I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 14

Lunch for A Wizard

Professor Snape and his charge for the afternoon, Harry Potter, emerged from the adjunct office of the Ministry for Magic, and walked along the main street of Diagon Alley. It was a typical busy day with dozens of witches and wizards walking here and there to conduct various business transactions. Some of the witches herded their youngest children with them using charms to keep them from wandering.

The street was also populated by a number of street vendors that held business from beneath gaily coloured carts protected from the elements by umbrellas and Impervious spells. The street vendors added such wondrous aromas to the air of meat pasties, fried pastry filled with a variety of fruit jelly, candies, skewered and seasoned meat from chicken to pork. There were also small cafes that added further smells that caused a rumbling in Harry's stomach that reminded him he had left Hogwarts just before lunch.

"Sir," asked Harry, "could we get something to eat?"

Professor Snape glanced down at his student. Normally he only had coffee or tea, depending on the way his classes went. Today, though was different. Snape nodded, "You are a growing boy so I believe we shall let your... stomach... lead the way. What do you fancy, Mr. Potter?"

Harry sniffed the air. "Mmmm meat pasties, fried pastry, honey roasted nuts, caramel popcorn..."

Snape frowned. "Hardly. You have the nutritional sense of a goat. We shall go where you may intersperse something healthy with your desire for sweets."

Harry frowned as he envisioned Aunt Petunia's version of healthy which tended to be limp salad covered in mayonnaise. "But you said...!"

Snape scowled at the whine in the child's voice, and was pleased to see that it ended the moment he showed his disapproval. "That way, Mr. Potter." Snape took long strides that Harry half jogged to in order to keep up. In only a few steps they were walking through a glass fronted door that chimed to announce their arrival. They were met by a comely looking witch who ushered them to a round wooden table.

"'ave you gentlemen anythin' in mind?" she asked.

Professor Snape promptly ordered, "For the boy 8 ounces of milk, roast beef sandwich..."

"No mayonnaise!" interrupted Harry.

Snape frowned but continued, "No mayonnaise on the sandwich, a small salad with dressing on the side, small bowl of cut fruit, and I should like the same sans the milk. I will be having coffee, no milk, cream or sugar."

The waitress smiled, and curtseyed. "It'll be just 12 minutes, gentlemen!" She scurried away.

"I like how the waitress is so nice," commented Harry as his head bobbed back and forth as he took in the sights and sounds of the busy cafe.

"I am certain she is only so polite because she anticipates a generous tip," remarked Snape rather negatively.

Harry ignored the jibe. "That's okay. I like her. We'll give her a nice tip, okay, sir?"

Snape nodded. "As you wish, Mr. Potter."

"Harry."

"Hm?" The professor eyed the boy in puzzlement.

"Harry, um... would you call me Harry instead of Mr. Potter? I kinda feel like you don't quite like me when you say my last name like that." Realising he had forgotten some of his manners, he added, "Sir?"

Professor Snape was quiet a moment as he studied the boy. It was odd how the more time he spent with the child the less he was reminded of James Potter as a boy, and more of what he recalled the child's mother had been like. Harry Potter was less the student whom he disliked, and more like Harry, the little boy who was... endearing.

"You do realise that I must call you by your surname, and foster an air of dislike between us, do you not? Harry?" Snape spoke carefully. Immediately he wondered at that. As guardian to the Boy-Who-Lived would Albus still desire him to be a spy? It would be impossible, of course, but...

Harry interrupted wistfully, "Because a lot of people think you hated my family, right... or you really hated James." Snape nodded slowly. "Did you really hate him, sir?"

"I hardly think a discussion of my scholastic time at Hogwarts with your father..."

Harry interrupted his teacher, "It's okay, sir. I'm just a freak and you're smarter than me so you don't have to tell me nothing."

"Harry, no…” There was that word ‘freak’ again. It more than disturbed him, it angered him. Perhaps some of his history would not be bad to relate. Drumming his fingers upon the table, he began, “It was a difficult time for me, and your father and his friends did not make it easy. I was… an awkward and poor half-blood."

“Did you grow up in the… uhm… Muggle world, sir?” Harry gave his attention to his teacher.

Snape nodded. “My mother was a witch but my father was a Muggle; a factory worker in Cokeworth.”

“That’s not far from Little Whinging. Aunt Petunia wanted to stay near where her parents lived. I never met them either.” He began to lightly swing his legs under his chair since he was just a touch short.

