Harry had hoped that there would be a difference in Draco after their – what should he call it? Talk? Discussion? Understanding of feelings? Oh, that sounded so girlish. Maybe he would stick with talk. Two chaps could have a talk without seeming sissy. But they had talked without yelling, and Harry thought it would count for something, some small change in Draco for the better.

But the next morning proved Harry wrong. Draco was not any more agreeable. In fact he was worse.

Harry had barely opened his eyes when he heard Draco stomping out of bed all the way into the bathroom where he started yelling,

“Where is my toothbrush, Potter?”

“What?” Harry sleepily pushed himself up on one elbow. “Toothbrush?”

“Yes,” Draco snarled from the bathroom. “I put it right here in the little stand and now it’s gone.”

“I don’t know,” Harry fumbled for his glasses. It was awfully early to be yelling. He put his glasses on, but instead of getting up, he snuggled back into his bed, happy to remain in the cozy, comfortable bed with the ability to see.

Draco stalked to the bathroom door. “There is only one toothbrush in the stand and it’s silver.”

“Yeah, that’s mine,” Harry nodded.

“I know. You have the silver, but the gold one’s mine!”

“Of course you get the gold,” Harry muttered under his breath.

“Where did you put it?” Draco demanded. “I swear if you put it in the toilet –”

“Come off it,” Harry scoffed. “Your gold toothbrush probably fell on the floor or got put in a drawer. The house elves sometimes clean up. If you’ve lost it, Snape will get you another one. Can I go back to sleep now, or you want to keep yammering?”

Draco turned with a huff and closed the door loudly, just shy of slamming it.

“Prat,”” Harry grumbled.

Draco took almost half-hour in there. Doing what, Harry couldn’t imagine. Draco didn’t really need to shave, and he had taken a bath the night before, but when he came out, his clothes were perfect from his turned down collar to his ironed trousers. His blond hair had been slicked back without a strand out of place.

Harry thought about making a comment – “Look at her Highness all decked out!” – but he kept quiet. He went into the bathroom, careful to shut the door quietly. And the first thing he saw was the silver toothbrush floating in the toilet.

------

“Snape?” Harry asked around a mouthful of porridge.

Snape frowned at him the least bit.

Harry swallowed before asking, “Can I get a new toothbrush?”

“Why? Snape asked shortly before taking a sip of tea.

Harry looked sideways at Draco who was sneering over the fried eggs. Harry looked back at Snape and simply said, “It accidentally fell in the toilet. Sorry.”

Snape gave him a sharp look, but Harry kept his face blank. “Fine,” the man finally answered. “There’s a spare in the top right hand drawer. After breakfast, go brush your teeth.”

“Thanks,” Harry reached for the rack of toast, but Draco had been waiting. Once again, Draco snatched the last piece though there were two half-eaten pieces already on his plate.

Harry hesitated, sharp words on his lips. Then he swallowed calmly and turned to Snape. “Can I ask the house elves for more toast?”

“Yes,” Snape agreed, “and Draco, next time finish what you already have and don’t grab from other people.”

Harry tried to hide his delight. Draco was glaring daggers at him, and the blond-haired boy remained in hostile silence for the rest of the meal.

------

By ten o’clock that morning, Harry was trying to remember life before Draco Malfoy came to Snapdragon Manor. They had all been so peaceful and happy, going about the summer and doing their own thing, and then the drama queen arrived. Draco griped and sneered and scoffed until Harry went to the library for a moment of quiet

He ran his hand over the spines of a few books, feeling the stretched leather and the embossed titles. He pulled out a small volume and opened the front page. The Powerful Pirate – a Tale of Adventure and Magic Aboard the High Seas. That sounded promising.

Harry found an over-stuffed armchair in a corner and fell into it. He slouched back and draped one knee over an arm of the chair, opening his book to the first page.

He had only reached the end of the first chapter where Captain Brutius Marksman had already fought a flying octopus, stolen from a cursed ship, and was racing against a centuries-old wizard, a witch with amnesia, and a dog with four tails for a disappearing treasure when voices rang out in the hallway. Harry dragged his eyes up from the page, realizing that he was not onboard a ship with a band of bloodthirsty pirates but in a manor with a grouchy potions master and an obnoxious little price.

“Draco,” Snape was sounding both stern and exasperated in the hallway, “go into the library and study or read or something. I have had it with your complaining. Harry has found something quiet to do. You do the same.”

