Severus Snape slipped into a shadowed niche, casting a quick Disillusionment Charm upon himself for good measure. The footsteps continued to approach without pause. Good. He hadn’t been spotted. Wand at the ready, he prepared to confront…
…nothing.
The footsteps had stopped.
Snape held his breath, waiting.
-:- -:- -:- -:- -:-
Harry Potter struggled to retie his trainer beneath the slippery folds of the invisibility cloak. The fabric insisted on sliding this way and that whenever he let go of it. He grunted impatiently, dropping his shoelace yet again to reposition the cloak over his back. You’d think it WOULD stay in place… Cautiously, he reached once more for the shoelace.
It was imperative that he stay completely concealed; he’d left Gryffindor tower in a huff … okay, in ANGER … and he’d not thought to bring the Marauders Map with him. At least he’d had his cloak folded in his pocket—a good thing, given it was after curfew. Filch was undoubtedly about. Why HADN’T he brought the Map?
-:- -:- -:- -:- -:-
Snape’s sharp ear caught the footsteps as they started up again. Closer and closer they came. A few more paces and the culprit would appear around the corner of the cross corridor.
Except … he didn’t. Appear, that is. The sound of footsteps kept rhythmically padding along the worn stones.
Potter!
And that abominable cloak!
The footsteps passed Snape’s position without hesitation, continuing along the seventh floor corridor.
Squelching his initial impulse to nail Potter on the spot, Snape decided to track they boy to see what he was up to. He’d arrived from the direction of Gryffindor Tower, so he must be headed TOWARD trouble, rather than returning from it. Silently, Snape used his formidable spying stealth to tail Potter from shadow to shadow between the torches flickering at well-spaced intervals along the stone walls. His Disillusioned form, barely perceptible in the best of light, would have been virtually invisible, had the student cast a glance over his shoulder.
The Potions Master followed the recalcitrant Fifth Year until the footsteps paused in the middle of the corridor. Frowning, Snape could see nothing of interest that would have caused Potter to stop. Unless the foolish child was looking at the ridiculous tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy vainly attempting to teach ballet to trolls. Merlin’s hangnails—that WOULD catch Potter’s attention!
But the footsteps resumed and Snape made to follow Potter once again—EXCEPT, the footsteps suddenly turned back on themselves, heading straight for Snape.
-:- -:- -:- -:- -:-
Harry just HAD to get away.
Get away from it all.
Get away from EVERYTHING.
Fifth Year had felt desperate from the beginning, what with the Dementors, the hearing before the Wizengamot, Dumbledore’s constantly avoiding him, Umbridge’s torturing him with that unspeakable quill, Hagrid’s ongoing absence, Sirius’ forced exile at Grimmauld Place, Hermione’s constant harping about how Harry needed to report Umbridge. Even Ron was getting on his nerves, always bickering with Hermione.
Harry just needed to get AWAY.
Just for a bit.
Someplace WARM, for winter was already hard upon the castle. Someplace where he could stop shivering from the frigid breeze that channeled incessantly through the ancient stone corridors. Someplace where he could let down his constant guard and simply RELAX, even if only for an hour. A tropical island would do nicely—a tropical paradise was just the ticket! It was still two weeks before Christmas; he wasn’t going to make it without a break.
Like RIGHT NOW.
Thus, Harry found himself pacing up and down before the wall outside the Room of Requirement. He’d never used the Room for his own private retreat until now; always before, he’d called the Room into being strictly for the use of Dumbledore’s Army in practicing Defense Against the Dark Arts. But the idea had occurred to him during the middle of one of Hermione’s interminable lectures—why NOT use it for a quick personal getaway? Do something radically out of the ordinary. Do something totally extraordinary for himself. Indulge in a whimsical adventure of some sort. Seriously, what harm could it do?
One tropical island paradise coming up.
I need a place where I can be warm, I need a place where I can be warm, I need a place where I can be WARM…
-:- -:- -:- -:- -:-
And the footsteps receded, heading away from Snape.
And then they returned?
Why the indecision? Had the boy detected his presence after all?
Or—was he PACING?
Snape shook his head. What would cause Potter to leave Gryffindor Tower after curfew, just to PACE?
