dean, Seamus, Neville and Ron were all still asleep. Harry took the envelope and walked down to the common room to open it. He found a window with enough light to read by, then slid a note out of the envelope. It read:
Harry,
Please come to my office before your first class of the morning.
The password is "Haversack."
Headmistress Minerva McGonagall
Harry read the note again, then sighed and trudged back up the steps to get changed into different clothes; having slept in the ones he was wearing, he wanted to wash away the tiredness and the griminess he now felt wearing them.
Breakfast had begun by the time he made it down to the Great Hall, but just barely. He joined Hermione and Jon, who were discussing his class schedule over eggs, bacon and toast.
"Hi, Harry," Hermione said, looking worriedly at him. Harry mumbled a greeting in reply, sat down next to her, and began filling his own plate with food while they watched silently.
"How's it going this morning?" Jon finally said, to break the silence.
"Fine," Harry said, not feeling fine at all. "I have a meeting with McGonagall this morning," he added, almost under his breath.
"Well I'm not surprised at that," Hermione said, almost indignant. "She should have let you know what was going on before springing Snape on us like that."
"I didn't understand what happened yesterday," Jon said, before Harry could reply to Hermione. "Why was everyone was so upset when that last teacher came out. Why was Ginny calling him a murderer?"
"He killed the previous Headmaster of this school, Albus Dumbledore!" Harry said shortly. He was becoming annoyed with Jon's ignorance of their circumstances. "I was there, I saw it happen."
"But you cleared him at his trial, that blond kid said," Jon continued, looking perplexed. "Why would you do that and then be so upset about his turning up at school?"
"Because I didn't know I was giving testimony that was helping clear Snape!" Harry said loudly. Several heads turned toward them. "I thought the trial was for 'that blond kid,' Draco Malfoy. No wonder he was so smug when I saw him that day; it wasn't even him on trial!"
Harry stood. "I'm going to go see McGonagall," he said, leaving his plateful of food untouched. "Might as well get it out of the way now."
"Harry, look, I'm sorry –" Jon began, but Harry shook his head.
"Don't worry about it," he said. "Not your fault." He walked away before Jon could say anything else and stalked through the castle to the stone gargoyle that stood before the entrance to the Head's office. "Haversack," Harry said, in a sullen tone; the gargoyle leaped aside, revealing a spiral stone staircase that he ascended to the top, where a large, polished oak door loomed before him. Harry knocked and McGonagall's voice said "Enter."
Harry walked inside. The Head's office was largely unchanged since the last time he had seen it, several months ago. The Sword of Gryffindor was still in its glass case and the Sorting Hat rested securely on the same shelf where he'd last seen it. There were, however, some subtle changes: the spindly table filled with silver instruments was no longer present; neither was the cabinet where Dumbledore had kept his Pensieve. The curtains hanging over the windows seemed different as well, though Harry couldn't tell for sure. The table that stood in front of the Head's desk was different as well, more sedate, and held a silver tea set.
Headmistress McGonagall and Harry regarded each other silently. Harry, still sullen, wasn't inclined to start the conversation, and McGonagall held her peace as well.
Finally, "That was quite a display you gave us last night, Potter," she said coolly.
"It's not every day we welcome a murderer back into our midst, Professor," Harry retorted, his tone every bit as cool.
"There are extenuating circumstances."
"Are there?" Harry said, advancing to stand directly across the desk from her. "Well, I was there, Professor, and from where I stood, it looked exactly like a Death Eater taking advantage of the best opportunity he would ever have to eliminate one of the best, the kindest, the most powerful good wizards the world has ever known. As far as he knew, it was just him, Professor Dumbledore, four Death Eaters and one frightened boy on that roof. Dumbledore would be dead and no one would know who did it, except them. And we'd still be trusting Snape."
"As usual," an oily voice behind Harry sneered, "Potter thinks only his twisted imaginings have any merit."
Harry spun, his wand out and pointed directly at Severus Snape, who had appeared from behind a curtain. "Potter!" McGonagall cried. "Put that away!"
"Don't worry, Headmistress," Snape said, his dark eyes boring into Harry's with a hatred and loathing equal to Harry's own. "Even Potter must realize he cannot attack me here, of all places."