“But Sna-a-ape,” Draco drew out his godfather’s name in an angry whine.

“No, just go.”

The library door opened, and a hand thrust Draco inside the room.

Harry sunk back into his chair and lifted his small book up to hide behind. Maybe Draco wouldn’t notice him if he kept still and silent.

Draco huffed loudly. When he received no reply, he huffed even louder, expelling his breath with a guttural sound. Harry still kept his book up, determined not look at Draco.

“What are you doing hiding in the corner?” Draco scoffed, sauntered over. “Shouldn’t you be locked away in a cupboard somewhere?”

“Should you be cowering from your fath–” Harry stopped himself just in time. He quickly ducked behind his book again.

“Shut up!” Draco ordered.

“I’m not saying anything,” Harry mumbled.

“If you have something to say, then say it!” Draco snapped.

“All right,” Harry stood up, realizing that he wasn’t going to get a moment’s peace until he said something, “you should try this book. It’s a pretty good read.”

Harry pushed the book at Draco, and Draco took it instinctively. Harry headed for the spiral stairs, hoping if they read on different floors of the library they might not fight. Harry was feeling less inclined to sock Draco in the nose again, but he did not want to have a fight and bring Snape down on their heads.

Harry had just reached the balcony when Draco called from below, “Hey, Potter?”

“What?” Harry sighed, leaning forward to rest his arms on the railing.

“You know what this is all about, don’t you?” Draco jeered, his eyes narrowed.

“No, what’s this about?” Harry reluctantly went along with whatever game Draco was playing.

“It’s a pity act, Potter. All of this,” Draco held out his arms. “You know, everyone plays up your hero status and all your greatness, but in the end no one wants you. For fifteen years you’ve lived with a hoard of Muggles somewhere, tucked away so no one has to think about you until they need you. You’re in all the books, all the newspapers, yet the only person to take you in is a bad-tempered potions master who can barely stand you. How does it feel, Potter? So big and important, but no one wants you?”

Two months ago such words would have made Harry furious, blind with rage and helplessness. But now he regarded Draco with an almost detached manner.

“It feels better than trying to pretend to be something you’re not,” Harry replied coolly. “And maybe Snape doesn’t like me that much, but he offered to let me stay all summer. He didn’t let me run off and hide like a coward – he made me face up to myself and my problems in life. He cared enough not to let me hide.”

Harry turned away and walked down to the end of the balcony. His heart was beating very fast as he thought about what he said. Did he believe himself or did he believe Draco?

Draco simply stalked to the corner and took the comfortable seat Harry and just occupied. Harry heard him leave five minutes later, tossing the book on the table as he went.

An hour later, having found another book, Harry was in the midst of Renaissance sword-fights and witchcraft when Draco stepped up beside his chair.

“Time for lunch?” Harry asked without looking up.

“Not yet,” Draco looked away briefly before saying, “Snape wants you.”

Harry closed his book, but asked, “What for?”

Draco shrugged. “Didn’t say. But he wants you to meet him in the room off the last door on the right, down the west hall.”

“What room?” Harry squinted as he tried to picture the hallway.

“It leads to a small room and then a bigger room,” Draco explained. “He said there was something inside that he wants to show you. Has to do with gardening or weeding or plants. I dunno. Are you going or should I go tell him that you can’t be bothered?”

“No,” Harry put his book aside, “I’ll go. He probably wants to show me a new plant to weed just in cause I get bored.”

“Probably,” Draco’s face was blank as Harry turned to leave.

The end of the west hall was dark as Harry went down. He had never explored this side as far, not after his little explosion with the potions store. He guessed that Snape didn’t want him snooping around Snapdragon Manor after that, and Harry had quietly kept to the rooms that he went in normally.

But he saw that the door was open as Harry approached it, but inside it was dark. He opened the door as far as it would go and stepped into a small room, maybe eight by ten feet. There were shelves on one side that held empty sealed bottles and glass jars. On the other side, there ran a row of wooden pegs from which rags with thin straps hung. Harry hesitated. He was wary on going into any room with potion bottles, even empty ones. But Snape had told him to come, and Harry wasn’t about to start disobeying a direct order.

The next door was only open a crack, but there was a tiny scrap of paper hanging on its front as if paper had been glued to the door and ripped off.

