Backwards Compatible
Nonessentials
By Ruskbyte
Severus Snape was about to have a very bad morning.
If he only knew how badly things were going to turn out, chances are he would have stayed in bed and given his first class of the new school year a miss. Advanced Potions with the sixth years, in which he had the dubious task of trying to prepare them for the N.E.W.T.s they would be taking the following year.
It would not be easy, as only a select few witches and wizards were ever any good when it came to brewing Potions. While most other fields of magic were simply that, fields, Potions was an art to those that studied it. Truth be told it was not unlike cooking - though if anyone were to liken Snape to a cordon bleu chef, they would most assuredly live to regret having done so.
It was because of this that Snape only accepted the best and the brightest into his N.E.W.T. course Potions classes, as he had no desire whatsoever to waste his time trying to teach people that had no idea what they were doing. The only thing worse, in his opinion, would be to teach students that did not have the proper appreciation for his craft.
This, more than anything, was one of the reasons why Snape bothered to get out of bed in the first place this day. Somehow, he suspected McGonagall had a hand in it, that insolent brat of Potter's had achieved an Outstanding in his Potions O.W.L..
Snape had only survived having The-Boy-Who-Lived in his class for the previous five years by constantly reminding himself that the boy was an idiot Gryffindor who had a snowball's chance in Hades of making it into Advanced Potions.
Sadly though, it looked as if he would have to suffer Potter's presence for yet another year. Perhaps, if he were lucky, the boy would fail miserably under the demanding workload. This hope, of getting the infernal boy out of his classroom once and for all, was what motivated the potions master to get out of bed. If he had to have Potter in his class, then he resolved to make him regret it from the very first minute.
He conveniently forgot how dangerous Potter had seemed after his unexpected arrival the previous night. Snape passed those actions off as simply another example of the boy's ever present hubris. As such he never paused to consider the possibility that maybe he should not provoke the young wizard - as doing so might prove hazardous to his health.
Of course, even if he did restrain himself, it likely would not have changed a thing.
***
Hermione was desperately wondering where Harry was. She was also wondering why she had thrown common sense out the window and come down to the potions dungeon early. Not to mention alone, especially considering her last encounter with Draco Malfoy, who was currently proving to be as much of a nuisance as ever - even with one wrist strapped up.
"So what d'you think, Granger?" the blonde haired Slytherin asked, leaning in close, as she sat waiting for the remainder of the N.E.W.T. Potions students to arrive. His smirk was both dangerous and --alarmingly-- lecherous "There's no Potter around this time - so why don't we make the best of it and enjoy ourselves before class starts? We still have a few minutes..."
"If you don't back off right now, Malfoy, I send you straight back to the Hospital Wing and Madam Pomfrey," Hermione told him flatly, making sure to keep any of her growing worry from her voice. More importantly, she made sure to keep both hands near her wand, should she need it.
This was unlike other years, when the Gryffindors and Slytherins shared their Potions classes with almost equal numbers. Now, thanks to Snape's stringent standards of admission, the only Gryffindors that would be attending were Harry and Hermione. Somehow her friend had managed to produce an O for his Potions O.W.L., something that flamed a spark of pride in Hermione - as she had been the one he had turned to for help in studying for that exam.
The only problem was that this still left them outnumbered by the Slytherins, at least until the other houses arrived. As the number of students taking N.E.W.T. Potions was so low, all four houses would be in a single class. And right now, faced with Malfoy's smirking face, Hermione would take any help she could get. There was something almost predatory about Malfoy this year, something that made her very uncomfortable in his presence.
From behind Malfoy appeared Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode, both looking as malicious as ever. Parkinson leaned against him from behind and sneered over his shoulder. "Ooh, the little bucktoothed Mudblood thinks she can threaten a Slytherin."
"I thought we'd discussed this on the train, Granger," continued Malfoy, ignoring his compatriots, "threats like that always come with a price..."
Bulstrode laughed haughtily and leered at the both of them. "Don't know why anyone would want a piece of her, but if you want to have some fun, Draco, at least let the rest of us join in."