And then, right before his eyes, Snape saw a door appear in the stone wall opposite the tapestry. A door which had NEVER been there before, not in all of Snape’s years at Hogwarts.
What the—?
But as the heavy door slowly opened inwards, Snape knew that not only had Potter somehow MADE the door appear, he was now going THROUGH it. To … wherever.
Stifling a curse, Snape leapt forward and sprang through the opening just as the door began to close.
He collided with someone unseen, barely keeping his own feet as he heard the other person fall heavily to the jungle floor.
Jungle?
Snape stared, not even feeling his jaw drop.
He was standing in a JUNGLE!
The door thudded shut behind Snape , as Potter struggled out of the tangled folds of his cloak, scrambling hastily to his feet, wand in hand.
Harry spun once, twice, his eyes darting in to the dancing shadows amidst, beneath, and between huge green leaves alternately dappled by sunlight and shade. What the heck had hit him? Something HUGE. And heavy. An animal? Where had it gone? If it wasn’t at ground level… Harry’s eyes and wand focused upwards into the overhanging limbs and branches of the tropical jungle canopy. A quick flash of brilliant color, accompanied by birdsong, indicated that the Room had, in fact, provided fauna as well as flora. But where was the Creature? What if it was crouching, ready to POUNCE? To tear him limb from limb…
Snape smirked in silent satisfaction, watching Potter’s trepidation. Easy enough to follow the boy’s train of thought. Obviously, he assumed that a jungle creature of some sort, preferably with large fangs and claws, had jumped him the very moment he’d entered the mysterious room. Snape’s own Disillusionment kept him adequately concealed in the endlessly-moving realm of sunlight and shadows amongst the gigantic fronds and leaves which surrounded him in a damp green and brown camouflage. Potter would never see him unless Snape himself allowed it. For the time being, he was interested in seeing how the situation played out.
Unable to spot any visible threat overhead, Harry finally squatted down, wand still at the ready, to retrieve his cloak, which was lying beneath a blooming red … hibiscus? Aunt Petunia would certainly be able to identify it, but floral identification was the least of Harry’s concerns at the moment. Once he’d jammed the folds of the invisibility cloak securely into his trouser pocket, he turned slowly to take stock of his surroundings. It certainly WAS a jungle, but what about the tropical island?
He’d wanted an island, with sun and sea, and maybe a BIT of greenery … but THIS? Was this jungle ON an island? If he walked down that inviting path just there through the swaying emerald fronds, would he reach a sandy beach? And where WAS that THING? Would it attack him again? Maybe he should just leave the Room of Requirement? Try again later? Concentrate harder on the beach? The door was still visible just beyond that cluster of bou—bougain—whatever blossoms…
As Potter took a tentative step toward the door, Snape quickly raised his Disillusioned wand to his throat to amplify his low, warning growl. Potter stumbled frantically backwards, his wand flittering from right to left, right, left, overhead…
Snape smirked. This could be FUN. Not to mention, teach the insufferable brat a lesson about breaking curfew. Yes, he’d play the game for a while longer.
Harry retreated toward the overhung path that he’d spotted earlier. He walked sideways, his wand pointed back toward the door, toward the origin of that horrible growl, while his head swiveled forwards to scan for danger ahead. The Room was only so big, right? Even with magical enlargements, there would be limits, right? If he could just CIRCLE the perimeter of the Room, maybe he could slip past the Creature to get to the door, because wouldn’t the Creature most likely FOLLOW him? Surely it didn’t GUARD the door to the corridor—that had NEVER been part of his imagining! Of course, neither had this jungle. He’d just wanted to be someplace warm…
Well, that part was spot on: the jungle was stiflingly warm, just short of HOT. But the heat was the least of Harry’s problems. The HUMIDITY was BRUTAL! Thick, damp air that clogged in his nostrils, causing him to take gasping breaths through his open mouth. Sweat already dripped from his face, and sweat slicked his grip on his holly wand. Even his glasses lenses were beginning to fog at the inner edges near his nose. MERLIN, he was HOT! Now his clothes had begun to stick to his body in oddly uncomfortable spots. He pulled at his shirt under his jumper, then realized he might as well just take off the knitted wool layer. Trying to keep his wand trained toward the direction of the door, he managed to slowly peel off Mrs. Weasley’s Fourth Year Christmas gift. Disgusted to see his shirt soaked through with sweat, Harry unbuttoned and removed it, too, his arms sticking wetly in the turned-out sleeves as he tugged his hands past the sodden cuffs. Ugh!
