They reached the end of March and the grounds of Hogwarts started to thaw out, revealing thick furs of moist, greyish vegetation pierced by small green leaves here and there, fighting their way up. This particular day was the spring equinox, but Harry was unaware of the fact when he was looking out of a window in the Gryffindor common room where he had been reading in front of the fire in the early morning. He prepared to go down to join his friends for a cup of tea and have the news read to him. Just as he was about to leave, Hermione stumbled inside through the hole behind the portrait of the Fat Lady.

“Harry - good,” she said promptly. “Don’t go down. It’s awful. I’d better tell you up here.” They were alone in the room. Harry frowned.

“What is it now?” he asked resignedly. He did not think it could get worse.

“They’ve passed the line. Really, this is passing the line,” said Hermione in an upset, shrill tone of voice. She drew a deep breath before she held up the paper with shaking hands to read to him. “On the front page, there is a student who was at Hogwarts last year - a girl who claims to have been Crucioed by the Carrow teachers on a number of occasions. That, of course, is true. We know they used the Cruciato curse as a punishment on students. In addition, however, she tells the reporter that she and every other student who were Crucioed last year were immediately brought to Snape’s office on his direct orders, allegedly to finish the punishing himself. The students were let in to his office and…” Hermione swallowed. ”When they came out again they didn’t know what had happened because they had been Obliviated. They had no additional injuries, they did not feel worse, but she describes this sense of confusion and of horrible doubt. Now she has read about Snape in the paper and she says that she has begun to experience mounting feelings of anxiety. She believes that it’s probable that they were all abused by him in some way or other.”

Harry frowned and shook his head.

“They make a big thing out of this in the Prophet - several pages,” insisted Hermione. “There’s a healer from St Mungo’s who speaks of the late effects of abuse and of symptoms that could fit with what this girl experiences. They speculate as to alternative reasons why to use an Oblivate spell, except to hide some atrocious crime and cannot find any. They publish, once more, the testimony of an anonymous former Death Eater who confirms the common use of abductions and abuse used by Voldemort. There were orgies, the source claims, with free access for the guests to abducted and imprisoned witches and Muggles of both sexes. All this to suggest that Snape would not be foreign to the practice of sexual abuse.”

Harry shuddered and pulled a disgusted face.

”On the next spread - and this is where you and your mother come in - I’m really sorry, Harry…” continued Hermione. ”She’s so awful. It’s Rita Skeeter again - she seems obsessed with proving your parentage with Voldemort. She has changed her mind and writes that it is not likely that your mother willingly would have had an affair with Snape once he became a Death Eater, but that there are chances that he would have gone after her, abducted her by force and abused her. That was common behaviour among Death Eaters, and as a Muggle-born there would have been no scruples to use Lily Evans as they pleased. Voldemort and Snape might have done it together, Rita Skeeter continues and corroborates her horrible theory with a statement from that awful Professor of Magical History who wallows in obscene details from the past of fathers who taught their sons how to torture and rape and... It’s disgustging how they go on. Finally, Rita Skeeter concludes that you might as well be the son of Voldemort himself, no middleman needed. She concludes with saying that if Harry Potter doesn’t feel the need to do so himself after these revelations, the Ministry of Magic should force you to have a blood bond test done to prove your birth.”

Harry stared at Hermione. His heart made painful jolts in the chest and he trembled. This is only writings in the paper. It’s only stupid speculations. It’s not true. Others might believe whatever they want, I know it’s not true, he told himself. Anger rose in him, his cheeks flushed and his eyes darkened.

“Rita Skeeter is such a stupid Blast-Ended Skrewt!” he said and breathed hard. “She ravages everything on her way, leaving nothing but poisonous slime behind her. A pity she gave herself in as an Animagus and got away with it, otherwise this would have been the perfect moment to send her to Azkaban! The best way to handle her now, however, would be to keep out of her way and she’ll crawl over a precipice all by herself!”