Relief appeared in the form of Ernie MacMillan, Susan Bones and several other students. The group, most of which were members of the D.A., quickly made their way to where Hermione was sitting. The three Slytherins soon found themselves surrounded by a group of Hufflepuffs that were actually quite intimidating as they tried to interpose themselves between them and Hermione.
"What d'you lot think you're doing?" asked Ernie, his eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Nothing that concerns you, so back off little boy," countered Parkinson, pulling away from Malfoy so that she could turn to face him fully and sneer in his face.
"If it involves Hermione, then it concerns us a whole lot more than it does the likes of you, Parkinson," interjected Susan, who was visibly fingering her wand. Indeed, she seemed rather eager about it. "So why don't you 'back off' instead?"
"Not just yet, Bones." Malfoy shouldered his way past Ernie so that he was once again face-to-face with Hermione. He reached out with his uninjured hand and grabbed her by the wrist, yanking her to her feet. "Class hasn't started and mudblood Granger still has to pay up."
Amidst several loud protests from the Hufflepuffs, and one Ravenclaw who had just arrived, Hermione drew back her free arm in preparation to land a sharp left hook to Malfoy's jaw. While there were some things she could, and did, tolerate --such as being called a mudblood-- there were some lines that Hermione would not tolerate anyone crossing. The lewd suggestions and thinly veiled innuendos (some not veiled at all) were right on that line. Being accosted like this, actually having Malfoy put his hands on her, was a big step over the line and would not go without retaliation.
Her swing was halted in mid-motion as a strong hand settled on her shoulder. Hermione froze, unsure if it was a friend or foe that had come up behind her. The first was something she would welcome, though she would like to know who it was. The latter was something she did not want to consider.
As much as she wanted to find out, she remained perfectly still and kept her eyes on Malfoy the entire time. If he tried something while she was distracted...
"Problem, Hermione?"
A wave of relief swept over her as she recognised Harry's voice. She half turned, twisting in Malfoy's grip, until she could see Harry out the corner of her eye. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight. Harry was radiating the same quiet aura he had displayed upon his arrival in the Great Hall the previous evening. This time, however, a hint of his magic was seeping into the air around him and filling it with a crackling sense of barely suppressed power.
"Harry," she breathed.
Malfoy snarled angrily and tightened his grip on her wrist. "Potter!"
Harry gave Hermione's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, in response to her wince of pain, and stepped alongside her. He was so close that she could feel his aura ruffling her robes and tickling her bare skin. A thrilled shiver ran down her spine at the sensation - something new to her.
"If you don't let go of Hermione right now, Malfoy, I won't just break your wrist like my drone did. I'll rip your bloody hand clean off," threatened Harry, his voice a low and ominous growl.
"You wouldn't dare, Potter! Not here!" Malfoy snapped angrily.
"D'you really want to find out?" asked Harry softly.
He then shifted so that he was between Hermione and Malfoy - shielding her from the Slytherin boy. He seemed to loom over Malfoy, even though they were about the same height. Dressed in nothing more imposing than simple school robes he still managed to cut an intimidating figure, especially when he cracked his knuckles.
Normally Malfoy never seemed to know when to back down, continually antagonising his victims for as long as he could, but this time Harry was displaying enough raw antagonism of his own that even Malfoy could not fail to notice.
Having spent the Sorting in the Hospital Wing having his wrist healed by Madam Pomfrey, he had missed not only Harry's unorthodox arrival, but also the subsequent display of burning fury when the doppelganger had reported the incident on the train. He had also missed the icy menace which had come to the fore when Harry's attention had been drawn to the headmaster.
Now, finding himself on the receiving end of that frigid gaze which had stopped Dumbledore in his tracks --and promised great pain if its warning was ignored-- Malfoy immediately released his hold on Hermione and backed away. He tried to retain his usual attitude of smug superiority, but the loss of colour to his already pale cheeks gave him away.
"See you around, mudblood," he said to Hermione, his voice wavering slightly.
He quickly pushed his way out of the circle of Hufflepuffs surrounding them, Parkinson and Bulstrode following in his wake.
Susan stared at Harry with wide eyes and asked, "Damn, Harry. How do you do that?"
