Over a week had passed since Harry had stormed from the Headmaster's office. Since then several things had changed. Madam Pomfrey was now allowing him visitors twice a day. Ron and Hermione had been the first to see him; Hermione had nearly reinjured his ribs after embracing him in such a tight hug. Later he was visited by Hagrid who couldn't seem to control the massive tears leaking from his swollen eyes into his tangled mess of a beard. Mr. and Mrs. Wealsey had been the last to visit. Both were smiling broadly as Mrs. Weasley threatened to take him back to the Burrow and feed him until he didn't look like death anymore.
Second, a first-year was now bringing him homework every afternoon. He was shocked to find out Professor Snape was now the Defense Against the Dark Art's professor and that a short portly man named Slughorn had taken over as potions master. While slightly disgusted at having his least favorite teacher in charge of his favorite lesson, he was glad to hear he could continue with potions in order to pursue his Auror career.
Things had progressively been returning to normal. Voldemort had seemed to have forgotten about him, though Harry knew it was only a matter of time before that annoying voice returned to the back of his mind. Hermione was perched at the end of his cot, an Advanced Guide to Herbology open across her lap as she explained what they had learned today in the Greenhouse. Ron was helping himself to a tin of sweets his mother had brought Harry during her visit.
"I can't believe they're making you do work," Ron said through a mouth full of toffee.
"He's already missed three weeks worth of classes," Hermione scolded. "He doesn't need to fall behind any further."
Harry rolled his eyes towards Ron, who stifled a laugh. "Yeah because reading lecture notes is really helping," he replied sarcastically.
Hermione opened her mouth to reply but looking up she smiled broadly in the direction of the door.
Walking down the row of beds was Remus Lupin. His mousy hair was shorter than when Harry had last seen him, and his face was cleanly shaven. A warm grin was wrinkling the thin scars that adorned his pale face.
Harry felt his stomach drop. The smell of burning flesh and sounds of ear-piercing screams blocked the world around him as he struggled to remain in the present. He dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his face to try and block the wave of sickness that was threatening to spill out of him.
He could hear laughter somewhere in the distance and raised his head slightly. He tried to smile to hide the panic attack raging through his mind, but Lupin caught his eye and his face fell. He understood.
"Would you two mind if I had a word with Harry alone," Remus asked, quickly regaining his composure.
Ron and Hermione both agreed, grabbing their books and waving as they left the Hospital Wing. It was only then that Remus quickly drew the curtains around Harry's cot; giving them the privacy Harry needed. He took several short shaky breaths, trying to regain control of his senses that were waging war against him. Dark images of Remus thrashing upon a hearth rug, a red hot poker burning into his flesh, blossomed in front of his clenched eyes.
"Harry, it's just a panic attack. I'm right here," Lupin said, embracing Harry in a tight hug.
Harry forced himself to take a deep breath; the smell of Remus's cloak, a mixture of damp earth and cool autumn air, filled his nostrils. His hands clutched tight to the worn fabric, afraid that if he let go the wave of dark thoughts would sweep him under. He remained still, allowing the hug to continue as his heart rate steadied and his vision returned. Normally he would have found it awkward hugging his former professor, but at that moment it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
Unclasping his aching fingers, Harry let himself fall back into the soft pillow propped against the headboard. Remus sat on the edge of the mattress watching Harry closely. He looked on the verge of speaking but Harry beat him to it.
"I'm fine," he said shortly. Casting his eyes to the opposite side of the room. The hangings were now blocking the rest of the wing, but Harry stared intensely at it as if he could see straight through them. Looking at Remus was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment; afraid that the guilt of what he'd been put through would push him back over the edge.
Silence overtook them for several minutes, only the distant sound of students making their way back to their common room before curfew could be heard in the corridor outside. Remus seemed to be weighing his next words carefully, casting unsure glances in Harry's direction. He opened and shut his mouth several times before speaking in a soft whisper.
"There's nothing you could have done differently, Harry. You can't blame yourself."
Harry shook his head. "I could have refused. I could still refuse."
Remus paled a bit, his eyes shifting down to the polished floor. "I think you should."
