For the Greater Good by Elvira Slytherin

Should I ask him? Harry thought fervently clutching his potions textbook to his chest. It’s just a simple question about homework, surely Snape wouldn’t mind being asked. Harry was just going to walk downstairs to breakfast and ask him. Snape can’t possibly get mad at that, at least not this new reasonable Snape. Harry nodded his head once and headed to the door clutching his potion’s book in one hand and the Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures ones in the other. Now he understood what Hermione felt like to carry all those heavy leather-bound books around the school. Really, Harry was just carrying two books down the stairs and already his arms were aching. Weren’t they wizards? How hard would it be to sell books with a light weight charm on them? Sometimes, Harry wondered whether wizards were just a little bit thick.

Harry paused on the stairs to shift the weight of the books from one hand to the other. Again, Harry wondered whether asking Snape to teach him anything would be a good idea. After all, the man had virtually no patience with slow learners and unfortunately, he just happened to be one. The two of them were getting along smoothly, maybe testing the waters wouldn’t be such a smart move. Harry shrugged and continued down to the dining room. He already brought these infernal books so far, he might as well just try.

When he entered the dining room, Harry opened his mouth and started to say good morning but the words died on his lips. There was no one there. Well, that is definitely odd, Harry thought with a light frown. They’ve been having breakfast together ever since Dumbledore’s visit. Just yesterday, Snape had said they’d be having all meals together in order to get to know each other. Why wasn’t he here? Was he late?

As Harry came closer he realized that that was not the case. Snape was not planning to come to breakfast at all today. There was only one plate on the table with his breakfast and beside it, there was a cup of pumpkin juice. Harry set his books down on the edge, sensing that something was not quite right. Maybe he should just go look for the man and ask him if something is wrong. After a moment, Harry shrugged again and sat down to eat. He was probably worried about nothing. Snape was a very busy man and something must have come up.

Harry ate his breakfast slowly, poking at his eggs and moving them around his plate before deciding to put them in his mouth. He was feeling slightly dejected. It was so quiet, too quiet. The only sound to be heard was the click of his fork on the plate and the quiet sighs that escaped his lips. Harry felt as if he had gone back in time to the days when he would exist in this house completely alone as if ignored by the whole world. The past few days were starting to feel like a dream he has just woken up from. Ridiculous, of course. They did happen, Snape and he had gotten closer over the last few days and he was not completely alone, not anymore.

The globe directly above his head faltered for an instant. The yellow light blinked tiredly, causing the shadows all around Harry to quiver and shift. It was an eerie sight. In the dim light, there was a collection of long shadows on the table. The glass, the plate, Harry’s hands and the fork continually moving from the plate to Harry’s mouth all cast there black imprints on the wooden table. As the light finally stopped blinking and went out completely, Harry was left in a semi darkness worse than before. There were other globes all around him, illuminating different areas of the room so that only Harry sat in a pool of darkness. He shivered and took a sip of his pumpkin juice. Where was Snape? Harry missed him already. He was so certain that when he came down, Snape would be there, his mouth pressed into a thin line and the daily prophet open in front of him. It astonished him, how quickly he had gotten used to the man. Harry missed the sarcastic comments and the long heavy sentences, not to mention the twitching lips and that single eyebrow of his that was always arching upwards.

Harry saw something moving with the corner of his eyes. Abruptly, he snapped his head to the side, letting his fork fall out of his hands and hit the plate with a loud cling. What was that? He saw something there, he was sure. He gulped and squinted at a spot on the floor, just near the door. A black spot was moving, bobbing up and down. Harry’s hand tightened into fists as he reached into his pocket, feeling for his wand. It took him another second to realize that the spot was nothing but another shadow. Harry’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment as he picked up his fork again. He was acting like such a baby. Why the hell couldn’t he just relax? There was nothing scary here. He had to stop jumping at every shadow and making a complete fool of himself. What was he afraid of? Ghosts? Harry had already met plenty of ghosts at Hogwarts, enough to know that there’s nothing scary about them. He had to get a grip on himself and…

Was that a noise behind him? No, he was just imagining things. There was no noise, there is no one moving. He was just being silly. Harry picked up his fork and took another bite, slowly. The eggs tasted like scraps of paper on his tongue and it took him a great effort to swallow them down. Harry sighed. That was it. He was officially no longer hungry. He put his fork down and pushed the plate away from him. He got up, picked up his heavy books again and made his way out of the room. He wanted to talk to Snape, to make sure that everything was alright. He wanted to make sure that there was someone else in this eerie house with him, someone he could trust. He decided to go looking for Snape and ask him his question after all. He didn’t care about it any longer but it gave him an excuse to talk to his elusive and highly unpredictable guardian.
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This was definitely a bad idea. Harry thought about an hour later. He was tired and hungry and he couldn’t even feel his arms. He had been wondering around the house, taking this turn and that for an entire hour, still carrying those books. By now, he was strongly tempted to just throw the books down in some corner and continue walking. He couldn’t do that, he told himself firmly. If he left them behind, he might never be able to find them again. He just had to suck it up and keep going.

The problem was he didn’t know where he was going. He was utterly and completely lost. All he knew was that he was somewhere at the heart of this monstrous house. When Harry had set out to find Snape, he had been too busy wondering why the man hadn’t shown up for breakfast to think about the practical details. The truth was, he hadn’t the vaguest idea where Snape’s private lab was. He hadn’t exactly been offered a tour and he’d been too intimidated by Snape to ask him for one. And so, like the idiot he was, he has wandered corridor after corridor hoping to find a staircase leading to the dungeons where he assumed the lab could be found. He had found no staircases, only a maze of corridors, all looking exactly identical.