Harry very uneasily opened the door. This must be a new test or something that Snape designed. A part of him had been dreading all summer that Snape would start the horrid Occlumency lessons again. He hated the idea that Snape would start drilling him again, and then they would be right back where they had been all last year, and the progress that summer would be ruined. However, another part of Harry wanted to start the lessons again to prove to Snape that he could do better. He wanted Snape to know that he was not weak or scared or stupid, and given enough time, he could manage to close his mind from attack. But Snape had not brought it up so Harry had remained silent.

Yet, now maybe they were going to start the lessons. It would be painful and awkward, and Snape would chide him for every mistake, but Harry knew if he just tried long enough he could master the magic. And it would be nice to get to do something with Snape that Draco couldn’t. If Draco asked, Harry could reply, “Who would want to get in your mind, Malfoy?”

Deeep down, Harry knew he was still smarting over the “No one wants you” speech. He wanted to tell Snape, but that would make him sound like a tattle-tell, snitching about everything that Draco did. Then he would sound as whiny as Draco.

Harry stepped through the doorway and looked around. It was a room at the corner of the house, with windows on two sides. The windows were barred with heavy iron, both across and vertical so nothing bigger than a cat could sneak through. Harry found that odd considering that the room had only two rows of spindly plants, maybe fifteen plants in all, with dark green leaves and a few tiny blue berries.

The door shut behind him with a click. Blinking, Harry looked down and realized he was sitting on the floor. The floor was a cold marble, swept clean and polished. But Harry hardly noticed the cold. His eyes were sliding shut, and he was losing feeling in his limbs.

Where was Snape? Harry forced his eyes open to look at the ceiling, which was made with sheets of metal. Why was he lying on the floor?

Everything was turning black, and he felt exhausted as if he had practiced Quidditch for hours on end. He could not open his eyes . . . he no longer had eyes, and he couldn’t hear anything either. But he was at perfect peace, beautiful dark, silky peace with no pain or worries, just lovely darkness that held him close. He began to drift back into it.

“Harry,” a woman’s voice whispered.

He was standing in the darkness. He could not see a single thing, but he didn’t want to. If he could just float along in this blackness . . .

“Harry,” the woman said again.

He wanted to raise his hands to cover his ears and block out her voice. Why wouldn’t she leave him alone?

“Harry!” the woman’s voice became urgent.

“Harry, look at us,” a male voice insisted.

He turned ever so reluctantly.

Lily and James Potter were standing in front of him, cloaked with darkness, watching him.

Harry smiled sadly, but shook his head. “This isn’t real.”

“Harry, please, listen to us,” Lily came a little closer, her red hair seeming to float in the blackness.

“This is another test,” Harry decided. Everything was a little fuzzy, but he struggled to collect his thoughts rationally. “Snape did this to me before, but with Sirius. Now I guess he wants to show me you. Funny, though. I didn’t think we’d be in all this darkness. I thought we’d live in a cottage outside of London or maybe a townhouse near Bristol.”

“Harry,” Lily’s voice was beginning to rise, “you must listen to me. You are in danger.”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, with a half-grin. “Snape’s a Death Eater, he tried to kill me, blah, blah, blah. This is just another test. What about you, Dad? You hate Snape, too?”

“Harry,” James stepped closed, his face intense, “listen to us. You are going to die.”

“Aw, Voldemort hasn’t gone me yet,” Harry waved away their concern. “He might in the end, but that doesn’t change anything Snape tells me to do. And in case he’s listening this time I’m not going to get all upset at seeing you. Hear that, Snape? You can stop this now. I’m not going to start crying or carrying on so you can hold it over my head.”

“Harry, please,” his mother looked at him with wide, frightened eyes. “You have to wake up. You have to get out of the room.”

“I’m not in a room, but in this dark stuff,” Harry glanced around himself. “And I know this isn’t real, because you’re wearing the clothes that you wear in that picture I have of you. Oh, no, where is it? Did I leave it at the Dursleys? I bet Snape hid it somewhere. He hid my wand and your cloak, Dad. You were right about him, the old –”

“Harry, stop,” James held up a hand. “You need to be quiet and listen to us. This is deadly serious.”

“What do you mean?” Harry began to fell uneasy. Why wasn’t Snape stopping it?

“Get out of the room,” James ordered. “Wake up, son. You don’t have long left. You have to wake up.”