Harry, with all the composure that Malfoy had been struggling to find, gave her a look of complete innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You alright?" he asked as he turned back to Hermione.
"I'm fine, although I was starting to get a little concerned," she answered as he helped her back into her seat. Her legs felt like jelly, though she was not about to admit it.
"Don't worry, I'll be keeping a close eye on Malfoy this year," he assured her as he took his place in the isle seat next to her. He raised his voice enough to be heard throughout the classroom and stated clearly, "He touches you, I'll know. And then I'll kill him for it."
She glanced to where Malfoy was sitting and saw him glowering at Harry with a truly venomous expression. She did notice, however, that he seemed a little shaken, though he hid it well. In fact, from what she could tell, everyone in the room had heard Harry's pronouncement. The Slytherins were scowling angrily in their direction, whilst the other houses were looking on with expressions ranging from alarm to surprise to amusement to satisfaction. All-in-all just what she expected really.
She turned back to Harry. "I don't think it'll come to that, Harry."
"I'm afraid it will," he responded, folding his arms across his chest and leaning as far back in his seat as he could. There was a grim certainty, a finality, to his words. His lips twisted into a wry expression as he noted, "He discovered his hormones this year."
Ernie, who was sitting closest to them, nodded sympathetically and remarked that he had never known anyone as immoral and wouldn't have been surprised that the Slytherin boy would try to satisfy any urges he might have. Hermione, not voicing her revulsion at the idea of Malfoy trying to 'satisfy' himself with her, disagreed. After all, she felt that calling Malfoy immoral was somewhat akin to saying Snape had a cheerful disposition.
Further discussion was cut short and an abrupt silence descended when the door to the classroom swung open with a loud bang. Professor Snape stormed into the room, his robes billowing about him as they usually did. The potions master strode over to his desk without glancing the assembled students, his arms filled with several formidable looking tomes that he slammed down with a resounding thump that rivalled that of the door opening.
He waited by the desk, allowing the faint echo of his entrance to fade away before moving. Turning on the students with his normal flare for the dramatic, he considered them all for a brief moment. He folded his hands into the long sleeves of his robes and began to lecture, his voice sharp and lacking the deceptive softness it usually carried.
"Pay attention. This year you... will... be..." Snape trailed off as his eyes settled on Harry.
Hermione, puzzled by his reaction, turned to glance at her friend. So did the rest of the students. What they saw gave them pause. Harry was still leaning back in his seat, arms folded across his chest. What had caught Snape's attention was the seemingly demented grin of glee on his face.
It was the same kind of evil smile he had displayed the previous evening in the common room, something that would have sent even the most battle-hardened Aurors running for the hills, scared witless of whatever diabolical scheme Harry was cooking up. Snape, on the other hand, seemed to take the expression as a personal affront.
"Wipe that grin off you face, Potter. Potions is a serious class and I will not tolerate any frivolous behaviour while you are here," he snapped, drawing himself up to his entire formidable height. "Five points from Gryffindor."
Low snickers erupted from the Slytherin corner of the classroom and Hermione could see Malfoy grinning happily at Gryffindor's loss of points. Harry, however, seemed completely unfazed by the deduction - in fact, his grin somehow managed to grow even broader and more disturbing.
"That's nice. I'll consider it a going away present."
Suffice to say, Snape blinked in surprise while the Slytherins went from smug smiles to dumbfounded gapes. The rest of the class reacted in a similar manner, though slightly more nervous. After all, everyone knew how harsh Snape could be when a student talked back at him.
Even Hermione, who had known that Harry had something up his sleeve, looked to her side with growing alarm. What on Earth was he playing at? If he wasn't careful, Harry could be evicted from the class.
Seemingly finding his voice, Snape frowned and asked, "What are you babbling about, Potter?"
"It's quite simple really," replied Harry, unfolding his arms and sitting upright. He adopted an earnest expression, that Hermione knew was fake, and elaborated cheerfully, "I have absolutely no intention of continuing to take this worthless subject any longer. It's nothing more than a waste of my time - something I really can't afford this year."
