Chapter 16: Snape Snaps

AN: Trigger warning. Snape is disparaging and pretty much verbally abusive. Not out of character though.

Harry woke with plenty of questions on his mind. Between the eventful exploration and visit to Dumbledore's office, and his dream, there was plenty to think about. Harry could only be happy that Dumbledore wasn't mad at him for exploring. But Harry already knew the headmaster was a bit strange. He would have gotten in plenty of trouble with everyone else. He still needed to be careful, he might finally do something that make Dumbledore upset enough to decide Harry wasn't worth the effort. Even then, Harry felt the urge to return to Ravenclaw Tower and try to get in again.

He started his day like he had the rest of the days at Hogwarts over the summer. Hedwig was already waiting for her owl treat, and looking curiously at the unfinished letter on Harry's desk. Harry quickly scribbled a few last lines, adding one more line to Hermione's letter.

P.S. Strange question, but what are Marauders?

Harry had no clue what a Marauder was, or why his dad and his friends used those nicknames? Maybe they were some type of codenames? He only knew the real name of one person in his dreams besides his parents. Remus, he was called. So far his dad's friends had appeared in three of his dreams. They were obviously close, which made Harry wonder where these men where now? Had they died like Lily and James? If they were still alive, where were they? Harry wanted to talk to someone who was friends with his parents, who could tell him if they'd be proud of him. The dreams had helped, but Harry wanted more.

Harry didn't even know if his dreams held truth. Dumbledore seemed to think so, based on the few Harry had shared, but did that hold the same for all of them? Harry wasn't sure he wasn't imagining this all based on the few tidbits he'd heard from his professors and others. He might have dreamt a story about a map based on his exploring the castle. But if they were real, where did the dreams come from? If it was the truth, would his Dad know how to get into Ravenclaw tower? An even better questions was why he was having these dreams now and not before? Growing up at the Dursley's he had wished to know anything about his parents. It took him a few weeks after reaching Hogwarts to process how strange it was he hadn't even known their names.

Harry reached toward Hedwig and sent her out with those letters to his friends after getting one last affectionate nuzzle and nip. He quickly threw on some of the clothes McGonagall had transformed for him, stopping to wash up, before heading down to the Great Hall. His mind was still on that dream, and it's relation with his conversation with Dumbledore yesterday. The man had seemed to encourage Harry's exploration. He didn't have any issues with it like Snape did.

That thought made Harry frown. He still didn't understand why Snape hated him. Anytime he'd tried asking the headmaster, the man had skirted around the topic. It was as if they were complete opposites, Snape not wanting Harry to find out anything on his own, but expecting him to know everything. Dumbledore seemed to want to let Harry do what he could, and make mistakes. He just wouldn't answer any questions about what Harry couldn't find out on his own. At least, not with anything more than vague answers.

Questions shouldn't be asked. Harry had learnt that long ago. If he wanted to know something, he would have to learn what he could himself. But as forgiving as Dumbledore was, would he forgive Harry for any trouble he got in chasing answers? The old man was one of the few adults who seemed to believe in Harry. Not Harry Potter, but just Harry. So what would happen when it turned out Harry wasn't worth it? That he had caused more trouble than what he was worth. It might be better just to stay out of it, follow his schedule and do what he was told.

As Harry sat down near McGonagall, who was sipping her tea and reading the Daily Prophet, he had settled on a course of action. He could still enjoy Hogwarts while doing what he was told, and staying out of any trouble. There was still Quidditch, helping Hagrid, magic and best of all, no Dursleys. Even if he had to suffer through being with Snape.

Snape was the professor who would be supervising him today. The past two days, McGonagall and Sprout had met him at the meal, and walked with him, asking about his day, or how he slept while Harry answered politely. Then they settled into the teacher's office where Harry worked on the schoolwork. Both of the women had checked on him as he did. It would not be the same with Snape.

For one, the man wasn't eating in the Great Hall. He was probably already in the dungeons. Harry slowly finished his last bites of food, he started the journey down there on his own, progressively passing through darker and damper corridors until he reached the Potion master's office.

He knocked on the large door. Then heard an aggravated sigh, and then the words. "Enter."

Harry crept in slowly, not daring to meet Snape's eyes from where the man was putting his ladle back into a cauldron. He could hear the sneer in Snape's voice when he spoke though. ""Frankly, there is little more I would like less than having to watch you. However, I shall be kind, and allow you to stay while I work."

He waved one oof the knives he was suing to cut ingredients in the air, using it to point at Harry as he continued, his voice getting sharper than the blade he was holding. "I am a very busy man, Potter. Just because everyone else decides it is alright to be called here and there at the whims of a privileged brat, doesn't mean I will tolerate any disruptions to my work. So, you will sit quietly, and not leave that desk until I say. You cannot slip away from as easily as you may Professor Binns, and I do not have the time to chase you down again."