Snape watched with a combination of amusement and disgust as Potter began stripping. Hadn’t the useless brat learned ANYTHING in Fourth Year Charms? A simple Cooling Charm, like the one Snape had quickly applied to his own person, would have kept Potter cool and dry for a while. A more powerful variation of the Charm could cool an entire room, although that skill was not taught until N.E.W.T. level.
Oh, Merlin. That he should live to see this.
Potter, stripped down to his boxers.
In a jungle.
In a castle.
In the north of Scotland.
In the dead of winter.
You’d seriously believe that Potter had never even HEARD of magic! Even that utterly worthless Wormtail could have managed better…
Having bundled his sundry vestments into a roll tucked beneath his left arm, Harry pressed on through the dancing emerald foliage. Some of the leaves he had to shove aside were even bigger than he was, and their edges rasped roughly against his sweaty skin. He eyed one humongous leathery leaf speculatively—if he got that one out onto a snowy Hogwarts hillside, it could make a decent toboggan. Of course, the Room might not let him take out anything that the Room itself had provided…
Something plopped onto his bare shoulder.
Harry turned his head toward the soft weight and—
“AAAAAAGGGGHHHHH!”
A five-inch tarantula sat two inches away from his nose.
“AAAAAAGGGGHHHHH!”
He ducked and jerked, trying to dislodge the horrifying arachnid, finally thinking to flip it off with his wand. Without a backward glance, he pelted down the path, imagining an entire FAMILY of tarantulas pursuing him.
Snape smiled in delight, chuckling low in his throat as he Vanished the conjured hairy terror. Oh, yes! This was FUN!
Harry burst into open air, still feeling the phantom weight of the tarantula clasping his naked shoulder. Ugh!
Sudden shock caused him to skid to a halt.
MER.
LIN’S.
BEARD!!!
He stared, utterly unable to believe his eyes.
Far below him, beneath his precarious cliffside perch, a garland of sand and seafoam curved away into the distance. Before him, the deeply brilliant blue of a tropical ocean stretched to the horizon. A few seagulls wheeled low over the surf, and Harry swore he could see half a dozen DOLPHINS popping along beyond a pale reef, silvery splashes denoting their passage through the azure sea.
“Whoa!”
The OCEAN!
The BEACH!
Whether or not this was an actual island became irrelevant. The Room had given him sand and surf! Now—if only he could find a safe way down to the beach…
And there it was: a stony path suddenly appeared, meandering down the side of the tall cliff face.
Grinning with excitement, Harry carefully began navigating the path, each step bringing him closer and closer to his getaway goal. Oh, to relax on a tropical beach, to swim in the frothy surf, to be one with the gulls and dolphins! He’d have to come back here sometime, bringing Ron and Hermione, but this first time was his and his alone! Almost there!
-:- -:- -:- -:- -:-
Back in the jungle, Snape stared in consternation at the bloodied leaf. Potter’s blood. It had to be. The idiot boy had gone barreling through the undergrowth with his bare skin exposed, and the sharp-edged leaf had ripped a cut into his flesh. Lovely. As if Potter alone didn’t pose sufficient hardship for him to contend with, now he had an injured Potter. On top of this ridiculous JUNGLE.
He really would have to have a word with Dumbledore about this “room”—what in Merlin’s name was the old fool playing at, providing a jungle room to entice someone of Potter’s trouble-prone nature? Although, to Dumbledore’s way of thinking, this jungle room—full of steaming greenery, flittering tropical birds, slithering reptiles, and gigantic rain-beaded spiderwebs—probably constituted a mere conservatory. Snape snorted derisively. He supposed he should be thankful that Potter hadn’t brought his little friends along on this absurd jungle jaunt.
Deeper and deeper into the oppressive jungle he pushed, his surroundings steaming like a green cauldron over high flame, cursing Potter and Dumbledore alternately. And himself.
