"Harry. Hey, HARRY!"

Harry, eyes shut against the sunshine, grunts in response.

"You awake?" Ron calls from the shores of the lake. "Look!"

Harry reluctantly rolls onto his side and squints sleepily at his friend. Ron waves at him with one hand, the other scratching one of the Great Squid's tentacles with a pointed stick. The animal, as if on cue, tosses its big squishy head in delight, almost exactly like a cat enjoying a good petting.

"Smashing, Ronald," Hermione says dryly. "Now can we please start revising? We've been out here an hour already."

Ron ignores her. Harry does, too, and instead nestles his book bag underneath him for a pillow.

Hermione rolls her eyes, but doesn't seem too bothered. It really is such a beautiful day. A few minutes more of doing nothing won't hurt.

"So," she says, turning her attention to Harry while Ron continues to tease the squid. "Are things alright now between you and Snape?"

Harry considers. "Yeah, I think we patched things up."

"Good."

"Something Snape said though...it made me think about the Dursleys."

"How so?"

Harry casts a Silencing charm. Without preamble, he launches into the explanation that has been simmering within him since last night. "I've always thought that my aunt was a bit worse than my uncle. Uncle Vernon was plenty dangerous, but he wasn't clever. She knew how to play mind games. You see what I mean?"

"I think so."

"I guess I'm just wondering what made her so horrid. I mean, was she born that way? Or did something make her go rotten?"

"That's an excellent question," Hermione says grimly. She picks up a blade of grass and tears it in two. She'd like to do the same to Harry's aunt.

"I've just been thinking about it. What makes people do awful things?"

"I think you have to assume there is more to the story. There must be something we don't know about Petunia that made her be so beastly to a child."

"But then I think about the people who were kind to me," Harry muses. "And I don't know why they went out of their way to be nice to me, either. Did you know that Mrs. Figg once gave me a stuffed owl? I've never forgotten that."

"People always have choices," Hermione says softly. "For good or for evil."

"I don't understand why more people don't tend towards good," Harry grumbles.

"I think they do," Hermione says earnestly. "Oh, Harry, they do!"

Harry raises an eyebrow, a little surprised at the passion in her voice. But before he can reply, one that tends toward evil waddles toward them, a determined expression in her puffy face.

“You ignored me last night!” Umbridge snaps, abruptly halting before them. Unbeknownst to her, a large black shadow also comes to a stop a few paces away. The shadow starts scolding a sleepy-looking Slytherin, but his ears are trained elsewhere.

"I specifically told you to come with me, and you disobeyed." Umbridge glares down at Harry. “And I know you heard me!”

Harry cannot deny this. “Sorry,” he offers, in what he hopes is a polite tone. “I was in a hurry.”

“What have I told you about lying?" Umbridge says coldly. “I’ve been told by the most trusted of sources that you were mooning about on the seventh floor corridor by that tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy!”

Harry freezes. Snape would be within hearing distance, too. “Oh,” he croaks. “I was, um—”

“He was looking for my cat,” Hermione interrupts smoothly. “Crookshanks likes to hide behind tapestries and statues and things. Sorry, Professor, but we were all simply mad to find him before curfew. I’m sure Harry didn’t mean to ignore you.”

Harry nods his head vigorously. “Sorry, Professor. Really. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

To everybody’s surprise, Umbridge appears to buy this. “I’ll let you off this time, Potter, but don’t let it happen again. You know what awaits you.” And then she marches off, all the surrounding students instinctively shrinking away as she passes.

“I forgot she has a thing for cats,” Ron says, tossing away his stick and rejoining his friends. “She’d make a great match for Crookshanks, fat beastly thing.”

“I heard that!” Hermione objects, and they are off and arguing at top speed.

Only now does Harry look up. Snape appears to take this as a cue to finish telling off the second-year, because within seconds he is at Harry’s shoulder.

“Er,” Harry says, by way of greeting. It is very odd to see Snape in the sunlight--but that seems like an observation best kept to himself at the moment.

“Come to my office at 7 tonight.”

Harry nods glumly, supremely unsurprised by this order

***

Harry stands outside the door to Snape's office that evening, feeling more anxious than he would care to admit. There's no help for it, though, so finally he steels himself and knocks on the door.

"Enter."