The room was deathly silent save for the sound of Snape's eyebrows arching high, looking for all the world as if they were trying to jump off his face.
"Scarhead's giving up and quitting like the little girl he is," chortled Malfoy gleefully. He made a show of looking to the ceiling in mock rapture. "My life is finally complete. I can die happy now."
"Be careful what you wish for, Malfoy," warned Harry, not taking his eyes off Snape, "the universe has a way of being very accommodating at times."
Snape shook his head and asked, "You... are dropping Advanced Potions?"
"Yes."
A brief silence once again descended over the classroom as everyone absorbed this revelation. The very idea of what Harry had said and planned to do was beginning to sink in.
"Y'see, I came to a realization over the summer. An epiphany, if you will," Harry explained. "The so-called art of brewing potions is a... frivolous... pastime, that is of no use to anyone who is engaged in conflict against a dark arts practitioner, such as Voldemort."
"What? You, you..." Snape sputtered.
"Come on, I can't very well ask a Death Eater to stop cursing me and wait an hour while I brew myself a Strength Enhancement Draught, now can I?" asked Harry, the faux earnest expression back in place. He then snorted and said disdainfully, "It's like all that silly bowing everyone keeps insisting on doing when they duel. You're not going to stop and bow in the middle of a fight - so why bow at all?"
Harry rose to his feet and walked to the front of the class, brushing a reassuring hand across Hermione's back as he slipped past her. It was only now that she noticed that he did not have any of his things with him - not his potions kit, nor his school bag. He honestly did not plan to continue with his potions studies.
"If I need a potion for something then I'll make sure to stock up before running off on some damn fool idealistic crusade to save the world," he continued as he approached where Snape was standing. He smiled ruefully and shook his head, "If I'm in such a bad way that I need a potion that I don't have with me, then chances are I won't have the time or be in any condition to brew it - which means I'll have to solve the problem I'll be facing by more practical means."
Now Snape was normally a reasonably composed person, always maintaining a certain aloofness during his lessons. It did not take a genius to see that his composure was currently in the process of taking a holiday to Never-Never Land. If the blossoming purple tint to his cheeks was not enough to give this away, the look of sheer, unadulterated fury on his face certainly was.
"You impudent little brat!" he snarled at Harry, "How dare you try insult my craft and I in such a manner?!"
"It's not an insult; it's the truth," replied Harry sincerely. He gave a small shrug and smirked, "After all, you're not much good for anything else, are you?"
"Fifty points from Gryffindor!"
Harry ignored this and continued in an offhand manner, "Sure, you knocked that bumbling twit Lockhart around during that farce of a duelling club a few years back - but then again, an untrained chimp could've done the same."
The red flush in his face receded as Snape went white with rage. "Detention, Potter, for the next month!!"
"Considering it's the first class of the first day of term, I'd hazard a guess that Gryffindor doesn't have fifty points for you to take away yet," Harry told him candidly, as if speaking to a slow child. "And, please, assign as much detention as you like. I won't show up - I have a great many other things I'd rather do with my time. Important things."
"I swear I'll have you expelled for this, Potter!" Snape hissed.
"You've made that threat at least once a year since I started at Hogwarts," noted Harry deprecatingly. "I can't help but notice that I'm still here."
"Get the hell out of my classroom!" bellowed Snape, literally spitting mad. He jammed a finger in the general direction of the door, behind Harry, and roared, "Out! Now! And never darken my presence with yours again! Ever!"
"No need to shout, I was going to do just that anyway," Harry replied. He looked at Snape and, sounding disturbingly cheerful, noted, "You should try to calm down, though. I don't think that particular shade of purple suits you."
"I will not stand for this... this insolence!"
"Then I think you should sit down."
This was all that Snape could take. His teeth bared in a silent snarl he reached into his robes. To everyone's horror (save perhaps the Slytherins), he drew his wand and lifted it up at Harry.
The moment Snape had begun to move, Harry's magic flared to the surface, as it had done in his earlier confrontation with Malfoy. That was the only indication that he was reacting to the potions master's movements. He did not move, remaining perfectly still, save for the narrow expression on his face.
