Harry woke up sick. At first, he thought he just didn't want to be here. But then he tried to get up, and everything felt worse. How did he get back to his four-poster? Did he see Dean? Neville? Was he bombarded in the common room? …What was the password? Harry waited for his memory to cooperate, blinking, waiting for things to drop into place, but they didn't. ...Nothing came back. There was just a gaping hole in his memory.
"Morning Harry!" Neville said cheerfully and confidently while pulling on his robes.
"Morning, Neville."
"You feeling alright?"
"Yeah… I think so…" Harry tried to sit up.
"I arrived a day early to help Professor Sprout with the greenhouse before start of term. She's been busy restoring the grounds all summer. I felt like that yesterday, tired, you know? Think something's going around."
"Really?" Harry felt his head for a fever. …He remembered…. talking to Hermione yesterday while they walked around the castle. She went to see Snape in St. Mungo's... what else did they talk about?
It took him a while to get going but felt okay by breakfast. Whatever McGonagall said to the students must have worked because he was able to sit at the Gryffindor table and was only ogled at, not talked to.
On his way down to breakfast earlier he ran into a group of Slytherins who looked at Harry with a mix of thinly veiled nauseam, regret, and wariness. They could have been Hufflepuffs in green trimmings for all their menace. This gave him hope until he noticed the unofficial 8th year Slytherins eyeing him at breakfast looking like they were plotting to push him off a broken tower. Draco, who also stole a glance at him (because they must have been talking about him,) looked fierce but looked away defiantly.
"Ignore them," Hermione reminded him.
After eating he felt much better. It was hard to feel bad back at Hogwarts with the limitless amount of good food. Did Kreacher arrive today or was he still at Grimmauld Place cleaning up his shameful hoard?
It didn't take him long to feel ill again. Their first class, Charms, was with the Slytherins, all of them queuing up together. But then he saw Luna… and then Justin Finch-Fletchley.
"Wait…? Are we all together?"
Hermione gaped at him and rolled her eyes possibly more dramatically than she ever had. "One of these days…"
"Yes- I'll read Hogwarts: a Guide, a History, an Odyssey, a Love Poem, yeah yeah, so what, are we all together?"
"YES!" she sighed exasperatedly. "Many students don't come back for seventh year, as it's entirely optional, and is just used to specialize in a specific career. We can internship at wizarding careers Fridays through Sundays, and we take certifications at the end of the year that may help us obtain a higher position." She pulled out a copy of Harry's schedule. Where did she get a copy of his schedule? "According to this you are going for a certification in Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Your Fridays are free to study or do a weekend internship. At the end of the year, we have exams for our certifications, or C.H.A.R.M.S.: Certifications Honoring Approved Required Ministry Standards. Some wizarding professions require these certifications in addition to O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s There are other ways to obtain the certifications, but Hogwarts is easier for students who are not already working and want to focus."
"Oh…" Harry followed Hermione to seats in the front of the class. He much would have preferred to sit in the back, but the Slytherins were there grouped together, talking in low voices.
While Harry looked around for other faces he knew, he accidentally caught Ginny's eye. He quickly looked away. Even though it was just a small glance, her expression of searching hurt was too much to deal with on his first day. Why haven't you been talking to me? She was sitting next to Luna, who looked radish-free and toned down this year, or as toned down as Luna could be while being herself.
Charms, as it turned out, was the perfect class to start the new year with. Their first class was nothing but a refresher on six years' worth of spells, Harry going from anxious to feeling positively distracted by objects whizzing around in every direction, taking him out of his anxiety. Professor Flitwick ended class by reviewing what would be expected on their Charms C.H.A.R.M.S. It felt good to be back at Hogwarts. Was it always this easy? Having your day planned out for you… just going to class… preforming magic?
It was weird shuffling together to classes with all four houses. The real seventh years walked ahead of them, talking animatedly. Harry and Hermione walked somewhere in the middle with Dean, Justin, Neville, and Luna, Ginny just behind them, and the Slytherins brought up the rear.
"I can't believe the castle is still in such bad shape," Neville said, straining his neck to look down one of the closed off hallways.
"Well, three months, that's not a lot of time." Hermione looked through her schedule. "Transfiguration is still in McGonagall's old classroom. I can't imagine how this is going to go.
"Yeah, I spent years just faking my homework in Divination. Don't know how I'm going to make up Transfiguration this year," Harry said to Neville who looked surprised making up Divination was an option.
Hermione shot him a look. "There's no need to - you're fine at Transfiguration."