The dark-haired boy nodded and shuffled his way into a seat. Snape rolled his eyes. "Am I understood, Potter?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said as loudly as he could muster. There were several steaming cauldrons, some stirring themselves, others being put into vials and packed into boxes, all with some waves of Snape's wand. Harry forced himself to keep his eyes on the pages in front of him, rather than the magic at work.

He had been rather excited about doing potions before meeting Snape. It seemed like the type of magic he could do, it was a list of ingredients like cooking. He'd been working at Aunt Petunia's side in the kitchen, and then on his own since he was at least six. Chopping roots, stirring a cauldron and making sure it was heated wasn't the hard part. It wasn't that simple. There was a lot of magic involved. It still probably would've been much easier if it wasn't for Snape. Harry was sure of that.

Currently, he was supposed to be doing an essay on ingredients for Snape. Harry was flipping through One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, but still couldn't help himself from looking up for a moment as Snape prowled around, and waved his wand. The first time Snape caught his eyes, the man scowled. "It seems you can't even read properly, can you? No wonder your brain is so empty. If you didn't keep letting your mind wander, perhaps you'd have some chance. Doubtful, though. I'm sure it takes most of your brain's energy to string together a full sentence for that paper."

Harry didn't answer. He just pulled the book closer to his face in order to avoid any hint of movement catching his eye and causing him to turn reflexively toward the motion. He put all his energy onto keeping his focus on the page in front of him, and not anything Snape was doing. Life at the Dursleys' had given him a lot of practice for this. You did your best to build a wall and not let anything they said get through. Just let it wash over you, and not think about it. Harry did that, as much as he could.

Sometimes though, there were things it was hard to let go. Like the mutterings coming from Snape now. "Nosy ingrate. Just like his father. Waste of time and resources. Idiotic old man and his…"

It wasn't new for Snape to insult his father, but Dumbledore too? Harry had trouble understanding what the Headmaster saw in Snape. Or why he'd think Harry could ask him anything, like why his mother cared about his father disliking Snape. It was obvious how much Snape disliked his father. It made sense it would go both ways.

There were other words he caught coming from the Potions master or thought he did. Harry's head was flooding with years of insults from the Dursley's, people at his muggle school, Malfoy and Snape. 'Flobberworm Mucus is a popular potion thickener,' he read. "It is commonly used in Wiggenweld Potions, Herbicides and Sleeping draughts. One may extract the mucus by…"

"Potter!" Snape was looming over him, glowering even more.

"I doubt you even have a working head at this point. Are your ears useless?"

"Sorry, sir." Harry frowned as he tried to figure out what he'd done now. Snape was pointing at the floor, where Harry's ink had spilled. The edges of his book were stained with ink as well. He must have knocked it over accidently.

"Such carelessness. I have much more important things to do than pulling your head out of the clouds or cleaning up your messes. Do you want to ruin all my potions? Whose fault will it be if there's no refills of Pepper-up potion in the Hospital Wing?"

"I'm sorry, sir," Harry repeated, already getting on the ground to wipe up some of the ink.

"Let's hope your hands are not as useless as that empty head of yours," Snape said, carefully stepping over the spilled ink. He gave Harry a cruel smirk, and turned so fast that the back of his cloak swished in the air, hitting the boy in the face. "It would not do to allow all that fame to go to your head, would it? Though I doubt you could be more arrogant than you are now. Remember, Potter, just because Professor Dumbledore chose to believe you are special, his prized pint-sized celebrity pet project, does not make you above the rules."

Harry bit his lip and took a deep breath as he agreed verbally. It was stupid. Snape had been right about how careless Harry had been. He needed to be better, or he'd be back to the Dursleys in no-time. He just kept getting into trouble. The best thing to do right now was to focus on the task at hand, on doing it right.

Snape hadn't given him anything to wipe up the ink with, and from his tone, Harry was sure that he needed to do it by hand, without magic. So he used his robe to wipe it up. He could feel the ink sinking into his robe, staining his skin. At least it no longer was on a puddle on the floor. His inkwell was picked up and put away, as was the mess of quills. He felt Snape look over then, and grimaced as the man stared hard and long. "Hardly adequate, but I suppose I could hardly expect that much from you. Could I?"

Harry took a deep breath and looked up for the smallest second. "No, sir."

"Dismissed then. I must finish my work, and it would be better done with you out of my sight. I have enough to worry about without the distractions of some impertinent deliquent."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said falling into old and safe habits. With the Dursley's he might be able to throw in some insult without them noticing, or speak sarcastically, but unlike his relatives, Snape had enough brain power to detect such things. "I'm sorry to have bothered you. Have a good day."