Harry sighed loudly. This was getting worse and worse. He thought, leaning against the wall and putting the books on the floor. He needed to rest, just a little. He was so damn tired. What was he going to do? He had given up on finding Snape’s lab and now, all he wanted to do was go back to his bedroom. But how could he do that? He didn’t even know which way he had come from. Harry looked all around him, hoping to find something, anything which will guide him back to the bedroom or the dining room or even the little parlor where they had played Liar. The familiar yellow globes shown everywhere covering everything with a dim light and large quivering shadows. Simple black doors with silver handles were everywhere, just like on every corridor Harry had passed in the last hour. Merlin, what the hell is this place? Who could ever find their way around here? Harry could just be walking around in circles and not even realize it and even if…

“I see that you have managed to get yourself lost.” Harry jumped a foot in the air. Snape was standing beside him, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his expression unreadable. Damn. How did he do that? Harry hadn’t even heard so much as a squeak. Did he charm his shoes to not make a sound? Harry smiled up at Snape, glad to finally get a chance to talk to the man.

“Sorry, sir, but this house is impossible! Everything looks the same and it is just so big. It’s even more enormous and confusing than Hogwarts.” Harry looked at Snape intently, trying to gauge what he was thinking but it was impossible. Snape was as tense as a strung bow and the mask had returned full force. Nothing escaped its clutches. Harry frowned, sensing that something was wrong. What was the matter now?

“Maybe sometime you can give me a tour.” Harry added but Snape didn’t even bother to respond to his words.

“Why are your school books strewn across the floor, Mr. Potter? Did it not occur to you that tones enclosing centuries worth of magical study deserve to be treated better than garbage?” Snape’s tone was ice cold. Harry gulped, feeling the bitter sting of disappointment. He was mad again. It was becoming a ruddy cycle! Snape getting mad, hurting his feeling and then returning to apologize. And just when Harry thought that the days of angry, bitter words were finally over.

“I was just tired and I…”

“Pick them up, Potter.” Harry sighed internally as he bent down and picked up the books. He adjusted them in the crook of his arms, looking anywhere but at the angry version of Snape, a different man to the friendly one of last night.

“And just what are you doing, wondering around the corridors and being a complete nuisance.” Harry bit his lip, forcing the angry words back into himself. Starting a yelling match would not do. There was no reasoning with Snape when he was like this, it was best to just get out of his way.

“I was just… erm… walking around.” Harry definitely wasn’t going to tell Snape that he had just spent hours looking for him, not now that he was being such a prick.

“Walking around? Then tell me, Mr. Potter, what was the purpose of bringing the books with you. Extra exercise for your non-existent muscles?” Harry clenched his jaw tight and stared at the grey stone floor. He was not going to respond. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He didn’t care that Snape was mad at him again. The man was a git and Harry didn’t care one bit what the man thought of him. He really didn’t care. Harry scowled at the floor and just waited for Snape to decide what to do with him.

“Come along, Potter, I am a very busy man and do not intend to spend an entire day, escorting you around the house.” Without another word, Snape whirled around and strode down the corridor, not waiting to see if Harry would follow. Harry unwilling ran to catch up. What else was he supposed to do? Following this annoying Snape was the only way to get back to his room.

They walked in complete silence, the only sound was Harry’s footsteps half walking, half running around the house, doing his best to keep up with Snape. Well, at least the silence was better than the insults, Harry thought dejectedly. Somehow the thought gave him no comfort at all. He didn’t want to admit it, not even to himself but he wanted the friendly Snape back so bad. What had Harry done wrong? Why was Snape so angry? Harry thought hard, replaying the events of last night in his mind again and again. What was it? What had he done? Harry bit his lip hard, trying to think of something, anything that might explain this disaster of a day. Had he been too open or too familiar? Was he still mad about Harry bringing his father up during the game? Maybe that was it. Maybe if he apologized for that everything will be alright. He hugged his books to his chest and gathering all his courage, he spoke up.

“Professor Snape?”

“What Potter?” Snape snapped irritably.

“I’m sorry about…” Harry took a deep breath. This could either go well or more probably, it could go very very bad. “about what happened last night.” Snape stopped dead in his tracks so suddenly Harry nearly slammed against his back. There was a moment of complete silence. This was bad idea, Harry thought fearfully. Unfortunately, all he had lately were bad ideas.

“Is that so?” Snape’s voice was a quiet hiss. Harry discretely took a tiny step back, anticipating an explosion.

“Do tell, Mr. Potter, what part of last night are you apologizing for?” Snape was looking directly in front of him, his back to Harry.

“Erm… the…” Damn it, now he sounded even more pathetic than Neville. What the hell was the matter with him? Harry cleared his throat and looked up at Snape’s back. He had started this and now he had to continue. “That part about my father.”

“I shouldn’t have brought him up.” Harry continued, trying his best to sound sincere. “He’s obviously a sore topic with you and I should know better than to provoke you like that. I’m sorry, sir.”

“Indeed you should not have.” Snape said and Harry was pleased to find that the hiss had gone out of his voice. Maybe everything would be alright now. Harry looked up at Snape hopefully but the man was not meeting his eye. Was it only his imagination or did Snape look suddenly tired?

“Everything was just perfect before…” Snape let the sentence trail away into nothing. He took a single deep breath and continued to walk, more rigid and tense than ever.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Harry said again and he truly meant it.

“Never mind, Potter. Just go back to your room.”

“Can’t we just… talk for a bit?” Harry asked hesitantly.

“And what would be the point of that? It seems that we can never be civil with each other. Placing you here was a monumental mistake.” Snape didn’t even pause as he strode along, his gaze fixed directly in front of him. Harry gulped, trying to ignore the big lump in his throat. How have things gotten so wrong? Yes, he mentioned his father once and yes, he was sorry but that didn’t make it alright for Snape to just throw him away like that. Snape can’t do this to him. He can’t bring Harry’s hopes up one day and then treat him like garbage the next. That was just not okay. Whether he liked it or not, Snape was Harry’s only family now.

