The First Saving

Trapped! He was trapped – no way out. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Oh, Merlin, what was he supposed to do . . . ?

“Ah, Harry, there you are!” Gilderoy Lockhart swooped down on the luckless Harry and pulled him away from where he’d been trying to hide behind Ron and Hermione. “No need to be shy, my boy! Autographs and photo ops are all in a day’s work for me!”

“But, I—” Harry started to say, trying to deny that he wanted either autograph or photo, but was interrupted by the flash of Colin Creevey’s camera. He blinked frantically to clear the spots from his vision.

“Thanks, Harry!” Colin chirped, his grin almost as blinding as the camera flash. “Thanks, Professor!”

“No trouble at all, my dear boy,” Lockhart gushed. He removed his arm from around Harry’s shoulders to produce his wand with an extravagant flourish that almost poked Harry in the eye. “I really shouldn’t, but I’ve just developed this new spell . . . fascinating thing . . .”

He waved his wand in a ridiculously complex pattern, but just as he stabbed his wand out in front of him, lips parted to say whatever spell he’d come up with, a new voice interrupted him.

“Really, Lockhart, shouldn’t these students be in their common rooms?”

Harry closed his eyes and tried to stifle a groan. Snape. Of all the professors, why did it have to be Snape?

“Ah, Severus.” Lockhart’s smile dimmed ever so slightly. “I was—”

“Just about to take points and send them off?” Snape asked. His silky tone oozed disbelief, and a raised eyebrow suggested polite incredulity.

“Ah . . .” Lockhart cleared his throat, nervously. “Yes, yes, of course . . . Just . . . Run along, children, I’m afraid your curiosity will have to go unsatisfied until tomorrow.”

Unable to believe their luck, but unwilling to question it, the four Gryffindors took off running towards their common room.

“Would you like to see my new spell, Severus?” they heard Lockhart say brightly. They stopped and looked back. Lockhart was waving his wand again, apparently not noticing that Snape had already turned away.

With an unintelligible shout, Lockhart jabbed the air with his wand . . . and half of the stone ceiling came crashing down onto where the Trio had been stood just moments before.

The Second Saving

Cold. So cold. Ice creeping along the ground. Darkness falling. Screaming. Someone screaming. “No, not Harry!”

“Expecto Patronum!”

Flashes of silver darted across Harry’s vision, driving back the creeping darkness. What was it? It reminded him vaguely of what Professor Lupin had done on the train at the start of term, driving away the Dementor. But the voice wasn’t right.

“Of all the foolish, ill-considered, dunderheaded things I have ever seen – and believe me, I have seen plenty in this school – this has to be the worst. Congratulations, Mr Malfoy, you have just managed to lower my opinion of you further than I ever thought possible.”

Snape! Snape had made the Dementors go away? Obviously he hadn’t realised Harry was anywhere nearby, otherwise he surely would have let them continue.

“But, Professor . . . !”

Ah. That made more sense to Harry’s still Dementor-numbed brain. Snape had been saving Malfoy. Harry had just been close enough to benefit from it.

“I don’t want to hear it, Mr Malfoy! Common room, now! And if I catch you anywhere out here again, it will be a week of detention for you!”

Malfoy’s sniffling got fainter as he moved away into the castle. Harry wondered whether he should try and sit up yet, or if he should wait until Snape had gone as well. No doubt he’d get detention and lose a lot of points if Snape found him out here too.

“Horrible creatures,” he heard Snape mutter, and saw the swish of Snape’s robes as he turned towards the castle. “I hope they catch Black soon . . .”

The Third Saving

Oh, Merlin, what a choice! Doomed if I do, and doomed if I don’t. What should I do . . . ? What’s the worst that could happen? Wait – don’t answer that!

“Come on, Harry, just try a bit.” Fred Weasley – or was it George? – waved a box filled with what looked like fudge under Harry’s nose. The trouble was, with Fred and George, it couldn’t be “just” fudge, and Harry had no desire to turn into something, or do something ridiculous. But how could he turn them down without hurting their feelings and guaranteeing something worse – and unexpected – later?

“Potter!” The bellow came from the other end of the corridor, and all three boys paled. Snape was on the rampage.

“Sir?” Harry asked, shakily, as the enraged Professor stalked towards them, his robes billowing out behind him.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice, Potter?” Snape spat at him, seemingly ignoring the twins. Harry looked puzzled. “I have wards on my private stores, Potter, wards that you tripped not an hour ago.” He leant in until his nose was barely half an inch from Harry’s. “Thought you’d use hemlock to poison the competition, did you?” he hissed, angrily.

From the corner of his eye, with what attention wasn’t focused on Snape, Harry saw the twins go even paler. They looked down at the box of fudge with horror-stricken expressions.

“Thirty points from Gryffindor, and detention tonight, Potter,” Snape said, straightening up and glaring at all three of them.

“Yes, sir,” Harry sighed, as Snape turned and stalked away. He looked back at the twins. “About that fudge . . .”

“Never mind, Harry,” one twin said hurriedly.

“Yeah, you said no, we respect that,” agreed the other, then they both turned and raced away, leaving Harry to stare after them in confusion.