“I’m not awake?” Harry felt fear rise inside him. “Mum, Dad, where am I?”

“Wake up,” Lily pleaded. “Please, baby, just wake up. Open your eyes and wake up.”

“Come on, son,” James urged. “You can do it. Fight it. You are stronger than this. Wake up.”

“You can do it, baby,” Lily reached out a hand towards Harry’s face. “You’re so strong and brave. Wake up. Do it, Harry, do it for me and Dad. Just wake up.”

“Open your eyes now,” James commanded, his stern voice breaking though Lily’s desperation. “I mean it, Harry, open your eyes!”

Harry opened his eyes. He was on the marble floor, but the room was dark. He was so tired, so exhausted. He just wanted to go back to sleep, drift off into oblivion. He struggled to roll over, his parents’ cries still ringing in his ears. Every part of him wanted to ignore their demands – he was tired and they were dead and what did they know? But he forced himself to crawl towards the door.

It was a slow, tedious process. Twice Harry had to jerk himself awake. He felt so cold and shaky, and he just wanted to give into the sleep that was pressing his eyes close and filling his ears with a soft roar.

His fingers finally touched the wood of the door. It had closed and he looked up at the doorknob. It was a hundred miles up. He would never reach it.

He held on the frame of the door and tried to claw his way up. His world was getting dark and dim. He could barely see anything. He was groping in the darkness. He was going to die – he couldn’t fight any longer. He didn’t want to fight, just ease back into the darkness.

His hand closed around the knob and with his last bit of energy, he twisted the knob and push as hard as he could. The door opened, and Harry sprawled out on the floor of the small room.

The sleepiness began to ease back the smallest bit, and though still extremely tired, he did not feel the overwhelming exhaustion he had felt a moment ago.

Harry crawled forward a few feet, then clumsily kicked the door shut behind him.
Now he felt only tired, the way he had felt after swimming in the lake all afternoon. He stood up, his legs a bit unsteady and reached for the door to the hallway. It was locked.
Harry thought about yelling and beating on the door when he realized, upon closer inspection, that the lock was turned on his side. Why would there be a lock on his side? A simple spell from the hall side could lock the door, but why have a lock on one side?

Shaking his head, Harry turned the lock and went out into the hallway.

Everything was dark, but he stumbled towards the main part of the house. He could hear voice from the family room where candles were lit.

“Are you sure he was going upstairs?” Snape said very loudly. “Are you sure you saw –” the man stopped abruptly as he noticed Harry standing in the doorway. Snape had been pacing, but Draco was lounging in an armchair with a bored look on his face.

“Hi,” Harry began awkwardly. He still felt tired, and he didn’t know how to start.

Snape’s face which had been concerned now turned wrathful. He strode towards Harry and grabbed the boy’s shoulders with both hands tightly. “Where have you been?” Snape demanded, giving Harry a hard shake. “I swear, Potter, if this was one of your jokes –”

“N-No,” Harry managed. “I went to that plant room to meet you, but you weren’t there. Then I had this weird dream and I was really tired, but I crawled out, and now I’m just a little tired. Why is it so dark?”

Snape’s face went blank, and then he said very slowly, “What plant room?”

“The one at the end of the west hall,” Harry replied. He wished Snape would let go of him. The man’s grip was tight and uncomfortable, and he hated being interrogated with Draco watching.

“That door is locked,” Snape said.

“No, it was open,” Harry protested. “And the next door, too.”

Snape’s grip tightened, making Harry wince. “Did you read the piece of paper?”

“What piece of paper? There was little scrap on the door, but I didn’t see any other paper. I swear I didn’t touch any of the empty bottles. I didn’t touch anything in the room, either.”

Snape let go of Harry, but stared at him wide-eyed. “Potter, what happened to you in that room?”

“I felt really tired,” Harry confessed. “Then I was laying on the floor – and then it was all dark, murky-like, almost foggy. And then I saw my parents,” Harry looked away, not wanting to see Snape’s expression over his mother and father coming. “I thought it was another test thingy, like Sirius. But they were all frantic and told me to wake up, wake up! they kept shouting. So I finally did, and I crawled out of the room, but the other door was locked from my side. So I unlocked it and here I am. Why was I supposed to see my parents if all they were going to do was yell at me?”