Harry's eyes snapped up to stare at Remus, not wanting to believe what he'd heard. "He'd kill you," he said quietly.
"But what bargaining chip would he have then? If he couldn't threaten you by hurting me this would all be over."
Harry knew that wasn't true. He would still have Voldemort controlling his thoughts, and there were others he could threaten just as easily. No, Harry knew that without a way to stop this connection he was at the Dark Lord's mercy.
"He would still have the upper hand," Harry said as Remus turned to look at him. "He can see my thoughts, even control what I see. Until I can stop that he will always have the tools to manipulate me."
"I…I didn't know..." Remus began, a look of horror on his slim face.
" That's what all this has been about. Since that night at the ministry he's been trying to perfect and use that power."
Lupin raised his thin eyebrows in surprise. "Does Dumbledore know about any of this?"
An angry frown formed on Harry's face at the mention of Dumbledore's name. "He suspects," he replied shortly, unable to keep the contempt from infiltrating his voice.
"Harry, Professor Dumbledore is not your enemy. No matter what thoughts Voldemort put into your mind…"
"This has nothing to do with Voldemort," Harry spat vehemently. "Dumbledore should have told me about his suspicions instead of ignoring me all term. If he would have warned me I could have been more cautious. Sirius would…" He trailed off, a lump now blocking his throat. He felt a prickle in the corner of his eyes and he looked up in an attempt to ward off the tears threatening to spill from his fluttering lids.
Remus didn't answer. Instead, he closed his eyes and dropped his head, his hands tightening on the mattress edge. "Sirius would have…"
"I don't want to talk about what Sirius would have done," Harry said quietly. "Remus, you're…you're the only one I have left. The only person I can talk to about this. I just... I just need you to be here." Every word rolled out of his mouth without processing. He allowed himself to let go, feeling the weight of his words lift from his shoulders. Since he'd arrived back at Hogwarts he'd calculated his every word carefully, afraid that he would slip and someone would see through to the truth.
Remus brought his eyes up to meet Harry's, a soft reassuring smile on his lips. "Of course, Harry."
****************************************************
Harry awoke the next morning with a tight knot of anxiety blocking his stomach. He dressed slowly, listening as the sounds of the castle stirring floated up to the open Hospital Wing door. The knot tightened as he thought of joining the rest of the students in the Great Hall for breakfast. He had a taste of what was to come when he'd visited the Headmaster. All the whispering, pointing and gawking were enough to make Harry contemplate returning to the Dursley's.
Worst of all was the thought of seeing Draco Malfoy for the first time. He'd been locked in his cellar for months; tortured by his father even. The very idea of having to look that git in the face made Harry's blood turn to ice.
Unfortunately, Madam Pomfrey was more than insistent. She basically threw him from the ward after he'd dressed, complaining that he'd be late for breakfast if he kept dawdling. She also made sure to remind him to take it easy for the next couple of weeks. The wounds were healed but she warned him that overexerting his weak body could cause serious damage.
Despite his apprehension, Harry's trip to the Great Hall was quite uneventful. A few stares mingled with soft whispers broke through huddled groups, but he'd had much worse in past years. It wasn't until he reached the Great Hall that his presence really caused a disturbance.
Walking through the large double doors, the roar of chattering students came suddenly to a halt. It was as if someone had pushed the mute button on the world around him. Every head turned to watch as he made his way hurriedly to the Gryffindor table, his head bowed low to hide it's flushing colors. The vast majority of his fellow Gryffindors greeted him with waves and smiles, but there were a few that could only watch as he sat down between Hermione and Ron.
"That wasn't so bad," Hermione said, passing him a plate laden with sausages without looking up from the Daily Prophet.
"You're joking right," he asked taking a sausage and placing it on his empty plate. The room had returned to its normal buzzing chatter, but Harry couldn't help but notice that several eyes were still glancing his way. He busied himself with scooping a spoon full of eggs onto his plate to accompany the sausage. "At least the worst part's over."
Beside him Ron paused, a piece of toast halfway shoved into his mouth. Cutting his eyes at Harry, he swallowed the mouthful of bread and raised his eyebrows. "Did you look at your schedule this morning," he asked tentatively.