“So, that’s it? You’re giving up?” Harry’s voice was getting steadily louder. “What the hell happened to the whole ‘I’ll do my best to take care of you’, ‘have patience and everything will be all right’ and all the other crap you wrote in that letter of yours.” Snape spun around suddenly, his upper lip curled into a disdainful sneer.

“Mind your manners, Potter.” He hissed.

“Why?” Harry yelled, past the point of caring. “You never mind yours! You keep on acting like a dick and then expecting me to just take all your insults quietly. Well, that’s not going to happen!”

“You are forgetting, Mr. Potter, that I am your guardian.” Snape’s voice was getting quieter and quieter but the venom in it was unmistakable. “I will certainly not hesitate to punish you for your appalling behavior. And there…”

“I don’t give a damn about your punishments! You can’t treat me like this!”

“I can treat you however I please. You are out of line, Potter. Like father, like son.” Harry groaned in frustration.

“Not this again! Haven’t you gotten tired of insulting my father by now?”

“My apologies. We wouldn’t want to insult perfect Saint Potter now would we.” His words were dripping with anger and sarcasm but the mask was still rigidly in place.

“Oh. My. God.” Harry rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Let it go! You and my dad didn’t get along. You know what, Snape? That’s life! Get over it!” Snape’s eyes flashed with anger.

“How dare you, Potter!” The words were coming out of teeth clenched so tight, they were muffled and distorted. “How dare you tell me to get over it! Are you not the one who constantly brings up that foul name in my own house?”

“Stop it! Just stop it!” Harry threw his books on the floor.

“My father was a great man, a hero, so much…”

“… better than me.” Snape completed. His hands were crossed in front of his chest and his glare could have rivaled the basilisk’s. “Yes I know, Mr. Potter. He is the hero, the one everyone loves and what am I? A death eater and a murderer. It stands to logic that he is worth more than me, is it not? If he is all that is good, then by default, I must represent all that is evil.”

“I never said that!”

“No, you did not.” Snape conceded. “It is enough that you wrote it.” At first, Harry frowned not understanding what Snape was taking about. It took him a moment to realize the full and horrifying truth. The letter! Snape has read his letter! He wrote down all his thoughts about Snape in that stupid letter! He called him an evil death eater and accused him of murder and… Oh God, he compared Snape to James Potter! Harry had gone on and on about how great his father was and how bad Snape was compared to him. And Snape read that! No wonder he’s mad. It’s a miracle Snape hasn’t hexed him to pieces yet!

“Sir, I…” What could Harry say? How can he justify what he has written? Harry gulped, cursing himself for being so stupid. Why did he have to write all those hurtful things down? “I’m really sorry, sir. I never meant to…”

“Never mind, Mr. Potter,” said Snape quietly. “Just go to your room and try not to bother me. I trust that we shall not need to cross paths too often.” Harry opened his mouth and closed it again. He could feel his eyes watering and he batted his eyelids furiously. No, this can’t be happening. He can’t lose Snape, not like this. There must be some way to show Snape that he was sorry, that he was just writing random thoughts and that they didn’t mean anything. He didn’t really believe Snape tortured and killed all these people. It was only a few doubts, a moment of panic. Snape wasn’t evil, of course he wouldn’t kill all those people. Yes, Snape used to be a death eater but he was a better man now, someone who turned back on his old ways and regretted everything he did. Snape wasn’t evil, no matter what Hermione or Ron said. Harry was just having a moment of doubt when he wrote that letter. There was nothing more to it! How the hell could he make Snape understand that?

“Professor, I…”

“Save it, Mr. Potter. You have apologized already and there is no point in doing it again. You cannot change how you feel about me. It is quite obvious that even talking to me civilly is a moral dilemma for you. You think me a bad person and that will not change, no matter how much you want it to.” Snape sighed and pointed to a door on his right. Harry blinked and looked at the door in surprise. It was his bedroom. They had made it back without Harry even realizing it. How was that possible? He had been walking around for hours before finding Snape and now, five minutes later he was already outside his bedroom door?

“Good day to you.” Snape turned around, the long cloak swishing around his feet. Harry had to say something. He couldn’t let him go like this. Who knows when he’ll see Snape again? The man could really disappear when he wanted to.

“Sir, wait!” Harry stepped over the books that were lying half open at his feet. One of them had a rip along the spine and it looked up at Harry accusingly. “Wait, please, let’s just talk about this!” Snape stopped in his tracks but he didn’t turn around to face Harry.

“What is there left to talk about? I have a potion to brew and I have no intention of wasting any more of my time.” Snape looked over his shoulder at Harry, gave a stiff nod of goodbye and started walking away. Maybe he was suicidal, Harry thought grimly as he ran up to Snape and caught the sleeve of his robe. The fabric was so smooth and silky, it nearly slipped away from his fingers but Harry clutched it tightly. He wasn’t giving up yet.

“Let go of my robe, Mr. Potter!” Snape hissed, glaring at Harry pointedly but Harry only held on tighter.

“I can help brew your potion, sir.” Snape snorted unkindly at that.

“Have you developed a sudden case of amnesia? Do you not remember how appalling you are at anything related to potions?”

“I can chop ingredients or…” Harry searched frantically for something else in potions he was good at but he couldn’t find any. Snape was right, he was a disaster in the classroom.

“No, you cannot. Now, unhand…” Snape started to dismiss him again but Harry was having none of it.

“I’ll tag along with you. You can brew the potions and I’ll just watch.” Harry let go of Snape’s robe and stood up straight. Snape can say no all he wants but Harry isn’t going to listen. He will follow Snape to the lab and make him talk whether he likes it or not. Maybe Snape was right, they can never really get along but Harry just had to try. Normally, when they had a fight, it was Snape’s fault. He was unfair and unreasonable and always got Harry mad but this time, everything was Harry’s fault. He couldn’t stand that thought. He had to fix it.

