A/N: Phew, am I glad no one saw fit to complain about Snape suddenly having murdered Dumbledore as suggested in the last chapter, instead of merely betrayed as actually happened... 0_0. I immediately rectified that tiny little canon-glitch.
Thank you for reviewing and following :). Here is an extra long chapter for you guys! Some light parts coming up, as promised. Enjoy.
Chapter 15
Lupin groggily emerged from unconsciousness to the sound of a low drum, or bang.
The harsh light from a lamp in the ceiling threw the surrounding white walls into stark relief. He was shackled in to the rough stone, long black chains that dug into his ankles and clanged when he moved.
The sound of water running. The smell of damp fur. Another bang.
He jerked when his eyes found the source, still half-blinded by all the white around him. He was not alone.
The sound was that of a body of being thrown against the door in mindless repetition.
"Hey." His voice was hoarse so he tried again. "Hey! Stop that!"
The female werewolf turned and stalked towards him. Then she growled, flashing long teeth.
He returned the favour, standing to loom over her. He noticed that both their chains were long enough to walk all the corners of the cell.
Lupin explained, though he knew she wouldn't understand: "We have to stay low until we know the situation."
This was a very human penchant of his. Despite the... baseness of the last weeks, a part of him still hoped for some kind of civility, or at least a connection.
She had taken a step back and now stood watching him in silence. He noticed she was wearing only rags, which clung to her gaunt figure.
With a high creaking noise the cell door opened inwards. A huge man walked in and Lupin swallowed.
A fresh streak of blood was running past Fenrir Greyback's jaws as he gave his captives a menacing smirk. He turned to the woman and growled: "Narpea?"
She nodded while slowly backing off further. Then his eyes zeroed in on Lupin.
He clapped his hands and stalked close to him, so that lupin could smell as well as feel his rancid breath. "Remus, my boy!"
In contrast to his cheerful tone a hand shot out to close around Remus' windpipe. Remus scrambled at it with long nails. The back of the hand was soon bloody, but Greyback didn't seem to notice.
"Finally I am reunited with one of my oldest children. It's been too long," Greyback breathed. He flashed two crooked rows of bloody teeth.
Lupin was now wrestling with the strong arm in earnest: his lungs were starting to hurt from the lack of oxygen. "I'm not your-"
Greyback's right arm threw him across the cell. Lupin's body struck the floor with a dull thump. A moment of disorientation followed. Lupin scrambled with clumsy limbs to stand, but then five sharp nails sunk into his left cheek and jaw.
"You sure about that?" The warm breath against his ear sickened him, as did the hand stroking his hair. "Guess I have to remind you."
When Lupin felt the jaws locking around his bare shoulder, ready to close, he screamed, rearing backwards. The energy behind his sudden fury was such that it knocked Greyback off him. He stumbled to his knees and feet, making a dead run for the door.
The growl behind him turned his legs to jelly but, incredibly, he made it out the door, taking the first turn he could find.
"You bitch!"
Something tripped him and he fell, skidding painfully on his stomach. The hand was back, fisting his hair to yank his head back cruelly.
The sound of quick footsteps coming closer, then a deep voice that was painfully familiar. "Greyback! Move off him!"
The pressure on his body lifted.
"You were supposed to wait for me before getting the prisoners, as you well know."
A boot was shoved into his side, which made him turn on his back. "I just couldn't resist this one," Greyback jeered, grinning down on him.
Kingsley was a fine actor: his face remained unmoving, showing no recognition whatsoever.
"Get up," he commanded, sounding almost bored. Lupin did with one arm held tight over his painful chest.
"I will take this one then, since you can't seem to behave. You get the others. Don't dawdle."
Greyback let out a low rumble, but Kingsley had drawn his wand, a hard look in his eyes. He still enjoyed some kind of rank, apparently, because Greyback stalked off without a word.
"Come." The wand was now pointed at Lupin, who stared at Kingsley in disbelieve. Kingsley gestured with his wand, impatient. "You don't want me to force you, do you?"
Lupin silently shook his head, eyes wide. Shoulders slumping, he started off towards the direction Kingsley indicated.
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Harry woke to someone shaking him. He looked up to see the blurry shape of Ron standing beside his bed. He shoved his glasses on, blinking against the bright sunlight from the window.
Ron was looking puzzled. "Harry, Malfoy is standing at the portrait hole. He's looking for you."
"Huh?" Harry stared at him for a moment, feeling like he was forgetting something. "Right."
He rubbed his eyes, then frowned. He'd had another vision, but he couldn't quite remember what it had been about. Voldemort had been at the Ministry. A pink room... Umbridge, of that he was certain, but what did he want with her?
He shook his head and bend to gather his robes and shoes, since he still had on his clothes from the night before. They were quick to descend the curving stairs towards the common room. Outside, Malfoy was standing with folded arms and a look of vast annoyance in his eyes.
"What the hell are you doing here, Potter?"
"What do you mean? I -" 'Live here,' he was going to say, but then he remembered.
"Yes, you what?" Malfoy drawled. "You're not allowed to sneak out at night."
"Oh? Are you my babysitter now, Malfoy?"
Malfoy taunted, although two spots of colour appeared on his cheeks: "I shall have to report you to the headmaster."
"What?" Harry blurted. "You're keeping track of me for Snape? Why?"
Malfoy just smirked.
Harry's hands became clammy where he'd stuck them inside his robes. He quickly browsed a mental list of all he'd discussed with Ron and Hermione up till now. But he was certain that Malfoy couldn't possibly have heard them in the Great Hall from so far away.
Malfoy studied his perfectly trimmed fingernails. "I might be persuaded to keep quiet about this."
Harry rolled his eyes when Malfoy remained silent. "What do you want, Malfoy."
Malfoy's eyes flashed greedily. "There have been some fascinating rumours about your summer. For example they say that the Dark Lord keeps you around as a gift to one of his Death Eaters. Or that you were given the Dark Mark. That you were tortured in the Dark Lord's own dungeons, where you spilled all the Order's secrets. Or that you made a deal in exchange for your friends not getting killed. I want to know what happened, Potter."
Harry gritted his teeth. "All right." He glanced back to his sleeping room mates. "Not here, though."
"Tonight then, after dinner."
Harry nodded, moving past him, but Malfoy clamped down on his arm.
"Next time you feel the need to sneak out," he sneered and his breath fanned against Harry's cheek, "I'll make sure my story is properly...embellished."
Harry kept his expression carefully blank, inwardly snorting at Malfoy's attempt at intimidation. With Voldemort breathing down his neck, their old rivalry didn't seem that threatening any more.
Malfoys eyes swept over Ron for a moment, then he stalked off.
Ron shook his head at the retreating form, murmuring something about noses being pointed permanently towards the ceiling.
The hallways were blessedly empty as they walked down to breakfast: Harry felt like he'd already reached the limits of his tolerance to stares for the week.
Two Ravenclaws joined them on the third floor, having come from the opposite side of the castle. Harry, deep in thought over Malfoy's sudden strange interest, jumped when a hand fell on his elbow.