"And I'm fine at potions when I have a decent teacher. When I don't, it makes things pretty difficult."
"That's true," Neville agreed. "I'm happy I'm not in that class, can't imagine it being anything less than a nightmare. It's a wonder why the headmistress allowed her to teach it."
"Don't call her headmistress Neville! Headmaster! Headmaster. There's no reason to gender it. Professor McGonagall is headmaster, and a wizard," Hermione corrected him.
"What? What's wrong with what I said? Everyone calls her headmistress."
"Mistress. Completely ridiculous. Wizard is the dignified term, isn't it? There is no need to call any qualified wizard a witch. We're all wizards, aren't we?"
"But…"
"Women used to be exclusively potion makers as they weren't allowed wands because they were women. It's just sexism, isn't it? It just sounds silly, doesn't it? There is no reason to call her that, please Neville, it's so old fashioned. How would you like it if I called you a witch?"
Harry gave Neville the 'don't argue with her' look and Neville stopped at once.
They waited until the correct time but the Transfiguration classroom door remained locked. Five minutes passed, and Hermione jimmied the door with Alohomora so they could all shuffle in. They chose seats close to the back, hoping distance would improve any lesson with Trelawney. The Slytherins were right behind them, Harry surprised to see Draco and Goyle sitting apart. When they all settled in they waited politely, wondering if they read their schedule wrong.
There was no sweltering furnace, no perfumes, no poofy chairs, no colorful fabrics. It was empty. McGonagall's bare vacated classroom looked as if no one moved in.
A few more minutes past. They waited with the rest of the seventh years in the midst of tapping wands and flipping textbooks. Harry watched Hermione fiddle with her wand too, book closed, as she already read it several times and didn't need it. This was the first time she was in a class with Trelawney since third year when she stormed out. After what felt like 10 minutes, a lot of sniffs, some small laughter, and rustle of books, Trelawney stumbled out of a back room, walked with false dignity to the front of the class but tripped on McGonagall's desk, falling into it. She fumbled and straightened.
"Good Evening." It was Morning. "Welcome to… Transfiguration." She waited. They waited. "You may believe me to be a one trick pony," she said airily looking over their heads, "but I too possess the definitive and precise magic to transform deceptively simple objects into the complex and usefuuuul." She wrapped her shawl around her.
"…There have been some accusations regarding my qualifications. But I ask, would Dumbledore trust me, keep me employed ALL THESE YEARS if he did not have confidence in ME?" her voice raised unevenly. "Even two years ago, he was parading me a slew of teaching alternatives he thought I was ever so qualified to teach…"
"Like what, Filch's assistant?" Pansy barked.
Half the class stifled a laugh. Hermione went rigid.
"How DARE you!" and she could have strangled herself with how tightly she wound her shawl about her. "DUMBLEdore-"
"Don't bring Dumbledore into this, he's dead!" Justin yelled.
"I WILL HAVE YOU KNOW the HEADMASTER trusted me empirically! Just as he TRUSTED SNAPE, who everyone turned their backs on, but the headmaster was right in the end!" She shot a finger up in the air. "Now, my authenticity is being questioned on a daily basis, after all the…"
"Snape allowed TORTURE at this school!" Dean shouted. "And now you're TORTURING US! I came back for my seventh year for this? I might as well be hiding in a forest again for all the magic I'm going to learn this year!"
"I NEVER, I… I…"
"Dumbledore was always right!" Hermione said loudly. "Everyone knoooows that!" But her voice sounded bossy and fake, attempting to redirect the class. "Transfiguration, the headmaster McGonagall would never give up her own subject if you weren't fit to teach it. So… what will we be learning this year, Professor?"
"It's true…" Trelawney nodded gravely. "She was reluctant to give up her own subject, but as headmaster… and the castle… it is a lot for one person. Fortunately, I was able to show her that I was not only qualified, but EXCEL at Transfiguration; I was a good student, I'll have you know."
"Yes!" Hermione said, high pitched. "Show us, please. Uhhh, the first lesson is turning a tea set into a self-playing chess set."
"No."
"No?" Hermione said, squeaking a little.
"Today's lesson is…. clocks."
"…Clocks?" Hermione's voice went even higher.
"Clocks…. into carriages."
"But… but that's not until…"
"Clocks into self-driving carriages, it is difficult, and not for the reasons you expect. But it will give you a broad understanding of the complicated intricacies you'll face in the seventh year. Small to the impossibly large, and dare I say, quite complex, and they must steer themselves- pulling themselves out of perceived danger or choosing a favorable path over another. Ideally it will only open for the driver and its passengers, denying all others, and defend itself from robbery."