“As much as I like your sudden and completely believable fascination with potions, I have to decline.”

“I just want to talk, professor. Is that so bad?” Harry asked, his voice getting dangerously loud again.

“You might not like what I have to tell.” Harry could hear the note of uncertainty in Snape’s voice and he clutched at it.

“But things are already bad between us, what will it hurt if we talk?” Snape scrutinized Harry’s face closely, his black eyes shrewd and assessing. Harry forced himself to look at that stern, expressionless face without flinching. He will not back down now.

“Very well, Mr. Potter. You may come along.” He gave a stiff nod and strode down the corridor again, his robes bellowing behind him. Harry sighed with relief and ran to catch up.

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Harry resisted the urge to tap his fingers on the desk. The silence between them was getting unbearable. He was sitting on a high stool right next to where Snape was busy chopping, dicing and cutting various dead plants and animals. A black thick cream was oozing out of what looked like a plate of lizard’s tails. Harry looked at the cream with an expression of disgust as it dripped over the plate and onto the polished wooden table. All around them, jars of dead things were watching.

Harry tried not to squirm in his chair. This was getting uncomfortable. He opened his mouth and closed it again, at a loss of what to say. He had sat here for the last hour exchanging nothing but a few terse words with Snape. The man just refused to open up. Harry’s questions were answered with bitter sarcastic responses and his statement were completely ignored. What was Harry supposed to do? Apologizing hadn’t worked. He had tried to bring up the letter but Snape only snapped at him to be quiet, he needed to concentrate. Harry was running out of options and he was beginning to think he shouldn’t have come here. This was one more bad idea to pile on top of the others.

Harry sighed quietly and watched Snape moving around the lab like a silent shadow flickering in the light. His movements were brisk and sharp, giving no space for hesitations. He didn’t even look at Harry. In fact, he seemed to have forgotten that he had company. There was a soft click as Snape opened a glass cabinet on the opposite wall. Carefully, with both hands, he took out a plain brown box making sure that he didn’t disturb the glass vials around it. Harry watched as Snape gingerly placed the box onto his worktable. With pincers, he picked up a reddish brown item from the box and placed it on a clean plate. It was a single brown feather with several clunks missing. Harry frowned at it, trying to understand why it was handled so delicately. It looked so plain, like any other feather you could find walking around a park. A single breath was enough to make it flutter in the wind.

Snape moved towards Harry and for a second, he thought Snape was going to ask him for something, maybe even to pass him an ingredient but no. Snape reached out for a glass vial sitting inches away from Harry’s elbow, without uttering a single word. Harry sighed. This was getting exasperating.

“So… what are you making?” Harry asked, his voice quiet. He had the childish impression that the animal pieces inside the jars and boxes would wake up at any minute. They looked so alive as they shimmered inside the various liquids.

“A potion.” Snape answered drily. He held the vial with two fingers and twirled it around. There was a sloshing sound as the liquid inside it moved and mixed. Well, that was helpful. Harry thought bitterly as he laid his chin on his hands and waited. This was going to be a very long day. Snape opened the lid with a dull pop. He peered inside once before giving a stiff nod to himself and moving the vial so that it stood directly above the featureless brown feather. Steadily, he let the vial tip, just an inch. A single drop of liquid, red as fresh blood, dripped from the container and splashed onto the feather. There was an angry hissing sound. The feather twitched and shivered in the plate, like a snake coming to life. The red liquid foamed and frothed and slowly, steadily, it creeped along every inch of the feather transforming it into a shiny black color. The barbs lost their meek softness and stood out like sharp spines ready to tear apart flesh. The feather had turned from a harmless nonentity to something that looked like a weapon.

“What is that?” Harry asked, watching the feather curiously. He had never seen something like that. The potions the first years had to work with were much more ordinary. Usually, he just chucked badly cut roots into a cauldron and crossed his fingers under the desk hoping it didn’t explode.

“It is the feather of a rare owl mixed with…” Snape’s voice abruptly stopped. His chest rose and fell as he took a deep shuddering breath. “Dear Merlin, I cannot do this.” Snape closed his eyes and sank down into a chair, so close to Harry that their arms were nearly touching. Harry looked at him oddly. What was going on? Was Snape ill? For a moment Snape sat there, his fingers steadily rubbing his forehead. Did he have a headache? Harry almost asked Snape if he wanted an aspirin but he stopped himself just in time.

“Is something wrong, professor?” Harry asked, watching the man closely. A few seconds later, Snape was already back to normal. His expression cleared and his back straightened into the stiff posture he normally used.

“I did do it.” Snape stated, his eyes focused intently on a spot on the wall. Harry blinked in confusion. What was Snape talking about?

“Do what, sir?”

“I did participate in the torture and subsequent death of that family.” There was a tense silence. Harry’s mind was a blank. He just sat there and watched Snape who still avoided looking into his eyes.

“And I did not do it under the headmasters orders either.” Harry gulped and looked away. This was too much. What the hell does this mean? Snape was a murderer? That just can’t be right. The sound of a woman screaming materialized inside his mind. He shook his head trying to banish the grim thought. What was he supposed to say? Whatever it was Harry expected Snape to say, it wasn’t this. Deep down, he hadn’t really believed it was true. He hadn’t believed that the man he was getting to know would ever do something so atrocious. He was just… so confused. So it was true. Snape was a murderer. He had killed that family. What was Harry supposed to do with that? He should just make his excuses and leave. He couldn’t fraternize with the enemy.