"Good morning Harry, Ron."
Harry blinked. Luna.
Luna.
Ron frowned when he jabbed his friend in the side with a significant look and a dismissive gesture. Luckily he got the hint and promptly turned towards the girl next to Luna. "So Cho, how was your summer?"
Harry touched Luna's arm and she stopped with a smile.
"How have you been?" he asked. There appeared to be nothing different about her, and he was glad to notice her usual eccentric earrings (tiny magical camera's that flashed every few seconds).
"I am well enough, thank you. I've been taking a lot of walks at our home this summer, just like always. I inherited the house, you see."
Harry nodded. She was an orphan now just like him, and he knew there was nothing meaningful to say to comfort her. "Thank you for the birthday card, that was really kind of you."
"You're very welcome."
"And uh, for the potion. I'm sorry it didn't work. I gave it a good try, though," he hastened to reassure her.
"The potion?" Luna said with surprise in her voice. "Oh, that was from Albus."
The air felt suddenly like it was loaded, the way it was buzzing in his ears and pressing hard against his lungs. "Albus?" he whispered, glancing around for any eavesdroppers. But the hallway was deserted, Ron and Cho having long turned a corner. "As in, Albus Dumbledore?"
"Yes, of course!" He couldn't blame her for laughing a little at that. Who else did they know named Albus? "The potion is his present for your birthday. He couldn't very well send you a personal letter, so he asked me if I could send it with mine."
Harry figured he must look very stupid, the way his mouth was hanging open.
"You talked to him?"
"He visited me a couple of times. He doesn't like it that I'm living all on my own now, with how dangerous the roads have become."
Werewolves, she must be talking about the outbreak of werewolves and who knew what else was out there, now that the only thing this Auror Department had in common with the last was its name.
Someone was approaching. He hastily steered them to an empty classroom were he put up a silencing charm.
"How is he?"
Her face fell. "The... the battle has changed him. He is not his old self."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, when he conjured tea on his last visit, the tea service was all in black and the pot was sealed off. We had to use a severing charm to get the lid off. And the other day, when he wanted to conjure a bouquet of flowers they appeared dead and shrivelled."
"Could it be the work of dark magic?"
Luna considered that. "It might be. But he hasn't said anything about... about that day."
"I see." He must have been severely hurt, for his magic to change. It was just like Dumbledore to not let on about something like that. Then Harry asked, fearing the answer: "How is his hand?"
"It's still black, but he told me the curse is receding."
"That's great news!" Harry gave a relieved smile, but it turned a bit crooked. What in Merlin's beard was going on? Hadn't the Headmaster – no the former Headmaster – had that injury for over a year now? A man of Dumbledore's stature, walking around with a black hand for that length of time, all his considerable magic not capable of curing him – how could it be that now when his magic had turned strange, did the curse brake?
Could the two be connected? But that didn't make any sense. A moment ago he could have sworn on his wand core that the curse had spread, and that's why the Headmaster's magic had changed.
He couldn't wait to chew on this news together with Hermione and Ron.
"Do you know how I can reach him?"
Luna shook her head. "I only know he's staying at Hagrid's, but I don't know where Hagrid lives outside of Hogwarts, do you?"
Harry's shoulder fell. "He probably doesn't have another home. He's been gamekeeper almost his whole life." Ever since Tom Riddle had gotten him send from school, that is.
"Oh, I just remembered: he wanted me to tell you something. 'Know that you can always place your trust in you're closest friends, no matter what may happen.' Yes, that's it."
In the silence that followed, Dumbledore´s words hit Harry with a malevolent edge. A weird pressure was squeezing his chest as he thought about their meaning. Was something going to happen, something he caused that was so terrible that he wouldn't dare to tell his friends?
Was this Dumbledore's cryptic way of saying he should be prepared for the worst?
"He means Ron and Hermione, of course," Luna helpfully supplied. Harry studied her. He had missed Luna's unique honesty, he suddenly realised. But this time he had to correct her.
"No Luna, he also means you." And Neville.
He really had to get in touch with them more this year, he thought guiltily.
Somehow, in all their years at Hogwarts, he and Neville had never gotten around to really hanging out together, the way he did with Ron and Hermione – even though Neville had followed him into the dangerous and the unknown several times, and without hesitation. They were living in the same dormitory, for Merlin's sake.
Why was that? And what did it say about Harry, that apparently he couldn't be bothered before now?
"That's sweet of you to say, Harry. I also consider you a close friend." Her eyes sparkled now, the dulled gaze gone for the moment. Harry grinned back.
"Shall we go? I really have to get to breakfast early, otherwise my room-mates will hide some of my things again when they wake. It usually takes longer to find them back then."
Harry ground his teeth. Why couldn't they all just leave her alone? He was going to find those douche-bags. This week he would gather some intelligence. And if that would help to reduce the nagging feeling of guilt for his carelessness, well, that would be good too.
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Surprising verdict Wizengamot for captured rogue werewolves
By Zemlas Lorrobor
4 September 1996 –Yesterday the rogue werewolf trial reached its conclusion with a surprising verdict from the Wizengamot: each werewolf is to be offered a second chance.
The sensational trial against the rogue werewolves captured in the beginning of August, which has kept the wizarding public in suspense for over a week, has reached its surprising verdict yesterday afternoon. In an unexpected show of mercy the Wizengamot, as lead by our great Lord, offered the werewolves, all of whom have been found guilty for maiming and murdering citizens, a chance to redeem themselves. Although the Dementor's Kiss is the usual punishment in cases like these, the Wizengamot decided to offer the werewolves a choice instead: to be Kissed instantly, or to join the prestigious army of our Lord.
Lucius Malfoy, General of the Dark Lord's army, commented after the proceedings: "Although I am much surprised by this verdict, the werewolves would be a welcome addition to the Dark Lord's army. What they have done is unforgivable, but it is a werewolf's nature to be savage. The government has planned to scale up the production of Wolfsbane Potion in the coming months, precisely to curb the dangerous risks they pose to wizarding society. This potion would render the creatures tame and more rational." The General adds with a reassuring smile: "Except against our enemies, of course."
Remus Lupin, a known member of the Order of the Phoenix, a shadowy organisation whose mission disrupts the fragile relations between wizards and magical creatures, was among the werewolves captured. Lupin was responsible for murdering a woman and her two children in her own home, before proceeding to raid the family's stock of dry meat in the basement. Since the Order is a known enemy of the Dark Lord, speculation has been rife on which option Lupin will choose.
In an outrageous move four years ago by former Headmaster and head of the Order Albus Dumbledore, Lupin was allowed to teach at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Only due to the watchfulness of the Potions Master and current Headmaster of Hogwarts Severus Snape was the imposter revealed in time, and thus the impeding disaster averted. Professor Snape received an Order of Merlin, second class for his outstanding efforts to protect the school.
