The Spark

    “Given the healing properties, my thought was originally to gravitate towards healing potions, but I had read in ‘Advanced Potion Making’ that ingredients with healing properties tend to form the base of many poison antidotes, so I was thinking I could focus on that.’

    “While that may be correct, you’ll find in your research that Phoenix tears tend to not play well with quite a few common antidote ingredients.” Snape leaned forward, opening the book he placed on the table. He was close enough that Harry could smell the distinct odor of coffee and a light, almost musty smell, most likely from his preference to exist in a dark, dreary castle basement. Harry also noticed another scent, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but he surprisingly wasn’t opposed to it. He almost found it…pleasant?

    Harry suddenly realized Snape was staring at him. “Do you take pleasure in ignoring me?” The way he spoke it, though, made Harry catch his breath. The usual edge to his voice was nowhere to be found. If he didn’t know better, He would almost think Snape’s tone had a hint of concern to it.

    “Sorry, sit. I just got lost in my thoughts,” Harry mumbled.

    As Snape reached across the table to grab Harry’s notes, Snape’s fingers brushed against his hand. What happened next went so quick, both Harry and Snape were left breathless and in shock. Harry immediately felt an intense cold shiver travel down his spine, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his face felt flush, swear pouring down. Harry threw his chair back, leaning forward to catch his breath.

    A sudden movement to his left reminded Harry of Snape’s presence, causing him to glance over and see a terrified and fatigued look on Snape’s face. “Potter, you will stick out your right arm and pull up your sleeve immediately.” Harry did as he was told and held out his arm, pulling up his sleeve. “Turn your arm around,” Snape whispered. Harry slowly flipped his arm around, palm up. Snape reached over and placed his fingers on Harry’s wrist. Harry was shocked to see some sort of symbol glowing along the inside of his wrist.

    Snape’s expression was panicked. Harry could barely make out a strained ‘come’ before he found himself being pulled out of his seat, ushered out of the room and down the hall.

    “Sir, back there, what…?”

    “Silence.” Snape’s reply held a familiar sting, but seemed to come more out of fear rather than hatred.

    Harry tried his best to keep up with Snape’s frantic pace. He quickly began to fear the worst. Could this mark mean something fatal? Why did it occur the second Snape touched him? Could he have attempted to harm him and went too far?

    Snape suddenly came to a stop and Harry found himself standing in front of the entrance to Dumbledore’s office.

    “Peppermint Snap,” Snape gasped at the statue, causing the staircase to spring to life. Once again, Harry found himself being ushered along, up the stairs to the door leading into the Headmaster’s office. Snape raised his fist to knock, faltering just before. Harry noticed him shaking, making Harry’s fears ever more intense. Suddenly, a calm, muffled “Come in, Severus,” came from within. Snape took a deep breath, the opened the door to the office. Dumbledore was smiling, standing next to his desk. He motioned towards a couple chairs beside him. “Please, take a seat. Pleasant morning, Severus and Harry.”

    Harry cautiously took a seat in one of the chairs. Snape, however, seemed to have far too much nervous energy to be confined to a chair. “Sir, I’m not sure why, or how. I don’t believe anything quite like this has happened before. The boy is so young. I couldn’t possibly…” Snape’s babbling trailed off as he paced back and forth in front of Dumbledore’s desk.