Harry peeked around… everyone looked nervous. Hermione was frozen, caught between being a good student and wanting to follow the correct lesson.
"Clocks into Carriages…" Trelawney went on, starting to walk unsteadily in the front of the class. "Students, take out your clocks and we'll get started…"
"We don't have any!" Draco yelled impatiently from the back of the classroom.
"You don't?" Trelawney asked, mystified.
"You haven't given us any yet!"
The next 10 minutes were spent watching Trelawney search every drawer and cabinet in the room while Hermione shook her leg violently with impatient nervousness. Finally, Trelawney thought to yell "Accio- clocks" and some came flying from another room. They were handed out, Draco and all the Slytherins giving her the stink eye as they received theirs.
"Now class… if you'd just observe... the clock must be held out at chest height so when the clock grows it has ample room to expand from all sides. And when it does, you must step away quickly to give it room." She did a few short bursts of complicated wand movements and… nothing happened. She paused. Then she did it a few more times in rapid succession and the room was filled with renewed nervous glances and shuffling.
"Are you SERIOUS?" Draco looked revolted enough to wish Voldemort won the war just to spare himself from this lesson. "What's the SPELL!?"
"Well, it's uh, it's uh… in your book… turn to page…"
Draco's eyes got wider, "YOU DON'T KNOW THE SPELL!?"
"Of course I know the spell! It's page… …"
"It's on page 271," Hermione said loudly.
"Yes! 271, let's go with that, dears."
"Why is it in the middle?" Draco asked, stealing an angry panicked look at Hermione, flipping through the book.
"The spell is Horologium-Raeda!" Hermione said out loud. "Professor Trelawney, the Spell is Horologium-Raeda, I just saw you do the wand movements perfectly." Her voice was sickly sweet and encouraging, something you might use on a two year old. "You know it, I know you know it, it's just the first day of class after… after everything that happened last year. It's been hard on all of us… please…"
"I KNOW!" Trelawney let out a sobbing yell and nodded. "It has been hard on all of us. The students… so brave…" she hiccuped. "But... but the ACCU-sations…"
"I haven't heard any accusations." Hermione looked around at the class searching for backup. We are just here to learn, Professor. And I just saw you do the wand movements. Show us again with the spell, won't you?"
"Yes… yes of course dear…" Trelawney mumbled the spell while looking very off-balance. And with a few subtle wand movements, her clock grew, all the little gears and wheels coming apart and transforming into other parts, forming an intricate ornate black carriage that wheeled itself energetically in front of the classroom, looking quite impressive. There were gasps, some from the sheer size of the transfiguration, but mostly from surprise that Trelawney could do the spell after all.
"Divide into groups now, practice. There's just enough space for three carriages if the desks are moved, I think," and she waddled and collapsed at her desk, pouring water, muttering to herself.
"Out of my way, I'm with GRANGER," Draco announced, chair scraping, throwing his bag over his shoulder.
It was a strange group: Hermione, Ginny, Luna, Justin, Dean, Harry… and Draco. It felt odd having a Slytherin in the mix but Draco seemed intent to pass this year. He watched as bug-eyed as Hermione said the spell slowly in its correct inflection, tripling the wand movements in little loops to break apart, reconfigure, and grow the clock into a carriage. The complicated gears and dials had to be separated individually and reorganized into the inner workings of the carriage. And several spells had to be repeated after that to give it self-preservation. Draco stared, stunned at this magic he had to perform. Apparently, they didn't cover this last year. And before he could complain he ripped out his parchment. "Now- say it slower."
The other two teams scooched closer to listen to Hermione's ordered list of instructions and to view her delicate looping wand movements. She tried to keep her voice down not to offend Trelawney, but that didn't seem necessary. Their professor seemed intent with hydrating herself while looking miserable at her desk.
Even Goyle, who apparently wasn't talking to Draco, exchanged panicked looks with him out of habit. Draco motioned his head for Goyle to come closer so he could hear.
Ginny kept trying to catch Harry's eye which he found incredibly distracting. He didn't know how he was going to survive the year like this, but wished she would give him some space. Couldn't she understand class was the wrong time for this? Luna was ignoring Hermione's lesson outright, showing Dean her brand-new wand that she got from Ollivander, who made 20 new wands over the summer and she matched with one of them.