He and Hermione were bent over the Daily Prophet article on page three, their heads close together. As Harry neared the end of it, his forehead pressing dejectedly onto the palms of his hands, he pulled out several strands of hair in frustration. They straightened up at the same time. Ron immediately snatched the article from under Hermione's fingers.
"Did you know about Lupin?" Harry asked, voice a bit hoarse.
"No. I would have told you immediately," Hermione whispered. "This is bad. Do you think he really murdered that family?"
The article was bad on so many levels that Harry couldn't begin to count them. "They could have done something to him, poisoned him so that his Werewolf side took over completely. Or they could just be writing their usual nonsense." Whatever had really happened, a family was dead, and it was linked to Lupin's actions. And knowing Lupin, he would never forgive himself for this.
Ron was nodding along with his words while reading at the same time. "They must have set him up, it's the only explanation."
Harry glanced down at the scrambled eggs on his place, but his appetite was gone.
"I'm heading up to class."
He stood and left the Great Hall, climbing the floors towards the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Just Dark Arts it was now, Harry corrected himself grimly.
He was ten minutes early but he didn't mind, practicing a wandless magic exercise to pass the time.
The book which he'd managed to smuggle to Hogwarts from Voldemort's library held an excellent chapter on the basics of learning wandless magic. The first lesson was to feel the flow of energy from your body into your wand. In later stages, the book had explained, it would become possible to feel the magical energy expanding from your magical core and to trace it back to its point of origin.
So far, he was still stuck on lesson one.
He knew from his experience with the Dark Marks how magic felt when it was still adrift inside someone's body. He thought this would help him to feel his own magic, which made it all the more frustrating that he couldn't – not when he was holding his wand and not when he imagined casting a Lumos.
Maybe the problem was that he didn't yet know precisely what form his own magical energy took. When he was connected to a Mark, the experience felt quite personal, like he had skimmed the surface of someone's memory in a Pensieve and was hit with a sudden flash of their deepest thoughts and feelings, crystallised into one unique sensation. Each servant's bond to the Dark Lord, he had concluded, consisted of a distinct, unique signature. If he wanted to, he could blindly recognise the owners of the Marks he'd touched.
This thought brought back the awful, slimy sensation of Moore's Dark Mark, like oil dripping over his fingertips, and shivered.
He straightened with a jolt, not sure how long he'd been staring into space when a figure came out of the Dark Arts classroom. He turned, expecting to see Snape, but instead it was Ms. Cammon, the examinator who'd tested them in Charms the day before. She returned his greeting with a nod, then disappeared into the adjacent chamber.
The group of Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors filled in soon after and Harry choose a seat at the back, which was his favourite spot for most classes. Ron and Hermione were among the stragglers and were forced to sit near the teacher's desk.
Practically everyone was buzzing in soft tones about the werewolf verdict. Most thought it a fair and merciful punishment. Harry concentrated on his interrupted wandless magic exercise, not wanting to hear their annoyingly prejudiced opinions.
"I will be testing your casting abilities in the field of Dark Arts and defence," Cammon's voice cut into the noise and everyone quieted instantly. Snape was still nowhere to be found, and Harry assumed the git couldn't be bothered to show when he wasn't the centre of attention. For all his complaints about Harry's attention-grabbing urges, he sure knew how to make a good show in their Defense classes last year, not bothering to hide his deep respect for the Dark Arts.
Harry sensed an exited tension in the air. He was a bit tense himself. Were they going to have to demonstrate their knowledge of the Dark Arts in front of the entire class? In that case he was going to play dumb for sure, because he wasn't going to betray the skill he had acquired from his secret training sessions.
He drooped a little in his seat as he realised how futile that was. This advantage that Dumbledore had wanted him to have in his fight against Voldemort was going to be gone soon anyway, when their classes began. Either he could pretend not to have any foreknowledge for an entire year, meaning he had to start at the beginner's level and would be quickly overtaken by all the Death Eater kids in Slytherin, or he could try to hold on to his lead and best them.
He'd be damned if he passed by an opportunity to humiliate Malfoy.
"Hanna Abbot."
Shit. What was the assignment again?
Hannah meanwhile had walked to the front. She pulled out her wand and presented it to Cammon.
Harry looked around, trying to get a hint of what was going on. Everyone had their wands out on their desks. Harry copied them, then bend his head towards a Hufflepuff sitting on his right.
"Do you know what we're-"
"Shhh!" She waved at him like he was an annoying fly. Harry straightened, deciding to get his clues from what was happening at the front.
Hannah was standing with her arms folded defensively against her chest, her shoulders hunched, as Cammon held her wand on eye-level, examining it with narrowed eyes. The woman frowned a little.
"Spotless. A predilection towards Transfiguration, am I right?"
Hannah nodded, smiling a little. Her proud stance vanished when the examinator continued with: "This is unacceptable. No traces of anything besides standard light spells."
Hannah was biting her lip. Cammon's gaze softened. "I know your test results are not revealed until tomorrow, but I don't want you to wait anxiously when it's not necessary. I'm sorry Ms. Abbot, I cannot allow you in this class. Don't feel bad about it. These tests were precisely designed for you to find your speciality and to excel in that area. Your wand's penchant for Transfigurations will get you far."
With that she handed Hannah her wand back. Her soothing tone did not have any effect: Hannah looked dazed as she walked back to her seat.
Everyone shifted nervously at that.
Why were they being graded in front of the entire class over something so personal as your wand's abilities, Harry wondered.
The next person called to the front was Lavender. Her brows pinched together in worry as she waited while Cammon studied her wand.
Cammon chuckled suddenly. "A bit of woman's revenge I see, interesting..." Lavender blushed, frozen in place, studiously avoiding looking at the class. Cammon gave back the wand and ordered Lavender to fire the most advanced Dark Arts spell she knew.
Lavender cast using an unfamiliar incantation. A light blue streak approached Cammon and she shielded. She nodded and told Lavender to return to her seat.
Things proceeded in this vein for a while. Harry filed away every observation Cammon made for future use. He now regretted not sharing this test with the Slytherins instead of with the Hufflepuffs. Although he underestimated that House by no means (he was still avoiding Zacharius in the hallways), the seventh year Slytherins were destined to be the future leaders of society, if Voldemort had his way, and knowing their weaknesses could save his life at some point.
As far as he could judge Cammon's reactions, Seamus Finnigan, Susan Bones and Zacharius Smith were already quite advanced. Justin Finch-Fletchley and Neville were both at the bottom of the heap, with everyone else able to cast Dark Arts spells of various degrees of difficulty and power.
When it was his turn he wearily handed over his wand, curious what she would find: it had been Voldemort's for three full months.
She was silent a long time, then shifted her gaze to study his face. He forced himself not to fidget under her scrutiny. She gave his wand back without a word about it, then said: "Give me your best."
Powerful, or deadly? Harry choose the latter. "Perditio Pectus," he incanted softly.
A cloudy brown beam emerged, much larger than the one he'd managed on the grey squirrels in Snape's training sessions. His heart flew into his throat as he watched it race towards the examinator. Her eyes widened a little. She stepped aside quickly and the curse crashed into the wall with a noise like an avalanche, leaving a smoky, hand-deep crater.