Harry let his eyes wonder around the lab, taking in all the strange jars and instruments strewn around the shelves and tables. The dead creatures looked back at him, silent and creepy. Harry took a deep breath and tried to think straight but he was finding it hard to do. The image of the woman screaming didn’t want to leave. Had the woman Snape tortured screamed like that?

Harry stared determinedly at a tall jar sitting right beside him. It was filled with eyeballs swimming in a luminescent green liquid. If Harry watched closely, he could just make out that the eyes were blinking. Dozens of black irises surrounded by streaks of red, all watching him intently. God, this place was creepy. How can anyone spend their whole life hauled up in a place like this?

“The door is unlocked if you wish to leave.” Snape’s voice stated hesitantly. Harry raised a hand tentatively and tapped on the glass jar. There was a click and the eyeballs jiggled as the liquid moved but their gaze was still fixed on Harry. Did he wish to leave? Did he really want to walk out that door and never talk to Snape again? Did he want things to go back to the way they were, Snape ignoring him and him trying his best not to die of boredom? No, he didn’t want that. But then… this man was a killer.

“Why did you do it?” Harry asked, still not able to look Snape in the eye. A part of him was ashamed of his behavior. He was so desperate for companionship that he was willing to sit here and listen to a murderer. What would his father think of him now, the father who had died fighting for the light side?

“There were many reasons.” Snape had stood up and he had returned to his potion ingredients. Harry could hear the thud thud of the mortar crushing dried roots into a fine powder. A strange smell was coming from the crushed plants, not exactly unpleasant, but strong. Did that family have any relatives or friends who grieved for them? Did they want justice?

“I am not a good man, Mr. Potter. I have told you that before.” Snape continued to chop the ingredients, never interrupting his rhythm. Thud. Thud. Thud. It seemed to reflect the loud beating of Harry’s heart.

“Well, you were right. You are not a good man.” Harry shouldn’t be saying this but right now, his internal defenses were completely washed away. “Murder and torture. That is not just bad, that’s evil.” For a second the mortar froze, all sounds ceased expect the sound of Harry’s fingers slowly tap tapping on the glass jar. Harry thought he heard a quiet sigh and then the mortar started up again. Up and down. Up and down. The rhythm steady and unbroken.

“Evil. Yes, perhaps that is an accurate description.” Snape sounded so tired and resigned. Harry felt sorry for him. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t sympathize with a murderer. Hermione had been right all along. Oh God, how is this possible? How can someone torture people and then just turn around and join the light side. It was just… It was so wrong. This can’t be right. Snape can’t be evil. He just can’t be. Harry’s fingers twisted and turned the button on his shirt sleeve over and over again. He wished he had something to do.

“Do you regret what you did, Professor?” Snape placed the mortar on the table. He walked over to a cabinet and took out a standard sized silver cauldron. He placed it on the worktable and with a flick of his wand, thin blue flames came to life under the cauldron, licking slowly at its sides. There was splashing sound as the cauldron began to fill with water. Snape darted a look at Harry but he didn’t reply. Instead he added a pinch of the crushed powder into the cauldron. It gave a violent hiss, strongly protesting the newcomer. The water turned a sickly green color and started to boil instantaneously. Bubbles appeared on the surface of the frothing liquid and popped loudly, releasing jets of liquid into the air. Snape took a step back and watched the cauldron, his eyes unfocused. He didn’t seem in any hurry to answer the question.

“Do you regret killing that family, sir?” Harry’s voice was loud, it was raised over the hissing cauldron. Come on, Snape. At least say yes to that. Show me that you’re not completely evil. Show me that the man I’ve come to care for still has a heart. The strings attached to his shirt button snapped and it fell onto the floor. It rolled under the table and disappeared from sight.

“Do you wish to know the truth, Mr. Potter?” Harry nodded, finally looking up at Snape’s face and watching his expression. Was it an effect of the eerie light coming from the cauldron or did Snape really look paler than usual?

“No, I do not.” Snape replied evenly. Damn. Harry gulped. This was not good. This was really not good. Harry should leave, He should really leave. This is not right. After everything his father did, after everything he fought for, what was Harry still doing here? Harry tapped his fingers on the table and swung his legs back and forth. This was… This was all too much. Harry mind was a blank, he didn’t know what to think. Snape killed people and doesn’t regret it. Harry’s mind understood the concept all too clearly but it still wasn’t sinking in. The man standing there, inches away from him, expertly moving around the room is a murderer. The thought was so strange.

“But…” Damn, what the hell was he supposed to say? “How can you…”

“Elaborate as ever, Mr. Potter.” The corners of Snape’s twitched and suddenly Harry was angry.

“Stop it!” Harry yelled. Was it only his impression or did the jars around him start to move. “What the hell are you laughing at? A family died that day! How can you stand there and say that you don’t regret it!”

“Would you rather I lied?”

“I’d rather you had a heart.”

“Well, I do not.” Snape spun around and disappeared into his storage room, his robes bellowing behind him. A minute passed and then two. There was the clink of glasses and the swish of a liquid being poured. Another minute passed and Snape still didn’t come out. Harry bit back a groan of irritation. Why did the man have to run away every time the conversation got difficult? The Slytherin coward.

The cauldron was beginning to get nervous. It trembled as the green liquid within it spun faster and faster, the bubbles erupting higher and higher, getting ready to explode. Harry took a step back from the table and thought of going to get Snape. Was that his plan? To leave him here when a cauldron exploded on his face and burnt him alive. Maybe then he could convince Dumbledore his death was only a potions accident. Harry was just about to storm into the storage room when Snape came out again. He took out his wand and muttered a complex sounding incantation at the cauldron and immediately, it calmed down. The liquid stopped its frantic twirling and began to gently lap at the edges of the cauldron. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and stepped back up to the table.

“Okay, this conversation is not going well at all.” Harry stated, trying to remain calm.