As Snape levelled his wand at Harry's chest, the air rippled and seemed to pulse between them.
Hermione had no idea what exactly happened to Snape, but she did know one thing for certain. It must have hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. One instant the red-faced man was aiming his wand at Harry, a curse or hex on his lips, the next he was flying gracelessly through the air. He smashed into one of the many ingredient cabinets that lined the classroom walls. The wood frame splintered, glass shattered and assorted bits and pieces sprayed in all directions - mostly all over his collapsing body.
"You know, there were times that I wanted to do that," remarked Ernie, breaking the silence as the class took in the sight of their potions master, sprawled out amidst the debris of the ruined cabinet.
"D'you think he's dead?" asked Padma Patil, leaning forward for a better look.
"Lord, I hope so," was Susan's bland response.
Hermione, seeing that neither Harry nor the rest of her classmates planned on doing anything, got up to check on Snape. She did not really care about the man, he was a certified bastard after all, but she felt she should at least assess how much trouble Harry was going to be in. Or rather, how much more trouble.
Stepping carefully over the shards of glass that littered the floor, and other things she really didn't want on the soles of her shoes, she appraised Snape's condition. He was still breathing, which meant that he was probably going to live. Whether this was good or bad she wasn't sure.
"Well, this is pretty much the exact opposite of what I originally had planned."
She glanced at Harry, who was now standing by her side. "Oh gods, Harry, why the hell did you do this? You're going to be in so much trouble."
"What else is new?" he muttered ruefully. "As for why I did it, I'll explain tonight."
"Better be one hell of an explanation."
Harry nodded and gave a weak smile, "It is... assuming you don't decide to lock me in St. Mungo's after hearing it."
Hermione looked at him in puzzlement, and a small bit of worry. "Why would we do that?"
"Aside from the fact that I wouldn't believe a word of it, if it hadn't happened to me?"
"This is going to be one of those days, isn't it?" she asked with a tired sigh.
"Actually, it's going to be one of those years," Harry replied grimly. He nudged Snape with a toe, seemingly trying to rouse the man, as he muttered more to himself than Hermione, "Unless I manage to pull off a miracle or two."
Snape groaned in response to the prodding. Hermione looked at him in surprise, having expected the need to drag the man all the way to the Hospital Wing before he regained consciousness. She voiced her surprise by commenting, "He's waking up. Odd - I thought you hit him harder than that."
"He always was a hard headed bastard," observed Harry.
There was something about the way he had said that which caused Hermione to look at him curiously. He ignored her for a moment, to give Snape another, firmer, nudge. Then he looked at her and motioned towards the desk she had been sitting at. "You should get back to your seat, Hermione, before he notices you."
"Why?"
"I don't imagine he's going to be in a very good mood after I leave."
"You're serious about that? You're really dropping Potions?"
"Ironic as it may sound - I don't have the time to waste," he confirmed vaguely. Seeing the puzzled look Hermione was giving him, he shrugged and told her, "You'll understand after I've explained."
Hermione frowned at him as she retreated to her seat. "I hope so. I don't like being left in the dark."
Harry nodded. "I remember."
"You... you attacked me. Attacked a teacher..." mumbled Snape, sounding as if he were in the process of still waking up. He managed, with a groan and hiss of pain, to push himself onto his elbows as he glared viciously up at Harry. There was a triumphant gleam in his eyes as he regained his full wits and barked, "There's no way you can escape being expelled this time, Potter!"
"Sorry to burst your bubble, Snape," Harry replied with a hint of a smile, "but I didn't attack you."
"Wha?"
The entire class stared at Harry in disbelief. They had, not two minutes ago, seen Snape fly across the width of the classroom. And now Harry was declaring that he had not attacked him.
"One of the risks you face when teaching a temperamental adolescent wizard," he continued, the hint of a smile growing into a smug smirk. "Accidental magic."
"There was nothing accidental about that, Potter!" protested Malfoy.
"Prove it, Malfoy," countered Harry, barely bothering to spare the blonde a glance. He turned his attention back to Snape, who was gaping at him in shock. "I didn't draw my wand. I didn't say an incantation. I didn't even wave my hands. You can even check for residual magical energy... you won't find any."