Oh, yes! He’d just HAD to leap through that door, hadn’t he? It had been Filch’s night to patrol the seventh floor, but Snape had taken over the duty when Filch came down with toothache. And, of COURSE, Madam Pomfrey had the night off, so Filch couldn’t have the toothache tended to until tomorrow morning. Imagine Argus Filch pursuing Potter through that door. Imagine Filch caught in the steamy heat of this infernal jungle. His motley feline companion would absolutely MOLT in this climate.
Snape sneered at the sight of more bloodstained leaves. Potter, when I get my hands on you…! Leaf cuts will be the LEAST of your problems, you miserable Gryffindor. He growled for real when his Disillusioned robes caught on some sort of rough vegetation. Impatiently, he yanked them loose and pushed onwards, ducking the sinuously-twining body of some sort of tropical snake danging from a low branch.
WHERE had Potter gone?
The bloody leaves did not speak. They simply painted a silent crimson trail. Obviously, Potter had received multiple leaf cuts.
Gasping in the thick air, Snape stalked furiously through the sweltering jungle, his robes straggling in the undergrowth. He couldn’t have billowed if he’d tried.
Potter…
And suddenly, pushing past several huge obscuring leaves, Snape broke through into open air.
MER.
LIN’S.
BEARD!!!
Snape gawked in disbelief…
DUMBLEDORE!
What have you DONE??!
The OCEAN?
A BEACH?
How was this POSSIBLE?
But there—WAY down on the beach—was Potter.
Running abandonedly across the shining sand, windmilling his arms to scatter—GULLS? GULLS! Circling over Potter’s empty head—Snape could only hope one of the birds would defecate on Potter’s messy black hair…
And now Potter was dashing into the surf, being knocked down by a foaming breaker and tumbled light-heartedly back to shore. Undaunted, the idiot boy charged back into the water… Didn’t he know better than to swim alone? ANYTHING could happen…
And “ANYTHING” arrived, out beyond a pale reef: a black fin cutting determinedly through the undulating azure sea.
All those leaf cuts…
Surely, Potter hadn’t run BLEEDING into the sea…
But of course he had.
He was Potter, after all.
“POTTER!”
-:- -:- -:- -:- -:-
The salt water stung slightly when it washed over the cuts on his torso, arms, and neck, but Harry relished the COOL of the foaming water after the suffocating heat of the jungle. Oh, this felt delicious! The fresh sea breeze atop the cliff had offered some relief, but the ocean—what BLISS! Swimming without gillyweed through the surf was trickier than he’d expected—he’d already gotten several slapping facefuls of water—but this whole experience was so worth it! And after he’d swum for a while, he intended to stretch out on the beach and snooze in the sun. Just like a real holiday. The kind that the Dursleys always took, leaving him behind with Mrs. Figg. And her cats.
Harry laughed aloud, choking slightly as another wave hit him in the face. “No cats on this beach!” he shouted. “MY beach! No cats on MY beach!”
He frolicked in the foam, tasting the salt on his lips. What a GLORIOUS day! And then he remembered—it was actually the middle of the night in the castle.
“I love magic!”
A whisper of sound, faintly from shore … “—ter…”
Huh? Was that someone calling?
Harry squinted toward the beach. Without his glasses, which he’d tucked safely into his shoe, he could make out the bright strip of beach with the darker cliff beyond, topped by jungle greenery. But nothing resembling another human was visible. Harry shrugged, turned, and dove under the next wave.
-:- -:- -:- -:- -:-
Damn, damn, DAMN!
Snape couldn’t believe his eyes. The insolent brat had looked right at him then deliberately defied him by swimming farther out.
The breeze whipped his robes around him…
His DISILLUSIONED robes!
Quickly, he Finited the Charm and shouted again.
“POTTER!”
Harry’s head whirled around. Although quite faint over the rushing and pounding of the surf, it truly sounded like someone calling his name. He squinted again at the beach. Nothing. But some instinct drew his gaze to the bare top of the cliff above, where he had first emerged from the jungle… Something small and dark? Something—billowing in the breeze? It couldn’t POSSIBLY be—“
Snape pressed his wand to his throat to initiate Sonorus.
“POTTER! SHARK! SHARK!” He flung his ebony-robed arm seaward, pointing…
Harry swallowed half the ocean when he went under.
