Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Chapter 26 To trust a Slytherin

After mounting to the Fat Lady and persuading her to let him in, Harry sneaked through the hole leading to the Gryffindor common room. The Fat Lady seemed to hold him in consideration because she made no difficulties despite the late hour. Harry spotted Ron asleep in an armchair in front of an almost extinct fire. He touched Ron’s shoulder and his friend woke up instantly.

“Good to see you back, Harry...” Ron slurred. “Not been boiled and eaten, then, have you? Neither tortured to disown your friends and your own magical blood? Blimey, I got a pretty good idea of how mother feels when she stays up at night to see us back... What was all that about?” Ron rubbed his eyes.

“What took you so long, Harry?” Hermione and Ginny came down the stairs from the girl’s dormitory.

“I’m so sorry to have kept you awake,” said Harry. “Didn’t Kreacher tell you?”

“Well, we were not exactly reassured by knowing you at Snape’s office...” Hermione pointed out.

“He was taken ill. I just happened to be there. Listen, I’m whacked... Let me tell you tomorrow, okay? Let’s go to bed,” pleaded Harry and his friends complied.

Harry slept poorly as he was tormented by strange nightmares that woke him up several times.

In one of them Snape was standing in the middle of a playground, watching Harry, who was only about six years old, on a swing, going higher and higher. Snape goaded him on, but all of a sudden he roared at Harry to jump off and Harry was afraid and clung to the swing...

The scene changed and Harry saw the face of his mother against a light. She was speaking in earnest to him, as if trying to explain something very important, but he could not hear her voice. Her lips moved soundlessly and her face blurred as she floated further and further away in the dream...

The scene changed again to show Snape dragging an enormous coffin up a mountain side. It looked plain - blackened and timeworn - but Harry knew it was full of gold and goblin silver. When he reached the top, after strenuous exercise, Snape started to move the coffin towards the edge of the cliff. He was going to launch it down a precipice. Harry stepped forward and started to argue with Snape not to do it, but Snape did not listen and heaved the coffin over the edge. The coffin bounced on the cliffs and the gold and silver were scattered. Snape and Harry started to fight, Snape held Harry by the collar and Harry was afraid they would go down the precipice together. He wanted to let loose of Snape, but they were too entangled and they both stumbled over the edge. At that very point in the dream, Ginny, Hermione and Ron appeared on a platform below Harry. “We’ll catch you!” they yelled at him and he managed to land in safety at their side, whereas the black, flapping figure of Snape tumbled down the precipice with a great howl...

Harry howled silently in anguish as he woke up. His heart raced and the events of the night came back to him with frightening force.

What if Snape had relapsed and his system had crashed down again? Harry was not sure for how long the relapses could occur, nor how much Firewhiskey was needed to keep them at bay. Snape himself probably did not know. Had he not said that this was the first time it happened like this to him? He really should have had someone by his side until he was completely recovered. And Harry had just left him! He could at least have consulted with Mme Pomfrey, Harry thought remorsefully. He rose and stepped up to the window, biting on a knuckle to prevent himself from moaning. It was early morning, still dark, but with the tiniest presentiment of dawn.

Should he go back to the headmaster’s office and check on Snape? Harry debated with himself. He knew the password, didn’t he? Snape would be furious though - if he was alive, that was... Should he wake Ron up and get some down-to-earth advice from his friend? No, it might take too long to explain...

Harry started to dress even if he had still not decided what to do. When he shot a glance through the window again, a band of yellow light had started to glow over the horizon and he spotted a well-known figure on the path leading from the gates to the castle. No way of mistaking the silhouette of Hagrid. Would that be Mrs Steadfast by his side? Hagrid would be reporting to her what had happened on the grounds. Snape should be with them, however. Why was he not?

Harry darted off to intercept Mrs Steadfast in the Entrance Hall. He tried to convince himself that it did not mean anything that Snape had not gone to meet Mrs Steadfast at the gates. Snape was probably just tired and waited for her in his office. Harry needed to know, though. He jumped the stairs two by two and landed out of breath beside Simmings, back on guard.