"You wish," Harry said in a low growl, barely able to contain his rage at being so close to Dumbledore's killer. Snape's wand was not out; it would be so easy to dispatch him, here and now, before McGonagall could stop him.
"Before you start throwing Unforgivable Curses, Potter," Snape said smoothly, "you should read the letter Headmistress McGonagall has, the one written for me by Professor Dumbledore."
"What would I care?" Harry sneered, but his wand dropped a fraction, and he stepped back so he could turn his head back toward McGonagall while still keeping Snape in view.
McGonagall picked up an envelope off her desk and opened it, pulling out a parchment letter then coming slowly around the desk to hand it to Harry. "Read it," she said simply.
Harry read:
To the August Members of the Wizengamot, the Wizarding community at large, and my dear friends,
It has been my considerable pleasure and privilege to have worked with, these past fifteen years and more, Professor Severus Snape. I realize that many in the Wizarding community do not trust him, but it is with utmost confidence that I continue to rely upon his strength, his knowledge and skills, and his personal word to me, of his utmost loyalty and devotion to the causes of protecting the persons and property of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
I have recently had cause to believe that, as of the beginning of this second year since his return, and because of the recent defeat of himself and his Death Eaters at the Ministry of Magic, that Lord Voldemort will attempt to have me assassinated, and that he will, by means of threat and intimidation, force a Hogwarts student to make this attempt.
Who this student is, is not important. What is important is that Voldemort shall not be allowed to succeed in his attempt to undermine the integrity of this school, or its students. I have therefore authorized Severus Snape to use any and all means at his disposal to persuade any and all Death Eaters who may request aid from him toward this end to comply with their requests, even if such complicity may result in personal danger to me. I hereby Absolve Severus Snape of any and all blame if I am killed due to his actions to prevent Voldemort from corrupting or harming any Hogwarts student.
I make this declaration in full knowledge of its consequences, if any, and I cheerfully accept all responsibility for them.
As ever, your servant,
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
Harry stared at the letter for a long time, his wand hand slowly lowering itself to his side. "Why would he do such a thing?" he finally said, almost to himself.
"He held the safety of every student in higher regard than his own," McGonagall said softly.
Harry looked at Snape again. There was still hatred in those black eyes. Harry could see it, hatred that matched his own. "That doesn't explain why you killed him," he said angrily.
"I made an Unbreakable Vow with Malfoy's mother," Snape said, drawing himself up arrogantly and looking down on Harry. "I would do whatever needed to be done to fulfill his vow, if he couldn't. I was sure that Draco would fail but that Dumbledore would have a way to prevent me from killing him, hopefully without killing me in the process."
"Sounds good to me," Harry said acidly.
"I'm sure," Snape drawled disinterestedly. "However, when I found myself on the Astronomy Tower roof that evening, the situation was completely out of control – there had been casualties, and the Order was trying to hold back the Death Eaters, but they failed to prevent them from reaching the roof."
"How did they know Dumbledore would be on the roof?" Harry demanded suddenly.
Snape was silent a moment, then: "It was expected he would return to the spot closest to the Dark Mark which had been placed there by one of the Death Eaters."
"And you showed up on the roof just in time to find out that Draco couldn't go through with his assignment," Harry said bitterly. "How very convenient."
"What would you have had me do, Potter?!" Snape said hotly.
"Die," Harry replied immediately. "Die protecting the one man who never doubted you, who always defended you, who you promised your loyalty to. You should have died!"
To his surprise, Snape dropped his eyes to the floor. "Perhaps you are right," he said softly. "I owed much to Albus Dumbledore. More, perhaps, than you will ever know. It cost me much to strike him down – even as I did it, I realized what an evil, loathsome thing I was doing. I was disgusted – at myself, for allowing it come to that, at Dumbledore for forcing my hand in front of the other Death Eaters – there was no other way to maintain their confidence, to stay true to my mission for him."
Harry snorted. "You expect me to believe that?"
"What you believe is of no interest to me," Snape retorted coldly. "It is the Wizengamot that makes such judgments. And it has judged me innocent of Dumbledore's murder due to extenuating circumstances. Because of that, the Headmistress of Hogwarts has seen fit to reinstate my employment here. You would do well, Potter, to accept that fact – or move on yourself."
For a fleeting moment Harry wanted to do exactly that – to run from the room, from the school, from everything that had anything to do with Snape, or Horcruxes, or death.