"Nobody will believe--"
Harry cut him off, "I have an entire classroom full of witnesses."
Snape tried to protest, but trailed off, "But... "
"All of whom, aside from the Slytherins, like me more than you."
"I... you..."
With a cheeky grin, tinged with a mix of smug satisfaction, Harry left Snape sitting in the middle of the mess that was slowly spreading across the floor. As he walked he lazily waved at his classmates, ignoring their dumbstruck expressions. When his eyes locked with Hermione's as he passed, he sent a mischievous wink her way.
"See you around," he paused at the door to smirk. "Snivellus."
***
Dumbledore found Harry in the library, sitting in one of the more reclusive corners and reading a thick and ancient tome about the painfully precise and demanding subject of Enchantment.
Enchantment was briefly touched at towards the end of sixth-year Charms, but for the most part was only studied in any detail during the seventh-year N.E.W.T.s. To see a sixth-year student engrossed in the topic before even hearing about it in class, was remarkable. Especially when that student was Harry Potter, rather than Hermione Granger.
All the teachers at Hogwarts had seen that Harry's strengths did not lie in the area of theory, but rather in that of practical application. Yet, here he was, actually taking notes. Doubly surprising was the fact that he was using a Muggle pen and notebooks to do so, rather than a quill and some parchment.
Approaching from the side, Dumbledore was further amazed to see that Harry's notes comprised a mass of Arithmancy equations, all far more complex than a sixth-year student should be capable of. This should have been impossible, considering that Harry had never studied Arithmancy.
From what he could see with such a brief perusal, it appeared that Harry was applying the Arithmancy equations to an intricate pattern of Enchantments that Dumbledore could not make head or tails of.
Harry did not react outwardly, but Dumbledore knew the young man was aware of his presence.
"Don't you think that was a little excessive, Harry?" he asked as he reached the table, certain that Harry would know what he was referring to.
"No," Harry replied curtly, not bothering to look up. He turned a page and asked, "He's still alive, isn't he?"
"The board of Governors will not be pleased when they hear of this," Dumbledore said as he pulled out a chair opposite his student and sat down. "It will take a great deal of effort to prevent your expulsion. At the very least you can expect a term of suspension. If you were to make a formal apology..."
Dumbledore had trailed off suggestively, but Harry's only response was a snort of disgust.
"This is not something to be taken lightly, Harry. You assaulted a school professor--"
"Self defence."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Snape drew his wand. He was going to curse me. I stopped him before he could," finally Harry deigned to glance up from the book he was reading. He gave Dumbledore a challenging look and said, "Ask any of the students that were there."
Dumbledore injected a faint joviality into his voice as he gently contradicted, "The Slytherins will doubtless disagree."
"I don't include them as a part of the student body. They're all just baby Death Eaters in the making - waiting to step into their parent's shoes as soon as they grow up," was Harry's immediate reply.
Before Dumbledore could formulate a response Harry turned back to his reading and note taking. As he scribbled something on one of the notebooks, he muttered darkly, "If you had even a modicum of common sense you'd organise a cull and get rid of the whole lot of them. Permanently."
Dumbledore was appalled and gasped, "Harry?"
Harry did not raise his head, but his eyes flicked up to peer at the headmaster from over the rims of his new glasses. The same icy resolve which had been present during the Sorting and their later meeting in Dumbledore's office was present. His voice was equally cold when he spoke. "Prevention is better than cure, old man."
"Yes... quite..." Dumbledore stammered. He wondered, not for the first time today, what had happened over the summer to change the vulnerable boy he had known into this unforgiving young man. Shaking himself out of his musings, Dumbledore attempted to return to the subject at hand. "About Professor Snape--"
"I don't like him," interrupted Harry, this time with a curt hand motion to emphasise his words. "It's as simple as that.
"I understand that Severus can be abrasive at times, but...?" Dumbledore trailed off, hoping that doing so might prompt Harry to give at least a partial explanation of his actions earlier that morning.
"I don't like him, mostly because he doesn't like me."
"Mostly?"