“You’re earlier than usual, Harry,” he said. “Something’s the matter?”

“Want a word with Mrs Steadfast, that’s all,” Harry panted and gripped a knob on the banister to steady himself. It represented the head of a Gremlin which bit his finger and he let out a curse, just as Mrs Steadfast entered the hall. Her eyes sought him out at once. He still grimaced and shook his hand in pain.

“Early riser, are you, Potter? And not doing much better than yesterday, it seems.” Mrs Steadfast frowned. “Let’s hope your headmaster is in a more elevating mood. He should be, after the achievements last evening. You’ll read everything in the papers, Potter, so I might as well tell you.”

Evidently, Mrs Steadfast was herself in a great mood, thought Harry.

”We managed to encircle a meeting of Death Eaters. Not many got away, much thanks to Professor Snape. What a fighter that wizard is! A blizzard of curses, all by himself! And he’s not even an Auror! You must deduce that the training of Death Eaters in the late seventies were just as advanced as ours,” she said.

Mrs Steadfast alluded to Snape’s past as a Death Eater in a light tone without any trace of condemnation to Harry’s ears.

”I hope they’ll treat him fairly in the papers and give him some credit for the arrests we’ve made,” she continued. ”I’ll lift his contribution forth. They’ve treated him abominably until now, really. But where is the man? He was supposed to meet me at the gates and come with me to sit in on the interrogations today. Getting lazy, is he?”

Harry stared at the unsuspecting Mrs Steadfast. She had no idea, did she?

“Sorry to have kept you waiting, Mrs Steadfast,” said a voice coming from the corridor to the right. Snape, dressed in his travelling coat, leant against the wall with arms crossed over his chest. The surge of relief that mounted in Harry almost hurt. Snape looked casual, but Harry guessed he still might have problems with his muscle tone, since he wanted to support himself. Harry advanced a few steps and scrutinised Snape’s face which was entirely impassive, although Snape avoided to meet Harry’s gaze.

“You didn’t turn up on time, Professor... It’s a first, so I’ll make allowances, because of yesterday. But don’t make a habit of it...” Mrs Steadfast turned to Harry and Simmings. “The Headmaster’s not as brisk and bright as you young people. Looks a bit out of sorts, don’t you think, Mr Potter? A sure sign of aging... not up to punctuality when he’s to meet a lady... now, that’s aggravating...” she said mockingly.

Maybe it was because she had given him so much praise before and suspected he might have overheard most of it, that Mrs Steadfast now felt the need to berate Snape. She often made small bickering comments at Snape in Harry’s presence, to make up for Snape’s dominating position and harsh attitude vis-à-vis his young student, and to make Harry feel that she was on his side. Harry usually appreciated her banter and support, but under the prevailing circumstances, he was not in the least amused.

The anger flared up inside him so quickly that he barely had time to put a Muffliato spell over the two of them before he started to yell at her. The rage that pounded in his veins made him clench his fists. His eyes flashed as he told Mrs Steadfast off. How could she be so unsuspecting, so naive? So negligent of a member of her team? He gestured vehemently at Snape. Of course Snape was “out of sorts”, considering he had collapsed last night! How could she send him home and leave him without supervision knowing how many Relievings he had done on those tortured people? Where had her Aurors been? And how on earth could she allow him to perform all those Relievings? There must be other healers at St Mungo’s that could be called after, and Swallowscopes, too, no? If Snape was indeed a member of her team as they claimed - and Harry thought this too was remarkable since Snape already had a job as Headmaster at Hogwarts... Snape already had enough to deal with, couldn’t she see that? If he was a member at her team, however, it was her duty to check up on Grief Swallowers and learn about the conditions and limits of Relievings as it must be on her orders they were carried out. What did she think Snape was anyhow? Some almighty, invulnerable superpower wizard who could take anything?