What kept him from doing so were the very things that had brought him here in the first place – his friends. Hermione and Ron had stayed with him through a tumultuous summer, and had been ready to leave school with him, if need be, to help him stop Voldemort. And now, when confronted with his greatest challenge, and the greatest threat to the school he had ever known – Snape's presence within its walls – he could not walk away, any more than he could have walked away when Voldemort was active.
Harry turned to address McGonagall. "If Snape's staying, I'm staying," he announced to her.
"Professor Snape, Harry," McGonagall said, but there was a ghost of a smile behind her firmly set lips.
"Yes, ma'am," Harry said, with an equally ghostly smile.
"How charming," Snape said, looking as if he'd smelled something revolting. "If there's nothing else you need to say, Potter, the Headmistress and I –"
"Professor Snape, kindly do not dismiss my students from my office," McGonagall cut him off. "Mr. Potter and I still have a matter or two to discuss."
Snape, annoyed, looked as if he might say something but thought better of it, nodded a small bow, and stepped back into shadow.
McGonagall now turned back to Harry. "I had asked the seventh years to stay, you may remember, to discuss a matter of new policy concerning them. The board of governors, in recognition of Voldemort's 'death' –" Harry noticed the way she said the word, as if that were a matter of debate "– have decided to allow seventh-year students more liberty than in previous years.
"Seventh-years who are of age have been given permission to leave the school grounds on weekends. This is a day-pass only – students are expected to return each night before 6 p.m. Violations will lose House points or be given detentions, and expulsion is a possibility for repeated offenses. Do you understand, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked him.
"Yes, ma'am," Harry nodded slowly. "I understand."
"Any questions?" McGonagall asked him.
"Well," Harry mused, "it seems like a big change, even considering who's supposed to be dead." He couldn't resist a quick look at Snape, whose expression remained unreadable.
"Trust Potter to look for more clouds to cover up the silver lining," the Potions master said derisively.
"Enough!" McGonagall snapped at him. "This feud between you two is becoming quite intolerable, especially when it impacts the daily routine of the school. I'll have it stopped, now, or know the reason why!" She rounded on Harry as well, when he started to open his mouth. "And you too, Potter! Is that clear to the both of you?"
Seeing the fire in McGonagall's eyes, Harry decided that discretion was the best option for now. "Yes, ma'am," he said again.
"Quite… clear," Snape said slowly, seemingly unperturbed.
"Fine," McGonagall waved Harry at the door. "Potter, off to your first class. Charms, if I remember correctly. Severus, if you'll remain, we'll have that meeting you've been requesting so insistently now, before your first class."
Harry walked to the door, silently fuming at being so summarily dismissed; he paused at the door, turning to look back at McGonagall, but it was the portrait behind her that caught his eye.
Professor Dumbledore, whose painting now dominated the wall behind the Headmistress' desk, was staring quite intently at him, his eyes locked onto Harry's. It was almost as if Dumbledore was trying to tell him something. Harry stared back, trying to understand.
McGonagall and Snape, who had turned to each other as Harry began to leave, both turned to look at the portrait as well, but by the time they had, Dumbledore's image appeared fast asleep. "Was there something else, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked, sounding impatient.
"No – no ma'am," Harry said, turning and exiting the office. What had Dumbledore's portrait been trying to communicate to him? He made his way back to the Great Hall to retrieve his books, but a third-year Gryffindors told him that his friend Ron had taken his book bag to their first class. He arrived in the Charms classroom ahead of Flitwick to find Ron and Hermione bent over a copy of the Daily Prophet, reading the front page article avidly.
"So what happened?" Ron asked in a low voice.
"Tell you later," Harry said, because Malfoy seemed to have his ear cocked in their direction, and because Hermione seemed deeply absorbed in what she was reading in the Prophet. "What're you looking reading?"
"Gringotts found a large vault in one of its storage rooms a few weeks ago."
"I know," said Harry. "I was there when they were bringing it up to the main level."
"Huh?" Ron exclaimed. "You never mentioned it to us!"
Harry shrugged. "I didn't think anything about it at the time."
"Well, it says – oh, here comes Professor Flitwick." Hermione put the paper away as the diminutive Charms professor made his way to the front of the class.