Snape looked surprised, but only for the barest second. Then he scowled again and returned to his potions. Harry left as quickly as he could without drawing anymore attention to himself.

A half-hour later, Snape finished ladeling his potions into vials and corking them, and made his way up to the Great Hall. Immdediatley, the other heads of house and the headmaster turned. It was strange to see them all assembled there in the midst of the day, but he had learnt that this had become normal practice over the past few days during Potter's stay. The other staff of the school were already out and about to finish their day's work.

"Severus," Dumbledore started after a moment of silence when he'd sat. "Where is Harry?"

"I dismissed him nearly forty-five minutes ago. After a year in this castle, he should have been able to find his way to the Great Hall without too much trouble. However, I suppose, Mr. Potter couldn't help himself and wandered off again."

"Severus.."

"I told him already I do not have the time nor patience to chase him down for such things," Snape finished as he served himself.

He heard a scoff. "You did not seem to think the same yesterday, when you marched him to the headmaster's office for getting a bit waylaid. Do you want him to get into trouble? Just so you could dish out some more punishment as some type of revenge?"

Sprout reached out to grab her friend. "Minerva," she whispered soothingly, giving Snape a disapproving look, as she rubbed the Gryffindor's shoulder.

Dumbledore sighed as well, getting up, swishing his purple cloak over the bench and looking over his half-moon spectacles with a sad look. "I'm disappointed in you, Severus. We will be having a conversation about this. One that has been long due. However, more important is Harry."

"Yes," McGonagall said standing up quickly. "We must split up and find him."

She was stopped by Dumbledore holding up a hand. "No need. I will go now and speak to him. I do not believe finding him should be much of an issue. Severus, I expect you in my office at half past two." Snape nodded, and Dumbledore swept out of the room.

Dumbledore had not been gone fifteen seconds when there was a resounding slap. Snape put his hand slowly to his cheek, as if to check that he had actually been slapped, and that the pain was real. Sprout and Flitwick were staring at McGonogall, open mouthed in shock, as she stumbled back.

"Minerva!" Flitwick said, a little delayed.

McGonagall bit her tongue and blinked away her tears. "Yes, Filius?"

"What are you doing? Severus might have been out of line, but so was that!"

McGonagall laughed shrilly. "I suppose so. But it's been long deserved. Do you hear me, Severus? I've ignored the complaints and gossip for so long, believing you had grown out of this, and it was all a matter of house prejudices. But since Harry's arrival at school I've been lead to doubt that."

"So talk to Albus," Sprout said, putting a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Minerva, whatever your reasons are, tell Albus before he speaks to Severus. Violence won't do anything."

"I rather think he needs some sense slapped into him," McGonogall countered, glaring over at Snape who was still looking at her in shock. "I can't condone this behavior a moment longer. Was there a good reason that those three came to me stating you would be stealing the stone? I cannot imagine Miss Granger would be speaking badly about a teacher without some logical reasoning."

Snape snorted. "Please. Miss Granger may have some brains, but she is obnoxious and can barely see past her nose, or whatever is in her books. The reasoning must have been Potter's. He has never like me."

Flitwick raised both eyebrows, so high that he looked almost comical. Sprout just shook her head as McGonagall stepped froward, brushing off Pomona's hand so it could no longer hold her back. "And why is that, Severus?"

"Because unlike everyone else at this school, I have not seen fit to give the boy any special treatment from his celebrity. He did not need anymore special treatment, when he is already an arrogant boy, believing he is entitled to the –"

"Really, Severus," Sprout interrupted sternly. "We have all done our best to treat Mr. Potter like any other student. And as for this entitlement, the boy has always been humble, trying to stay out of the way. He has good reason too. Attention must not have meant anything good for him in the past."

"Please," Snape said rolling his eyes. "He is just like his father. Too proud to think of anybody else, his head filled with hot air. I dismissed him, and he should have stuck to the plans laid out for him. Instead, he has you all panicking over a disappearance of ten minutes like some headless Diricawls."

Sprout looked at Flitwick helplessly, and he sighed. "Severus, perhaps it is time you look past the fact that the boy is James Potter's son. Harry cannot even remember his father. Do not keep holding this grudge."

"You are being too kind, Filius," McGonagall scoffed. "It has been almost fifteen years since you have been around James Potter. And yet, you can't let it go. Perhaps, if you actually bothered to talk to the boy, you might realize that just because you have not gotten over your past, that you can't let go of something like your interactions with James Potter, among others, that you need to force that load of baggage onto someone else."

Snape stood, pushing his plate of food away and glaring down at McGonagall. "If I hold onto anything from the past, it is the lessons I have learnt. Which is why I won't give the boy the same kingly treatment as the rest of you, or he might be allowed free reign to do whatever he pleases, just like his father."