“Symptoms can be delayed for hours!” Harry roared reproachfully. “If I hadn’t happened to come across him in the Entrance Hall when he returned from the cave... If he had reached his office alone... Don’t you realise? I had to Rennervate him three times! And look at him now, he’s not recovered yet and still he means to go with you... And he’ll hate me for telling you about what happened... He hates me anyway...  I’m sorry I’ve yelled at you, Ma'am... but I thought you should know... I Rennervated him three times... I already told you that... I thought he was going to die, and he had so many relapses, for many hours... I wasn’t even sure this morning...” The flare of temper subsided as quickly as it had risen and Harry’s voice trailed off. He was shaking.

Snape, Simmings and Mr Burgess who had emerged from the dungeons and witnessed the strange scene but not been able to hear what was said, all gaped at Harry with dumbfounded expressions on their faces. Harry lifted his Muffliato spell and nodded stiffly at Mrs Steadfast who had turned very serious.

“Sorry, Mrs Steadfast,” Harry finished in a stifled voice and escaped through the door into the Great Hall which was empty. Harry stopped right beside the door and leant against the wall while trying to draw deep breaths. Get a grip, get a grip. Don’t lose it now... He heard voices from the Entrance Hall.

“What was that about?” exclaimed Mr Burgess.

“Oh, nothing special, Bellamy. Mr Potter’s got a bit of a temper,” Mrs Steadfast said evasively. “May I have a word with you, back in your office, Severus, please?”

***

Harry was tired and depressed for the rest of the day. He told his friends at breakfast what had happened the previous evening and about his outbreak at Mrs Steadfast in the early morning. His friends were surprised as he muttered something about being worried and not wanting Snape to die. They did not know how to respond to that and left it without comment.

Hermione read about the successful arrests in the Daily Prophet. The part Snape had played was reasonably accounted for, although the reporter used ambiguous epithets like “cunning tracker”, “forceful wizard” and “skilled combatant”. The text also contained a question with implicit critique: why had not Severus Snape conducted the Aurors to this place long ago to rescue the victims? There was no mention of the Relieving Incantations that Snape had carried out with risk for his own health. That kind of magic seemed to be an unappreciated task, performed in the background, unnecessary to inform the public of. The photograph on the front page showed a satisfied Head of the Auror Department, in her office where, the paper said, interrogations would succeed each other during the whole day.

Harry took no active part in the animated discussions among his friends and in the corridors of the school. He had chosen not to look at photographs of the victims, nor to read the detailed accounts of their abductions or the tearful commentaries from their families. Harry felt strangely distant and at the same time on the verge of tears. It was as if he was moving about surrounded by a shield that stopped everything from touching him from the outside, but which at the same time succeeded in trapping a constant trembling generated within his own being.

At the end of the day, they had Potions with Snape and finished their draught from the previous day. Harry did not know how to behave nor what to expect, but avoided Snape’s gaze out of caution. The lesson passed without incidents. Snape seemed pretty much recovered, Harry thought - rather low-voiced and unstrung. As Harry passed Snape’s desk on his way out, he was called back. Harry stopped and looked at Snape with a wary, reserved expression. To his surprise, Snape covered them with a Muffliato spell and he supposed Malfoy must be within hearing distance behind his back.

“I had some spare time today as I was exempt from my duties with Mrs Steadfast,” Snape begun and Harry looked sideways. He expected Snape to scold him for having disclosed Snape’s Grief Swallower’s predicament to Mrs Steadfast. “So I took the time to read your texts in the Comparing of Incantations series of work. I’ve made some notes for you to consider if you like. I also took the liberty of making a fair copy of your notes from our reference listing last night. You left them in my office. I’ve added some comments in green ink, otherwise they’re your notes, word by word.”

Snape handed him three scrolls which Harry accepted out of sheer surprise, staring at his teacher. To his horror, he suddenly felt tears fill his eyes and he averted his gaze quickly. Harry had to clear his throat several times before he managed to say “Thank you, Professor,” in a reasonably steady voice. Snape continued, speaking to some point over Harry’s head as he let Harry recover.