"Welcome back, everyone," Flitwick said cheerfully in his high, squeaky voice. "I trust everyone had a pleasant summer."
Harry and Ron looked at each other and rolled their eyes. Behind Ron, Harry saw Malfoy smirking at him. He turned back quickly to look at Flitwick again.
"Seventh year," Flitwick continued, "is, of course, the year you sit for your N.E.W.T. examinations. The name is no exaggeration – they are indeed both nasty and exhausting. We'll begin learning spells that your examiners will expect you to know such as the Protean Charm and the Patronus Charm, although we may leave the practice of that one to the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
"Maybe you could have Potter show you, Professor," Malfoy spoke up. "He's supposed to be quite the Darks Arts instructor himself." Crabbe and Goyle both sniggered.
"That's as may be, Mr. Malfoy," Flitwick said mildly, but he did not appear happy at being interrupted. "Perhaps you would care to demonstrate the Patronus Charm for us, yourself?"
Malfoy lost his smile momentarily, but recovered quickly. "We're not in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Professor."
Jon Crown, sitting in the row ahead of Malfoy and next to Neville, turned his head in Malfoy's direction and coughed. It sounded remarkably like the word "Chicken!"
Malfoy's pale face reddened. "I suppose in America they teach the Patronus Charm on the first day of class," he sneered.
"Ah, Mr. Crown!" Flitwick turned his attention to the young American. "I've wanted to ask you about the level of education and training you receive in America compared to here in Britain."
"It's comparable, sir," Jon said. "I've been looking through the various texts here and I would say they are about even. The biggest difference is in testing. American schools tend to test at the end of each year rather than only testing at specific times such as for O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s."
"Really?" Flitwick said, surprised. "I hadn't realized that! Where would you say a spell such as the Patronus Charm falls within the American system?"
"It's not a particularly difficult spell," Jon said, looking over at Harry. "But it does take concentration and determination."
"Indeed," Flitwick said. "Would you care to demonstrate?"
In answer, Jon stood and took out his wand. "Expecto Patronum!" he shouted, pointing at the open space in front of Flitwick's desk. From the tip of his wand a brilliant, silver form lept into the air and landed in front of Flitwick, who said, "My word!" and stepped back, falling off of his desk.
The entire class stared in surprise. Jon's Patronus was a tiger; it seemed like a gleaming crystal statue brought to life as it paced back and forth in front of him, growling softly. Jon held out his hand and the Patronus moved toward him, letting him put his hand on its head. It began to purr loudly.
Harry watched, surprised; Jon's was the largest Patronus he'd ever seen, larger even than his own Patronus, a stag. He glanced at Hermione; she seemed fascinated at the sight of such a large Patronus.
Malfoy, however, insisted on appearing unimpressed. "Is that the best you can do?" he sneered at Jon. The Patronus suddenly growled at Malfoy and he jerked back, startled. Most of the class laughed or snickered, including, Harry noticed, the other Slytherins present.
"Quite impressive, Mr. Crown!" Professor Flitwick had regained his feet and was beaming at the Patronus. "However," he continued more sedately. "We do have a lesson to attend to." Jon's Patronus disappeared. "Very good. Now let's open your Standard Book of Spells, grade seven, to the section on Charms…"
By the end of class Flitwick had been as good as his word; they had a reading assignment and essay to write on the different levels of conjuration magic. Hermione hurried off to her Arithmancy class, which Jon was attending as well, but not before Ron had snagged her copy of the Daily Prophet. He and Harry had a free period and they headed back to the Gryffindor common room until lunch.
While Harry flipped idly through the Charms reading assignment, Ron poured over the Daily Prophet article on the newly-discovered Gringotts vault. "What d'you think is inside this thing, Harry," Ron asked him.
"I dunno," Harry said distractedly. "Treasure, probably."
"That's what I think, too. Blimey, it's big! Ten feet on each side. I reckon it would be a tidy amount of gold if it were even half-full. I'd like to see what's inside it."
"Hey, Harry!"
Harry looked up to see Demelza Robins, a Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, walking toward him. "Hi, Demelza," he said, folding over a corner in the book he was reading and putting it down. "What's up?"