By the end of class there was one nice looking carriage and two large black monstrosities that took over the room. These were supposed to be carriages but they looked more like wild bulbous cars that lived in the forbidden forest alongside Mr. Weasley's. They were so misshapen Harry wished he had a picture to show Ron for a good laugh. Even Hermione's carriage wasn't perfect. Cosmetically, it was beautiful, but it kept crashing itself into the wall over and over again, and it was more than happy to let any student enter it. Trelawney failed to dismiss them so they all packed up and left uncertainly at the end of class. Once in the hallway they broke out into noisy disbelief.
"Can you BELIEVE IT? Can't McGonagall just fire her?" Dean burst right outside the door.
"I don't think she can! Dumbledore must have wanted to keep her here," Hermione reasoned.
"WHY?"
"I don't know…"
"She's a squib!" Draco yelled.
"She's not a squib!" Hermione snapped.
"She might as well be! Wait till my mother hears about this."
Harry laughed internally, noting the change in preferred parent.
Draco, dazed from the class, accidentally kept walking with them until they all stole glances at him, wondering why he was still with them. Realizing his mistake, he turned and tailed it towards Goyle, but did not catch up with him.
"I wonder what they're fighting about," Hermione said.
"Well, I'm putting their families in Azkaban, aren't I?" Harry said grudgingly.
"Yeah, like we weren't getting hunted ourselves last year," Dean pointed out.
"Of course, but…" Harry's thoughts of last year flashed, always ending up at Lupin's dead body. He tried to stuff this away.
Dean made a disgusted sound and walked away. Ginny, looking for an excuse, left too after Harry ignored her for the first two classes.
"Don't let them bother you," Luna said serenely.
"I'm not…" Harry said. "It's… it's just tough on everybody, like they said."
After lunch they headed to the familiar classroom inhabited by the largest variety of teachers throughout Harry's education. He did not know what to expect from Defense Against the Dark Arts this year or from Snape.
Stepping into the class, Harry and Hermione chose seats in the second row. Close, out of respect, but not too close, because… well, Snape.
As they all shuffled into his class room, Snape studied each and every one of them. And even after they settled he continued to mow them down with his eyes with a deadly calm that dared anyone to laugh, dared anyone to mention Dumbledore, or his former year as headmaster. No one dared and the room remained deathly quiet.
"Good afternoon… assuming none of you are lost, you are planning to take your C.H.A.R.M.S. in Defense Against the Dark Arts. But I am curious by the head count; very few of you need this certification.If you would like to drop this class, there is still time. In fact, I encourage most of you to do so. Whatever exciting visions or expectations you have for this course will quickly be extinguished. This curriculum is purely academic for those who actually wish to understand what the Dark Arts are, and why they are illegal."
Hermione leaned in closer while he continued. "Any of you who are foolishly hoping to learn fancy new spells and play with your wands will be disappointed. And those of you who are allergic to reading or are easily distracted… should leave immediately." No one got up.
"Furthermore… this certification can be obtained directly through the Ministry. This class is entirely… optional. I hate to dwell on the past, but if you feel… conflicted… by the 'former headmaster' in your midst, I suggest you also leave, as no one is forcing you to be here. Any. Mention. At. All… about sore subjects of years previous will not be tolerated. You can take your… concerns… directly to our new headmistress. And I assure you…" his voice got even lower, "it will be a pointless attempt. Do I make myself clear?" No one said anything.
"Now…." Snape straightened, looking almost bored after threatening them. "You are in seventh year. I pray you are past your immature jinxing phase, and hopefully you've learned to keep your wand to yourselves. Only wizards of age are taught Dark Arts classifications, to learn what they are, to lean into the void and study them academically. This class will be teaching the Dark Arts: not the spells, but their definitions, morality, and legal consequences. This knowledge is only entrusted to seventh years students.
"What, so LAST YEAR didn't count? You taught the Dark Arts alright- we were tortured!" a seventh year yelled who Harry only vaguely knew.
"I TAUGHT YOU NOTHING!" Snape bellowed. "I am fascinated I couldn't teach you how to keep your mouths shut and your heads down. Wizard blood as most of you are, I regret that I could not instill the dangers of outbursts from students hell-bent on endangering others, bringing attention to The Dark Lord the school needed babysitting by even more Death Eaters," Snape spat with ferocity tainted with what sounded like truth.
"So, it's our fault our friends got tortured!?"