"Yeah, but it wasn't anything too terrible." Harry reached into the pocket of his robes and withdrew a crumpled piece of parchment. Unfolding it, he skimmed the lines until he found the right day. He shrugged his shoulders as he read the first time block. "It's just Defence Against the Dark…" He trailed off, sudden realization overcoming him. Snape was the new Professor.
"I thought you already knew," Ron said. He looked away from Harry quickly as if he had just delivered the news of a death in the family.
Harry's spirits plummeted further as he glared at the writing on the parchment. He'd read the schedule the night before, but the connection between Snape and his favorite class had slipped his mind. He couldn't face Snape, not today. The memory of those hollow black eyes staring at him from beneath the Death Eater's mask was enough by itself to send Harry into a rage. He couldn't begin to imagine what actually having to listen to the man teach for an hour would do.
Shaking his head, he pushed his untouched food away and looked up and down the Gryffindor table. "Who do think has some Puking Pasties?"
Hermione dropped her paper sternly to the table, a look of pure outrage lining her face. "Harry, no. You've already missed enough without skiving off on the first day. Besides," she glared at him as he threatened to interrupt her. "Everyone has already seen you this morning. Professor Snape will know you're using Weasley products."
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but he knew she was right. Clicking his teeth together, he turned back to the table and began poking his eggs with a fork absentmindedly. He could feel Ron and Hermione exchange looks behind his back, but he ignored it. They had every right to be concerned. The best Harry could hope for was that Snape would be just as keen on ignoring him.
Half an hour later they were standing outside the locked classroom door, dread filling Harry's chest like a massive weight. He would have given anything to leave the throng of people waiting for the door to open, but Hermione was standing at his elbow as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. Taking a deep breath, he fidgeted with the straps of his backpack, pulling it away from his chest.
The door to the classroom swung open, and a sour-faced Snape appeared in the corridor. "Inside," he said flatly, his dark eyes sweeping over the mass.
Harry dropped his gaze immediately. Filing into the room, the first thing he noticed was how different it was compared to previous years. Snape had really poured his own style into the once bright room; there were long black drapes over the windows and gruesome painting of wizards under various curses hung on the walls. His stomach clenched at the sight of the man staring blank-eyed out of the portrait, a shade of bright green surrounding him.
Dropping his bag to the ground, Harry slumped down in an empty seat next to Ron. Behind them, the door shut with a snap and Snape stalked to the front of the room, his cloak flowing behind him. He let his eyes wander over the class again before they came to rest on Harry. His thin lips curled into an ominous sneer; it was obvious he had no intention of ignoring him.
"Today we will be concluding our study of nonverbal spells, though there are a few of you that have yet to master the technique." His attention shifted to Neville who squirmed guiltily in his seat. Harry thought about the practice he'd done in his hospital bed. The most he'd accomplished was a slight shaking of a mug as he tried to summon it from across the room without speaking. However, according to Ron, Hermione was the only one who seemed to be able to use them regularly.
"Let's try a demonstration before we split into pairs. Let's see," Snape scanned the room as if searching for a volunteer, but Harry knew what was coming. Those coal-black eyes settled on him with a vengeful gaze. "Ah Potter. We are so happy to have you back," he mocked, his arms opening wide in an over-exaggerated welcome. "Why don't you join me in demonstrating to the class how to perform a shield charm using nonverbal magic."
Harry held Snape's eye as he racked his brain for an excuse. He knew Snape was using this for an opportunity to humiliate him in retaliation for the broken nose he'd given him a month ago. Apparently, the story had spread like wildfire through the castle, causing Snape to be the butt of several outrageous jokes. Harry could easily sense the longing Snape had for a little revenge.
Forcing a shrug, Harry straightened slightly in his chair. "I'm afraid I'm one of those few who still haven't mastered it, Professor. Best chose someone who has a little more knowledge."
Snape's sneer broadened at this. "Perhaps you'll be able to perform it under pressure. You're fairly good at that."
Harry's eyes narrowed at this, unsure if Snape was alluding to something else, but before he could refuse again, the Professor pressed on. "You've gotten quite good at taking orders, so stand up and come up here."