Hermione looked at Harry with grim sympathy and said:

“You’re strong, Harry. I was afraid you’d break down. Most people would have gone into hiding long ago during a drive like this.”

“I’ve seen it before, remember? And I will hide today - behind a Muffliato spell,” Harry said determinedly, “no need to expose oneself to the stupidities some people can’t help letting out. I’m worried about Snape, though. A headmaster cannot hunch behind a Muffliato, he must stay available. How did he react when the paper arrived?”

“I think he sensed at an early stage that it was a nasty piece of writing because he left with his paper before most of us had read more than a few sentences.”

“Double potions late this afternoon,” said Harry grimly. “We’ll see how he copes by then.”

Harry was to come across Snape much sooner than that, however.

***

For their first lesson of the day, the students were waiting for Professor McGonagall in the corridor outside her classroom. Harry had the ringing sound of his Muffliato spell in his ears, but he noticed suddenly that the crowd divided to let someone through. He saw the expressions of fear and of loathing on his fellow students’ faces and lifted his Muffliato spell away.

It was completely silent as the headmaster strode in between the rows of students pressed against the walls. No one greeted him. He looked paler than usual, a bit hunched and he still walked with a slight limp. Harry broke the silence.

“Good morning, Professor Snape!” he said in his most polite and respectful tone of voice. Several students jumped and stared at him with a mixture of curiosity and incredulity. Ginny, who stood beside him, squeezed his arm with apprehension but mimicked Harry in a slightly trembling voice. “Good morning, Professor!” Hermione and Ron followed. A streak of confusion passed over Snape’s face. He stared at Harry and his mouth twitched. He tore his eyes away, gave a short nod and continued along.

At the same moment, Professor McGonagall turned up. Her gaze lingered after the flapping coat of Snape before letting her students in. They had barely settled down and brought their wands out for practical work, when the door opened and Snape reappeared. He searched the room with a feverish gaze and his wandering eyes found Harry. Snape actually looked a little mad and Professor McGonagall recoiled as he suddenly turned towards her, even if her desk stood between them.

“I need to speak to Mr Potter, Minerva,” he said.

“I don’t know, Severus...” she hesitated, glancing over at Harry.

“It’s okay, Professor,” Harry said quickly as he rose from his seat, “I’ll oblige the headmaster. I can catch up with you when I come back.” Snape gave him a strange look, swirled around and lead the way. Harry had his wand out and had no intention of putting it back because Snape did indeed seem unstable. Professor McGonagall looked alarmed and Harry tried to smile reassuringly at her as he passed her desk.

Snape walked in front of Harry, chose a door at random and ushered Harry inside an empty classroom. As soon as he had secured the door with a silencing spell, Snape turned aggressively towards Harry, but did not say anything at first. He started to pace back and fro in the free space in front of the desks, shot short glances at Harry and seemed to argue with himself as he moved, gesturing in the air. Snape’s face twisted and his wand that he had drawn without being aware of what he was doing, let off sparkles. Harry had taken a few steps into the classroom, but stayed in proximity of the door. He had his own wand prepared and watched Snape with apprehension. Suddenly Snape turned to face him.

“Have you read the paper today?” he asked hoarsely.

“Yes... Why, yes, I have. I know what they’re implying.” Harry backed off as Snape’s wand accidentally emitted stinging sparkles towards him. He waved them off with his own wand. “I... I’d try to ignore them if I were you, Professor... You shouldn’t let them get at you and...”

Snape suddenly lunged at him, gripped his robe by the collar and pushed him backwards as he spoke, his face only inches from Harry’s, eyes searching Harry’s intently.

“How. Do. You. Know?”

Snape’s contorted face frightened him, yet Harry made an effort to keep calm and averted his eyes since he knew what those intense black eyes could do to his mind.

“How do I know what?” he panted. Snape let go of him and started to pace again.

“How on earth can you greet me like you did this morning after having read that article? How can you stay calm and unconcerned in a situation like this? Are you naive... or stupid? Or do you know something that I don’t? Are you fooling me, Potter? Advice me to ignore it, do you? How on earth am I supposed to do that?” Snape roared his last question at Harry who held his wand in front of him.