Harry sidles inside, quietly closing the door behind him. Out of long-engrained habit, he goes to stand before Snape's desk.

"Have a seat."

Harry sits in the wooden chair opposite the desk. His professor ignores him for the moment, choosing instead to ward the doors with some rather forceful Privacy charms. He also casts a terribly powerful Silencing spell. Harry waits, queasily wondering why spells of such force are necessary tonight.

When Snape is finished, he sits behind his desk and surveys Harry with deeply hooded eyes.

Hary squirms in the hard chair. Oh, dear.

"So, Snape says at last. "Care to explain?"

Harry looks up, surprised at Snape's tone. The man doesn't sound particularly angry. Harry relaxes infinitesimally. "Yeah. Okay. Last night, when I was on my way to your office, Umbridge started yelling at me to come help her. She wanted me to sharpen her quills." Harry shudders. "I was pretty far away, so I turned and went in the other direction as fast as I could. She gave up and found someone else to do it. And, I dunno, I found myself outside the Room. But it was an accident, honest."

Snape simply looks at him over his long, hooked nose.

"I know you said that corridor was out-of-bounds. I didn't forget. But once I was there, I had to sort out what I wanted to do next. Go find Dumbledore or go see you. You know what I decided."

Snape continues to say nothing. His long silence begins to unnerve Harry.

"Are you going to punish me?"

"Do you think I should?"

Harry shakes his head with vigor.

"Remind me what I said, Potter, during our last conversation about the Room."

"You said that the consequences would be severe if I went poking after Dumbledore." He hesitates. "But I really didn't go after him, Snape. Not on purpose. And I resisted the temptation to go inside. I haven't really done anything wrong."

"Why did you not mention this last night?"

"I didn't want to get in trouble."

Snape says nothing. The silence stretches on like a rubber band, one yanked to the snapping point.

"Are you angry?"

Snape pins him with his inky black eyes. "Did you think I would be unreasonable when presented with this explanation?"

"Yes. I did."

The bluntness of Harry's response surprises both of them. Snape recovers first. "Potter, I understand your inclination to hide things from me. But don't you find this a bit depressing?"

"It isn't a big deal. Kids hide stuff from adults all the time. I would have done the same thing with McGonagall."

Snape still looks irritated.

"I'm not going to tell you every last little thing that happens to me. You don't really expect that, do you?"

"No. I do not."

"And so you aren't going to punish me?" Harry prompts.

"Your explanation of events satisfies me."

"Super."

Snape cocks his head, clearly revising his expectations for this conversation. "It appears you have overcome yesterday's meekness."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

Snape smirks. Then, as quickly as it came, the grin fades. "Your fortitude--or generosity, I'm not sure which--should no longer surprise me."

Harry studies his professor. Perhaps he can take advantage of this mood, whatever it is. "Can I ask you something?"

"Within reason."

"Have you thought about how we are going to get Dumbledore out of the Room?" Snape stiffens, but Harry rushes ahead before the man interrupts him. "Didn't you feel something when you were in that corridor, Snape? I did. I felt like he was there...just out of reach, but there. I felt him."

"Dumbledore is always out of reach," Snape murmurs.

"Come on," Harry urges, before Snape can retreat into brooding. "Do you have any ideas yet? Because I do."

"What, pray tell?"

"Well, I think we should go down there together. And then I can try to get him out of there."

"And what do you need me for?" Snape asks, too lightly.

"I need you to protect me."

"The Room likes you, Potter."

"Not from the Room." Harry pauses. "Why do you think I didn't go in there before? I didn't want to face him alone."

Snape inclines his head, acknowledging this.

Harry leans forward, pressing his advantage. "Come on, Snape. Humor me this once and I'll shut up about it. If we don't find him in there tonight, I'll drop it. I just...need to make sure he's alright."

"I have no desire to go in there again."

"Me neither. This isn't about what I want."

"You realize, Potter, that we are playing into Dumbledore's hands. He wants us to go down there."

"It won't be like last time. We can arm ourselves first."

"What possible magic could we hope to employ against the headmaster?"

"Are there any potions that make sure someone can't take your magic from you?"

"No."

Harry tries again. "Are there any potions that make sure you can get out of a locked room?"