"NO…. but if Potter and his friends had enough sense to hide in a literal TENT, perhaps purebloods would have more sense than to SPEAK UP DURING A DEATH EATERS CLASS!" Faces all around looked furious at Snape for blaming students for last year.
"SIR!" Harry cut in, desperate as Hermione during Transfiguration to redirect the class. "What do you mean you're going to teach us the Dark Arts?"
His eyes lazily found Harry's. They lingered. "Nothing so extravagant or dangerous. You will not find a manual here. But if you even opened a BOOK before coming to class, you would not find instructions but mere… distinctions." His voice reeked of disappointment. "Miss Granger, could you tell us what we will be learning this year?"
"What the Dark Arts actually are… and aren't. Many common Dark Art spells nor their counters are not taught until Hogwarts Students reach seventh year because they are thought to be more mature, and won't try them out on fellow students."
"Correct, Granger. 5 points to Gryffindor." Collectively eyebrows raised and backs straightened. In Harry's entire 7 years he couldn't remember Snape ever awarding a single point to Gryffindor.
"Dark Arts… are not special. Dark Arts… are not hard to learn," Snape paced around talking passionately with his hands. "The incantations are not more complicated than any others. There is an entire committee that classifies magic as the Dark Arts. There is nothing 'Dark' about Dark Magic. It is not hard to crudely reanimate a dead body. It is not the spell cast, but the intention and cruelty of the wizard who casts it."
He turned to address the classroom. "Since our current class has such… diverse experiences…" his eyes lingered on Harry's again before moving away. "Tell me… can you think of a spell or potion that should qualify but failed to get the label?"
Hermione raised her hand but did not wait to be called. "…Polyjuice Potion."
"…Interesting choice Miss Granger… Can you tell us WHY a potion that can impersonate a public figure would not be classified as dark?" He opened his hands, begging the room to see a joke. "A potion that takes a month to brew, painful to take, that allows an enemy to stroll about society tainting your reputation- even taking liberties with your wife… surely THAT would be considered Dark Magic. …Anyone?"
"Because it's temporary?" Ginny offered.
"Because the Ministry still wants to USE IT!" Snape snarled victoriously. "Qualifying magic is easy to spot, but sometimes… sometimes the Ministry gets… other ideas and no official classification is created. Thankfully it is not easy to brew, nor pleasant to take, and it's painful to transform. Many wizards are neither talented enough or brave enough to use it." Harry tried not to look at Hermione.
"You will learn in this class some very obvious Dark Magic is still commonly used by the Ministry or otherwise, and therefore not labeled to ensure its continued legal use."
"But sir… intention matters," Hermione said simply, unafraid to debate ethics with a teacher.
"But Miss Granger…" Snape whispered sarcastically, "You are correct again." She blinked, not expecting this. "…Intention, not outcome, matters a great deal in the prosecution of the Dark Arts…"
"Tell me…" he straightened, walking about the room, finding Harry's eyes again, as if he would lose him if he didn't check every five minutes, "What would happen if you found a book containing interesting spells without any context whatsoever and decided to… try them?" To Harry's surprise his face wasn't the only guilty one in the room. "You do not have to be special or talented to use Dark Magic, sometimes all you need is curiosity. Or IGNORANCE." Snape snapped his eyes again to Harry's, accusatory. "Furthermore, what if you are one of the few talented individuals at this school who created your own magic? If your invention caused a great deal of harm, and you, not knowing the wiser, be carted off and sentenced then?"
"Dark Magic is classified as 'doing great harm.' Again, it is not difficult to reanimate a body for a short period of time, a few simple spells will do it, but abuse of a corpse is punished most severely; the horror of loved ones used for such nefarious purposes." He smiled like all of this had a great deal of humor in it. "Is there any… other… potion, you personally feel should be illegal?"
"Love Potion?" Ginny asked.
Snape looked thoughtful. "Love Potions that teenagers can brew or buy are short-lived, laughable, and are… relatively… harmless. Dare I say, Love Potions like Amortentia are taken a little more seriously outside of Hogwarts, especially when reputations are involved." Snape's mouth curled, "It is treated more like…. defamation of character. If it is used repeatedly… then it might be classified as entrapment or… torture..."
The class didn't know what to make of this new and strange legal information.
"Wouldn't it be rape?" Hermione asked, raising her hand again but did not wait to be called on.
Snape shrugged, unconcerned.