“Stay where you are, Professor, and put your wand away, please, before there’s an accident! You mustn’t let the untruths in the paper get at you. Remember that the press has attacked me several times in the past years. I’m used to it and know I must ignore it. I take care not to read the newspaper and...” Harry babbled on in an attempt to appease Snape.

“You just told me you had read today’s paper!” Snape spat at him, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“I did. I meant that I let Hermione… Miss Granger read it and she tells me the essentials. In that way it’s easier to keep it at a distance. If you start doubting your own mind, or start caring what others may think, you’re lost. I don’t listen to the commentaries in the corridors either... the Muffliato spell is...” Harry rushed over the words.

Snape waved his explanation away.

“How do you know that I did not do what they accuse me of?” he said with emphasis on every word. “How are you sure?”

“I don’t know about that girl who was Crucioed and Obliviated,” said Harry, “but I find it highly unlikely that you did anything improper to her or to the other pupils. You had promised Dumbledore to take care of the school and I think you did, to your best ability. I’m not a fan of the Obliviate spell, not at all... but I don’t think that you abused her. I believe there’s another explanation.” What Harry said did not seem to calm Snape down, on the contrary, he paced faster and jerkier as if to take a run.

“I don’t even have all the facts myself…” Snape spoke between clenched teeth. ”There’s no way for me to know what my mother’s thoughts or intensions were before I was born...How could anyone? She always poured praise over Voldemort. That’s partly why I approached the Dark Lord from the start. But I’ve had no reason to doubt...”

“Then don’t start now just because they write those things!” pleaded Harry.

“I don’t believe I’m Voldemort’s offspring!” Snape spat irritably at Harry. “Heaven knows I’ve inherited enough vices from my Muggle father as it is. But to be sure... absolutely sure? The question is, how do you know that I did not, out of jealousy and anger, in my foolishness as a young Death Eater, hurt your mother? How do you know?” Snape pointed accusingly at Harry who backed off, trying to find the words to answer.

“I... I’ve seen you together, remember, in your memories? You were her childhood friend! You loved her! I heard you speak to each other. I saw you look at her. I know you regretted even calling her that name. I find it highly unlikely that you would have done anything to her against her will. Not anything!” exclaimed Harry.

Snape stared at him.

“No, of course I wouldn’t.” Snape turned away. He seemed to calm down for a short while, but soon the anxiety rose in him again and he started to pace and twist with great agitation, hiding his anguished face in his hands, muttering incoherently.

“But as to the other part - how can any of us be sure? What if Voldemort himself did something to her? Because I don’t understand why she left me... I’m not saying... that I believe you’re his son... I don’t... You were a copy of James... although not so much now... I cannot help the doubts from assaulting me... You have changed this year... Developed new skills... I still don’t say that you are... But how to be sure?” Snape stared at Harry who shook his head.

“Don’t let them do this to you, Sir. Please, don’t let them do this!”

“I’ve tried to remember, but…” Snape drew a shuddering breath. He was almost stuttering. ”…but I was wounded at that precise time. I was hospitalised. I don’t remember anything for the duration of a whole month - it’s a complete blank!” Snape’s face twisted out of anguish. “I don’t know what happened to her during the time you were conceived. I used to keep my eyes on her from the other side, during battles between Aurors and Death Eaters, so that she wouldn’t get hurt. She had her fellow Aurors and the members of the Order, of course - Potter, Black and Lupin - they should’ve kept her safe, but what if...? Voldemort could’ve got her…” Snape stared almost pleadingly at Harry. ”Don’t you see? He was furious at me by then... I had disobeyed… What if he wanted to punish me by taking her? He knew part of my interest in her... But in that case he would have let me know later, wouldn’t he, to plague me? But then he was so unpredictable, you could never tell... Maybe he had forgotten about the whole affair by the time I had recovered from my hospitalisation and came back?” Snape turned to look Harry straight into the eyes and his gaze hardened. “How can you stay impassive face to this? How do you know she was not abused by Voldemort? You were not even born!”