Harry didn't have to guess what Snape's words meant, it was all right there; hidden in plain sight. Anger overtook anxiety, and he pushed his chair back roughly, the wooden legs screeching loudly against the stone flooring. Every eye followed him as he made his way to stand across from the Professor. Reaching inside his cloak, he clutched the handle of his wand tightly as he withdrew it from his pocket.
"Now, I will attempt to jinx Potter nonverbally and he, in turn, will try and protect himself without speaking," Snape said to the class. He had turned to face them, but Harry's attention remained fixed on the greasy headed professor. From the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione's cautioning stare and he willed himself not to look at her. He'd be damned if he was just going to stand there and let Snape humiliate him.
The Professor turned and faced Harry, that sickening smile still playing across his lips. Without warning, a burst of red light shot from Snape's wand, giving Harry no time to react. It hit him square in the chest, sending him sprawling backward onto the cold floor. Air was forced from his lungs and his hand immediately clutched at his ribs. Mended or not, they still burned like fire even with the lightest touch.
Rolling to his side, he rose slowly to his feet. The room was unnaturally quiet as everyone stared at the pair in shock. If the Slytherins had been present he would have faced an uproar of laughter. Somehow, he thought he would have preferred that to the gaping mouths of his fellow Gryffindors. Panting, he rubbed his side, trying to soothe the ache.
Snape stared at him triumphantly, his eyes burning with delight. "Let's try that again, Potter. By now you should at least be able to produce a shield charm. It's not as if I'm asking you to kill someone."
The last comment caught Harry off guard. The blood drained from his face and for a moment he lost sight of the room around him. He was standing instead in the middle of a dark drawing-room. In front of him Snape was smirking from beneath his silver Death Eater's mask and at his feet was the body of a muggle staring blankly at the ceiling. His stomach dropped and he tore his eyes away from the rigid body.
Snape raised his wand and a burst of light erupted from the end once again. Harry was ready this time despite his swirling thoughts. Sidestepping the jet of red, he leveled his wand and without hesitation shouted, "Flipendo!"
Taken by surprise, the spell knocked Snape off his feet and sent him tumbling back against his desk. The classroom was stunned for the space of a long breath and then it burst with laughter. Harry, however, remained stoic, his anger still fighting to control him. He took an advancing step, wand still raised, but Snape was already regaining his composure. He rose to his feet, a hand reaching up to feel behind his head; the pale fingers reemerged with a glint of red staining their tips. The laughter died immediately.
Professor Snape glared at Harry, every hint of a smile gone from his face, replaced instead by a burning rage. "Class dismissed," he said quietly but when no one made an attempt to rise he shouted, "GET OUT!"
Loud scuffling broke through the stunned silence as the students grabbed their bags and hurried from the room. Harry made to turn but fingers wrapped painfully around his bicep and tugged him back sharply. He looked up into Snape's livid face, dread coursing through him.
"Shut the door, Weasley," Snape snapped as Ron and Hermione hesitantly made their way from the room. Harry caught their worried glances just before the door shut softly behind them.
Alone, Snape jerked Harry around by the arm until they were standing toe to toe. "So, Potter you think you are above punishment now that you're back safely at school?" His voice was barely above a whisper but it shook Harry worse than yelling. He fumbled around for the right words to build his argument but his mind was completely blank for once. "Answer me!" Snape shouted with another sharp tug on Harry's arm.
"You were going to jinx me again," Harry said feebly.
"That is the point of this lesson in case you haven't noticed, Potter. You were to perform a nonverbal shield charm. Instead, you attacked me and would have continued if I hadn't regained my bearings quickly."
Harry thought of the step he'd taken towards Snape after he'd struck the desk. Had he actually planned to continue his assault? Pushing the thought from his mind, he remembered why he'd attacked in the first place.
"You goaded me," he said stubbornly, his anger returning. " 'Not asking you to kill someone.' What the hell did you expect me to do?"
Snape narrowed his eyes. "I was merely making a remark on how simple nonverbal magic was. In case you are not aware, everything is not about you," he said cooly.