Snape drew a sharp breath. “Merlin,” he whispered, horrified. “You didn’t know what was in that room? Of course not, Sprout doesn’t cover that for another year in your class. But I didn’t tell you – I was sure you couldn’t get into that room.”

Little tingles ran over Harry’s arm at the quiet terror in Snape’s voice. “What – what was in that room beside those plants?”

“It was those plants. Those plants, the berries particularly, are used in making Dreamless Sleeping Draught. One leaf and one berry dried and crushed together are enough for fifty vials of Draught. But they have to be picked at exactly the right time or the potion will be ruined. That’s why I keep so many plants. But the fumes that emit from so many in one room are toxic. That’s why I wear a mask when I go in there, the masks that I hang on in the small room. I can only go for ten minutes at a time, and I make sure a house elf watches me just in case. Like the Draught, the fumes make you go to sleep.”

“So that’s what I did,” Harry realized. “But why are you so worried?”

“Because with such strong fumes, you go to sleep, and you don’t wake up,” Snape said softly. “You went missing before lunch. It’s one o’clock in the morning now. After twelve hours exposure to the plants, you slip into a coma. No one has ever woken up after going into that coma.”

Harry paled as the blood drained from his face. “That’s why my mum and dad were yelling? I – I was about to go into that coma? They – they saved me?”

Snape nodded somberly. “They must have. You don’t have dreams with that stuff. You just sleep until you die. What you had was a vision. But I don’t understand how you got into the room. I keep both doors locked, and in case you managed to get the doors unlocked, I posted a paper that said ‘Potter, do not enter this room. There are poisonous toxins inside. You will get sick or die if you come in any farther.’ You sure there was no note?”

“I’m positive,” Harry protested. “No paper, and both doors were open. I would have never gone in there except you told me to.”

“What?” Snape said ominously.

“Yeah, you wanted me to go in there. Draco said . . .” Harry trailed off. He and Snape both turned to look at Draco.

The blond-haired boy was trying to look nonchalant and careless, but there was a glimmer of fear in his eyes.

Harry was more concerned that he had seen his parents for real and he wanted to ask Snape what that meant, but he took one look at Snape’s face and kept quiet. He had thought Snape had been angry when Harry got into Malfoy Manor or when he slammed the door on Draco’s fingers, but this was a different kind of anger. This was a silent, furious anger that seemed to radiate from Snape in waves. Harry wanted to shrink back and look for somewhere to hide, and he wasn’t even the one in trouble. He couldn’t believe that Draco could appear so aloof with Snape looking at him in that way.

“What?” Draco shrugged. “So I played a bit of a prank on him. So what? He tried to chop off my fingers.”

“Mr. Malfoy,” Snape’s voice was like ribbons of ice, “go into my study, sit in front of my desk, and do not move until I come to get you. If you do not move right now, I will not be responsible for my actions towards you.”

Draco, finally gaining a bit of sense, scrambled to his feet and hurried out of the room.

Snape turned to Harry. “How do you feel? Are you dizzy or tired or feeling nauseous?”

“No, Snape, I’m alright,” Harry began, but the man didn’t let him finish.

“Are you having any trouble seeing or hearing? How many fingers am I holding up?” Snape raised his forefinger in front of Harry’s face.

“Four,” Harry answered, hoping a joke might calm Snape down as well as ease his own churning stomach. Now that he knew how much danger he had been in he felt nervous and shaky.

“That’s not funny,” Snape reached for him. He pushed Harry into a chair and felt his forehead and cheeks.

Harry could feel Snape’s hand tremble the last bit, and Harry struggled not to show his fear. “Come on, Snape. I’m-I’m fine. Bet you wish I had stayed a little longer and saved you the trouble, right?”

“Stop that,” Snape ordered.

“Come on,” Harry gave a nervous laugh. “You’re not going to brush this off as my tendency for getting into trouble? ‘Potter, no need to go looking for trouble – it finds you.’ Funny, right? Ha-ha?”

“You almost died,” Snape said in a hoarse voice. “When you didn’t show up for lunch, Draco said you weren’t hungry. When I couldn’t find you for supper, Draco said you had gone exploring in the attics and the garrets. After calling you for a while, I began to get worried. I was certain that you were hiding to show how sulky you felt, but I wanted to end this foolishness. I searched all the upstairs, but he kept insisting you were up there. I checked the downstairs, but that door was locked tight so I didn’t go in. That little monster locked the door with his wand. He promised me that if I let him keep it, he wouldn’t use it. He locked you in and he took down that paper. Oh, that’s it – that is it!”