Snape approached Harry again and poked him aggressively in the chest. His face was contorted by anguish.

“Get off me, Sir,” stuttered Harry, fighting to compose himself.

“Don’t put yourself above this, Potter!” yelled Snape.

“I’m not putting myself above anything - I’m trying to deal with it rationally!” Harry shouted back.

“Then, how do you know?”

“You let them get at you... You’ve had no reason to doubt until now, then why do you...?”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW?” Snape stared at him wildly.

Harry felt something burst inside him.

“Because she was a whole person!” he whispered with a crackled voice. He fought to find the words to explain. “Because being abused by Voldemort would leave a person broken, body and soul, and she would have had to struggle to heal herself back to health and power, if at all possible. But she was not broken! She had me and she cared for me and loved me for over a year. Do you really think she could have done that if...? She defeated Voldemort with Ancient Magic! She was strong and full of magic and love. I’ve lived on that love for eighteen years. That’s how strong it was! Because no one... no one ever loved me or cared for me after she died... don’t kid yourself... not until Ginny and that’s something else. I know she was a whole person. Don’t try to shake my faith in her, because it won’t work!”

Harry spoke with a crackled, stifled voice that grew stronger with anger as he went along. His green eyes, so like his mother’s, flared at Snape who froze under their intensity. A shadow passed over Snape’s face and he turned to flee out of the room, banging the door after him.

Harry returned too soon to Transfiguration class, before he had had time to compose himself. He was afraid that Professor McGonagall would start to worry if he waited longer. He kept his eyes lowered and regained his seat beside Ron, stiff and slightly trembling during the rest of the lesson, not hearing a word of what Professor McGonagall said.

It took him the greatest part of the day to recover. At first he was determined to skip double potion with Snape at the end of the day. He could not tell his friends in detail what had passed between him and Snape, but eventually he managed to unclench his teeth and poured some of his frustration out. Ron backed him up on every invective he could come up with attributed to Snape, mostly in the genre of “mad dragon” and “delirious bat”. Ginny comforted him with hugs and kisses and Hermione with sympathising, although more balanced words than he and Ron spurted out.

“Poor Professor Snape,” she said in a low voice as if to herself. ”To be accused of those horrible things!” Harry heard her and stared at her.

“Yeah, I know...” he said finally. “I just wish he wouldn’t go after me like that.”

When the double potions class grew nearer, Harry had calmed down enough to abstain from playing the truant. He decided to show Snape that he would not let himself be shattered by slander, doubts or threats and he entered the classroom in the dungeons with as noncommittal an expression as he could master on his face.

Snape did not seem susceptible to notice him, or anybody else for that matter. As the class settled down, he turned a livid face to them and started his lesson in his most drawling, automatic voice. A few minutes into the introduction of the day’s topic, as Snape prepared to make a demonstration at his desk, several pupils started to whisper to each other. It was not as quiet as it used to be in Professor Snape’s classes. Harry looked at Hermione who pulled a fearful face, shrunk in her chair and shook her head. It took longer than usual for Snape to notice the buzzing as it grew louder. At last, Snape lifted his head and looked at them as if conscious of their presence for the first time. A slight colour rose in his listless face and a sudden flare of anger reached his eyes.

“Silence! You know I don’t tolerate disturbances in my classes!” he snapped. “If anyone wants to communicate something, raise your hand! Everything else can wait until after the lesson!”

The class went dead silent. The air was dense with fear. No one said anything or raised their hand. Harry looked inquiringly at Hermione again, then at Ron, but they only shook their heads at him. Harry frowned and considered the matter for a short while, then made up his mind. He might as well do it, as no one else dared to. He sighed and raised his hand. Ginny tucked at his arm to draw it back down before Snape noticed, but Snape was too quick for her and Harry too determined. Harry rose as Snape approached him with an inquiring, dangerous look on his face.