Snape swore violently—one moment the boy was bobbing about in the surf; the next, his head disappeared abruptly, leaving a vast expanse of empty azure, devoid of visible life, save the dark fin gliding just beyond the reef.
Distance matters in magic, and Snape knew he was too far away to do anything. He began descending the cliff path as fast as he could, his boots slipping and stumbling over loose stones.
Harry bobbed to the surface, the last few years of his life having passed before his eyes. As he choked and spluttered and gasped for breath, one idea kept spinning round and round in his mind—Snape HATED him.
So why would Snape be WARNING him about a shark?
Harry turned in the water, squinting along the horizon, trying to verify the shark sighting. What if it was just a sick joke? What if Snape WANTED him to panic and rush for shore, only to laugh at Harry and ridicule him for being a coward? This was the Room of Requirement—Harry’s fantasy getaway—how could there even BE a shark…? And he WAS breaking curfew, after all…
Snape paused just long enough to spot Harry’s head, a black dot amidst the white foam of the breakers. And beyond—the fin—the SHARK—was crossing the reef, its body a dark shadow over the pale coral…
“POTTER! SWIM! SWIM!” He was still too far away from the boy…
Snape’s amplified voice held a note of desperation, Harry noticed, but perhaps the greasy git was an accomplished actor?
And then Harry’s blood ran cold—this was the Room of Requirement—all he had to do was THINK of something, and the Room PROVIDED it… And right before he had dashed into the surf, he remembered thinking about his bloody cuts attracting sharks, except he’d dismissed the possibility because, of course, he hadn’t ASKED the Room for sharks…
“POTTER!!!”
SHIT!!!
Harry plunged shoreward, his arms chopping through the water in a rough, panicky crawl.
Snape’s descent felt almost surrealistically slow. The cliff was too TALL. The beach was too far AWAY. Ultimately, they were still in Hogwarts, so he couldn’t Apparate down to the beach. MERLIN help him! Help them BOTH!
As Harry neared the beach, a wave taller than the rest broke over him, smashing him to the floor of the ocean, rolling over him with all of its suffocatingly-crushing weight, dragging and tumbling him over and over upon the sand of the shallows. All he could do was keep his eyes squeezed shut, his breath held tightly in his lungs, tumbling, dragging, tumbling, waiting for the wave to recede, waiting, waiting, would it EVER roll back into the deep, he was going to DIE, his breath running short, his heart pounding painfully from lack of oxygen, and suddenly the weight of the water lifted, and Harry felt the miracle of cool air against his sand-burned skin as he gulped life deeply into his lungs.
His eyes full of sand, he couldn’t see. His ears full of sand, he couldn’t hear. But he was finally on his feet, staggering unevenly in his disorientation, water lapping around his lower legs. Just walk up to the beach, just walk uphill to safety…
Snape paused again, just in time to see Potter stagger drunkenly downhill away from the beach, walking smack into the face of another oncoming wave, dashed out of view by the rolling breaker.
The fin was making a beeline for shore…
Snape was barely halfway down the cliff path.
“The beach! I need to be on the BEACH!” he shouted hopelessly.
And suddenly, he WAS—wet sand firm beneath his boot soles. No time to question it, he aimed his wand toward the surf…
Harry couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t bloody BELIEVE it. He’d’ve SWORN he’d been climbing out of the water toward the beach … and now he was being tumbled around on the bottom of the ocean … AGAIN! He didn’t even have a full lungful of air this time…
And if there really was a shark…
As his lungs burned unbearably, the influx of water rolled down from the beach, trying to suck him out to sea. Harry fought the reverse flow, digging his fingers into the sand, pulling himself onto his hands and knees. His head broke the surface and he gasped once more for air…
Snape spotted Potter’s sodden mass of black hair as white foam roiled around the boy’s shoulders. Most shark attacks take place in less than three feet of water, and the fin was almost upon him…
“ACCIO POTTER!”
Harry felt himself abruptly YANKED from the water, barely registering his brief flight through the air before his body slammed into someone, then dropped to damp sand.
The beach.
He was safe. SAFE!
Harry lay gasping on the sand like a landed fish.
He couldn’t see or hear anything, but he was safe. And Snape?