“Whatever makes you think that?” There it was again. That tone of highly inappropriate amusement. How can any decent man laugh when talking about something this serious? It was just so… evil. Snape didn’t regret killing those people, maybe he even enjoyed it. Maybe he watched them suffer with his lips twitching in that peculiar way of his. Maybe he even turned to the other death eaters and joked about it, the poor defenseless people slowly getting burned to death. Did they even care that the woman was screaming? Did she say any last words? Did she think of her son as the life slowly slipped out of her?

Harry wished that he had something to do, anything. He looked around the lab again hoping that he could find something. Maybe some ingredients that needed chopping or maybe even a few cauldrons that needed scrubbing. He just needed something to do.

His eyes caught sight of a sink to his left. It was small and unimpressive as it hid in the corner, away from the shining silver instruments and delicate ingredients. A few brass cauldrons were sitting beside it and they were covered in ugly yellow stains. It was almost with a sense of relief that Harry got up and walked up to the dirty cauldrons. He opened the faucet and the water rushed out, hitting the cauldrons and splashing onto his shirt. He took up a sponge and began to scrub, his deft fingers teasing out the stains. It was oddly comforting, scrubbing pots and pans. He had done this for years at the Dursleys, as long as he can remember he was scrubbing and cleaning and doing everything around the house. He had hated it at first. He had vague memories of aching hands and tired feet but that was when he was very little. It didn’t take him long to find a way to make his endless tasks bearable.

He would go around the house on autopilot, doing all his chores perfectly but his mind was not there. In his mind’s eye, he could see Spiderman climbing walls rescuing distressed maidens or maybe it was Superman with his long red cloak and his alien powers. He had liked Spiderman the best though. Something about the ordinary boy being bitten by a spider and turning into a hero attracted him. He used to imagine himself being bitten by various animals and getting all kinds of superpowers. Of course, in the end, it had happened. He had gotten his superpowers and he…

“Child, that is not necessary.” Snape’s baritone voice interrupted his thoughts. Suddenly, Harry was snatched back to the present and to the unpleasant truth he had to face. He ignored Snape’s words and scrubbed harder, his fingernails screeched as they scraped across the brass cauldron. He ignored it and rubbed even harder, attacking a very obstinate stain.

“Mr. Potter, come and sit down. Those stains will not come off. They are the result of a particularly unpleasant accident and the only option is to throw them away.” Snape crushing ingredients again, the mortar moving up and down. Harry gritted his teeth and continued to scrub.

“Are you even listening to me, Mr. Potter?” Snape’s voice was a quiet sigh almost drowned out by the noise of the mortar and the rush of the water.

“Yes, I’m listening to you. It’s not like I have much a choice.” Harry muttered angrily. What the hell were these yellow stains made of? He scrubbed and scrubbed but they just sat there looking back at Harry mockingly.

“May I remind you that this conversation was entirely your idea.”

“Well, I thought we could talk about my dad and that letter. I sure as hell didn’t know you were about to confess to murder!” Harry hands were aching. He was scrubbing so hard even the clean surfaces were beginning to scrap. This was bloody useless! Now, he couldn’t even clean right.

“And yet that was the subject of your letter, Mr. Potter. Did you not ask me whether I am actually committed the atrocities I was accused of? Now, you have the answer you have been seeking.”

“Well, it’s not the answer I wanted!” Snape was silent. The jars and bottles around the room shivered in their places, reacting to Harry wayward magic. He gave up on the stupid cauldrons and returned to sit by Snape, watching his every expression.

“Why did you do it, professor? Why did you kill those people?” Snape’s lips opened to reply but Harry cut him off.

“And don’t give me some vague excuse. I want to know the truth. You are my legal guardian and I deserve to know what you are.” Snape’s jaw quivered and for a moment Harry thought he was going to start yelling but he didn’t. When he started speaking again his voice was carefully toneless.

“Revenge. These people hurt me and my friends and I merely replied in kind. They deserved everything they got.” Harry blinked. That, he hadn’t expected.

“What do you mean they hurt you? What did they do to deserve to be tortured and burned to death?” Snape sighed and waved his wand over the cauldron. There was a burst of magic and the air around them shimmered. There was an odd crackling sound as the liquid inside the potion began to freeze. At first, crystals blossomed in the center. They looked like little white flowers suspended in the liquid but then, they began to spread. Slowly at first but then faster and faster. A split second later the liquid had morphed into a block of solid green ice.

Harry watched the procedure. He might have been impressed but his mind was too heavy. Revenge. He had never thought of that. It meant that the family who died weren’t so innocent after all but Harry’s inner mind kept picturing them trying hard to protect their son while imposing men dressed in black invaded their house. Ron had mentioned that they had a baby son, hadn’t he? Distractedly, Harry reached out a hand to touch the newly formed ice. Harry nearly jumped as he felt cold fingers close over his hand in a vice like grip.

“No, Mr. Potter. That is highly dangerous.” Snape’s grip loosened and he gently lowered Harry’s hand until it was resting safely on the table but he didn’t let go. Their hands rested, Harry’s smaller one covered by Snape’s. His long fingers were cold and dry but they were oddly comforting. A part of Harry’s mind was revolted. This was the hand of a murderer. He shouldn’t feel comforted by this ridiculous gesture. He should just shake Snape’s hand off, but instead, his traitorous fingers remained still, craving the touch.

“That was a solidifying charm, not a freezing one. The potion, although having the semblance of ice, is still at boiling point. One touch will be enough to give you a third degree burn.” Harry nodded and simply waited. Would Snape mind if he turned his hand around and gripped his long fingers? He has never held someone’s hand before. He had watched Petunia hold Dudley’s hand all the time but when Harry tried, she pushed him away and wiped her hand on her coat. If he… Harry shook his head violently. What the hell was the matter with him? This was a murderer for crying out loud! Snape was not the man Harry thought he was, he couldn’t accept Snape now, not after what he had learned. But if the family really had done something bad to him…

“Child, I know that this is confusing for you.” Snape’s voice was uncharacteristically soft. His deep baritone voice was comforting and sympathetic. What was Snape playing at? Why was he being so nice all of a sudden? Was this some kind of Slytherin trick?