Cammon's brows shot upwards. The class held their collective breath. Cammon wrote something down in her notebook, then dismissed him without another word.
Once again he was the centre of gossip as the Gryffindors made their way to the next examination (Elementary Magic). He quickened his pace to outrun the whispers and Hermione and Ron matched pace. Hermione looked worried as usual and told him what was being said, as if Harry was in any way interested.
Apparently most of his classmates in their boundless imagination had decided he had gotten lessons from Voldemort over the summer. Harry told Hermione he didn't want to hear it. She stomped away. Ron hesitated for a moment before following her. Of course.
Harry closed his eyes for a moment. Everyone was speculating, wondering what had happened to him this summer, and that included his friends. He had kept them in the dark along with everyone else. He told himself he just hadn't gotten around to telling them yet, but he knew that was a lame excuse. It was not like he didn't have any opportunities to be alone with them. He actually wanted to avoid the whole subject.
The whole summer felt different now. It was a grim one since Ginny's death, but it had acquired a miserable sheen on top of that ever since his second attempted escape and what it had lead to: Narda's punishment.
He just wanted to forget about it all. Start over in a way.
He could tell his friends that his sudden talent came from last years' training session, which was technically true. Hermione and Ron deserved better, though. They deserved the whole picture. It could even help Hermione with her research into Voldemort's motives.
For Harry and Ron Elementary Magic was the last examination of the day, as the other subject left, Astronomy, did not include any magical application and thus was not included in the testing (Harry had no clue why Potions was, then). Hermione still had Ancient Runes to go to after lunch.
Harry quietly joined his friends as they took their seats. He flashed Hermione an apologetic smile.
Touching her hand briefly, he whispered: "I'm a real ass. You know what, why don't we all get together in the dormitories tonight and I'll tell you what actually happened? That way you can ignore this bullshit they're telling about me," he groused.
"We always do that, Harry," Ron said. "Ever since fourth year, I'm never believing any stories about you again. Anyway, you're on for tonight." He made it sound slightly threatening. Harry chuckled.
The wrinkles between Hermione's brows had disappeared. "I'm in."
Once again there was no sign of the teacher. The examinator from their earlier potion's class strode in after a couple of minutes in which the volume had quickly risen to Great Hall levels.
He began immediately: "This class, as your teacher will explain, is about the building blocks of our magic, and how they have combined throughout history to form the different branches that exist today. For us to know your potential in this class, you will demonstrate the basic spells of all magical branches that you know. When I call your name, please step forward and proceed to the room at the back. No one is to talk in the meanwhile. I have asked Hufflepuff's patron ghost to watch that you don't." The Fat Friar nodded, drifting in a corner.
Everyone was called to the front again in mind-dulling fashion. Harry was beginning to feel like a lab rat, forced to perform tricks on the spot to prove his worthiness.
They were not allowed to study beforehand. Hermione went a few classmates before him, and the moment she sat down she hastily gestured under the table. She was holding up nine fingers.
Harry and Ron both nodded. It didn't make Harry feel any better that he only knew about five of them.
As predicted, he did badly. The Lumos charm was easy, as was coming up with the most basic curse. He had to gamble on the correct hex and Transfiguration spell, although he felt like he should know them. There was no time to think about it however, since everyone was given just five minutes. He didn't want to care about his performance, but based on what Lucius Malfoy had told them in his fancy mansion, the class seemed very interesting – the elder Malfoy had even confessed to being jealous of anyone allowed to attend it.
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After dinner, which was free of any nasty surprises of the Daily Prophet variety, Harry warily passed the stone wall that led to the Slytherin common room. It was busy inside, nearly all the sofas and chairs taken. He had no intention of sitting with any of them, however.
Just when he thought he would reach the dormitory unhindered, someone clamped his arm in the passageway. With a sigh he turned around. It was a girl, maybe first or second-year.
"What do you want?"
"I have a message for you from professor Snape." The girl stuck out a note almost like it was a shield. Harry took it and read:
Come to the Room of Requirement tonight at 8:00 pm, alone. Don't be late.
S. S.
Harry absent-mindedly thanked her before turning to enter his dormitory.
The note had somehow been folded into a tight ball in his hands, which he threw against the wall before hastily picking it up and stashing it away again, remembering someone could walk in at any moment.
He chuckled darkly.
He didn't know why he was surprised that Malfoy had ratted him out. Well, he could forget about those summer stories then. Instead he was going to drop exciting hints on all that Malfoy was missing out on.
And his rendezvous with Ron and Hermione now went down the drain. Of course Snape didn't care if he had anything planned for the evening.
The Tempus spell showed him he still had forty-five minutes. He decided to make a trip to the kitchens first to visit Dobby.
The elf jumped excitedly when he caught sight of Harry making his way over to one of the huge tables. The movement made the top hat fall off his head. Dobby quickly snatched it up and pressed it down carefully on top of the other five hats that balanced between his pointy ears.
"Mr. Harry Potter sir, it is great to see you!"
"It's great to see you too, Dobby!" Feeling his emotions brim close to the surface at the familiar sight, Harry gave Dobby a quick hug. The elf froze in surprise. Sure enough when Harry drew back, the big green eyes swam in tears.
"Mr. Potter, I am- I am- "
"Yes I know Dobby, so am I," Harry said hastily to fend off any more dramatics. Dobby's face crinkled into a watery smile.
Harry sat down near the table end. "How have you been?"
"I is being fine, sir. I is being worried about Harry Potter, though, and his friends." Dobby wringed his towel in his knobbly hands.
"You don't have to worry about me. In fact I'm lucky to-"Harry broke of, distracted. His eyes were drawn to the seal on Dobby's towel. It had been changed: the House symbols making up the Hogwarts crest had shifted from a square composition to a diamond one, as if all the symbols had decided together to make a quarter turn. The House symbol gleaming on top, in a silver hue that rained down on the others, was Slytherin. Gryffindor was at the bottom.
"Mr. Potter, sir?" Something was shaking his arm.
Harry searched for the source and realised it was Dobby, eyes narrowed in concern.
"Is everything all right, sir?"
Harry blinked. "Yes, I'm fine." He scratched the back of his head, eyes involuntarily drawn back to the new Hogwarts crest. Upon further inspection, it looked strange and unbalanced. Along with the silver theme, green colour had seeped around the eagle and the lion, and the snake was twice as big as before, weaving along the borders of the other Houses.
"Would Mr. Potter like some fresh pie?"
Harry pulled his eyes away from the disconcerting sight. He stared blindly at the kettles stacked against back wall for two seconds, which vanished the mental image, then gave the elf a reassuring smile. Dobby instantly brightened.
"Yes please." He knew there was nothing that would please Dobby more.
In no time had the elves whirled up a stack of all sorts of pies – blueberry, chocolate, apple, something light blue... and pumpkin juice to go along with it.