The Potions Master allowed Potter to recover, lying flat on the beach, but when the boy attempted to wipe grains of sand from between his clenched eyelids, the man hoisted him into a sitting position and used a gentle Aguamenti to wash the sand away to prevent Potter from accidentally damaging his eyes.
Slowly, slowly, the sand stopped gritting against Harry’s eyes. He turned his head to squint blearily up at Snape, the man’s swinging dark hair framed by the sunlit sky above the cliff.
“Thanks,” Harry whispered. He saw Snape’s lips move, the frown evident upon his face, but he could hear nothing.
“Sorry, sir, I didn’t hear that? My ears are full of sand, or maybe water. I can’t hear anything.’
This time, he saw Snape wave his wand in a tiny, carefully controlled spiral near his right ear. Suddenly, Harry could hear the surf. And the gulls. Another spiral near his left ear. Now he had double the volume. And immediately regretted it.
“What the DEVIL did you think you were DOING, Potter?” Snape launched into him. “Running into the ocean BLEEDING?”
“Oh, you mean the shark?”
“OF COURSE, THE SHARK!”
Harry squinted at the glistening sea. No fin that he could see, but the way Snape was going on, it obviously HAD been for real.
“Well, there wasn’t SUPPOSED to be a shark…”
“NOT SUPPOSED…” Snape glared black fire at him.
Harry tensed and braced himself. Uncle Vernon often had that identical expression on his face right before he—
“EXPLAIN, Potter. EXPLAIN THIS.” Snape waved an all-encompassing arm at the ocean, the jungle cliff, the seagulls. “EXPLAIN IT ALL. NOW!”
Harry released a shaky breath. “Mm … have you ever heard of the Room of Requirement, Professor?”
Kneeling on the sand, his voluminous robes puddled blackly around him, Snape considered the question, eyeing Potter suspiciously. The Room of Requirement… Seems he’d read something about it many years ago. His First Year? In … “Hogwarts, a History” … yes. He tried to pull the details from his long-term memory as the gulls squealed overhead… A room designed to come and go at will? At the USER’S will, that was it. When… The Room would appear when the user had true need of it, and it would always be equipped for the user’s needs…
With a JUNGLE?
A BEACH?
An OCEAN?
A SHARK???
Harry cringed. Snape had THAT LOOK on his face again…
“And why, pray tell, did the Room equip itself with a SHARK?” Snape inquired silkily. “Did the GULLS not sufficiently entertain you, Potter?”
“It wasn’t like that, Professor,” Harry protested. “I honestly didn’t ASK it for a shark. But I guess it crossed my mind that there COULD be a shark. Maybe the Room thought I wanted one…” he trailed off feebly.
Snape was still glaring at him.
“The Room did give me six dolphins,” Harry added, somewhat unhelpfully, looking out across the scintillating surface of the ocean. “Maybe the Room thought the dolphins might drive away the shark?” He glanced quickly at Snape, then away. “Or not.”
Harry honestly wouldn’t have blamed Snape if the man did hit him…
Snape looked at Potter speculatively. “Did you ‘ask’ for the dolphins?”
Potter shook his head.
“The seagulls?”
Another negative.
“What, PRECISELY, did you ‘ask’ of the Room?”
Harry thought back. “I said, ‘I need a place where I can be warm.’” He paused, then added, “I was actually thinking of a tropical island…”
Well, that would certainly explain the jungle, the beach, and the ocean. Dolphins and seagulls as well. However, Potter had quite obviously come near to drowning in addition to being shark bait. Snape could not recall that “Hogwarts, a History” had said anything in regard to DANGER in using the Room. Perhaps Dumbledore knew more detailed information? Snape certainly intended to confront the Headmaster, given that the most famous member of the golden Trio had nearly just DIED in the Room of Requirement.
Meanwhile—
“Get dressed, Potter. It’s well past curfew, and high time we were getting back.”
Harry suddenly realized he was sitting on the sand in just his damp boxers. “Yes, sir.”
Snape flicked his wand, Summoning Potter’s bundle of belongings from up the beach. Two shoes followed, and he watched Potter retrieve his glasses from one of them. “How are your eyes?”
“Still a bit scratchy, but I think you removed all the sand, sir.”
“You’ll see Madam Pomfrey before returning to Gryffindor Tower, Potter.”