"Very astute of you, old man," Harry nodded in something akin to approval, though grudging. He closed the book on Enchantment and pushed it to one side, finally devoting his attention to the headmaster. He nodded again and admitted, "Yes, I have other reasons for disliking him."
"I gather you don't plan on sharing those reasons." It was more a statement than a question, based on what Dumbledore had learned of this new Harry's attitude during their brief discussion the previous night.
"To you?" asked Harry incredulously. "Of course not."
Dumbledore was sorely tempted to grimace, painfully aware that had he better handled events of the previous year, then Harry might still have held some trust in him. It was only his many, many years of experience that allowed him to keep his neutral expression.
"In any event," Harry continued, starting to pack his things into his schoolbag, "I advise you to keep a firm hold on Snape's leash from now on."
Dumbledore repressed a sigh. Once again he tried to remind Harry that even if he did not respect the man, then he should at least respect the position. "Professor Snape, Harry."
Harry arched a wry brow and noted, almost scathingly, "Professor? The only thing that man has ever taught me is to question your judgement when it comes to trusting people."
"I understand that there is a great deal of animosity between you an--"
"There is no animosity, as you call it, between me and Snape," Harry cut him off yet again. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. "The only animosity that exists is that of his own making. Directed at me for no reason other than the identity of my father."
"Perhaps you are correct in that," allowed Dumbledore.
"Only time will tell," Harry readily agreed, "but I strongly suspect it will bear out my feelings on the matter."
Dumbledore sighed, resigning himself to the fact that any hope of Harry and Severus coexisting peacefully had died a long time ago. "All I ask, Harry, is that you try to be civil with Severus."
Harry looked pointedly at him and stated flatly, "I see no point in being civil towards an enemy."
Dumbledore blinked in surprise, not to mention a small amount of worry. He looked worriedly at Harry and said, "Harry, I know you dislike the man, but to call him your enemy..."
"Snape is most certainly not my ally. He has never done anything to prove otherwise."
"Harry..." he trailed off, at a loss for words.
"He's your pet project, old man. Trying to redeem him, reclaim him from the Dark and bring him back into the Light," asserted Harry, the disdain in his voice fully evident to anyone listening. "Just don't forget that the road to hell is usually paved with good intentions."
Dumbledore slumped slightly in his seat. "That's a harsh view to take, Harry."
"You may trust him, old man, but I never will. To me he is simply another enemy. It is only because of his possible use to your Order that I will not act against him. As long as you keep him out of my line of sight I will leave him alone," Harry warned him, pushing back his chair and rising to his feet. He looked down at the headmaster and calmly stated, "Otherwise I'll deal with him in the same manner as I deal with all my enemies."
"How's that, Harry?" asked Dumbledore, almost afraid of the answer. He had a feeling that he was not going to like what he was about to hear. This conversation had taken on an aspect far too similar, for his liking, to the that their previous discussion regarding Minister Fudge.
"I'll kill him."
The words were akin to a death knell. Dumbledore could hear the resolve, the sheer conviction, in Harry's voice. There was no doubt in his mind, hearing what Harry had said, that the young man would carry out his threat without any hesitation.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get ready for Charms class."
Harry walked away at a brisk clip, without any of the usual pleasantries and not even a backwards glance, leaving a pensive headmaster in his wake.
***
"I always thought Dumbledore was a little crazy," said Ron, as he and Harry settled into their seats for supper at the Gryffindor table. Hermione, Ginny and Neville had arrived earlier and saved them both places. "Now I know you're even crazier than he is!"
"Have been for years, old friend. Have been for years," Harry replied, sounding vaguely amused by the admission. "After all, in this business, it's a requirement."
Ginny, who was already eating, asked, "And what business is that?"
"One that I'm hoping to avoid this time round," answered Harry. There was a glimmer of something, something dark, in his eyes when he said this. He noticed the puzzled looks sent his way and told them, "I'll explain later, after we've met up with Luna in the Room of Requirements, when there aren't so many prying eyes and ears."
Neville shook his head as he helped himself to some more potatoes and said, "I still can't believe you did that to Snape. It almost makes me wish I was still taking Potion, just so I could've seen it happen."