"Hi, Ron," Demelza added as she stopped in front of them, and Ron smiled and greeted her back. "I just wanted to see what you were thinking about Quidditch practices this fall. I just saw this year's schedule and we're up against Hufflepuff in late October."
Harry had barely thought much about Quidditch in the last few weeks, so many other things had been going on. "Er – d'you know if everyone on the team came back to school this year, other than Katie?" he asked her.
Demelza nodded brightly. "Yeah, lucky for us! I saw Ritchie this morning on the way to Transfigurations class and Jimmy afterwards, coming here. I saw Ginny at the Feast last night, and here you two are, of course, so that's the lot. Are you going to hold trials for a new Chaser to replace Katie?"
"Yeah," Harry said, wishing there was another way. But Katie herself had impressed on him the importance of trials rather than just letting your mates play; you might pass up a really good player that way.
"I'll put together tryouts for this weekend and we can discuss a schedule after that," Harry said. He tried to sound enthused but Quidditch had lost much of its appeal in the last few weeks.
"Great, Harry, I'll be there! See you!" With a wave Demelza left. Watching her leave, Harry wondered how he had ever felt as strongly about Quidditch as she apparently still did. He remembered Oliver Wood, his first Captain when he'd joined the team as a first year, the first student to do so in a hundred years. Wood ate, slept and dreamed Quidditch; he'd been obsessed with it, it seemed. As far as Harry knew, Wood was still with the Puddlemere United reserve team.
Ron, who'd been watching Harry watching Demelza leave, mistook his pensive mood for interest in her swaying hips. "D'you know that Demelza sort of likes you, Harry?" he said, fishing a bit.
Harry turned to him, surprised. "First I've heard of that. How do you know that?"
"Ginny told me she thought so. Mind you, Demelza hasn't said anything to her about it," Ron added hastily.
Harry shrugged and opened his book again to where he'd left off before talking to Demelza.
"Wish I knew what was going on between Hermione and that Yank, Jon," Ron said dully, still fishing.
Harry shut the book again and looked at Ron in bewilderment. "What makes you think anything's 'going on' between them in the first place?" he wanted to know.
Ron launched into a whole list of reasons: "She's always watching him," he pointed out. "She keeps asking him questions about himself, like what's he study over there in America and what kind of classes he takes, what his grades are like, all sorts of things like that!" Ron was working himself into quite a state.
"Doesn't that just sound like she wants to know how different things are over there?" Harry suggested.
"Well, why would she care about that?" Ron said, incredulous.
"Here's a brainwave, Ron," Harry said in exasperation. "Hermione's a smart person. Smart people want to learn things. People learn things by asking about them. D'you follow?"
Ron looked at him for several moments. Then, "So… you think she's just interested in him, not interested interested in him then, right?"
"Right in one," Harry said. The bell rang for lunch. "Let's go see how the lovebirds are doing, shall we?" Harry said with a grin.
"Oh, shut it."
They all arrived in the Great Hall about the same time, Hermione talking animatedly with Jon about Arithmancy. From what Harry gathered Jon was quite good at the subject as well. Ron gave Harry an "I-told-you-so" look as they sat down and began filling their plates with Salisbury steaks, potatoes and gravy and peas. Ginny joined them a few minutes later and sat next to Jon, opposite Harry.
Hermione suddenly held out her hand. "Ron, did you finish reading the paper?"
"Oh, yeah." Ron dug in his bag and handed to paper back to her. She folded it to better hold it while eating and busied herself finishing the article about the Gringotts Vault.
Jon, looking over her should at the picture, said to Harry, "That was the vault we saw in the Bank that day, isn't it?" Harry nodded.
"Oh, that was when Harry showed you where Gringotts was," Hermione turned to look at Jon, who nodded as well.
"I wish I had gone with you to see that," she said wistfully as she continued to read the Prophet article. "It sounds very interesting."
"Why's that?" Jon asked.
"It's been giving them fits for the last week," Hermione replied. "I don't think they have a clue what it's about or what's inside it."
"Hold it," Ron objected. "The article didn't say all that. How do you know they've been having problems with it?"
"You have to read the entire paper, Ron," Hermione said, gently waving it at him. "For example, near the back is an article about the Chief Miser going on holiday this week. Well that's daft. He wouldn't be going anywhere with this Vault thing up in the air. I think something happened to him."