Harry nodded silently. In addition to his eyes, he needed the leaf cuts healed, although most had finally stopped bleeding. And maybe a lotion for his sand-burned skin? Now that he noticed the redness, his whole body felt scraped raw from having been tumbled and dragged roughly across the unforgiving ocean floor.
Snape turned away as the boy began to dress, staring out over the azure ocean beneath the cerulean sky. Potter! If this is how the Room interpreted Potter’s imagination—his need to be “warm”, his need for a tropical island… What COULDN’T the Room do, especially with the exasperating brat as its catalyst? The very thought was frightening.
“I’m ready, Professor.”
Snape slowly turned to face the boy. “Are you indeed?”
Harry nodded, noting the contrast between Snape’s starkly-black robes and the brilliant tropical blues of the sea and sky, which virtually silhouetted the man. “Yes, sir. I’m just not looking forward to climbing all the way up the cliff,” he said dismally, surveying the imposing edifice. “It looks a mile high from down here.” He sighed. “Somehow, it never looked that tall from up on top.”
“Nonsense.” Snape smirked. “You climb how many flights of stairs in Hogwarts each day, Potter?”
Harry grimaced. “Point taken, Professor. I guess I’ll just … start climbing.” When Snape made no move to follow him, however, Harry paused uncertainly.
“Run along, Potter. I shall take a few minutes to actually ENJOY the view before I rejoin you at the door.”
“Yes, sir.”
And Harry began to climb the stony path. He climbed and he climbed, rocks rough beneath his trainers. He climbed, climbed, climbed, climbed. Even the marble staircase didn’t seem quite this high. Of course, it had multiple flights and landings to regularly break the overall ascent. This path, on the other hand, was a single long ascent, with no banister for handhold or safety. Already a bit weak and shaky from his experience in the ocean, the climb required every bit of strength, agility, and mental concentration that Harry possessed. At long last, gasping slightly, his muscles trembling from exertion, he finally reached the clifftop, pausing to admire the view once more.
Snape was a small black blob on the shimmering blond strand. Gulls wheeled over his head. If Snape hadn’t just saved his life, Harry would have wished for one of the gulls to poop on Snape’s head. The school of dolphins returned, splashing merrily along inside the reef this time, but there was no sign of the shark. Harry still couldn’t believe the Room had actually produced a SHARK!
Far, far away, the figure of Snape turned to face the cliff. Harry automatically waved to him before he could think twice what he was doing. In return, Snape extended an emphatic arm, obviously pointing Harry onwards toward the door.
Sighing, Harry reluctantly entered the jungle, his wand at the ready. Mrs. Weasley’s jumper was arm-tied around his waist, but even so, Harry began to sweat immediately upon pushing his way into the dense greenery. MERLIN—why had he wished to be WARM? He could barely breathe… The jungle seemed doubly stifling after the fresh ocean breeze.
Where was the tarantula? Where was the growling Creature?
Harry cringed nervously at every scuttling noise in the undergrowth all along the path, but he’d neither seen nor heard anything untoward by the time he reached the door to the corridor. As much as he wanted relief from the horrendous heat and humidity of the jungle, Harry refrained from opening the door to the corridor. Snape had said he’d rejoin him at the door—somehow, Harry doubted that Snape had meant the outside of the door. Sighing, he slumped down to the damp jungle floor, keeping his back to the door, wand aimed into the darting shadows among the sun-spattered greenery. The air was creamy with steam. If only he could get a deep breath … of clear air… Harry panted…
Back on the beach, Snape raised his wand and muttered various incantations, finally hitting upon an archaic form of Finite which abruptly put an end to the Room’s “tropical island” manifestation.
Harry gasped in surprise as the jungle peremptorily vanished, and Snape appeared standing mere feet away in the chilly stone-walled Room.
“Wha—what just HAPPENED?” Soaked with sweat, Harry began shivering uncontrollably in the sudden near-arctic temperature of the unused Room.
Snape smirked. “I didn’t fancy climbing the cliff path or struggling through the jungle again, so I found a countercharm to cancel the magic.”
“You—WHAT?!” Harry felt a sudden outrage. “You—you MADE me climb that cliff! And come all the way through that sweltering jungle a second time! While you—you—you just waved your WAND? That’s not FAIR!”