Hermione frowned sternly from across the table, "Well, I think you might have gone a bit too far this time, Harry."
Harry promptly responded, "I think I might not have gone nearly far enough."
"Harry... you hit him hard enough to break bones - I heard them snapping," Hermione told him, her voice rising in pitch towards the end. She looked nervously at the staff table and then back at him, speaking in a low and worried tone, "If something had gone wrong; you could have killed him."
There was a pause in the conversation as glances were exchanged between the participants. Finally Harry said what he knew they all expected him to say. "I don't exactly see how that would be a bad thing."
Ron nodded and lifted his glass of pumpkin juice in agreement, "Hear hear."
Hermione shook her head and repeated what she had said earlier, in the potions classroom, "You're going to be in so much trouble."
"You don't think you'll be expelled, do you?" asked Ginny.
"Probably not," Harry told them, thinking back to the conversation in the library. The encounter, so soon after his confrontation with Snape, had not left him in a good mood during Professor Flitwick's Charms class. It had taken nearly an hour before he had been able to shake it off. "Dumbledore was worried that the school governors might suspend me though."
"Knocking Snape on his arse like that... I'd say being suspended is worth it."
"Ron!"
"Relax, Hermione," said Harry, trying to placate her concerns. "Nothing too bad is going to happen."
Hermione gave him another worried look and asked, plaintively, "Why did you have to provoke him like that, Harry?"
Harry sighed ruefully. He hated making his friends, especially Hermione, worry like this. Unfortunately his actions in potions had been almost entirely out of his control. The Great Hall, in the middle of dinner, was not the ideal place to try explaining this, so he temporized by admitting, "I wasn't planning to. It just happened that way."
"If you're going to do something wrong, might as well do it wrong properly," reasoned Ginny agreeably.
"I wish I could've seen his face," bemoaned Ron around a mouthful of sausage.
"Though I must admit," Ginny looked at Harry questioningly, "I'm surprised McGonagall hasn't called you to her office yet."
"She'll corner me after Transfiguration tomorrow," he said with certainty. Hermione, Ginny and Neville all gave him puzzled and curious looks, obviously wondering how he knew this.
Ron, however, remained oblivious to the subtle exchange. Instead he waved his fork in the air and jokingly lamented, "Pity. You'd think she would approve - everyone knows she doesn't like the greasy git any more than we do. Maybe she's going to award you back those house points he took away."
Hermione scowled at him, "Ron!"
Harry shook his head and told them, "She wants to talk about my lifetime Quidditch ban."
Again he found himself on the receiving end of three inquisitive gazes, which he made a point of ignoring. He silently chastised himself for not being more careful. It he didn't watch what he said, at all times, then chances were that he would slip up and reveal the greatest of his secrets. While he had no problem with his friends knowing, there were some people he would rather did not.
"You mean the one Uber-Bitch gave you?" asked Ron.
"You mean there was another one?" retorted Harry.
"I don't remember you being this sarcastic, Harry," Ginny commented with a slight frown.
"It's a habit I picked up over the years," he told her with a sigh. Yet another thing that simply could not be easily explained in such an open and public place as the Great Hall.
"Whatever," Ron waved the topic aside and returned to something he was more interested in. "This is great - with the ban lifted and your Firebolt back, you can be part of the team again! We're sure to win the Quidditch Cup this year as well! Heck, McGonagall might even be making you the Captain!"
"Hmm."
"What are you going to do now that you've dropped Potions?" asked Neville, leaning forward in curiosity. "Will they allow you to pick up another subject in its place?"
Harry nodded, "Probably, but I've got other plans for my time."
Ron looked at him in surprise, "Oh, what?"
"This and that," he answered with a mysterious smile - one that would have seemed more in place on Dumbledore than Harry. For once he had a chance to keep some secrets of his own. He knew that he only had until their meeting tonight, in which he planned to reveal most of what... happened. Thus he planned to enjoy it for as long as he could.
"You really do make a habit of getting into trouble, don't you?" asked Hermione, seemingly resigned to the fact.
"You don't know the half of it."
TBC...