“What are you going to do?” Harry started to stand up.

“No, sit still. You need to regain your strength. But you don’t have to worry about Draco any longer,” Snape shook his head bitterly. “I’m sending him back to his mother. Lucius or not, he can just stay with her for the rest of the summer.”

“Now, wait a minute,” Harry objected. “Maybe he didn’t mean it. He probably just thought it was a joke.”

“Harry, you nearly died,” Snape’s tone was sharp. “Your parents came to warn you that you were dying.”

“Well, okay,” Harry bit his lip. “So maybe it was serious. Which is completely irritating, by the way. You know, they only show up when I’m in mortal danger. When Voldemort returned, coming out of his wand, and then appearing in that darkness to tell me to wake up. They never stop by just to say ‘Hi, how’s it going, son?’ I would like to see them once when I can enjoy it and don’t have to be worried for my life.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Snape demanded. “You almost died and you’re quibbling about not seeing your parents’ ghosts any old day?”

“Fine, I’ll be all worried and scared,” Harry was glad that his own hands were no longer shaking. “But don’t send Draco away. It’s probably my fault anyway.”

“No!” Snape ordered. “No, you do not go all Gryffindor on me now. Draco deliberately tried to harm you. He might not have known about what the plants were exactly, but he saw the sign and unlocked the doors. There is no excuse.”

“Still you don’t have to send him away,” Harry urged. “I did plenty of bad things this summer. Blowing up rooms, running to Malfoy Manor, trying to save people who had died –”

“Exactly!” Snape interrupted. “You tried to save people. Even when you took my wand and blew the wall out, you were doing it to try to keep me from getting hurt. The most malicious thing you did was slam the door on Draco’s fingers, and even then you thought he would catch it before it hit him. No, Draco tried to hurt you, really hurt you, nearly killed you. I can’t let him stay here. Next time you might not be so lucky. He’s going back, and I will pray every minute of the next four weeks that you can stay safe until September.”

“I said things to him in the library,” Harry said quickly. “He said I had to stay here because no one else wanted me, and I told him that at least you wanted me to stay. No one else cared about him. I shouldn’t have said that, Snape. I was angry and worked-up, and I let my mouth run. Come on, can’t you punish him and let him stay? I’m sure he won’t do it again. He probably thought if I was stupid enough to believe what he said then I deserved to get hurt.”

“I don’t believe you,” Snape returned. “One minute you can’t stand Draco staying here, and then he tries to kill you, and you want him to stay?”

Harry looked away guiltily. “I know, but I kind of – you know – feel sorry for him. You’ve been wanting me to get along with him. You should be happy.”

“I should be deranged by now,” Snape retorted. He paced hotly towards the door and then came back. “Are you sure you feel all right? You aren’t seeing stars or feeling anything new like overwhelming anger or blissful happiness?”

“I still feel weird that I saw my mum and dad, and I think I told my dad that you were testing me. They were wearing the same clothes they have on in that picture I have. What did you do with it, by the way?”

“My word, Potter,” Snape looked exhausted. “You’re completely losing your mind. It must be the effects of the plants. I’m going to get you into bed, and then I’ll deal with Mr. Malfoy.”

Harry shook his head stubbornly. “Un-uh. No, I’m not going up to bed yet. Really, Snape, I just slept for almost twelve hours.”

“You want to watch me yell at him?” Snape raised an eyebrow. “And anything else that I might decide to do afterwards?”

“Well, he heard me get punished,” Harry muttered, but he did not feel too embarrassed at the memory. Maybe it was the effects of the plants. He didn’t mind much of anything anymore.

“Yes, I know you must have thought that I did that to humiliate you, and it probably did. But I was hoping that your humiliation might help your part with no more fighting, and he, hearing you punished, would not seek retaliation. And then we’d all be happy here together. You both must think I’m the stupidest man alive for my naiveté.”

“Not the stupidest. There has to be someone dumber than you, probably living in a cave and boiling bats in water to make potions.”

Snape glared at him, but Harry said, “Oh, I can’t make a joke? I nearly died. You should be happy I can talk at all.”

“Get up,” Snape growled at him. “I swear, Potter, one of these days I’m going to . . . well, come on then. Time to deal with Mr. Malfoy.”