Ginny spoke up. "It did." Everyone turned to look at her. "Mum talked to Bill the other night. He told her that the Chief Goblin tried their finger-stroke unlocking technique on the Vault and it stuck all his fingers and toes together. He's been trying to get them unstuck for the last week. Of course," she added with a small grin. "I wasn't supposed to mention that to anyone…"
All too soon the bell rang for the end of lunch and everyone gathered up their book bags to head to their next classes. Harry was not looking forward to this one at all – it was a Double Defense Against the Dark Arts; with Snape teaching it again this year, he feared there would be very little of practical benefit they would learn.
Plus, he still loathed Snape, no matter what McGonagall thought.
At the entrance to the Great Hall, Harry paused to let Luna walk out in front of him. She smiled at him as she passed, as did the girl following her; Harry saw that it was the other exchange student, Deirdre Recaunt. Seeing her up close for the first time, Harry saw that she was very pretty, in an unusual way. Her brown hair was long and flowing, her eyes expressive and deep brown. Her nose was prominent but gave a stately beauty to her thin, long face. Her lips were thin but were nicely accented with gloss. She hurried after Luna.
"Those two are a likely pair," a voice behind Harry said. He turned to see Ginny. "Luna and Deirdre."
"What's the scoop on Deirdre?" Harry asked, knowing that Ginny had been busy with her network of friends finding out about the new students.
"Deirdre's rather quiet and shy," Ginny said, walking with Harry. "Right now all we know is, she's from a small village somewhere in this region, though she hasn't said exactly where yet. She seems to like Luna, although they don't have any classes together since Luna's a sixth-year and Deirdre's taking seventh-year classes."
They came to an intersection and Ginny stopped. "I've got to go this way for class," she said, pointing down the opposite direction from the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. "You nervous?" she asked suddenly.
"No," Harry said truthfully. "Just not happy about Snape being here."
"I know," she said quietly. "Remember, if you need to talk about anything…"
"You'll be the first to hear," Harry said.
"You're lying," Ginny smiled. "But it's nice of you to say that. See you later." She headed off down the opposite corridor.
Walking up to the classroom Harry saw a group of students clustered outside it. "The doors locked," Ron said to him as he joined him and Hermione. Harry glanced around. Off on their own, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were discussing Quidditch.
"I expect it'll be a very good year for us," Malfoy was saying, loud enough to be sure he was overheard by the rest of the students standing around there. "We're getting new brooms for the Slytherins this year – the Firestar," he added boastfully.
Harry groaned inwardly. The Firestar was the new, top-of-the-range racing broom that had come out earlier that year. Successor to the Firebolt, it would accelerate from zero to 170 mph in just nine seconds, outstripping all other brooms on the market.
Malfoy must have read Harry's expression because he added smugly, "I'm looking forward to seeing you on the pitch, Potter. We'll see who catches the Snitch first this time." As if the speed of one's broom was the only thing that determined that, Harry thought.
Just then the door to the classroom flew open and Snape's voice rang down the corridor. "Everyone into the room. Find a seat, no dawdling. You too, Potter," Snape said, stopping at the door so that Harry would have to go in before him. Harry did so, casting him a venomous glance at Snape as he sidled past him into the room.
"Very well," Snape said as he turned and faced the class at the front of the room. "We come to your final year here at Hogwarts, your final chance to learn something useful before going out to make something of yourselves in the world – if you can," he added, looking down his long nose at Ron, who couldn't help but swallow nervously under his gaze.
"We will be dealing with powerful magic this year," Snape continued. "I expect you have all been practicing your non-verbal spells this summer – No?" He looked around at various faces. "Pity. They will be an important component of your N.E.W.T. testing – yes, Mr. Malfoy?"
Malfoy's hand was up. "Sir," he said, his polite tone sounding very incongruous against the malicious smirk on his face. "Mr. Crown, our new American exchange student, gave an interesting demonstration of his Patronus this morning in Charms class. I wonder if he'd be able to show us any more interesting spells here."
Snape turned his dark eyes toward Jon, who was seated next to Hermione. "So," he said, looking Jon over carefully. "You are from America? Interesting. Do your studies there include Defense Against the Dark Arts?"
"No," Jon replied. "It's not given as a specific class. We learn techniques against Dark magic in all of our subjects."
