Chapter 18: Snape's Duty
That morning, as dawn was still breaking, the three Gryffindor seventh years were already hard at work in the library. Hermione and Harry snuck into the Restricted Section under the guise of the invisibility cloak selecting books that might prove helpful to their research of Harry’s theory. Quickly they passed the books out to Ron, who stood waiting to run them back to Gryffindor Tower as the other two continued to search through the volumes.
A couple of hours later, they found themselves back in their respective dormitories, getting ready for the day’s classes, having decided that the next part of their mission could wait until at least later that evening.
Harry and Ron found themselves ready for breakfast before Hermione, and so waited in the common room for her to join them. Their stomachs growled impatiently, but their minds were still racing from the morning’s revelations.
“Actually, mate,” Ron said, after a few minutes of chaotic silence. “There’s something I want to talk to you about… while Hermione’s not around.”
“Is this about you going off the potions? Because I don’t think it’s such a great idea any more “ ”
“But, Harry “ ” Ron tried to interrupt.
“Not that I ever thought it was a good idea…” continued with a mutter.
“Last night I another vision about her.”
“Aurora?”
“Yes “ Harry...” he said, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial fashion. “I think she knew Sirius...”
“Sorry that took so long,” Hermione exclaimed, rushing down the stairs and greeting Ron with a kiss on the cheek. She didn’t seem to notice Harry’s dropped jaw or Ron’s serious expression. “My, it’s been quite a morning, hasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Harry said breathlessly. “Definitely.”
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Harry found it impossible to focus on anything all day, between his own theory about Voldemort and Ron’s unexpected disclosure, his mind had enough to be going on with. He only hoped that his distracted state wouldn’t interfere too much with his day’s lessons, especially since the first class of the day was nothing other than Care of Magical Creatures.
“Mackl’d Malaclaws!” Hagrid boomed proudly, waving his dustbin-sized hands over a group of lobster like creatures with grey skin and green spots.
“How dangerous are they?” Seamus piped up, bravely asking what was always on every student’s mind when Hagrid introduced them to a new creature.
“Nothin’ teh worry abou’ Seamus!” Hagrid answered with a grin. “They might give yeh’ a small bite, but they’re only poisonous t’ eat “ if they bite yeh, you’ll just get a bit o’ bad luck, is all.”
“Hagrid, I think that’s just a myth,” Hermione informed the half-giant with great skepticism.
“Ever bin bitten by a Malaclaw, Hermione?” Hagrid asked gruffly.
“No,” Hermione answered with reluctance.
“Alrigh’ then,” he replied with a small wink.
“Now, gather roun’ everyone. We’re goin’ t’ observe some o’ their eatin’ habits today,” Hagrid told them all. “Normally they jus’ eat small christyuns “”
“Crustaceans,” Hermione corrected quietly.
“Righ’ yeah “ crusteeshuns,” Hagrid continued. “But they’ve bin’ known to tackle larger prey ‘swell. So, I’m put some differen’ creatures in there with ‘em… and I s’pose we’ll see ‘em hav’ a go at it, won’ we?”
The class murmured a rather interested compliance and gathered around the glass aquarium that Hagrid had filled with many stones and rocks. Harry naturally moved with them, his mind still elsewhere.
“I think she knew Sirius…”
It didn’t necessarily mean anything if this woman had known Sirius, he reasoned. Many people had known Sirius, had gone to school with him. Yet, something in the back of his mind kept harassing him as he remembered the righteous anger in Ron’s voice as he had demanded justice for the murdered Aurora. As though her possible connection his late godfather was, indeed, key to the mystery Ron was so intent on getting to the bottom of.
“Harry! Watch out!” Hermione yelped suddenly, but just a moment too late as a painful stinging sensation on his left hand caused him to leap back from the aquarium in fright. He looked down at his wound and winced; one of the Malaclaws had bitten him.
“S’alright, Harry. Like I said befor’ “ there ain’ nothin’ dangerous abou’ the Malaclaw’s bite,” Hagrid said, eyeing the wound. “But yeh’ll need ter see Madam Pomfrey, anyway.”
Harry nodded with a frustrated sigh and left with haste for the castle, hoping sincerely that Hermione had been right about the bite of the Malaclaw; bad luck was the last thing he needed.