"That's a bloody lie! You knew exactly what you were saying!" Harry was shouting now, unable to control his rising temper. Snape had known that those particular words would set Harry off without raising suspicion from the rest of the class.
Snape smiled cruelly and shrugged his thin shoulders. He leaned down until his hooked nose was inches from Harry's. "It is not my fault you are having a difficult time acclimating back into society. I guess after months of being treated like a dog, I thought you would be better at following commands." His hot breath washed over Harry's face, each word dripping with sarcasm.
Harry jerked his arm in an attempt to free himself. He didn't have to stand there and listen to this. If Snape wanted to punish him for his actions, fine, but he would have to take it up with McGonagall. However, the grip on his bicep shifted until his arm was twisted painfully behind his back. Snape used Harry's momentum to shove him roughly forward, pushing until his face collided against the dark oak desktop, knocking his glasses askew. The Professor used this leverage to bear down against the boy's arm, driving it into the small of his back.
Harry gasped as the tendons in his arm stretched to their limits. His face rubbed against the rough surface as Snape pushed the entirety of his weight against him. He tried frantically to push back, but his trainers slipped against the stone floor causing him to fall fully against the desk. Pain shot through his hips as they connected with the sharp edge. Grinding his teeth, he fought to gain traction but Snape pushed harder against him.
Above him, he felt Snape's weight sift as he used his free hand to pull his wand from his pocket. The door gave a soft click as the lock slid into the groove, preventing anyone from bursting in. He placed his wand hand above Harry's head and leaned in closer. The movement twisted his wrist sharply, producing a small grunt from Harry's flared nostrils.
"Is this better, Potter," he sneered. His rigid breathing coming directly into Harry's ear. "This is more what you are used to is it not?"
Harry tossed his head back, but Snape was ready. He shoved forcefully against the boy's stretched arm and Harry couldn't repress the small cry as his shoulder gave a slight pop. He pressed his face against the desk as if he could escape through it, his breath coming in anxious gasps.
"Now that I have your attention, let's get a few things straight. Just because you are back behind these castle walls does not mean you are safe from repercussions. Cross me again and you will find there are worse things than a dislocated shoulder." As if to make his point, Snape pulled his arm once more and a series of small pops echoed around the room. Harry thrashed against the man's weight but to no avail. "Are we clear, Potter?"
At Harry's hesitation, he brought the boy up slightly from the desk and slammed him back down. Stars blossomed before his eyes, and Harry nodded quickly. Anything to get the man off him.
"I need to hear you say it, Potter," he seethed viciously.
"Yes," Harry gasped through gritted teeth, and with another pull of his arm, he quickly added. "Sir."
Satisfied, Snape stood up and straightened his robes, leaving Harry to collapse awkwardly to the floor. Clutching his shoulder, Harry massaged it, trying to return the feeling to his numb fingers. His hatred for Snape rose drastically, but he remained seated, his eyes downcast. He couldn't bring himself to look up into Snape's gloating face.
"I think it best we have a little chat with the Headmaster about your actions," Snape continued.
Harry's head snapped up. "You've made your point already," he said, straightening his aching arm.
Snape reached down and drug Harry to his feet, shoving him towards the door. "I'm sure Dumbledore would want to know about a student attacking a teacher." Unlocking the door, he pulled Harry into the corridor and marched him towards the Gargoyle that protected the Headmaster's office.
Fear swirled inside Harry's mind as they reached the landing. He knew Dumbledore wouldn't expel him, but after their last meeting, he wasn't sure how he would react. Harry was certain Snape would spin the story in a way that would make him look like he was in the wrong. After rapping on the door, they only had to wait a minute before a voice beckoned them in.
Dumbledore sat behind his desk, a quill pressed against a long roll of parchment. His blue eyes flickered up to look over his half-moon glasses before raising his head in surprise. He glanced between Snape and Harry before his eyes came to rest on Snape's hand gripping tight to Harry's arm. Eyebrows raised he set down his quill.
"Professor Snape, how can I help you," he asked pleasantly, folding his arms across his desk.
"Headmaster, sorry for the interruption, but Mr. Potter has just attacked me in front of the class."
Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. Snape jerked his arm roughly.