“Please, Professor, I just wanted to say that the reason we started to whisper was that we recognised this lesson. You already gave it to us last week, Sir. You told us then that we’d move on to complex solvents. You’ve had a lot on your mind, no doubt - we do understand, Professor. I just wanted to spare you the trouble of...”

Harry tried to be as correct and as polite as possible, but could not avoid provoking his teacher’s anger and confusion. A disbelieving Snape drew nearer Harry menacingly, searching his gaze intently and suddenly Harry felt his mind spin off and images started to blur before his eyes.

Harry was suddenly back in the deserted classroom of the morning. Snape roared at him in his memory and he saw himself answer, saw Snape turn and walk away. A desperate cry of anger left his mouth, he slashed his wand in the air after Snape and scores of pointed daggers were launched at the door that Snape closed behind him. With dull thuds the daggers peppered the door.

The Harry in the dungeon classroom observed dimly that his teacher staggered backward a step when this happened in his memory, which told him that Snape saw the same images that he saw and that he was under the influence of Snape’s Legilimency. He fought to push Snape out of his mind and clenched his teeth not to let out any sounds.

The Harry in the classroom earlier in the morning sank down on his knees, face hidden in his hands and shoulders shaken violently by sobs.

Snape did not need to see to what extent his attack in the morning had perturbed him, the Harry of present time thought. As always, he could not push Snape out of his mind - Occlumency seemed forever to be out of his ability to master - but maybe Harry could steer him into another memory? Give him... give him the lesson of last week for example. With a great effort, Harry changed the track of his memories and for a moment his conscience was all blurred. It felt like he might pass out.

The same dungeons they were in now appeared in his memory, with students just slightly differently positioned and the Snape of a week ago moving about at the front, rigging up his cauldron, presenting a whole moonstone to the class before he put it into the cauldron...

At this moment the real Snape pulled away from Harry’s mind and Harry was back in the dungeons in the present. He let out a small gasp. At his side, Ginny stared at him, appalled. He looked as if he might faint any moment.

“You may sit down, Potter,” he heard Snape say, sounding far away, and Harry slid down on his chair. Snape returned to his desk and lent over it heavily with a confused look on his face. “I apologise,” said Snape stiffly and gestured vaguely at the whole class, but his eyes were directed at Harry who, however, was staring down in front of him. “We should indeed move on to solvents. I did not... prepare for this... We’ll have to improvise... Never mind... Here you go... We’re going to prepare this draught... Please pay attention to get all the steps right...”

A recipe appeared at the blackboard and the students started to move about, picking out ingredients from their personal storages or from the cupboard at the front. Although he still felt a bit nauseous, Harry had recovered sufficiently from the Legilimency to set about the potion-making, as he did not want to draw more attention to himself. It felt good to be doing something, to fasten your thoughts on a task.

Snape let them work without interruption for a long while. He stayed seated behind his desk, staring in the air in front of him. It was a long and complicated recipe of fifty-five steps and the students began to wonder whether they were going to be able to accomplish it before the end of the lesson. Suddenly Snape stirred at the front.

“Aren’t you finished soon?” he asked, frowning at the class. Surprise and confusion must have shown on their faces, because Snape rose and shook his head. “Did I forget to tell you to stop at point twenty-three?” he asked grimly.

A few students nodded apprehensively.

“But, by Merlin’s hat, didn’t you notice that it’s impossible to go on after the twenty-third step? This is a two day recipe. We were supposed to continue tomorrow after today’s discussion on solvents. That was the topic of today, all the same! I did tell you that after my little blunder. Anyone who stopped at point twenty-three?”

Snape moved between the desks, looking into the cauldrons, more and more dissatisfied.

“Miss Granger? No... not even you...”

Snape stopped in front of Harry.

“Mr Potter, what are you doing with five cauldrons on your desk?” he exclaimed.

Harry who had hoped that Snape would have the sense to move past him and leave him be, clenched his teeth.