Snape’s smug smile maddened Harry to no end. “It’s entirely fair, Potter. I would not even have been in this Room, had duty not compelled me to follow you in. I would never have been on that beach, had duty not compelled me to save your sorry hide from The-Shark-That-Was-Not-SUPPOSED-To-Be. If I subsequently choose to use my skills to give myself a small break, that is my prerogative.”
Harry gritted his teeth to keep from saying something that he knew Snape would make him regret. Whirling around, he kicked the door impotently, bruising his toes, then jerked the door open, exiting the traitorous Room to the silent, torchlit corridor.
“Not so fast, Potter,” called Snape as Harry stalked away toward Gryffindor Tower. “You’re to see Madam Pomfrey, remember?”
Without a word, Harry switched directions, heading toward a different wing of the castle where a staircase would take him down to the third floor hospital wing. The frigid breeze in the lengthy corridor caused him to shake with cold, and he wrapped his arms tightly around his torso after haphazardly pulling on his jumper. Snape followed two paces behind, unnervingly silent. Down, down, down, down—Harry felt heartily sick of all the ups and downs this night had wrought upon his person. His teeth were chattering violently, echoing off the walls like possessed castanets, before they reached the fifth floor. Harry heard a disgusted snort from Snape just before a wash of warmth swooshed over his chilled body. A Warming Charm, which had followed a Drying Charm on his clothes…
Harry stopped in surprise, glancing warily up at Snape. “Thank you, sir.”
Snape sneered silently, before gesturing for the Gryffindor miscreant to continue down the next flight of steps.
Emerging from the final staircase onto the third floor, Snape stopped him before they reached the doors of the hospital wing.
“Potter, you are not to enter the Room of Requirement alone ever again, do you hear me?”
Harry stared sullenly past Snape’s shoulder.
“Potter?”
“Fine,” ground out Harry.
Snape nearly touched Potter’s elbow, surprising himself and obviously startling the boy. Potter’s emerald eyes met his suspiciously.
“It’s for your own safety, Potter,” Snape hissed quietly. “You very nearly died tonight. If you had, it’s possible nobody would ever have known about it, much less how or why it happened. Do you understand?”
Harry nodded—he could see the logic. To die, alone, no one knowing … how horrible would that BE? A small shudder passed over him.
Snape nodded slightly, satisfied with what he saw.
“Now, Madam Pomfrey.”
Harry turned toward the doors of the hospital wing, then thought of something. “Professor, wouldn’t the Room have safeguards against someone being seriously injured or killed?”
His lips twisting, Snape pointed at the bloodstained shirt covering Potter’s chest. “If the number of MINOR leaf cuts you sustained is any indication, not to mention your quite obvious loss of blood, I would seriously question the existence of ANY safeguards whatsoever on that Room. I intend to speak to the Headmaster about the situation, in any case.”
“Right.” Harry turned once again toward the doors of the hospital wing, seeing Madam Pomfrey already coming through them to find out the delay.
“Potter?”
Harry rolled his eyes, since he was facing away from Snape; small satisfaction, but he’d take whatever he could get. “Yes, sir?”
“Detention, starting tomorrow, my office, seven o’clock.” A pause. “Your detention will continue for two months. If I catch you out after curfew again, your detention will be extended by a full month for each additional incident, carrying even into next year. Understood?”
What else could he say, Harry groused to himself. “Yes, sir.” Looks like that restriction would put an end to any further impromptu adventures, he thought, sighing. Oh, well…
Madam Pomfrey had already begun running diagnostics on Harry right there in the corridor. The azure glow of her wand reflected off both wizards’ faces as they glowered at each other. Snape turned away, heading toward a confrontation with an unsuspecting Dumbledore, and Madam Pomfrey herded Harry into the infirmary to the nearest bed to complete her examination.
As her wand coasted up and down past Harry’s body, something came back to him: Snape had ordered him never to enter the Room of Requirement ALONE. He hadn’t forbidden him to bring company. Suddenly thoughtful, Harry began to consider that maybe it wasn’t just Ron and Hermione that Snape had in mind. It made him wonder, how much might Severus Snape possibly know about Dumbledore’s Army?