“I withhold that example number four, the one about making dead objects magically detect, contain and answer to human emotions, is very interesting. There are a few more leads to research before it’s ready, but the reference to Ancient Magic that you’ve found is unique. I don’t think anyone has written about it before and my judgement is that you should be able to publish it in a renowned journal. The problem is that many of those don’t accept authors who are not at least in higher education. My proposal for you therefore is that you take your texts on incantations number two and three, which are fine, with slight modifications of language mostly, and publish them in less particular journals. Not as high in ranking of course, but you’re after the practice, aren’t you? And once you’ve published something, it’s easier to publish the next thing. There are two ways to go for incantation number four. Either we use my name to force it into a journal now as soon as you’ve finished the research, or you wait until the autumn where you’ll probably have entered higher education - the Auror’s program most likely, I guess,” said Snape.

“I don’t care so much about publication and stuff,” said Harry, uncomfortable. “It’s the work itself that matters to me. I like to unveil and discover things. Of course it’s a challenge to present it in a readable way so that you can communicate it to others, but...”

“I suspected that much of you,” Snape said dismissively. “No cravings for glory, Potter? No need to prove yourself to others? To take credit for intelligent, real work of thinking?”

“Of course, I do, in a way, I acknowledge... But are they that important, those Journals? It strikes me as really complicated and stupid with all those rules...” Harry answered uncertainly.

“How else do you propose to make your discoveries known? Do you want to distribute pamphlets in the streets or make speeches in the squares?” Snape countered sarcastically. “And of course publications will be of importance for your career. Do you think I became headmaster solely on Voldemort’s orders? Voldemort infiltrated the institutions, yes, but it had to be genuine, qualified people who took the jobs. I had to go through the examination of my credentials at the School Board. And of course all my publications were taken into account. That’s why they cannot sack me now, even if they’d like to. They cannot present a contestant with equal merits, so until I’m convicted, I stay here.” Harry considered what Snape said. It was pretty much what Hermione had tried to tell him all along.

“Moreover,” said Snape, “...if you make an important discovery, you’ll want to make it known. Like the Acromantula antidote. It constitutes an important amelioration, especially in tropical countries where snake bites are not unusual! And your work on the emotion-containing incantations might have impact on things, don’t you see that? Real impact! Think about the construction of Swallowscopes for instance. They might be ameliorated by your discoveries... maybe... or other methods of containing emotions might be developed...”

Harry gaped at him. He had not thought that far.

“Sna… Professor - you’re a genius!” he exclaimed enthusiastically.

Snape smiled, faintly amused.

“Of course!” Harry proceeded. “We need to find out how a Swallowscope works. Do you know? Who make them? They’re expensive, I heard. Maybe we could find a discarded one... or...”

“Easy now, Harry, you don’t need to do everything at once! You’ve started on a theoretical basis. You need to get that step right first. Then you move on to practical applications. The Swallowscope was just as an example,” said Snape.

“A brilliant example it was!” exclaimed Harry, still excited. He collected himself under the stern gaze Snape gave him. “Okay, I won’t rush it,” continued Harry in a more moderate tone. “I’ll do the incantations two and three at first, like you said, to practice. I want to get to the bottom with the emotions-containing incantation, sort it out properly. If it takes me until this autumn, I’ll let it do that. Notwithstanding, you should be co-author of the paper since I work under your guidance, right? Unless, of course, it’d be degrading for you in the academic world to publish with a young student... or with me in particular?” He looked with earnest interrogation at Snape.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Potter!” Snape spat at him. “Of course it wouldn’t. You’re incredibly naive at times. Tell me, now - how do you know that I won’t just take your ideas and publish them as my own before you’re finished? I’m former head of Slytherin, after all. We do such things.” Harry looked at Snape uncertainly. Was he serious?

“I’m not altogether sure,” he answered with an insecure smile on his lips, accompanied by a frown, “...not after the Acromantula paper. But as I said, it’s not of great importance to me.”