“Hm, excellent...” Snape muttered as he examined the content of the cauldrons. “Come over here,” he gestured for the other students to gather around Harry and his five pots. “Explain to us, Mr Potter, please,” said Snape. He seemed recovered from his apathy for the moment being, acutely focused on the potion. Harry cleared his throat. He kept his eyes carefully averted from Snape’s as he spoke. 

“When I added the resin at point twenty-three, I could feel that even if it melted down nicely, it did not blend magically with the rest of the potion and I thought that it would probably take some time for it to link to the other ingredients. It would probably have to simmer under fire until tomorrow to react properly. But as it did not say so in the recipe, I felt a bit unsure. So that’s why I split the Potion in five parts to test out different alternatives.”

“Very good,” Snape pressed on. “Pay attention, you others. This is the true spirit of an experimenter. What did you do to the different cauldrons, Potter?” Harry swallowed. He did not like the attention, although he felt slightly flattered by what Snape said.

“Well, with the first one, I just went on as the recipe said. I don’t think the potion will work - it’s spoiled because the atomised eagle feathers will have glued up with the resin and I cannot think of any way to reverse that without damaging the magical balance of the potion.”

Snape Evanesced the potion with a wave of his wand, showing that Harry’s assumption was correct.

“In the second one I added some stalactite salt, as I know it has worked as a solvent before together with resin, but I’m not entirely satisfied - even if it did help a bit. I did not feel a complete reaction and it might be so that the grounded pumpkin seeds bind the salt or the thistle juice, added at point eleven, does. I was going to look that up,” said Harry.

“Thistle juice cherishes stalactite salt. It’s like pouring water on a sponge, it will neutralise amazing amounts,” corroborated Snape.

“Well, I realised it was fruitless and I did not want to use up the entire stock, so I gave up on that one,” said Harry.

Snape made the cauldron disappear.

“In cauldron number three, I added two dried leaves of Planta Reducta which also might serve as a solvent in potion-making. I think it could have worked if you hadn’t put so much octopus ink in the potion at point nineteen... But it’s too late to change that, right?” Harry made a questioning gesture.

 The potion went away.

“Well, the potions in the remaining two cauldrons are stopped at point twenty-three. I put some extra heat under one of the cauldrons to see if I could make the dissolving process go quicker, but I suspect that the atomised eagle feather will lose its power. I was going to check on its heat sustainability,” said Harry.

“Very low,” answered Snape and made the forth cauldron disappear as well.

“Well, the remaining one is just stopped at point twenty-three. I have put on a gentle heating and a clockwise stirring. That one should be okay by tomorrow.”

“It should indeed,” said Snape. “I will Augment it and distribute your potion to everyone and we’ll be able to continue with the second half of the recipe tomorrow. Potter, you have saved this lesson!”

Harry could not tell if Snape’s words constituted praise or irony, so he kept his face impassive. Contrary to his apathy before, Snape looked feverish and agitated.

“I’ll use the remaining time of the lesson to go through the twenty most used methods for facilitating the dissolving of complex potions. You’re already familiar with the simple ones since OWL level. I want you to write me a scroll where you deepen your knowledge of five of these methods; 200 inches should be enough. Potter here has already covered a great part. Maybe he’d better take my place to run this class...”

Some students laughed at Snape’s joke, eager to play along since the professor suddenly seemed to be in a good mood.

“You’ll want to work on a little more elegant phrasing, though, when you write your essays,” continued Snape with rising spirits. “Potter might have the deduction abilities of a great rising star of potion inventions, but he still has some work to do when it comes to coining words. Not apt for entering the journalist program, Potter, you’re not...  I’d dissuade you... But, on the other hand, who’d like to end up in that snakes’ nest?”

