Chapter 7! i'll post chapter 8 tomorow, probably. Stay tunned, enjoy, and R&R!
CH.7 - Are You Seven Or Seventeen?
Harry entered the dining room to find a rather dishevelled-looking Snape sitting at the head, in the process of refilling his cup with coffee. It didn't escape Harry's notice that the man had dark circles under his eyes. Guess I wasn't the only one who didn't catch any sleep.
"Mornin', s'r," slurred Harry, stifling a yawn as he entered. Snape grumbled something incoherent in return.
Harry hadn't slept a wink all night, mulling over the Patronus incident while flipping through his photo album. He thought he could vaguely remember breaking down once he'd reached the end of the book, but everything seemed a blur. Of course, those times when he had fallen asleep, he would wake up from nightmares.
After waking from his third nightmare, though, Harry had decided to compose letters to his friends, one for Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Now, all he had to do was send them out.
As always, the table was crammed with all sorts of breakfast foods, but Harry had eyes only for the coffee pot of the sweet, savoury, dark drink that would be the only thing keeping him upright all day. Reaching for the first cup he saw, he filled it to the brim and began chugging it down.
Snape cleared his throat. "Perhaps offering you that firewhiskey hadn't been such a bright idea on my part, afterall, Mr. Potter."
Setting his cup down and wiping his mouth with his sleeve, Harry looked at him in confusion. "What makes you say that, sir?" he queried apathetically, refilling his cup and bringing it to his lips again.
"That's my cup."
The coffee sputtered out of his mouth, cartoon-style. Harry eyed the white china and the amused-looking man with an aghast expression. He felt his cheeks flush a brilliant shade of red that could've bested Ron's hair.
"Ack– ! Sorry, sir," he stumbled, grimacing at the coffee-sprayed plate of pancakes in front of him.
Snape hummed. "For the record, Potter, had I known alcohol has such an effect on your attention span, I daresay I would've provided you with a Sobering Brew. It certainly would explain your atrocious efforts in Potions," he mused dryly. Silently, Snape brandished his wash and Scourgify-ed the mess.
"It's not the alcohol," Harry argued. "And, 'for the record', professor," he stressed the honorific. "I daresay that absolutely nothing would've changed the way you treated me," he retorted, throwing Snape's words back at him.
The Potions Master had a sour look about him, returning his wand back inside his wrist holster, but said nothing in reply.
Neither uttered another word after the coffee incident, and the rest of breakfast was a quiet affair.
"I suggest you use this day to explore the library, Mr. Potter," Snape suggested out of the blue, getting up from his seat.
Harry looked up at the older wizard. "Are we going to have another lesson today, sir?" Harry found that Snape could teach rather well when he wanted to, probably also when he wasn't teaching a bunch of unruly first-years or the children of Death Eaters.
Snape gave him an odd look. "Would you…like to?" he asked, a little sceptical.
Harry shrugged. "You know, you can be a really good teacher when you're not breathing down my neck." he pointed out.
"Yes, well… You aren't such a bad student as I had once percieved you to be. You catch on rather quickly, if yesterday was of any indicator," the ex-professor replied back.
Harry blinked. Then he blinked again. "Excuse me, sir, would you mind repeating that again?" he said in a buttery-innocent voice, pressing his hand to his ear. "I don't think I heard you correctly, but it sounded as though you were complimenting me?"
Snape scowled, and glared at the coffee pot next to Harry. The dark drink suddenly splashed out through the spout right into the boy's face.
"Hey!" Harry exclaimed indignantly.
Snape smirked. "Impudent brat."
Harry reached for the napkins, but Snape swiftly sent a Scourgify charm at Harry with a swish of his ebony wand, smirking in triumph at the look on his face.
I'll get him back for that, thought Harry.
Following breakfast, Harry decided to explore the grounds a little before his lesson with Snape after lunch. The sky outside was a beautiful blue with not a single cloud in sight. Harry figured they must be somewhere in the northern parts of England, because it wasn't as hot here as at Hogwarts.
The manor grounds were just neatly kept grass, sprinkled with a couple of unevenly-scattered willow trees, all encased within a tall, stone wall. There were no walk paths or hedges, save for a small cobble path leading to a small but tall shed that had many opened windows and matched the manor's exterior. That is where Harry decided to go first, as he figured it must be the owlery Snape had mentioned earlier.
Snape had mentioned he would have to ask Nibby for directions to it, but found it unnecessary when he caught sight of a short, circular den with a brick turret. When he reached the large, wooden doors, Harry found that they were locked.
Sadly, a simple Alohomora didn't do the trick when he tried to open it with his wand, and he flushed at the fact that that was the only unlocking spell he knew. If Hermione knew, she would have a fit, he thought.
"Nibby!" Harry called out.
There was a loud CRACK behind him. He turned around to see the house elf.
"Master Harry, sir!" she greeted, her large eyes glimmering in the sunlight. "How can Nibby help master Harry, sir?"
"Hey, Nibby. Do you know how to unlock the owlery?"