"Yes," Snape says, quirking his lip. "It's called a portkey."

"Let's take one with us. And don't forget, we can use the Tunnel of Gryffindor to escape."

"You speak as though you assume Dumbledore won't have thought of all this. No, Potter, if we go down there, it is with the knowledge that Dumbledore will have the upper hand."

"But he won't," Harry argues. "It will be two against one."

"Unless he manages to disrupt that as well."

"He doesn't want to," Harry says firmly. "All of this was to get the two of us to work things out, remember?"

"Perhaps."

"Come on," Harry coaxes. "I won't be able to let this rest, Snape."

Snape purses his lips. "You are asking a great deal of me."

"I don't want to go back in there either. But I have to. I need to make sure he's alright. And...I need to decide something."

"What would that be?"

Harry squirms again in the chair. "I need to know if he's a good guy or not. I think I know the answer. But I have to make sure. And I can't do that unless I talk to him."
"A 'good guy'?" Snape mocks. "We are none of us superheroes, Potter."

"Please, Snape," Harry urges, putting all the heart he can behind those two words.

Snape looks at him a long moment, his black eyes pools of emotion. Harry blushes, unaccountably reminded of the gentle way Snape applied the Bruise Salve to his neck last night.

"Alright," Snape says quietly. “We will go to the Room.” He stands up. "Let me prepare a portkey first. And a stiff drink."

***

Too soon, they are standing outside the Room of Requirement. Snape looks at the tapestry with great distaste.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Potter?"

"Yep."

Without further ado, Harry begins to pace back and forth outside the Room. I need to check on Dumbledore. I need to check on Dumbledore. I need to check on Dumbledore.

The second he finishes the third circuit, an arched doorway appears, threaded in gold.

"Well," Snape says dryly. "That was easy."

Harry takes out his wand. "Ready?"

"Once more into the breach." Snape growls. "If we must."

"We must," Harry says firmly. He pushes past Snape into the Room.

And, just as he expected, there is Dumbledore.

And--just as Snape expected, no doubt--the doorway instantly fades away, leaving them sealed inside.

The Room looks uncomfortably familiar--devoid of furniture, devoid of windows. Harry sucks in a breath, already feeling slightly claustrophobic. He focuses on Dumbledore, who is sitting placidly on the floor, his robes pooling around him.

"Gentlemen," Dumbledore says, as thought they had just dropped in for tea. "How good of you to come."

Harry studies Dumbledore. The headmaster looks fine.

Relief mixed with anger is a powerful combination.

Harry takes a step forward. "Why are you in here?"

Dumbledore opens his mouth to answer, but before he can do so, a small vial appears with a loud snap before Harry's nose. Harry, cross-eyed, tries to focus on it, but the little bottle whizzes away and comes to a stop in front of Snape instead.

Snape swiftly sidesteps the bottle, but it tracks him like a puppy, hovering a foot from his nose.

"More games, Albus?" Snape asks, his eyes blank and expression neutral.

"You give me far too much credit, Severus."

Snape, with a practiced shrug, plucks the vial out of the air, unstoppers it, and inhales deeply. "Veritaserum," he announces to the room at large. He looks at Dumbledore with the same shuttered expression. "I am afraid you are mistaken, Headmaster, if you think I am going to play another round. This is a rescue mission only, at Potter's insistence."

As if to underline his point, Snape tips the bottle over, and the liquid splashes harmlessly to the ground. Snape takes a step toward Dumbledore, but his progress is halted by the sudden appearance of not one, but two bottles of Veritaserum, one on either side of his head.

"Potter," Snape says, irritated. "Be so good as to vanish these bottles."

"Why don't you do it, Severus?" Dumbledore asks.

An ugly look flashes across Snape's face. "You know why." But, with a nod too casual to be natural, he casts the spell. "As you wish. Evanesco."

Both bottles immediately disappear.

"Snape," Harry yelps, "Your magic works here!"

Snape says nothing for a long time, twirling his wand between his thumbs.

"Why does his magic work here now?" Harry asks, whirling around to Dumbledore.

Snape cuts in before Dumbledore can answer. "Because this Room has been spelled to take away the magic of the most powerful wizard within. I do not know why I did not see it before."

"Your magic doesn't work here?" Harry demands of Dumbledore. Then he answers his own question. "Yeah, why else would you be sitting on the floor?"