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That evening, twenty less points for Gryffindor, one detention and a spilled goblet of pumpkin juice all found Harry in a very foul humour.
“I’m sure it’s just a coincidence,” Hermione told him as she thumbed through the pages of ‘Immortality and You’.
“Hagrid said it wasn’t a myth “ and he seemed to know from experience,” Harry grumbled.
“I think Hagrid was right, Hermione,” Ron said fairly. “I mean, Harry’s not usually so clumsy. Even Snape seemed a bit bowled over when the entire pot roast exploded…”
“People are usually rather taken aback when food flies into every one of their exposed orifices, Ronald,” Hermione retorted.
“You know, you could ease up a bit, Hermione,” Ron scowled. “We don’t always need to hear your bloody condescending attitude.”
The sound of turning pages stopped, and there was a taut silence among the three of them. Harry was afraid to breathe or look at either of his best friends, though he was sure if her were to face either of them, he would find Ron glaring at a stunned Hermione. After a moment of unbearable tension, Harry lifted his eyes to the pair to see them exactly has he imagined, but only briefly “ because Hermione did not falter for long.
“I see you’ve learned a new word,” she said with dangerously narrowed eyes, in a slightly tremulous voice.
“There you go again,” Ron said, not giving her the satisfaction of sounding offended, but keeping his eyes on a page he was reading in ‘Phoenix Resurrections and the Dark Arts’.
Hermione swallowed hard and dropped her eyes to her own book where she, too, continued to read. Harry felt she was liable to burst into tears at any second, but had no idea what to say, so returned to his own research.
It wasn’t as though arguments among couples were a rarity; Harry and Katie had certainly had their share of verbal battles in the course of their relationship. And of course, the intense atmosphere brought on by the raging war, and all of their involvement in the turmoil was sure to put more strain on all of their relationships, Harry could feel it.
The quiet among the three friends gradually turned from uncomfortable to merely preoccupied as they immersed themselves within the research. Books piled atop one another as they were discarded as not having been of any use, and the investigators eyelids grew heavy has their minds became wearier.
Finally, every page had been turned, and nothing had proven fruitful. Harry looked as his watch to see the hour hand approaching the four, and heaved an exhausted sigh.
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” he groaned.
“I suppose it’s not too surprising,” Hermione said. “After all, it’s not likely that Voldemort would have found the secret to immortality in a book.”
“It would have been nice of you to consider that before we spent eight hours poring through these books,” Ron said, staring at her in disbelief.
“Well “ we might have found something,” she replied defensively.
“We didn’t, did we?” he shot back.
“Would you give it a rest?” Harry said tiredly, too exhauster to even muster impatience with the rowing couple.
“So what now?” Ron asked, quickly dropping his argument with Hermione, who was still eyeing him hurtfully.
“No idea,” Harry resigned.
“Well, there is one person who might be able to help…” Hermione squeaked anxiously.
“Dumbledore hasn’t been willing to tell me anything yet, he’s not going to “”
“Not Dumbledore,” Hermione interrupted.
“Who?” Harry asked.
“Snape.”
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After a lot of persuasion on Hermione’s part, and even a little encouragement from Ron, Harry begrudgingly made his way to Snape’s office the following afternoon. It certainly wasn’t something he was going to find easy, and unfortunately the phrase ‘it never hurts to ask’ didn’t really comfort him much either, considering who he would be dealing with.
He descended into the dungeons, feeling as though a predator were watching him from a dark corner, and raised a trembling fist to knock on Snape’s door.
“Who is it?” Snape’s cold voice asked from inside.
“Erm.” Harry was struck dumb, not entirely sure how to address himself to the potions master. “It’s Potter….um… Harry Potter?.. Sir.”
Harry rolled his eyes at his own foolish response just as the door opened suddenly, and a stiff backed Snape eyed him suspiciously.
“What is it, Potter?” he hissed.
“I wanted to talk to you,” Harry said formally. Normally, he didn’t have much trouble talking to Snape, as their dislike was mutual “ but the situation was completely different from any before, since Harry was at the mercy of Snape’s willingness to cooperate, or lack thereof.
“About?”
“It’s… confidential,” Harry replied gratingly. How difficult was it to just allow him to enter the office?