"In this class you will study Dark Magic in-depth, and be trusted you won't look up the incantations. You will recognize the distinction between legal magic and Dark Magic, even when new unclassified spells are invented and there is no president. Some of you may be surprised you have used some forms of Dark Magic before, as defined by the CADA, or Council Against the Dark Arts. We will quickly cover the Unforgivables, not that this class needs the education, but it is still required for your C.H.A.R.M.S."
Snape looked at Harry again. Now this was just a little annoying. Snape looked away, taking a breath and continuing the lecture.
"You will classify most Dark Magic by this: Death. Irreversibility. Emotion. DIE for short. Does it cause Death or severe Damage? Is it Irreversible? What type of Emotion does it birth to its victims?"
The class stared at him.
"WRITE THAT DOWN!" he snarled, and there was a rush for parchment.
Snape delved into specific examples and their laws. Hermione couldn't write fast enough but Harry started to zone out at this part, getting lost in the endless sea of words. Snape, true to his word, did not teach any Dark Arts, but their legal distinctions and historic examples. After the large lunch he ate he was feeling rather sluggish, his concentration slipping away with Davenport the Dark and whatever he did with children.
His thoughts slipped to Ginny and how to avoid her at dinner because she tried talking to him at lunch. But something kept breaking his concentration. A tap… tap… tap… Snape's shoes were making a lot of noise in the classroom. Did Snape's shoes always make that much noise? As he passed, still talking about some Dark wizard he'd never heard of, he glanced at Harry again, who glanced back. But the contact broke and he got a chance to look down at the offending shoes. Snape's new shoes looked very expensive… and those were probably new robes too. And his face… he looked… calmer. Not nicer… but calmer. Like the Death of Voldemort did bring him some level of peace. For years he was imprisoned with a mission. And now he was free… to do what? Teach the Dark Arts? Yell at first years?
"Potter!" Snape snapped.
"… What?"
"What did I just say?"
"…Uhhhh…"
Snape's lip curled. "My, my, our resident expert on Defense Against the Dark Arts is too good to pay attention in class. Why don't I ask the Ministry to owl your certification so you can go home?"
"No thanks, I need a class just to rest." Some of the students shuffled uncomfortably. Hermione looked like she would die with embarrassment. He didn't mean to be disrespectful, it just fell out of his mouth.
"Tell me Potter," Snape whispered, ignoring the insult. "Can you name any of the unbreakable 80 from your textbook? Or were you too busy being famous to crack open a book this summer?"
Unbreakable, unbreakable… "The… Unbreakable … Vow?" Harry guessed wildly.
Snape straightened slowly, caught off guard. "A lucky guess…" Eyes squinting into hatred, he swept away.
Harry sighed, catching Hermione's incredulous look. Harry dared not turn around to look at Draco. He wondered if it was too late to drop the class as Snape suggested. How was he possibly going to learn all these laws this year? Their seventh year Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook could effectively be used as a Bludger. And despite what Snape said, he did crack it open and it was nothing but dates and legalities. It looked like a Muggle phonebook.
Hermione, finished with her most recent roll of parchment, whipped out another, hanging on Snape's every word, fervently writing things down (because apparently) he was going over a lot of things that weren't even in the textbook. Well, Snape is the Dark Arts master.
Looking back at Snape, eyes found him again, then averted. What? What was so different about him this year? Yes, still nasty, but he looked less likely to murder children. Did that count? His clothes were new, his hair seemed slightly less greasy, and his teeth were fixed for some reason, like some Mediwizard did it in Snape's sleep against his will. Although Harry wasn't paying attention in the slightest, he straightened in his chair, trying to be respectful. Snape sacrificed himself, the least he could do is pretend to pay attention.
Snape's eyes found him again. They stayed there for two straight sentences while everyone else focused on their parchment… then waivered. A few more laws, a few more idiosyncrasies… and they found him again, expressionless and indistinguishable… and they left.
So, was this it? Should he do it today? Talk to him about what he saw in the Pensive? Snape did ask about him at St. Mungo's.
Finally, when the lesson was over Harry waited by making a show of rearranging his textbooks. Other tired students stirred from their daze, bored to obliviation by wizarding law, lazily packed up, and left.
"That was a really good lesson. I've never had one like it," Hermione whispered, putting away her three rolls of parchment and getting up.
"Wait a minute, Hermione…"
"What?"
Harry looked up at Snape who was now writing at his desk and utterly ignoring his existence. Harry stared as the rest of the students filed out. So what, now he was just going to ignore him? Hermione looked at Harry, and then at Snape, then back at him and waited. When Harry realized that Snape wasn't going to acknowledge him, he picked up his bag, gave one last look, and left.