"Still excellent service, I see," Harry managed around a huge bite of apple pie. The elves in the vicinity bowed low at hearing this (Dobby with both hands pressed over his hats). Where humans showed their appreciation with the wideness of their smiles, house-elves showed it with the depth of their bows.
"How are your new masters treating you?" Harry asked the group at large. He knew it was an impossible question, but maybe their reactions would still tell him something. After all, "If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals" Sirius had said.
As predicted there was much shifting and frightened looks. Many avoided his eyes.
"Not well, Harry Potter, not well," Dobby said firmly. "They is increasing our workload, ordering us to work also outside of Hogwarts School, at other wizarding residences. We is working day and night, and many of us is not getting sleep as a result, sir."
Now that he mentioned it, Harry saw the signs of exhaustion: there were bags under Dobby's eyes. The others didn't look any better. Someone by the stove was swaying on her feet dangerously close to the fire. The elf assisting her with cooking had a hand on her back to keep her standing upright.
"They can't just... double your working hours like that!" Harry exclaimed. The group of elves behind Dobby went from studying their feet to hurrying away from him, back to their tasks.
Dobby hadn't moved. He was vigorously shaking his head. All his hats fell off at this, and Harry stooped to collect them.
Dobby's strong reaction only served to fuel Harry's resolve. "Dobby, I'm going to see what can be done about this. Who are your masters?"
Dobby clapped his hands over his ears, still shaking his head. "Nooo Harry Potter sir, Dobby should never have said anything."
"No, it's good that you did." He offered back the hats but the elf had scrunched his eyes shut.
Harry bit his lip. He knelt down to look Dobby in the eyes. "I won't tell anyone that you told me, alright? I'll just tell them that you all looked exhausted, and that it's... that it's dangerous for the quality of the food or something. That will get their attention." Explaining that elves were about to fall into the fire from exhaustion was not something the average dark wizard would care about, unfortunately.
"Harry Potter is being very kind sir, but Harry Potter is not going to be listened to about this."
Harry frowned. Dobby was right, of course. Anything he said about house-elves was going to be laughed at. But he couldn't watch this go on: it was only a week into the school year and already the elves' energy was wearing thin.
Hermione would know what to do.
He glanced at the clock above the fireplace, but if it was showing the time, Harry didn't know how to read it.
"It is being nearing eight, sir," Dobby supplied.
"I have to hurry then." He grasped the elves small shoulders. "Dobby, I'm going to look into this, and I promise not to tell anyone about our conversation. I know how dangerous it has become around here, believe me."
But Dobby could not be reassured on this point. Harry didn't know how to take away his fear and now wished he hadn't said anything.
"It's going to get better," he settled on, before departing with a pained smile that was mirrored by the elf.
888
He guessed he was about five minutes early. After only a few moments a dark shape appeared at the end of the corridor, gliding towards Harry. His robes were blowing dramatically as usual, and he idly wondered if perhaps Snape had learned this trick from Voldemort.
Harry itched to torture Snape through his Mark. But would Snape then alert Voldemort, or was it just something he'd said to stop him from trying?
Snape went past him without a word. He strolled a certain spot of wall for precisely nine deliberate paces, stopping when a door took shape. Behind it lay a familiar long and narrow hall, streaked in the warm evening light of late summer.
"I regret to inform you that we will be continuing your training sessions in the Dark Arts," Snape spoke in a soft, measured voice when the door closed behind Harry.
"Why?" Harry sputtered. That was the last thing he'd expected.
Snape spread his hands as if in supplication. "Why does anyone do anything these days?"
"The Dark Lord ordered this?" Harry asked, incredulous.
"The Dark Lord has always ordered it."
"What? What about-" he almost said his name, but then he remembered who he was talking to, and he clamped his mouth shut.
Snape raised a brow at this. "Albus? He merely went along with my suggestion."
Harry felt his rage come to a boil just underneath his skin. "Don't you dare call him that! You... you traitor!"
He realised he was sounding ridiculous and felt his face becoming warm. He turned his eyes to the shelves of weird items.
"Au contraire, I have always been very loyal to both my masters," Snape drawled.
"That is self-contradictory and you know it."
"My, such complicated words from our resident hero!" Snape taunted. "Perhaps there is hope for you yet, Potter."
"Whatever, I'm not going to stay here just so you can have an excuse to torture me." With that he briskly put his back to the man and headed for the door.
It didn't have a handle.
He drew his wand and pointed it at Snape a little more aggressively then was strictly necessary. "Let me out."
"Now we're getting somewhere. Reducto."
Snape's wand was drawn faster than Harry's eyes could follow. He had just enough time to turn his body sideways before the blasting curse collided with the door, producing a low humming sound. Harry was quick to retaliate with a blood-boiling curse.
Things escalated fast from there. Harry was determined to make the most of this offer to legitimately bash Snape's brains in, hurling a wide range of dark curses in quick succession, but Snape remained quite unmoving, swiftly countering or cancelling each attack and responding with spells that were far past the realm of merely dangerous: an asphyxiating hex, a Crusher and Devil's Snare were a few of the incantations that Harry narrowly managed to block, dodge or in the last case slice off his body from where it was climbing up his legs and stomach.
He managed to hold on for some ten minutes – the practice over the summer seemed to be paying off - when a searing pain flashed over his legs.
He sank to the ground and looked down. An unfamiliar spell had punctured his shield and trousers, and the result was spreading over his skin.
Snape was quick to close the distance. He crouched to eye-level – not out of any concern for Harry, he knew, but merely to enjoy the sight better.
"Episkey," Harry waved but the huge rash showed no signs of vanishing. It was worth a try, anyway. As he touched the skin it started to swell and blister. His eyes watered and he quickly pulled away.
"A fourth year would know that a minor healing spell won't work on these."
Harry looked up at that. If Snape thought Harry was going to ask him for help he had another thing coming.
"You are pathetically incompetent on the matter of common healing spells. You're far behind on your classmates, as usual. But of course, why would the Chosen One bother when he has so many friends willing to sacrifice themselves for- "
The image of Ginny's bleeding face flashed through his mind and the next thing he knew, he had shoved Snape in the chest. Harry's lips curled with satisfaction as Snape stumbled back, surprise and momentum working together to smash him against the stone floor with a loud thud. The second it took for Snape to get his bearings was enough for Harry – he clamped down on the man's wand arm, instinctively knowing how far up he had to reach.
Nothing happened.
Snape smiled lazily. Harry inwardly scolded himself for his mistake and murmured an Evanesco. The Headmaster froze as his outer robe vanished and Harry's fingers found contact with the Dark Mark. The familiar sensation of icy magic washed over him. His hand was soon numb were it touched Snape, and he couldn't feel the tops of his fingers.
Snape growled and reared up to dislodge him. Harry's grip on Snape's arm stayed firm however, and this time he knew what to look for – or feel for, rather. Remembering a dream from some time ago, he gripped the cursed bond and yanked.