"'No, sir,'" Snape corrected him. "Come to the front. I'd like to see a demonstration of your technique. Malfoy, up here as well."
Malfoy swaggered to the front of the class where he stood grinning as Snape positioned Jon with several feet separating them. "Let's start with a demonstration of your Shield Charm," Snape said, moving behind Malfoy. "Mr. Malfoy will attempt to use a Stunning Spell on you. You are familiar with the Shield Charm, are you not?" he asked, making the question sound insulting.
"Of course," Jon said. His wand was already out. He held it before him, tip pointing upward, while waiting for Malfoy's attack.
"Very well. Begin!" Malfoy's wand came up as soon as Snape had started saying the words.
"Stupefy!" he shouted – there was a loud BANG and a bolt of red light leaped from Malfoy's wand toward Jon. Jon's wand, however, came forward and with barely a flick the bolt was stopped without reaching him. Jon hadn't spoken, either, Harry noted – he'd performed the Shield Charm wordlessly.
Malfoy's face darkened. "Stupefy!" he shouted again, and again, hurling several more bolts at Jon, each of which was deflected by a flick of Jon's wand. Malfoy even attempted a Disarming Spell, shouting "Expelliarmus!" but to no avail; Jon's wand remained firmly in hand as each spell ricocheted off his Shield spell and into the walls or ceiling.
"Enough," Snape finally said, stepping in front of Malfoy who, frustrated at his inability to get through Jon's defenses, looked on the verge of casting an even more powerful spell. "Take your seat," he said coldly to Malfoy, who glared back at him but stalked back to his desk and threw himself behind it, waving off a whispered comment from Crabbe.
"An impressive display," Snape conceded. "Especially from a student that does not even have Defense Against the Dark Arts as a separate class."
"Thank you," Jon said, smiling. "Sir," he added.
Snape took out his own wand. "How is your offense? Do you think you could break through my shield, for example?"
Jon shrugged. "I only know one way to find out," he said. "Sir."
"Very well," Snape said, readying his wand. "Attack me!"
The entire class was mesmerized by these events, Harry included. It seemed as if Snape was deliberately testing Jon's abilities. He found himself wanting to know what Jon was capable of as well, especially since the threat of Voldemort had not achieved wide recognition outside of Britain in the Wizarding world. Harry had no idea if there were Dark wizards in America who were equally as dangerous as Voldemort. He fervently hoped not, for everyone's sake.
He also wished Snape had given him permission to attack rather than Jon.
Jon had squared off against the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, pausing only a moment before a red bolt shot from his wand toward Snape, who parried it easily. "A Stunning Spell, no surprises there," Snape said, giving commentary on Jon's attack. "You'll have to do better than that, Mr. Crown."
"As you wish," Jon muttered. He gestured downward with his wand; a blue bolt shot out of it into the floor, and there was a crackling sound as a sheet of ice suddenly covered the floor of the classroom. At the same time Jon's wand snapped back up and at Snape, who flicked his wand to parry the spell. This time, however, Jon's spell hit Snape's shield and pushed hard against it, sending Snape sliding on the now-icy floor. Snape overbalanced and fell onto his side. His shield disappeared and with a final flick of Jon's wand, Snape's wand flew out of his hand and across the room.
For several moments there was dead silence as everyone stared in shock at the sight of Snape, floundering wandless on the floor as he attempted to regain his feet. Then Dean Thomas shouted "Excellent!" and the entire room, except for the Slytherins, burst into applause. Jon, who had lowered his wand, looked at Harry with a small, almost mirthless smile. He gave a small shrug, as if to say, "Well, he asked for it…" Harry, grinning, joined in the applause.
"Silence!" Snape had regained his feet and was glaring at them in barely suppressed fury. Harry doubted whether Snape had ever been so completely humiliated by a student in class before. A student, a foreigner, had just beat him at his dearest subject. Harry made sure he was the last one to stop applauding.
One of the Slytherins had retrieved Snape's wand and returned it to him. Glaring at Jon, Snape vanished the ice on the floor then returned behind his desk. "Return to your seat," he said to him in a tightly-controlled voice. "Ten points from Gryffindor for foul play."
There were cries of protest from Gryffindor students "Foul play? That was brilliant!" shouted Dean Thomas.