Nibby's expression sobered a little. "I apologise, master Harry, sir, but the current heir of Prince is the only one who can unlock it," she explained.
Brilliant. Now, he would have to ask Snape to unlock it for him. Or would he?...
When Nibby disappeared, Harry turned back to examine the shed. It wasn't too tall, around a quarter of the size of the manor. Its windows were wide open, and Harry could hear hooting coming from inside. Harry's plan was simple: come back with his letters, climb inside the shack through one of the windows, send the letters, and climb back out.
See, easy?
And he wouldn't have to bother Snape. He figured it was best to leave the man alone, especially when he, too, was tired and grouchy. Before leaving after breakfast, Snape had informed him that he would be in the potions lab, and not to be bothered unless absolutely necessary.
Harry quickly ran back to his room to grab the letters he'd composed last night, and back to the owlery, re-reading what he'd written.
Ron,
I don't know if McGonagall has told any of you, but I'm no longer at Hogwarts. Don't worry, I'm safe. I can't say where I am, but I am with the 'bat'. Everything is fine, but we can't include a lot of information in our letters, as they might get intercepted. We could try to come up with some sort of code for communicating. What do you think?
Maybe I'll ask the 'bat' if you can visit, though that won't be anytime soon.
How are you all holding up? How's Ginny and Goerge?
Write back as soon as you can!
— Prongs
A feeling of excitement rushed through him as he put one foot on a rock sticking out of the cobbled shed wall and pushed himself up, grabbing hold of the top of the door frame with both of his hands. He then searched around with his other foot for a wide crack or another rock to find purchase on, and, sure enough, found a petruding stone that was a little higher than the one his other foot was situated on.
Harry repeated the process a few times, grabbing onto the jagged rocks as he climbed higher. Finally, his hands reached the thick wooden ledge that went around the shed. With a little difficulty, he pushed himself up and stood on the ledge, using his arms to balance himself. He then pressed himself against the wall and scurried to the nearest window. He climbed through the window and jumped down.
Inside the owlery were no more than twenty or so owls, and the interior was actually well kept, aside from a few small, vermin skeletons, here and there. Harry figured either Nibby was responsible for this, or there were some sort of cleaning spells put on the place.
The owls all hooted a little moodily at their uninvited guest, but didn't swoop down and attack Harry, for which he was very thankful for. He found two, beautiful owls, and tied the letters to their legs. The owls took off with the letters through the large open windows, one headed to the Gangers, and one to the Weasleys.
Everything was going great for Harry as he started climbing back out of the shed, but, of course, that was short-lived. As Harry was testing his footing on the wooden ledge on the shed's exterior, he felt his foot slip, and the world spun around him. Moments later, Harry felt a jolt of pain shoot through his right shoulder as his body met the ground below with a dull THUMP.
The Gryffindor cursed a few colourful expletives under his breath that would have earned him a scolding from Hermione. He sat up, propping himself on the elbow of his uninjured arm. Harry felt incredibly stupid for not reacting fast enough and casting a cushioning charm. He was a grown wizard, for Merlin's sake!
The intensifying pain in his shoulder told him that it must be dislocated, if not worse. Harry had to grit his teeth to hold back a moan when he tried pushing himself off the ground one-armed. Luckily, the rest of his body seemed uninjured, just sore, though his ankle also throbbed a little.
Limping slightly all the way back inside the manor, cradling the arm with the injured shoulder with his other hand, Harry thought of what he would tell Snape. Harry only knew of the Episkey spell, but he was no good at it, and knew he wouldn't be able to cast it by himself. So, his only option left was the Potions Master, currently in a grouchy mood and probably wanting not to be disturbed.
Yeah, this was going to be interesting, Harry thought to himself.
But Snape did tell him to come to him in case of a medical emergency, as well as any other.
Harry stumbled downstairs into the chilled basement, marvelling at how much the place resembled the dungeons at Hogwarts. He paused at the door leading to Snape's potions lab, rethinking his options. Did he really want to bother Snape? He was sure to hear a whole speech about 'Gryffindor foolishness and recklessness'.
Maybe Harry would be able to fix his shoulder by himself, after all…?
He had just been about to turn away from the door when it suddenly swung open, startling both Harry and a surprised looking Snape.
"Potter!" He narrowed his eyes on Harry. "What are you doing here?"
Before Harry could answer, She felt the obsidian eyes scanning him, making him feel as though he were under an ex-ray. Finally, when Snape noticed Harry cradling his arm, his hand suddenly reached out and pulled Harry inside with a small yelp.
"Explain!" Snape Snapped, reaching for his ebony wand in his robes. Oh, he looked angry alright.
"Er…I fell," Harry said lamely, trying to sugarcoat it. Well, it was the truth, wasn't it?
"You fell," Snape echoed, crossing his arms across his chest, glaring at Harry. "From where, might I ask?"
"Er…"
"Potter! Look at me."
Harry's head snapped up immediately at Snape's sharp command.