“Potter, I don’t have time to stroke your already enlarged ego,” Snape said with a snide look of contempt.
“Would you just listen?” Harry asked incredulously. “For once?”
“Fine,” Snape said, glaring at him. “But make it quick.”
Finally he stepped aside to let Harry pass; he then quickly snapped the door shut behind them and walked briskly to his desk where he sat down with an extremely sour facial expression, as though he’d rather be extracting bile from a live Manticore than be having a discussion with Harry.
“I assume you know that Dumbledore says I should be allowed answers to all my questions concerning the Order and what they know about Voldemort and the Death Eaters?” Harry began.
Snape’s eyes bulged furiously at the name of Voldemort, but didn’t seem to want the conversation last longer than absolutely necessary, so he ignored Harry’s nerve and answered the question at hand.
“Within reason, of course…” he said slowly, his black eyes narrowed intensely upon Harry’s own bright green ones.
“I need to know about Voldemort “ and what steps he took against immortality. If there’s anyone who can tell me it’s you, otherwise I wouldn’t be here,” Harry said with determination.
Snape smiled dangerously.
“What makes you think I know anything?”
“You must know something.”
“Well, as I said before, Potter. ‘Within reason,’ your questions are to be answered. I don’t think this is necessarily any of your business.”
“It’s more of my business than it is anyone else’s.”
“You’re arrogance exceeds even my expectations, Potter,” Snape said derisively.
Harry tried to stay patient with the greasy-haired professor, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.
“It isn’t arrogance. It’s the truth. You know there was a prophecy concerning me, but you have no clue what it said, do you?” he provoked.
“I have no interest in what it foretold, Potter. Not everyone is as wrapped up in your life as you’d like us to be. Now, if this is all you came for -” he stood to show Harry the door, but Harry cut in front of him.
“So it doesn’t interest you that I’m the one who has to vanquish Voldemort, then?”
Snape’s movements came to a sudden halt, and he surveyed Harry appraisingly.
“I don’t have time for your -”
“Lies? It’s not a lie. Ask Professor Dumbledore. It’s the truth. I kill him or he kills me. I’m the only one who can end this, so I suggest you tell me what I want to know.”
Harry’s words didn’t take quite the effect he had hoped.
“Tell you what you want to know?” Snape repeated venomously. “I presume you think you’re the only one who is important to the end of this war. And that as a consequence, we should all obey your orders?”
Harry glowered at him. He knew exactly what this was about.
“You really hated my dad that much? That you would hold back this information from me just because I’m his son, even though I’m the only one who can defeat Voldemort?
“Again, you are blinded by your own conceit and misplaced pride in your father, Potter.”
“You know, for someone who doesn’t give a damn, you seem to blame a lot of problems on me and my conceit.”
Snape didn’t respond, but Harry could see he was fuming.
His defences are low, he thought, staring knowingly into Snape’s cold eyes. And he won’t know… to stop me.
Harry knew he would enjoy the power he was about to exert over his biased potions professor, as they both sat in what may have appeared to be a staring contest deciding the fate of the world.
The older of the two retained an icily superior air, but while the younger might have seemed to have finally been defeated, inwardly he smiled at his foe.
“…What do you think this means, Headmaster?” Snape asked anxiously.
“You know what it means, Severus,” the white-bearded wizard replied meaningfully.
There was a terse moment, in which Dumbledore seemed to be allowing Snape to come to a conclusive decision.
“I won’t,” he replied callously.
“But you will, Severus. You have seen it prophesied yourself; you must protect him. Despite what you might feel right now. You will protect him…”
Harry, in astonishment, snapped quickly out of Snape’s thoughts. He had found something; not what he had been searching for “ but something that would certainly be useful.
“You witnessed your own prophecy, didn’t you?” Harry asked.
“What?” Snape said fiercely, his face flushing quickly.
“Don’t try to hide it. I know “ you’ve been prophesied to. What was the prophecy?”
“How did you - ?”
“It’s got something to do with the war, hasn’t it?” Harry demanded. “And it’s important… to me. It has to do with me, doesn’t it?’
Snape hesitated, before turning disdainfully to Harry, looking at him with deep seated resentment. He knew he had lost.
“Yes. It has everything to do with you, Potter."