"I don't recall asking for your commentary, Mr. Thomas," Snape snarled. "However, since you've seen fit to give it… ten more points from Gryffindor, for cheek. Similar comments will invite similar punishment. Do I make myself clear?" The protests died away.
"Good." Visibly collecting himself, Snape took out his book and directed everyone to chapter 14 to begin the class. His lecture, however, was all but ignored as everyone marveled over what they had seen – Snape humiliated!
Snape must have found it humiliating as well, because he dismissed class almost 30 minutes early, leaving the room straightaway with no further comment to anyone.
Several students immediately went over to Jon, still excited by what they'd witnessed. "I just gave him what he wanted," he said with a shrug. "I doubt whether I'd ever be able to trip him up like that again."
"Well, once was enough!" Neville, who'd come over to congratulate him, declared. Neville had been almost deathly afraid of Snape in the past due to Snape's particularly vile treatment of him. "It was b-beautiful seeing him laying there like a turtle flipped onto its back!"
They dispersed into the hallways, students still making comments to Jon, until only he, Harry, Hermione and Ron were left making their way toward the Gryffindor common room. As they rounded one corner, however, they found Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle waiting for them.
"What now, Malfoy?" Harry said, irritated. "Want to brag some more about your mommy buying the Slytherins new brooms so they'll keep you on the team?"
Malfoy scowled. "Shut your trap, Potter. I've got unfinished business with your new boyfriend." He looked at Jon. "You fancy a duel, Crown, or are you too much of a Yank Mudblood to know what one is?"
Hermione gasped and both Harry and Ron reacted at the epithet. "Mudblood" was a very offensive term. But Jon hadn't reacted to it at all. "Oh, I know what a duel is, Malfoy. I just don't think you've got the stones for one."
"You want to have a go, then?" Malfoy challenged him.
"Right here?" Jon said, looking around the hallway.
"No," Malfoy replied derisively. "This Friday. We can meet in the Room of Requirement at, say, 10 p.m."
"What's the 'Room of Requirement?' " Jon asked.
"They can tell you," Malfoy said, jerking a thumb at Harry and Ron. "Are you game, then?"
Jon nodded slowly. "Yeah, I'm game." Behind Harry, Hermione sighed with resigned exasperation.
"Good." Malfoy smirked. "You can bring two seconds with you. I suppose if you can't scrape up anyone better you can use Potter and Weasley. These two will be mine," Malfoy pointed to Crabbe and Goyle. "Don't chicken out, or it'll be all over school by Monday that you're all talk and no go." He spun on his heel and walked away. Crabbe and Goyle stood still for a moment, smiling menacingly at them, then followed Malfoy down the corridor.
Harry was impressed by Jon being willing to duel Malfoy his first week at school, but Hermione said reproachfully, "I can't believe you let him talk you into that, Jon."
"I'll be surprised if he goes through with it," Jon said candidly. "He's just ticked off because I showed him up twice today. He's blowing off steam."
"He spent his entire sixth year plotting to kill our headmaster," Hermione said.
"Which Harry said he couldn't do when it came down to it," Jon reminded her. "He's just a typical bully."
"Fine," Hermione said, annoyed at Jon's dismissive attitude. "Fight him, then. Have fun." She turned and walked away toward the Gryffindor common room.
Jon was silent several moments, then turned to Harry and Ron. "What's with her? Everything she's told me about Malfoy has been bad. She thinks he's despicable. So what's she mad at me for now?"
"No idea," said Harry. Ron said nothing.
"Do you think I shouldn't fight him?" Jon asked them. "Should I have refused to duel with him?"
"Absolutely not," Ron said quickly. "Malfoy's a foul, twisted git who needs to be knocked down a few pegs. He shouldn't even be back in school after what he did last year. Ron looked down the corridor Malfoy had disappeared down, clearly resentful. "I expect his parents' money covered up his failures, though."
"I think you did the right thing," Harry agreed, but not for the same reasons as Ron. "Malfoy could use being taken down a peg or two – and so could whoever made him Head Boy this year," he added, wondering how McGonagall could have made such an idiotic mistake.
"You'll be my seconds, then?" Jon asked them.
"Oh, I wouldn't miss this for all the gold in Gringotts," Ron said fervently as they turned and started toward the Gryffindor common room. "Well, not for half of it, anyway."