“Of course it is!” Harry exclaimed, his voice getting loud again. “I get a new guardian and just when I’m starting to like him, I find out that he’s evil. What the heck is up with that? It’s not fair.” Harry could hear how petulant he sounded but right now, he was past caring. He just wanted the truth. Was Snape good or evil? Just a simple bloody question. Why the heck could no one answer it right?

“You are still young and my past is too much for you to handle. There is no good or evil only different shades of grey.” Harry let out a bitter laugh at that.
“Voldemort once said to me, ‘There is no good or evil, only power and those too weak to seek it.’ And you know what, sir? You sound a damn lot like him.” Snape gasped and looked away.

“I do understand that I am not a good person but I am no dark lord either. I do not kill for pleasure, at least not anymore. I am not like the Dark Lord!” Snape’s voice was getting quieter. The hand on Harry’s trembled slightly. “I am not!”

“Yeah, then what is up with the whole torturing for revenge deal.”

“I told you, they deserved it!”

“Yeah, sure, they deserved to die such a horrible death. Sorry, sir, I find that a bit hard to believe.” Harry voice was getting louder as Snape’s was getting quieter. Snape’s shoulders were hunched and he looked so tired and sad but Harry didn’t care. He really didn’t care. “Tell me, what did they do? Did they bully you? Did they…”

“It is not only about me! They hurt my friends too, Potter. They tortured and killed people too and most of them were my friends. I had to avenge their deaths.” Harry watched Snape’s face, trying to detect a lie but he could tell that Snape was telling the truth. Had that family really deserved to die? But if that family tortured Snape’s friends and Snape tortured them wouldn’t that make Snape just as bad as they were? Oh, God, this was just so damn complicated. Harry was starting to get another headache. Who were the good guys and who were the evil ones? There had to be an answer.

“Were these friends of yours death eaters by any chance?” Harry asked, struck with a sudden suspicion. Snape didn’t answer, he just stared at the frozen cauldron and waited.

“So this family deserved to die because they killed death eaters? That’s just crap.”

“They were my friends, Potter! They did not deserve to die.”

“They were death eaters. Of course they deserved to die!”

“Shut up, Potter!” Snape hissed suddenly, abruptly letting go of Harry’s hand and standing up. Harry hated himself for missing that touch.

“No, I will not shut up! What is the matter with you? How can you work for the light side and call the death eaters friends. That’s just ridiculous. Either you’re a death eater and hate the good people or you’re a member of the order of the phoenix and hate the death eaters. Pick a side, Snape!”

“It is not that simple!”

“So what are you saying, Snape? Are you actually working for Voldemort?”

“No! Of course not! I might not be a good person but even someone like me can understand that his ideas and his methods are wrong. I am working with Dumbledore to bring down the dark lord.”

“But to bring down Voldemort you have to kill his death eaters and you just said they were your friends. How does that work?”

“My duty in this war is to get information for the light side and aid them to win the war. I, personally, will take no part in the final battle. I will not kill the people I have grown up with and call friends. The headmaster understands this and he will allow me to absent myself from the final battle.”

“So when the tough times come you just go somewhere and hide. That’s a coward’s way out.”

“You do not understand, Potter. If you had to kill Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger to win the war, would you do it?”

“I’ll never have to do that because they’re good people. If they were evil, I wouldn’t be friends with them in the first place.” Harry yelled, crossing his arms across his chest. They were going nowhere and this was getting exhausting.

“But my friends are… I have been with them…” Snape stumbled across his words, trying to find the right ones. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Potter! Can you not simply let it go? I will not harm you or your friends. What does it matter what lies in my past or who I call my friends?”

“Of course I can’t just let it go! I am the son of James Potter, one of the greatest leaders of the light! I have his legacy to carry on. I can’t just get closer to you if you’re with the death eaters.” Harry felt like crying. This was not how this conversation was supposed to go! Snape was supposed to say that he regretted killing these people and that he was now fully good. He was supposed to say that he no longer had any connection to the death eaters. He was supposed to… Oh God, Harry just wanted to leave. This was just way too hard.

“If you cannot get closer to me then tell me, Potter, why did you agree to talk amicably and play board games? Why did you agree to attempt to get to know each other if you think me so despicable?” Snape’s words were bitter and accusing.

“That was before I knew you were friends with the death eaters! Deep down, I thought… No, I hoped that this whole murder and torture business was nothing but a mistake. I hoped that the ministry was wrong and that you were innocent. Or, at the very least, I thought it was all in the past. I thought you regretted everything you did when you were a death eater. I definitely didn’t expect any of this!”

“But it is in the past, Harry!” Snape sat down again and looked at Harry, his cold black eyes boring into his. Harry gulped uncomfortably. This was the first time Snape called him Harry. That doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t. Snape’s evil and Harry should have no feelings for him. He really shouldn’t. It didn’t matter what Snape called him. Harry didn’t care anymore, he really didn’t. “I assure you that from the moment I came to work for the headmaster, I never tortured or killed anyone without good reason and I will never do so again.”

“But you said that you don’t regret…” Harry started to protest.

“I cannot change how I feel, child. I cannot change the fact that I feel no remorse. I never was a good person and I doubt I will ever be one but I do my best to atone for what I have done. Daily I go out and put my life in grave danger in order to help the light win the war. I do so because I believe in their ideals and also as a means for atoning for my past. Perhaps it is not enough but it is all I can do.” Harry passed a hand wearily through his hair. Was this true? Snape was trying his best to do the right thing, even if he was evil. Is that enough?