He knew it had worked when Snape's arm twitched and the man let out a long hiss. The movement and the change in the bond was invisible, only existing inside his mind. Harry pulled again on the whirling vortex of magical energy, which appeared to him as a trail of reddish light against the back of his eyelids. Snape's wand dropped to the stone floor with a soft clanging sound.
Snape had closed his eyes. He was actually sweating a bit, Harry noticed with fascination as he peered down over Snape's prone form.
"Potter..." Snape gasped between clenched teeth. "I shall have to... report this to... the Dark Lord."
"You do that, Snape."
The man's eyes snapped open. "Do you have... the faintest idea- "
Harry pushed and Snape fell silent. His eyes fell shut again, as if the mere sight of Harry pained him. Snape then reached with his free hand to feel along the back of his head.
Harry felt a twinge of worry, or guilt, but he shook it off angrily.
The hard part was to maintain the mental force he was continuously placing on the mark: it was like pushing against a wall while trying to maintain the same steady amount of force – at some point you would find that, without noticing, the strength in your hands had gradually diminished.
When Harry felt his grip loosen on the vortex of energy, he re-gripped, each time a bit tighter than the last. As he did this, Snape's pallor became whiter and his grimace more pronounced.
"Very... Slytherin... of you, Potter," Snape whispered through lips that were bitten bloody. It seemed like everyone wanted to point out his un-Gryffindorish behaviour nowadays.
Harry could only guess the amount of pain Snape must be under for it to show so clearly. "Whatever would your... Gryffindor friends think... of their Golden Boy now?"
"They would be glad to see you get the punishment you deserve," harry hissed. He closed his eyes and twisted: Snape's body curled reflexively around the suffering appendage
"As usual, you lack all subtlety, Potter... Blindly reacting to... whatever bone is thrown your way."
Harry halted. "What do you mean?" He loosened his mental hold when Snape showed no intention of responding.
Snape, slowly uncurling to shift on his back, laughed, looking quite deranged. Harry's stomach clenched with a sudden feeling of trepidation that he couldn't explain.
"You make it so easy..."
Snape had gone officially around the bend. Harry stood, deciding to call it a day before things became even stranger.
"Thanks for the training, Professor. I won't be needing it any more."
Whatever skills he could be learning weren't worth being around Snape for. Harry just couldn't stand the sight of the man.
Something warm hit him as he turned for the door. He whirled around, touching his back for the possible damage but not finding any.
Snape was sitting upright, completely composed, wand aimed and steady. "This is your homework for our next session," he drawled. "Cure yourself."
Harry froze. "What was the incantation?"
Snape's eyes, although still narrowed a bit in pain, now shimmered with amusement. "It is a neurological curse," he said after watching Harry's terror for a moment. His lip curled. "I will see you tomorrow evening at eight."
"You're kidding."
Snape raised an eyebrow in response.
Harry ran.
888
He made it to the library in record time, having to hush his loud breathing under madame Pince´s glare. He went over to the bookcases, then stilled. He glanced back over his shoulder at madame Pince, who sat bending over something on her desk.
He was wasting his time: he wasn´t going to find the right book here.
He abruptly turned and left again, jogging all the way up to the seventh floor. There he came to a full stop in front of the Gryffindor portrait hole.
This was an obstacle he hadn´t foreseen. It was no use arguing with the fat lady, which meant he had to wait for the first Gryffindor to show up.
Ten anxious minutes later, he managed to slip inside behind a first or second-year. He spotted Hermione immediately, reading a book next to Parvati on one of the couches. Ron was nowhere to be seen.
She looked pleasantly surprised to see him and closed it hurriedly. They made their way over to a quiet corner far from the fireplace.
"I know I was going to tell you about my summer tonight, but some thing's come up and I'm in a bit of a hurry," Harry began. Now that he thought it, he'd promised the exact same thing to Malfoy... "I need your help."
Hermione nodded. "Name it."
"I need you to find me a book on neurological curses in the restricted section, as soon as possible."
Hermione's eyes widened. "What have you gotten yourself into now?"
"Nothing, just a stupid accident," Harry said casually. His fight with Snape was just between him and Snape as far as he was concerned.
She frowned. "Just a neurological curse gone wrong?"
He rubbed his hair back with both hands. "Common Hermione, I don't have time for this now."
"Al right, let me get my bag."
He took up a firm pace again, too keyed-up for small talk. Back in the library he hid himself behind a bookcase while madame Pince nodded in approval to a small purple pass Hermione flashed her. He watched from around the corner as she browsed a few shelves with purpose, now and then adding another book to the pile in her arms.
He didn't feel any different. Whatever it was that Snape had hit him with must be too slow-working to show any noticeable effects yet, Harry mused. He didn't know if that was good or bad news in this case.
Hermione led the way towards one of the reading tables and immediately started in on a big tome, shoving one across to Harry as well. They read in silence for a few minutes.
Harry found out there were about thirty different types of neurological curses. This fact seemed to sap all the energy out of him in one heartfelt sigh.
He jumped at the sudden tingling feeling of an Identificator washing over him. It flashed in dark- and light-green colours.
When Hermione was through asking him all sorts of questions about the attack (she had healed the rash on his leg in no time, much to his annoyance), her mouth was set in a grim line of frustration. There was little to tell, since Harry hadn't seen the curse responsible or heard an incantation. He confessed that Snape was responsible and that this was a test of his healing skills, which was all true. Determined now, she shot numerous diagnostic questions at him.
Again he had to shake his head. He felt no different whatsoever.
Curfew came and they were ushered out of the library.
"We'll probably know more tomorrow anyway, when you start showing symptoms" Hermione said in what was supposed to be a reassuring tone, after checking out three of the most useful books.
"I can't wait," Harry said dryly.
Hermione shot him a worried look. "Write down whatever you feel that's different from the usual, okay?"
At that moment madame Pince shuffled out to lock the library doors rattling a huge old key.
Harry nodded silently. They parted ways, Hermione trudging up to the seventh floor and Harry down to the dungeons, preparing for a night of likely little sleep.
888
Harry woke up to the sound of his alarm. Remembering the events of the evening before, he shot up in bed. Immediately he had to clamp the bed frame to stay upright.
Everything was off track. His mind was slogging inside his skull, bearing down heavily on his neck. The sunlight filtering through the lake water was moving on the walls in a way that was giving him a blinding headache for some reason. Like he had the worst hangover while being drunk at the same time.
Damn Snape and damn his curses.
He was surprised he'd slept at all. He wished he was still sleeping now as he glanced at the floor. Snakes and frogs slithered around, thousands of them gliding over each other, blending with the green of the carpet, which made it look like one huge moving animal. The snakes were all eating the frogs, he saw with a frown.
That didn't look good.
His classmates were either gone, or all still sleeping. It was probably the latter. How was he going to reach the bathroom?
He straightened, slowly standing on top of the duvet which moved horribly underneath his feet. He checked that his wand was still in his pyjamas.
The walls were moving. He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment. Ignore it, ignore it.