“Well, I’ve been trying to tell you that it should be!” exclaimed Snape, annoyed. He looked thoughtfully at Harry. “You’re used to unfair treatment, aren’t you? And you have quite a high threshold before you snap and retort. You endure a lot. I took that for arrogance, but I begin to wonder... All those weeks of excruciating pain this summer, too... It seems to me that you feel yourself at home in an atmosphere of mistreatment. The Dursleys, perhaps, were not very particular with the justice of things?”

Harry stared at him. What did the Dursleys have to do with publishing papers?

“Not excessively so,” he answered flatly, the smile gone from his face. He frowned again and looked suspiciously at Snape. “The Dursleys never treated me fairly. But from their example I learnt how not to behave towards lesser people or creatures. I learnt what is good and fair and what is wrong and mean. I know the distinction very well.”

“I’m sure you do, Potter, when it comes to your own conduct. It is - to quote our dear friend Draco Malfoy - insupportably and almighty good. But I’m speaking of the kind of treatment you accept towards yourself. Take the Acromantula paper for instance. Why did you not come to me and protest against not having your name on it?” asked Snape.

Harry looked at him with astonishment and answered tentatively after a slight pause:

“Well, first of all it was too late, was it not? The article was already published. Moreover I suspected there might be something about the rules of the Journal that didn’t allow...”

“But you thought yourself badly treated? You had done all the work, after all?” interrupted Snape.

“I had, but without your guidance I wouldn’t have been able to put together an article at all,” retorted Harry.

“You still should have objected.”

“I found out just before Christmas, Sir, and then, after the vacations, they started to write things about you... and about me... and there was no opportunity to raise the question. Moreover we never had an agreement to stick to. I only told you I wanted the thing published, not that I wanted my name on it,” said Harry.

“You should not tolerate such treatment, Potter. You must defend yourself!”

Harry was taken aback by Snape’s angry outburst. He was not sure what all this meant.

“Naturally, I had put you down as an author,” continued Snape, ”but the journal took your name away - as I was very well aware they might do. I had chosen that journal, however, because of its renoun. But with everything that happened at the time – the suicide of Jacob Duffle, remember, and its repercussions on the school – I failed to notice the omission and missed the opportunity to put you down for acknowledgements, which would have been the least to have you mentioned in. I failed you by negligence, which is no excuse. But I expected you to confront me! You must grow tougher, Potter - how else do you pretend to deal with adult life out there? You mustn’t accept such things!”

Snape gesticulated wildly in the now empty dungeon. Neither of the two wizards thought of lifting the Muffliato spell away - they were much too absorbed by their conversation.

“Now, I have contacted the journal to rectify the mistake. It might be important for your future career, so I promise you I’ll not let go until they give in and archive the article under your name. I also give you my word that I won’t publish your ideas about emotion containing incantations until you’re done with your work and we submit the paper jointly. My question to you, however, is: do you trust me?” Snape asked his question in an intent voice.

Harry was confused. It was like being attacked by one of Luna’s invisible Nargle-beings or something. He wasn’t sure if Snape wanted him to say yes or no.

“I do trust your word, Sir,” he answered with a frown.

“No need to be polite, Potter. I told you, I’m Slytherin. We break our word if necessary. The only way to make sure someone adheres to it is to make them take the Unbreakable Vow,” Snape said silkily. Harry shuddered.

“There’s no trust at all between you, then,” he said coldly. Snape’s eyes narrowed.

“No trust, no nobility... is that how you see it? The Gryffindor lion? To distrust a friend, for you, is to affront him, right? So, you’d rather blind yourself to the faults of your friends than... Look what happened to your parents and Peter Pettigrew, for heaven’s sake, Potter! It’s only common sense to be cautious! Don’t repeat the mistakes of your parents!”

Harry’s face crumpled briefly when Snape mentioned Peter Pettigrew.