“Are your grandparents alive?” asked Snape.

Harry shrugged.

“Speak up, Harry. I do not interpret shrugs,” chided Snape.

“Sorry, sir,” he apologised softly. “I know Dudley met my grandmother but I think my grandfather was already dead. Aunt Petunia seemed real upset after that visit, and Uncle Vernon drank a lot that night. He was kinda scary.”

Snape nodded in sympathy. “Alcohol is not gentle to anyone, Harry. Did your uncle ever strike you when he was drinking?”

Harry blushed, and stared down at the table. He was quiet for such a long time that Snape thought he might have been a little too free with his questions. Before he could say anything Harry spoke up quietly, “Uncle Vernon just always yelled. I think even Dudley got scared when Uncle Vernon yelled because sometimes he’d have me sit in his room so we could both escape my uncle. Aunt Petunia hits, though. She’s even hit Dudley, and she loves him.”

The resentment in the boy’s voice was thick, and Professor Snape was glad of the reprieve when the waitress arrived with their lunch. Harry's stomach growled with appreciation at sight of the large roast beef sandwich and after a look at his teacher, who gave him a nod to eat, the small boy dove in with gusto.

All the food was quickly eaten but Harry had turned down a dessert in favour of a basket of chips. He was munching on those salty pieces of fried potatoes as Snape indulged in a second cup of coffee.

"Harry, I have heard you refer to yourself as a freak a few times now. Might I ask why?" asked Snape.

Harry stuffed a chip in his mouth so he did not have to answer right away. After a minute when he knew the question would not be withdrawn he took a sip of his milk, and replied tersely, "It's what I am. My aunt and uncle have told me that for like forever. I'm a freak. I'm not human. They're stuck with me because of my 'foolish mother' who should have done the right thing and ‘borted me."

Professor Snape was not appalled, he was in shock. Harry had suddenly lost his appetite so he pushed the remains of his chips away. He slumped in his seat so he could stare down at his toes.

"Harry, your aunt and uncle are despicable. They are wrong. You are human, and you are certainly no freak. You are a thoughtful little boy whom I know was very much loved by his parents. I can also tell you that your mother, Lily, was no fool."

"Yeah?" Harry glared down at his shoes. "Then why'd she and James go and get killed? My aunt and uncle always told me they got killed because James was a drunk but then Hagrid told me Voldy killed them. Doesn't matter how it was done they got killed and left me with the Dursleys, and now everyone 'spects me to be some stupid hero, and I'm not because I'm a freak that should never have been born!"

Harry pushed himself away from the table. He tried to stomp past his teacher but Snape caught him by the upper arm. Harry tried to yank himself away but when the professor would not let go Harry gave up, and just stood where he had been caught.

Professor Snape turned so he could better face the angry child. He then held onto Harry by his upper arms. His voice was low as he spoke, "I understand your anger, Harry, but it is not necessary to run away from me. Now... lift your chin... look at me, child." Slowly Harry lifted his chin, and Snape felt a jab to his heart as he took in the green eyes that glittered with anger, and tears. Removing one hand he took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away the child's tears. He then held the linen to Harry's nose. "Blow." Harry obeyed, and Snape deftly wiped his nose and vanished the soiled cloth. "Listen to me, Harry. The Dursleys are the worst sort of people to have told you such awful things that were untrue. The child I have come to know is just that, a child. Not a freak."

Harry began to fiddle with the buttons on the cuff of Professor Snape's frock coat. After a very long minute he asked timidly, "If I'm not a freak... does that mean I have to be everyone's hero?"

"You are a little, eleven year old child..." Harry's hand ghosted up to his scar but Snape caught his hand. "That scar means that you were injured in a terrible fight that took your mother's life, and destroyed the Dark Lord's body. It does not define who you are nor what you must become in life, Harry. You, like all the first years that come to Hogwarts, are allowed to choose what you want to be... when you grow up."

Harry leaned closer to his teacher so he could whisper, "But who's going to kill Voldy if it's not me, sir?"

Snape whispered back, "That is a task for the adults, Mr. Potter." The Potions Master stood and beckoned the child to follow him.

Harry raced to join his long-legged teacher. He hoped that his teacher was right. He had enough trouble with homework. The last thing he wanted to worry about was killing some spirit who did not know better that he should have stayed dead.