He would have to jump to Malfoy's bed if he wanted to reach the bathroom without getting caught by the whirling mass below. The snakes were small, but they had eaten all the frogs in about five seconds. Some of them were getting quite big too, and were now eating smaller snakes.
Wait, he could talk to them.
"Could you let me pass, please? I don't want to step on anyone by accident," he hissed in Parseltongue.
The snakes didn't seem to hear, continuing to cannibalise each other.
"Ok I'm going to jump," Harry murmured to the room at large and promptly did so.
The soft bed didn't make for a good jumping ground however, and Malfoy's bed was way out of reach. He fell between the writhing mass of reptiles with a scream.
He felt nothing. No slimy scales and no piercing bites. Scrambling up he looked down to see the carpet completely clear and uninhabited. The walls still swayed, however.
All the noise had woken the Slytherins, who stuck their heads out with sleepy expressions.
"Sorry, nothing," Harry said to their silent regard.
"You were hissing something," Nott said. "It was Parseltongue, right?"
Harry ignored him, reaching the bathroom mirror with the aid of the wall.
His face didn't look any different. His brain still felt swollen, though. He hoped it would go away like the vision earlier.
With a heroic effort he managed to put on his school attire and reach the Great Hall. He'd kept one hand against the wall on his journey there to keep his balance, since everything was still spinning and distorting weirdly around him. Ignoring it worked best, because whenever he touched something, turned out it wasn't actually moving at all.
People watched him with weird looks along the way, but what else was new.
By the time he sat down he was sweating profusely. He loosened his tie, then noticed his hands were shaking badly.
"Harry!" Hermione hurried over to sit next to him, closing her steady hands over his trembling ones. "How do you feel?"
"Weird. Everything's moving. But it's not really, right?" It looked so real that he wasn't quite sure.
"No." Her brows knit together and she touched a palm to his forehead. "You have a fever."
Harry shrugged, not knowing what to say to that.
"Snape is punishing you, isn't he? It's not an accident."
Harry shrugged again, not having the energy to start a full-out conversation.
"That bastard," Hermione whispered. Harry turned to look at her in surprise.
That was when the candles started falling down from the ceiling. Harry covered his head while chunks of candle wax hit the mugs and plates on the table with a terrible crashing noise. They cracked and broke. Harry chanced a look upwards: a million candles were now falling out of the enchanted sky.
Meanwhile it bothered him somewhat that the long house tables had taken up a dance, spinning faster and faster around him... The bit of tomato he'd eaten threatened to show itself again then, in a decidedly different manner.
Hermione tugged on his arms to lower them. "What is it, Harry? What do you see?"
Harry swallowed, looked at her wildly. "You don't see it?"
Everyone near them froze. Neville quietly asked: "Do you want me to go with you to the infirmary?"
He shook his painful head, which now felt like it might actually crack and break off his neck due to its sheer weight. He buried it in his hands to keep it steady.
He should get away from all these people, these witnesses. This was between him and Snape.
Rage against Snape's underhanded tactics made the air stifling around him. He stood, carefully turning to leave.
The walls were now... No, he would ignore it, it wasn't real.
He was not suddenly going to be squeezed between the stones of Hogwarts, obviously, or everyone here would be screaming.
Oh he was so dizzy. He had to lie down.
He didn't remember escaping the Great Hall, but the next thing he knew, he was walking along a hallway with someone next to him.
It was Neville. Harry saw big white doors ahead. He was walking him to the Infirmary, he realised. But that wouldn't count in Snape's eyes.
"No," he murmured, noticing with embarrassment that he was clinging to Neville's arm.
"I heard that Snape has cursed you, Harry," Neville said calmly. "Don't worry, we're going to report this."
Harry broke away from Neville, stumbling a step to keep his balance. "No don't! I have to do this myself. Who would you tell anyway?"
"McGonagall at least!" Neville said, sounding very angry for some reason. "If you don't, I will! Snape is a horrible git who thrives on his pathetic rivalry with you! All because he's jealous or something!"
A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he threw up.
Then he blackened out.
888
"Mr. Potter, you're awake I see."
Harry nodded to madame Pomfrey.
"You are suffering from fever and hallucinations, which was caused by a curse or a poison. I have been unable to find a cure as of yet. I asked professor Snape for his expertise on these subjects, but he told me that this is a test of some kind that you will have to solve for yourself." The way she said the word 'test' told him she'd never before heard of something so ridiculous.
"Were you aware of this, Mr. Potter?"
Harry nodded again. His head felt less heavy, at least.
Pomfrey threw up her arms in defeat at that. "Well, I guess I will have to let you go, then!" She stalked away.
Harry watched her go, puzzled by her sudden annoyance.
Standing he donned his robe that Neville handed. They walked out at a slow pace. He found he was actually getting used to seeing everything tilt and bend strangely around him.
"Phew," Neville commented. Harry shared the sentiment.
"Do you know where Hermione is?"
"She's in the library."
Harry stopped. "Don't we have class?"
"No, we have today off. They're deciding today which classes we are allowed into, remember?"
Harry didn't but he nodded anyway because it was less tiring.
"Come on, let's get you to the library. Hermione wants to try some spells she found."
Hermione and Ron met them at the library doors. They all went in search of an empty classroom, which they found a few doors down. Inside, Harry held up a hand to ward of her explanation. "Please, just... try what you have."
Hermione nodded grimly, raising her wand. She uttered several counter-curses, but afterwards he didn't feel any different, except for a tingling of magic over his torso, where he'd been repeatedly hit.
Hermione's shoulders sagged as she put away her wand. "He won't get away with it this time, Harry, you'll see," Ron exclaimed, frustrated.
Harry's headache was back full force, flaming along the back of his skull. He grimaced and silently gestured to Ron to lower his voice a bit. "Sorry mate," Ron whispered.
The snakes were also back all of a sudden. They crawled over the walls, thousands of them. That made sense, Harry thought, because the walls were green. He didn't mind them so much. What did bother him was the way he was unable to keep standing when the floor was moving up and down. He was forced to sit down in one of the empty chairs in the corner.
"What's he going to do Ron, report him to the Headmaster? Oh wait, he is the Headmaster!" Hermione snapped back.
When Hermione got sarcastic, you were really in trouble as a rule, as it meant that she was genuinely worried. Harry dejectedly lowered his head onto his folded hands and closed his eyes. Someone whispered something, but he was out before he could register the words.
888
When he woke a second time, the sun was setting. He immediately recognised the window as belonging to Gryffindor tower. He lay in a soft bed, and Ron was sitting next to him.
Ron shook his head to his silent inquiry. "Other than what we tried already, we didn't find anything useful. We thought it was best to let you sleep, since you didn't seem to be in any pain."
"I wasn't," Harry said, sitting up.
"And now?"
"I have a huge headache that doesn't leave. And everything seems to be moving. Other than that I'm fine."
There was a spider the size of Ron's head on his shoulder, but he thought it best not to mention it. It shifted and scurried away over Ron's stomach and legs, to the ground and from there out the window. Harry shivered, glad he wasn't afraid of spiders like Ron.