"That is what this is all about, Severus. Isn't it? I supposed I should not have expected anything else from a Slytherin. You can't stand anyone else getting in the ways of your ambitions, can you? Because you want to feel big, powerful, like you are the one making the choices, directing the way things go. You are still a scared little boy, Severus. One who feels small, alone and helpless. The way to fix that isn't to make others feel the same."

Snape stepped back, and Flitwick took the chance to step between them. "Stop it, Minerva. You've done enough."

She ignored him, taking advantage of her height to look over Flitwick at Snape, directing all of her anger at him. "No. I will not stop. Not until Severus learns that he is just continuing a cycle. You keep trying to make yourself feel better, to feel big and powerful. But you were my student, Severus. Filius's as well. Perhaps that is why he feels the need to protect you. But I cannot let you harm other students because I pity you. And yes, I do pity you, because somehow, you still haven't learnt that submitting others to the constant mocking and emotional abuse you endured won't heal you. You are just prolonging a cycle of abuse."

Snape turned to look at her with wide eyes. He opened his mouth and closed it again. Then frowned. "I am not—"

"You are, Severus."

"Enough, Minerva!" Sprout said trying and failing to pull her back again.

The Gryffindor head of house continued to lecture Snape angrily. "Can't you see that Harry has gone through so many of the things you have? That you have so much in common? The difference is that somehow, miraculously, Harry knows that the way to heal isn't to make yourself feel powerful. That will not help you, Severus. Harry Potter has stepped away from the past, focusing on the present and the future. Perhaps you should do the same."

"You don't know what I've…" Snape started. He shook his head. "Perhaps, it is because I have 'gone through so much' that I can see what you can't. That the boy is an ungrateful, entitled and exceedingly arrogant."

"What you are seeing, is the James Potter of twenty years ago. Yes, he was arrogant, and could be a bully. But he changed! The man he became was valiant, kind and good. He died protecting his wife, and son. He is dead! You are holding a grudge against a dead man, Severus. And I pity you for it." McGonagall was crying now, her entire face red, whether from screaming or the tears was impossible to tell. "It is time to grow up and change, Severus. To let go of the past. It's enough."

Snape had been looking down and away, but turned up look at McGonagall, with his eyes dark and angry. "No."

"What?"

"James Potter was an arrogant bully, ungrateful, and unable to appreciate what he had. His son is just the same."

"Severus," Sprout chided gently. "You know that is not true."

McGonagall laughed bitterly. "So that is what this is about, jealousy? Because James Potter was popular and loved. He had loving parents, and was popular in school and with his friends. But Filius was right. Harry cannot remember James, or that his father adored him. He didn't have a mother to love and protect him, not like you did. Do not continue to begrudge him because of Lily."

Now the other two heads of house gasped, but McGonagall snorted, ignoring the fact that Snape was turning even more gaunt and pale than usual. "Please, it was never a secret. Everyone at Hogwarts at the time knew that Severus Snape hung onto every word that came out of Lily Evan's mouth." Here she turned to him. "But you never took them in, not enough to stop the foul words that came out of your mouth, and still continue too."

"A mistake," Snape spat at her. "A stupid mistake."

"That ruined the best relationship you had with anyone in your life. You slapped away the hands that tried to help you. That is the difference between you and Harry Potter. He isn't selfish, he knows that maintaining a friendship means support and love, from both sides. You took, but didn't give. And that is why Lily chose James Potter."

Snape lunged. McGonagall was too immersed in her emotion to move as he pushed past her. Her entire face was streaming with tears. Sprout looked worriedly after the younger man, but Flitwick shook his head. "Let him go. He needed to hear it. Though Minerva might have been a bit harsher than she should."

McGonagall sniffed, wiping away some more tears. "Perhaps. But I could not stand it anymore. Harry doesn't deserve Severus's hate. Severus Snape might have been my student, and I will always want to protect him. But I will not let do that at the cost of another of my cub's well-being."

Sprout sighed, rubbing her hand over her face. "I understand. We all are angry at Severus. And perhaps this was the only way to make sure he learns. But it's time to take a step back, Minerva. You took it too far bringing up Lily. I did not teach Severus, Lily and James, and I've only heard of their relationship through the rest of you. To Severus, you exposed something he has refused to talk about for over decade to someone who knew nothing about it. So, for tonight you rest, and perhaps check on Mr. Pottter if Albus has found on him by now. But tomorrow, you apologize."

The Gryffindor head of house scowled at where Snape had stood moments ago. She did not regret her words, Snape needed to hear them, even if they had been cruel. She would apologize, but only for the harshness of her speech. If there was one thing she was sure about, it was that nothing mattered more than protecting her cubs, and she had been right to set Snape straight. Now, if only it would go through his stubborn head.