"Well," Snape says, a dark look pooling in his eyes. "This rather changes things."

But -- again -- further conversation is halted by the appearance of more Veritaserum bottles. Five of them, this time, all jostling each other in their quest to invade Snape's personal space.

A crease appears in Snape's brow. He aims his wand at the bottles, muttering something under his breath. Whatever he is doing to the bottles takes a long time. Finally he looks up, addressing himself only to Harry. "The Veritaserum within these bottles cannot be penetrated by hand, Vanished, parted, scooped up or siphoned away, nor Transfigured, Charmed or changed any way. It must be drunk, or the bottles will continue to multiply."

"I'll drink it," Harry volunteers swiftly, putting himself between Dumbledore and Snape. Before the two men can react, he plucks one of the bottles out of the air and uncorks it. Instantly, the liquid vanishes, leaving Harry opening and closing his mouth like a guppy. A dozen more vials pop into existence and zoom around Snape, nestling around his head like a strange halo.

"Weird," Harry says, trying to keep his calm. "Professor Dumbledore, why don't you give it a go."

"If you wish," Dumbledore says, sounding quite relaxed. He gracefully stands, since neither Snape nor Harry make a move to give him a bottle, and takes one for himself. But, as with Harry, the liquid vanishes the second Dumbledore uncorks it. Another dozen bottles appear, circling Snape with frightening speed. It is becoming difficult to see Snape behind them.

"What's going on?" Harry asks, watching the blur of bottles with wide eyes. "Are they just going to keep appearing until we drown in bottles?"

"Of course not," Snape says sharply. "We will depart before it comes to that." He turns toward the stone wall, impatiently batting away the bottles, and aims a Blasting spell at the wall of the Room. The Room shudders but remains intact. But then, almost as if in response to Snape's impertinence, the largest number of bottles yet appear, jostling and clanking loudly in their efforts to get near Snape.

"This is ridiculous," Snape says gruffly. He produces the portkey from a pocket in his robe and activates it with a flick of his wand. "I'm leaving. Whoever wishes to join me, do so now."

"Let's go," Harry says urgently to Dumbledore, his order sounding more like a request. Dumbledore nods, and Harry quickly looks away, reaching toward the old button in Snape's outstretched hand. He's more than a foot away when one of the Veritaserum bottles raps him sharply on the knuckles. Harry withdraws his hand, startled. "Ow!"

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Snape barks. He snatches at a bottle, and instantly all the other ones still. The sudden silence, and the floating layer of bottles, is unnerving.

Snape holds out the portkey in his free hand. Harry again attempts to touch it, and is again whacked on the hand for his efforts.

"Well, go without me," Harry says, nursing his reddened hand. "Bring back help."
"That is not an option," Snape says sharply. "There appears to be only one way to settle this." He uncorks a bottle. The Veritaserum does not disappear.

"Why must I drink you?" Snape demands of the vial, glaring at it as though it were a wayward student.

Harry looks at Dumbledore for an answer. After a moment, so does Snape.

"I have a theory," Dumbledore says slowly. "Only a theory, mind you."

"Are you or are you not controlling this magic?" Snape says impatiently.

Dumbledore shakes his head. "I came in here after an unsettling conversation with Harry. Perhaps the Room sensed my need to atone--because it shut me up and I have not been able to find a way out." He looks around. "It's quite peaceful here."

"I don't believe you," Snape snaps. "You came in here to manipulate the boy's emotions. You knew he would come for you. You knew he would forgive you."

Dumbledore says nothing, but his blue eyes flash with some strong emotion. Anger? Guilt? It's hard to tell.

"What's your theory?" Harry asks quickly, trying to defuse the tangible tension in the Room.

"I believe that the Room is taking care of a bit of unfinished business," Dumbledore says in low, clear voice. "Severus, you did not actually drink the Veritaserum the last time the Room presented it to you. Correct?"

Snape takes a step back, his face whitening. "I threw it down the sink."

"If I am not mistaken," Dumbledore says, folding his arms in front of him, "The Room took offense."

"So Snape pissed the Room off, and now we can’t do anything else until he drinks the Veritaserum?" Harry asks in disbelief. "And none of us can get out? What about the Gryffindor tunnel?"