"What time is it?"
"It's eight-thirty."
"What?" He was supposed to meet with Snape half an our ago! "I have to go."
"Where, to that back-stabbing git?"
Harry grabbed at his head with both hands as pain spiked through it. "Don't say that, Ron."
"What, that he's a git?"
Harry groaned, closing his eyes.
"Wait," Ron said suddenly, shifting forward. "Every time we mention him you're in pain, aren't you?"
Harry nodded carefully, struck by the exact same realisation. He also realised how the hallucinations got particularly intense sometimes – the floor was now crawling with spiders.
"So, we found it, we know how it works! We have to tell Hermione-"
"You can tell her, I have to go see him." Harry knew it was not merely spoken words that the curse responded to, and he was careful to keep his thoughts neutral on the subject of the Headmaster. This was only possible when imagining Snape in his thoughts as a stranger he knew nothing about. "If I don't show now he may never lift the curse, and who knows when we'll ever find a cure."
Ron looked like he wanted to stop him, or perhaps go with him to punch Snape in the face, but then his shoulder drooped. "You're right, but keep your guard up. I don't like this one bit, Harry."
Harry patted his shoulder. He descended the stairs on shaky legs. Outside the common room it was just a small walk to the Room of Requirement.
The door was still there. There was a small indentation where a handle would normally be, which he pulled. Inside the room looked the same as always, except for a fireplace in the corner and yellow balls of light, all the same size, that floated in the air to battle the twilight. Snape was staring at the flames, but turned and approached him as soon as the door closed.
"I have told you before I don't tolerate tardiness."
"I had some problems getting here." Harry said. The more he looked at the man, the angrier he got and the more the walls shifted crazily around him. The floor, filled with glittering creatures, lurched and he stumbled. Snape gave a satisfying smirk. The floor tilted some more. With nothing around to use for support Harry fell to the ground, cheeks burning with a mixture of anger and embarrassment.
Snape tilted his head and regarded Harry's sitting form. "What problems, precisely? Don't tell me that in all this time you haven't found the counter yet."
Harry avoiding looking at Snape as he climbed back up and made his way towards the fire. He chose the comfortable sofa. "No I haven't," he managed to force out. "I did discover that the curse is neurological as well as conditional."
From the corner of his eye Harry saw the shadowy form of his professor come closer and retake his seat near the fire, opposite the sofa.
"On what premise?"
Harry figured he'd rather finish this sooner rather than later, whatever it was that Snape wanted, and so he tried to be as precise as possible. "On the premise that anyone near me, including myself, who mentions you in a negative context in thought or in words, causes the curse to worsen and causes hallucinations."
Snape smirked at that, which made him look strangely young. Harry's hands twitched in his sleeves, wanting to pull out his wand.
"Other symptoms?"
"Dizziness, vertigo, headaches." Harry ground his teeth. "Black-outs, a heavy feeling of the head."
He chanced a look. Snape had gone back to watching him with an indiscernible expression. The flickering light from the fire accentuated the contrast between his black hair and pale skin.
"And what did you make of the original curse itself?"
Harry tried remembering what it was that Hermione had said. He shook his head.
"You let your friends do all the work, did you not? And didn't even bother to ask what they'd found," Snape sneered.
Harry balled his fists inside his pockets, remaining silent.
"Well?"
What the hell did Snape want? "Yes, sir."
"The considerable brainpower of Granger was let loose on the situation, and still you couldn't find the cure. Imagine that you would've had to find it on your own, with no friends to help you. Do you now appreciate the kind of knowledge you could have learned, that you threw away with that little stunt yesterday?" Snape's face remained unmoving but his jaw was tense with fury.
Ah, now they were getting somewhere.
"If you don't find a way to tame your undisciplined mind, to curb your primitive whims and impulses, slave as you are to your emotions, I predict that the Dark Lord will soon become bored with you."
He let that sink in for a moment, then continued in low tones, gradually building in volume. "He detests the undisciplined, the uncontrolled. Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked this easily - weak people, in other words - they stand no chance against his powers!"
Harry sat frozen, trying to focus his thoughts on the dancing flames.
"Do you imagine that you are important in some way Potter? That you are special? That the Dark Lord is going to think twice about killing you when you turn out to be less than he expected?"
"What does he want from me then, hm?" Harry raged, turning on Snape. "You must know all about it right? Close pals as you are?"
"I might." Snape's eyebrows rose a fraction. "I believe you told me lessons were over, Potter. Surely you don't need my help?"
Shit. He remembered saying that in a bout of... something, anger? "Right," Harry gave a tight nod, not caring how it increased the headache, "I wouldn't dream of it."
"You have not demonstrated to me that you are worth my time or explanations."
Snape waved his wand. Harry jumped but the room merely stopped moving. His headache was gone, and the snakes that had been twisting over the mantelpiece had vanished. He could've sighed in relief.
They stared at each other. Harry imagined that their resentment was quite evenly matched.
"He is a handful, isn't he?" A glacial voice intoned behind them.
Harry jumped. Snape didn't move a muscle at the unexpected intrusion. He gave the Dark Lord, who had appeared out of nowhere to stand behind the sofa – Harry certainly hadn't seen the door move – a nod and said: "Quite so, my Lord."
Long fingers that made him think of the spiders' legs from his hallucinations crept over his shoulders and held them loosely against the back of the sofa. Harry tried to remain relaxed, but it was hard to do so while Voldemort's gaze burned into the back of his head.
"How is his training coming along?"
Harry scowled at the flames. Voldemort was apparently no different from the other adults in his life in that he did not count Harry as part of the conversation.
"His spell-work has improved over the summer. His attitude has not."
Harry swallowed. It was one thing for Snape to be angry, quite another when it was Voldemort.
"I see." Voldemort's thumbs skirted casually over his neck. "We've talked about this, haven't we Harry?"
"Yes s-sir."
"I've actually come to bring you a present. I hope you will show me more gratitude than you've shown Severus."
"I will." Voldemort had turned his nails to Harry's skin and now dug them in deep. Harry took a surprised breath from the pain of it. "My Lord," he whispered. The nails retracted. Harry turned, feeling an irresistible urge to know how long they were.
They were – long, that is. They were white, not yellowish like Snape's and now tipped in red, like some kind of macabre nail polish.
Voldemort stepped to the side to let Harry see what was behind him.
A body, on the floor.
With a jolt he saw that it was Umbridge. Her clothes were dirty, not their usual vivid pink, but the face was unmistakable. Her cheeks were a healthy colour – she wasn't dead, then. She just looked like she was sleeping peacefully on the floor.
Harry closed his mouth with a snap. Voldemort was studying his reaction with some amusement.
"Severus, I have some matters to discuss with you."
Snape nodded, having unglued his gaze from the floor.
"But first, Harry, show me what you've learned from my dear Severus. Ennervate."
One quote is directly taken from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, courtesy of Rowling.
What do you think? Please share your thoughts!