The Fourth Saving

Pain. So much pain. Head pounding like a troll playing the drums. Nausea. Blinded by the light. Where did all the light come from? Wasn’t it night? Sounds echoing . . .

“Ah, Mr Potter. Shouldn’t you be in your dormitory by now?” Surprisingly, the silky tone didn’t hurt his ears. Harry leant against the wall, panting against the pain in his head. He could feel his heart beating fast and frantically in his temples.

“Dear me, drunk are we, Mr Potter?” the voice tutted.

Harry opened one eye the tiniest sliver, and squinted at the person before him. Lovely. As if Professor Snape wasn’t bad enough, now there were three of them. Harry closed his eye, leant his aching head against the cool stone wall and groaned.

“Much as I’d like you to suffer the consequences of your actions, I suppose I must escort you to the infirmary,” Snape said, his tone indicating just how much of a sacrifice he was making. “Otherwise Minerva will have my head,” he added under his breath, but Harry’s hearing had become very sensitive, and he heard it clearly.

Once he’d reached the Hospital Wing – some agonising forty minutes later – he sank gratefully onto an empty bed and waited for Madam Pomfrey to bustle over.

“. . . drunk,” he vaguely heard Snape telling her. “Thought I’d better bring him here, otherwise I’ll have to suffer Minerva yelling at me.”

As Snape stalked out, Madam Pomfrey began waving her wand over Harry. A sharp gasp brought his attention back to her.

“My goodness!” she exclaimed. “It’s a good thing you arrived when you did, Mr Potter. You have an aneurysm that’s about to burst. Don’t worry, I’ll soon have it fixed and you’ll be good as new.”

The Fifth Saving

Oh, Merlin, he’s going to kill me. What on earth am I doing? Why can’t I just shut up?! Mouthing off to him is NEVER a good idea – I KNOW this. So why am I still doing it?

“Mr Potter.”

Uh-oh. Harry gulped. Looked like he’d finally pushed Professor Snape too far. His voice had gone very deep and silky.

“You may think that you know more than most, after your efforts with your little . . . club, last year.” Snape rested his fingertips on the desk, and leaned in close, eye to eye with Harry. “However, be that as it may, I am the teacher here, and I will NOT have this disrespect in my classroom. Twenty points from Gryffindor, and detention with Filch tonight.”

“But, Professor Dumbledore—” Harry started, outraged, and knew instantly he’d said the wrong thing. Snape’s eyes burned with rage, and the corner of his mouth twisted up into a snarl.

“Fifty points from Gryffindor, and detention with Filch and myself for the rest of the week! Care to make it two weeks and an even hundred, Potter?” he asked, his eyes gleaming at Harry. Harry opened his mouth, and then clamped it shut again when Ron kicked him under the desk. “Good boy, Potter. Now sit down and SHUT UP!”

A heavy wave of magic swamped Harry, and he found his knees buckling, dumping him back into his chair. At the same moment, a streak of bright orange spell-light soared through the place where his head had been not a split second earlier.

Snape looked around, carefully eyeing every student. “Ten points from whoever cast that spell, for being less than subtle.” He smirked. “If you want to incapacitate someone, make sure it can’t be traced back to you.”

The Reverse Save

Harry slowly crept up behind the unobservant Death Eater. He didn’t know who it was, but they were escorting Nagini somewhere. Actually, Harry was quite surprised that Voldemort had let the snake out of his sight. Still, if it gave him the chance to kill Nagini, he wasn’t going to quibble about it.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the dirty traitor,” the Death Eater suddenly spat at what looked to be a lump of rags in the middle of the road. It moved suddenly, and Harry realised with a jolt that it was actually Professor Snape. Hang on – traitor? “And look what I’ve got,” the Death Eater continued, gleefully. “How about it, Nagini? Hungry?”

The snake hissed agreement, and began to slither towards Snape. After a brief but fierce internal debate, Harry sent a silent Stupefy! at the unknown Death Eater, and stepped closer to Nagini.

“Halt, sister,” he hissed in Parseltongue. The big snake paused, and glanced round at him, her tongue flicking out to taste the air. “That one is no good for you.”

“And who are you to decide that?” the snake answered. “You are not my master.”

“No, but I have seen the Big-King-Snake,” Harry said hurriedly, mildly surprised at what the Parseltongue turned ‘Basilisk’ into.

Nagini paused again. “You have seen my master’s other familiar?” she asked, suddenly unsure.

“I spoke with him. I KILLED him,” Harry informed her. The snake reared up and hissed at him, her fangs glinting in the vague light.

“You lie! My master said nothing could kill the Big-King-Snake once he had the tasty treats killed.”

“I tell nothing but the truth. I fought the Big-King-Snake and killed him, then used one of his fangs to defeat that part of your master.” Harry took a cautious step closer. “This meal is under my protection, and I say he shall not be harmed.”

Nagini turned to look at where Snape had managed to gain his feet, and was holding his wand aimed in her direction. “Fine,” she hissed in displeasure. “I will not kill him – yet.” And she turned and slithered rapidly out of sight.

Harry met Snape’s gaze. Solemnly, Snape inclined his head in a gesture of thanks.

Then, at the same moment, they turned, their wands raised, and ran in opposite directions to join the emerging battle.