Snape has a strange look on his face. "I believe the sword must be plunged into a certain trunk in order to create the tunnel. We lack both trunk and sword."

"Accio Sorting Hat!" Harry yells, flinging up his wand.

They wait for a good five minutes, in tense silence.

"Okay," Harry groans. "Anyone else have an idea?"

"I'm going to have to drink the Veritaserum," Snape says flatly.

"But I don't want you to," Harry says, trying to keep his voice firm. "What if you tell me something dangerous, and Voldemort finds it inside my head? Remember?"

"You know how to Occlude now,” Snape says. “And it’s either drink it or stay here.” He smirks. “Who was it who said the truth would set you free?”

This is not particularly comforting.

"Potter, I want you to consider something," Snape says, switching tactics. "What is the real danger of Veritaserum? Is it the potion? Or is it the questioner?"

A light goes off in Harry's head. "I could just ask you dumb questions that don't matter."

"And I trust that you would do so," Snape says quietly. "I cannot say the same, however, for the headmaster."

Two dark heads swivel to look at Dumbledore.

"Have I dropped so low in your estimation?" Dumbledore demands. For the first time since Harry has met him, the headmaster looks distinctly annoyed. "Judge not lest you be judged, gentlemen."

Harry angrily opens his mouth, ready to give Dumbledore a piece of his mind. But something else entirely tumbles out of his mouth. "I'm sorry I burned Adriana's picture."

"Don't apologize," Snape says sharply.

"I--I didn't mean to," Harry gasps, casting a guilty look at Snape. "It just came out."

"There is nothing to forgive," Dumbledore interjects. "It was just a photograph, Harry. And you were angry. With good reason."

"It wasn't just a picture," Harry insists, deciding to ignore Snape's expression of betrayal. "I saw the look in your eyes. You looked like I'd torn you in two."

"I haven't been whole in a long time," Dumbledore says softly. "You've done more to patch me back together than anyone else."

Harry holds up a hand, uncomfortable. "Don't. Please. I'm still angry. I still don't trust you. But I'm not going to hurt you again."

"I had my reasons," Dumbledore says earnestly. "They seemed like good reasons. What would you have done in my shoes, Harry? If you had killed your little sister, would you have taken in another child?"

"I thought that by hurting you I'd feel better about what you did to me," Harry says shakily, trying to sort it out. "But I was wrong. Pain plus pain just equals more pain. I don't think you get that. You were scared about what happened to Adriana. I understand fear, Professor. But when you got a chance to redeem yourself--with me--you let fear answer for you again. You didn't change. You just stayed...stuck." Harry looks at Snape. "Both of you did."

Snape darts a quick, uncomfortable look at Dumbledore. Then he deliberately turns his attention back to Harry. "And what about yourself, Potter? You were scared of the Dursleys hitting you. You were scared of me hitting you. Are you not 'stuck', too?"

"It's not the same," Harry says, feeling muddled. "I don't know why, but it isn't."

Snape raises an eyebrow. Then the shuttered expression returns. "Let us return to the matter at hand. Albus, I am going to request that you let the boy handle the questioning. That was how it was meant to happen the first time around. Potter, if Dumbledore tries something, you have my permission to use your wand to protect yourself. Or to protect me."

And then Snape drinks the Veritaserum. A look of infinite relief crosses his face. Then he slumps to the floor.

As if on cue, the rest of the bottles disappear with a loud pop.

"I can't believe he took it," Harry says, shocked.

"And I can't believe I'm about to do this," Dumbledore murmurs. "Forgive me, Harry." Then he pulls his wand out of his pocket and aims a Body-Binding Hex at Harry. Harry's arms snap to his side, and he crashes backwards into the wall. Unable to move or vocalize, he glares furiously at the headmaster. What the hell?

"You'll notice," Dumbledore says, a strange glint in his eye, "that I did not actually agree with Professor Snape's hypothesis about the magic in the Room. I'm sorry, Harry. But I need to ask Severus some questions. And I did not want to put you in the position of deciding whether to hex me."

And then Dumbledore crouches down by Snape, his attention entirely on the half-conscious man at his feet.

"At last, my boy," Dumbledore says softly, his voice almost a croon. "We are going to fix this."