“Common sense, yes,” he said, still refusing, however, to agree with Snape’s callous view of people, ”but it depends on the person. You learn to know a person and you judge his or her qualities and you decide whether or not to trust that person. Sometimes you’re mistaken, sometimes you’re not. You cannot distrust everyone, all the same.”

“In the Slytherin spirit you assess a person’s liability to fool you and you judge the chances for you to succeed in fooling him or her. So yes, it depends on the person,” Snape’s voice dripped of irony.

“You want me to adopt the Slytherin spirit, do you?” Harry raised his eyebrows.

“Some of it might do you good! Otherwise I’m pretty sure you’ll be skinned and eaten alive out there, when you leave Hogwarts.” Snape glared fiercely at Harry as if to imprint the warning in him. ”But that was not what I wanted to say,” continued Snape. ”Before you decide to trust me or not with your research discoveries, I wanted to point out to you that I adhere to the Slytherin spirit. So do you trust me or not?” Snape repeated his question.

“Are you saying that I should not, Sir?" asked Harry. "But you’re not enslaved to the Slytherin spirit, are you? You make your own decisions and should take full responsibility for them. It’s too easy to blame your behaviour on old traditions, or on a blasted old wizard who lived centuries ago and didn’t agree with his friends. You’re the headmaster now - from Slytherin, true. You could change people’s ideas about that spirit. You could show them that a Slytherin wizard can be fair and trustworthy,” said Harry with emphasis.

“You sound exactly like Kingsley when he gets going. That’s why he supports me. He thinks I might be able to reconcile the differences between the houses... Ha! All I’ve managed so far for Hogwarts, is to attract an awful lot of writings in the papers. Not very flattering ones, either.” Snape shook his head. 

“Not exactly your fault, Professor...” muttered Harry, wondering where this would lead. He opened his mouth again to speak. “Dumbledore believed that perhaps we sort too soon at Hogwarts, put labels on young wizards that force them to behave in such or such ways. The sorting hat thought I would do well in Slytherin. I did have a piece of Voldemort’s soul in my head at the time, however... And I asked it to be placed in Gryffindor... Dumbledore once gave a hint that you, too, would have done well in Gryffindor, didn’t he?”

Snape flinched.

“I showed you that in my memories, did I?” he said suspiciously. “I would not attach too much importance to that incident, if I were you. I may be brave when it comes to certain things - that’s what Dumbledore meant - but I’m in no sense of the word a good man,” continued Snape slowly. “So back to the question: Do you trust me?”

Harry stared lengthily at Snape. He realised the man probably expected him to answer ”no”, but his instincts made him realise the truth of the matter and he spoke as if surprised by his own words.

“I… do trust you, Sir... Not when it comes to petty affairs, but for everything important, in matters of life and death…” said Harry.

”Don’t be daft, Mr Potter!” exclaimed Snape. “I’m perfectly aware of the way I’ve treated you over the years and I haven’t exactly improved in that area…”

“A bit, all the same,” Harry interposed.

“Which does not say much,” Snape said dryly. “You’re too generous - and naïve,” he added sternly. “With our history, of course you cannot trust me!” Harry sighed inwardly.

”Let’s say I trust you partly then,” he said, conciliatory. ”Mostly, I think, because you were her friend...” he broke off. Snape’s features shifted.

“Because of...? Yes, of course…”  Snape fell silent at last, looking away. Harry made an attempt to leave, but Snape stopped him with a gesture and cleared his throat.

“I forgot to tell you. Mrs Steadfast thought that you were entitled to some information about the events last evening. She’s coming to my office at eight o’clock tonight to tell me about the interrogations. You’re welcome to join us,” he said.

Harry was surprised by the sudden invitation. He had assumed Mrs Steadfast would be angry with him after his behaviour in the morning. He felt a lump in his throat and was again embarrassed by his own reaction. He hastened to thank Snape and said that he would be there. What’s the matter with me anyhow? he asked himself when he hurried away through the dungeons. Not up to face a little friendliness? Get a grip!


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