More laughter, but Harry looked perplexed at Snape without smiling. He got the impression that Snape actually appreciated his work with the potion, but why on earth could the man never give some straight praise? Why did it have to be mixed with irony? If he wanted to rail at the journalists, fine, it would do Snape good, but why did it need to be at Harry’s expense? Why the constant nagging about how he expressed himself? Harry must have shown his annoyance because Snape suddenly snorted and became serious again. He returned to the front and during the rest of the class he sunk back into the sombre temper he had started in. 

“Did Snape Legilimency you at the beginning of class?” asked Ron on their way from the dungeons to the Great Hall for supper.

“Er...yes,” Harry answered distractedly.

“How rude! Just because you pointed out his mistake. He has really lost his grip on things,” exclaimed Ron. They had reached the Entrance Hall and Harry stopped. He wasn’t hungry.

“I need some air,” he muttered to his friends and turned abruptly to walk out of the hall.

Harry strode slowly along the edge of the precipice and looked out over the desolate landscape. Even if it did not rain, the air was so full of moist that it soaked through the clothes. Harry drew a deep breath. At least it was clean and refreshing. He started to run at a slow speed toward the Forbidden Forest, accelerated when he approached the boarder and brought out his wand. He launched in between the trees, taking turns to run and to glide with breakneck speed and ravaged the forest until he nearly collapsed from exhaustion. He was far away from the castle, in the middle of nowhere. One of the Kangabbit babies, that had grown considerably the last few months to almost full size, showed up at a distance and seemed eager for him to follow it. Harry thought it might show him the way back and pursued it at a more reasonable pace. It took some time, but he reemerged eventually, not far from Hagrid’s cottage.

Harry was so absorbed by his own thoughts that he did not notice the small group of people walking out of the castle in his direction, until they were only fifteen yards away.

“Good evening, Potter,” the hearty voice of Mrs Steadfast called out. Harry startled, lifted his head and realised that the head of the Aurors, together with Professor Snape and Soundy at her sides, were heading toward the gates.

“Good evening, Ma'am,“ Harry muttered and avoided to slow down with the intention of passing them without further interaction, but Mrs Steadfast stopped dead.

“Potter, you look awful!” she said, shifting to her voice of steal.

“Had an awful day,” muttered Harry in response, still averting his eyes and walking on. He suspected his face might be covered in scratches where branches had hit him during his race.

“Do I have to point out to you, Potter, that the Forest is forbidden area for students?” Mrs Steadfast said sternly, arresting him with a gesture of her hand.

“Only moving in the outskirts. Needed some air,” Harry cut shortly, still hoping she would let him off.

The choppier he was, the more anxious she seemed to stick to the conversation, however, and she led her small group a few steps forwards to intercept him. Harry came to a halt in front of them with a sigh and nodded at Soundy, but avoided eye contact with Professor Snape.

“Are you two no longer on greeting terms?” Mrs Steadfast said bluntly with irritation in her voice, looking from Snape to Harry. “Surely you know better than to believe what they write about him in the papers, Mr Potter!” A short silence followed after which Harry spoke.

“I greeted him this morning, but he did not exactly appreciate it... Then he Legilimencied me in class and I, in turn, did not particularly appreciate that... So if you’d just stop preventing me from avoiding him, we’ll be fine, Mrs Steadfast!” Harry cringed inwardly at how rude he sounded, but, really, he only wanted to be left alone. Mr Soundy suppressed a smile, but Mrs Steadfast did not even seem to notice Harry’s impoliteness as she swung to Snape.

“You Legilimencied Potter, how’s that? It’s an extreme measure, belonging to an interrogation booth at the department, or in Azkaban, and not to a classroom. Not that it’s illegal, but it certainly would be considered bad morals, Professor! You need to take care!”

Before Snape could open his mouth to reply, Mrs Steadfast started and took out her necklace watch. Her eyes widened.

“That’s it!” she exclaimed. ”They’ve checked it out. Seems we’ve got the real thing this time! We need to go straight away.”

Harry frowned inquiringly, but no one took notice of him any longer as Mrs Steadfast explained something in a whispering tone to Snape. Harry shrugged with ill humour and started to walk back to the castle.