"Severus," Dumbledore said sternly. "Let go of Harry's arm."
Snape released his grip reluctantly and folded his arms across his chest. Satisfied Dumbledore continued.
"Now, what exactly happened."
"I was lecturing the class on nonverbal charms when I asked Mr. Potter to help me give a demonstration on how to use a shield charm nonverbally. Instead, he dodged my spell and used the Flepindo charm against me. Once I was on the ground he continued to advance towards me."
It was exactly as Harry had suspected. Not once in his story had Snape lied, however, he had conveniently left out a few details that would explain Harry's actions. Looking down at the floor, Harry studied his shoes intently, waiting for his punishment.
"Is this true, Harry," Dumbledore asked quietly.
Raising his gaze, Harry met the Headmaster's eye. "It was an instinctive reaction," he explained truthfully. "Professor Snape had already jinxed me once and since I couldn't perform the spell nonverbally I just sort of reacted."
The Headmaster studies him for a minute. "And after Professor Snape was on the ground?"
Harry looked away quickly despite knowing how guilty it made him look. He was still unsure why he had taken that step forward and explaining it seemed impossible. "I took one step forward. I wasn't advancing on…"
"You had your wand raised," Snape interjected furiously.
"You were provoking me!"
Dumbledore raised a hand and cleared his throat loudly. Standing, he rounded the desk and stopped in front of them. "Severus may I have a word with you," he asked motioning towards the door. "Harry if you will have a seat. This should only take a minute." He ushered a bewildered Snape through the open door and closed it softly behind them leaving Harry alone in the large office.
Looking around, his emerald eyes fell on the sword glistening in the candlelight. A surge of adrenaline flooded his veins and he took half a step towards it before pulling up short. He could take it now. No one was there to stop him.
"Take it!" Came a shrill voice inside his head. "The old man is gone. Take it before he returns!"
Another step, but how was he going to get it out of there without someone seeing?
"Transfigure it," the voice replied hungrily, but Harry ignored it. His pulse was racing as he stared at the sword, a war raging in his mind. If he took it now Dumbledore would notice it's absence and having been alone in the office, Harry would be the prime suspect. Plus he wasn't completely confident in his transfiguration skills.
Taking a step back, he turned instead to the empty chairs. Sinking down against the cushions, a furious voice echoed through his head. "Potter get up and get that sword!"
"No," Harry said simply to the empty room. Behind him came the rattle of the door handle signaling Dumbledore's return. Frustration, aggravation, and rage progressed through him as he watched the Headmaster reclaim his seat behind his desk.
"Quite the first day back, Harry," he said with a warm smile. He returned his quill to the ink well and rolled up the parchment he'd been working on before clasping his hands together atop the cleared surface. "I do believe you meant no harm of course."
"I…you do?" The snarky retort was cut short as Harry stared taken aback. He'd expected Dumbledore to give him a lecture on respecting Professor Snape, but looking up he saw a gentle smile turn into a short laugh.
"I dare say that Professor Snape was still angry with you for the broken nose you gave him a few weeks ago. He's particularly good at holding grudges. However, both of you will have to find some middle ground if you plan on continuing Defense Against the Dark Arts." His blue eyes twinkled over the half-moon glasses as he gave Harry a knowing look.
Harry nodded in disbelief but before he could say anything, Dumbledore pressed on. "I've been meaning to ask you something," he said leaning forward in his chair slightly. "I would be honored if you would join me for a few private lessons this term."
Harry furrowed his brows, a thousand questions running through his mind at once. "What would you be teaching me," he asked skeptically.
"I have procured a few memories pertaining to a young Tom Riddle. I think knowing our enemy helps us understand how he later would become Lord Voldemort."
Intrigue rippled Harry's mind; whether his own or Voldemort's he wasn't sure. "I guess. If you think it would be helpful," he replied hesitantly after a long pause. He couldn't see how learning about Voldemort's past could benefit him, especially while being spied on.
"Excellent," Dumbledore exclaimed. Rising from his seat, he led Harry towards the door. "I'll send for you as soon as I'm ready. Mind you, it will be a few weeks before I will have everything in order. Until then, try and stay on Professor Snape's good side."