"I can spare us the pointless jiberish by simply using Legilimency on you." Harry's eyes widened. "However, I am feeling extremely lenient today and, as I have no desire whatsoever to explore what's inside that thick skull of yours, I will let you explain yourself," he said impatiently, arms crossed.
Harry sighed, seeing no point in beating around the bush. "I fell from the owlery," he shrugged, feeling himself flush and looking down at his shoes.
Snape gave him an odd look before pinching the ridge of his nose and shaking his head, wand in his other hand. "Tell me, Mr. Potter, are you seven or seventeen?"
Harry felt his cheeks burn.
"What, by Merlin's beard, robes, and wand, possessed you to climb the owlery in the first place?" he demanded.
In for a penny, in for a pound, as the saying went, thought Harry. "I wanted to send letters to Hermione and the Weasleys. The door was locked and I didn't want to bother you, so I decided to climb in through a window. I got in alright, but slipped on my way back out." Then, as an afterthought, he hastily added, "But it's no big deal. I'm fi–"
"You moronic Gryffindor!" Snape cut him off, looking just like he did when 'someone' blew up Malfoy's cauldron in Harry's second year. Harry gulped. "Out of all things you could have thought of, you chose to break into the owlery like some sort of delinquent! Sheer, dumb luck that you've only managed to merely dislocate your shoulder! You could have been seriously injured! Have you no sense of self-preservation!?"
Harry wondered how Snape knew his diagnosis before he even cast the spell on him, but decided to hold back his tongue..
Suddenly, long, cold fingers tightly gripped his chin, forcing his green eyes to meet the black. "Listen to me, Mr. Potter, and listen to me well," he growled in his dangerous, silky voice. "While you may be a grown wizard legally," he acknowledged, "you are still seventeen years old and, frankly, I quite agree with the muggle law, stating that a child is considered an adult at the age of eighteen, if not older."
Harry gulped, wondering why Snape was so wound up.
"Furthermore, I am still your elder, and thus I will not tolerate disobedience," he growled, but then his tone softened by just a fraction. "I made a vow to protect you, Mr. Potter, and I take that vow seriously." Harry was taken aback by the sincerity in the man's voice as he said that.
"Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?" His voice was barely audible, but sharp as knives, nonetheless.
Harry didn't get a chance to reply. There was a mumbled Episky, and he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his shoulder, accompanied by a sickening CRACK. Harry wasn't able to hold back a cry, but the pain was gone almost immediately after. His shoulder felt good as new!
Harry looked up at Snape, who's wand was still raised.
Snape rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Potter, such drama." He pocketed his wand in one swift motion and moved towards a wooden cabinet.
Harry cautiously rubbed his shoulder, which still felt sore to the touch. "You could've done that before giving me a whole speech, you know," he complained.
"Now, where would the fun be in that?" came Snape's dry reply from inside the cabinet as he dug around for something. Finally, the Slytherin returned, holding a small vial of magenta-red potion. He shoved it into Harry's hand. "Take this," he ordered flatly.
Harry eyed the potion cautiously, and then looked at Snape.
"Honestly, Potter," he rolled his eyes. "If I wanted to kill you, I would have done so using far more amusing methods — I am a Death Eater, after all," he sneered distastefully.
"Ex-Death Eater," Harry pointed out, but didn't argue with him, downing the liquid in one go. Almost immediately, the soreness and leftover pain receded from his shoulder. Harry gave the Potions Master an apologetic look as he handed the vial back to him.
"Er, sorry, sir…" He shuffled his feet nervously, feeling like a dunce. "And… Thank you."
Snape vanished the empty vial with a careless flick of his wrist. "My, such gratitude from the saviour of the Wizarding World, oh my," he remarked dryly, leaning back on his palms against a long work table behind him.
Feeling awkward, Harry tried changing the subject. "Er, nice potions lab, sir," he said whilst twisting his head to look around. It was a moderate sized stone room, lined with multiple cupboards and shelves of different potion ingredients and vials. In the middle of the room stood a long, wooden work table, on which multiple cauldrons sat. There were a few stools as well. The chilly atmosphere reminded him of the dungeons.
Snape's lips quirked up ever so slightly as he, too, glanced briefly around the room. "Yes. Turns out, potions-making ran in the family. This whole lab was already filled with all of the necessities upon my discovering it. The potions had expired a long time ago. However, all the potions ingredients were preserved under powerful Stasis spells," he explained, fondness over the subject evident in his voice. Harry gave him a small smile.
It was a small reminder that the man was also human, not a blood-sucking vampire. He, too, had hobbies, passions, and emotions — contrary to what Harry had thought prior to the Battle of Hogwarts.
"Very well, off you go. I will be having lunch down here," dismissed Snape shortly.
Harry took that as his sigh to leave. Thanking his ex-professor again, Harry made his way back up, missing Snape mutter, "Honestly, that boy will be the death of me, Lily!.."
Again, ch8 coming tomorow, probably. Pls R&R, it would really help!