“But your criminal record doesn’t end after you came to work for Dumbledore. I know than even after Dumbledore, you were still charged for many crimes, like poisoning people.” Harry argued weakly.

“Most of these charges were wrong. After I was tried for the murder of that family, the Ministry began to suspect me of committing a series of other crimes, the majority of which I did not commit. Of course, as a spy I am sometimes forced to commit a few crimes for the sake of the light but otherwise I have kept my promise to the Headmaster and committed no serious crime without good reason.” For a moment they were both silent. Harry’s eyes were lazily scanning the room but he could feel Snape’s eyes on him, watching his every reaction. But Harry didn’t know how to react. The truth was, he wanted to forgive Snape. He wanted to let it all go and just forget the fact that Snape was evil. He wanted things to go back to the way they were last night but still… What would his father want him to do? What would perfect James Potter have done in this situation? Would he simply have forgiven Snape just because he had grown to care for the man or would he have been a good person and rejected the evil death eater sitting a few meters away from him? The answer was all too obvious but Harry didn’t want to accept it. Oh God, it was in times like these that he missed his father most. What wouldn’t he do to just talk to his father, at least once? James Potter would’ve known what to do. He was always right.

“Tell me, child. If you think I am wrong, tell me what else I can do to make things right. Regret or remorse would be good but I cannot feel them and that is something I cannot change. Believe me, child, I have tried but failed countless times. What can I do?”

“I don’t know, sir.” Harry whispered quietly. What could Snape do? He was not a good man who could feel remorse or regret. He was a man who enjoyed torturing people and practicing the dark arts. He couldn’t change who he was so he does his best to atone for it by helping the order. Wasn’t that enough? Should Harry just let it go? He sighed and let his gaze wander around the lab again, stalling for time.

His eyes caught sight of two books sitting on a low stool only a few feet away. Time has turned the crisp white pages into a yellowish brown color and the front page was an odd shape as if it had been soaked in water more than once. The spines were heavily marked and here and there, leaves stuck out of the pages. They looked so worn out and tired after years and years of heavy reading. Harry stared at the books, thinking of how odd they looked in this lab. Snape was a neat and precise man. His robes had no creases, his potion books were stacked in a neat pile on his desk. Even this lab, filled with animal pieces and plants was kept in check, the potions labeled in a neat hand, the ingredients classified and kept in the appropriate boxes. These books, they were so… out of place. Why were they here? Did Snape read them while waiting for his potions to brew? Harry leaned forward and peered at the titles. Wuthering Heights and Great Expectations. Of course, the classics. Harry had never read these books before, mostly because he found them a dead bore but he had heard of them. Back in his school…

“Wait a minute!” Harry exclaimed suddenly, pointing at the books in front of him. “These are muggle novels!” Snape arched an eyebrow and looked at Harry as if he had suddenly lost his mind.

“Yes, they are.” Snape said hesitantly, clearly wondering where this was all going.

“How come you read muggle books? Aren’t all death eaters supposed to be anti-muggle?” Harry asked.

“I never did believe that muggles are inferior. In fact, my mother was a muggle and I was very fond of her.”

“Wait, so you’re a half-blood?”

“Yes.”

“But… why did you join the death eaters if you didn’t believe in pureblood superiority? Isn’t that their whole point?”

“I merely wanted somewhere to belong to. I was feeling helpless and the Dark Lord made me feel powerful. It is a rather feeble excuse and yet there it is. I cannot change the past.” Harry nodded again and massaged his head with his fingers.

“So where do we go from here?” Harry asked, closing his eyes and leaning his head back on the chair.

“That is rather up to you, Mr. Potter. Do you feel you can forgive my past sins and accept a flawed man into your life?” Could he? That was the main question, now. Could he really forgive Snape for everything he had done? Could he really forget the fact that Snape could feel no remorse, that he himself called the death eaters his friends? The truth was that he could. Harry tugged at the sleeve of his hoody, letting his fingers snuggle comfortably into the warm fabric. He watched his feet dangling inches above the floor, the brand new shoes shining in the dim light. These were all Snape’s gifts, the first gifts a guardian has ever given him. These were small things but they meant so much to Harry. They showed him that here, no matter how complicated everything was, he truly had someone who cared for him, who made sure that he was safe, well-feed and clothed, who even bothered to try and get to know Harry. Yes, Harry could forgive and forget everything if only Snape would be nice to him and give him a proper home. Nothing else mattered.

Harry clenched his hands into tight fists. No. That was not right. He cannot think only of himself. He had to think about the right thing to do, like his father would. Now that he knew what Snape truly was, a murderer and a death eater friend, he should hate him, there were no more excuses that Harry could make for him. That was the right thing to do but somehow, Harry couldn’t bring himself to feel that hate. He cared for Snape. He just wanted Snape to take his hand again and call him child with that soft tone he had never heard him use before. God, he was such a pathetic weakling.

“I really shouldn’t like you. I should hate you, Snape.” Silence. The man just continued to watch him, his face held tight inside his mask, his hands closed on his lap. Even sitting on the low stool, Snape was taller than Harry. His shadow loomed over him, dark and demanding. “But the thing is I don’t. I… I want things to go back to the way they were before you got that damned letter.”

“Yes, that would be a pleasant option. Out of curiosity, Mr. Potter, what exactly did you mean to achieve by that letter? Surely you did not believe it would simply be ignored. Was it your way of attempting to snatch the truth from me? Instead of accusing me outright, you decided to write your accusations in a letter and let events unfold.”

“I didn’t mean for you to read that bloody letter!” Harry exclaimed, regretting ever writing the stupid thing. If it wasn’t for that letter, Harry would’ve continued to think that Snape was innocent and they would’ve gotten along so much better. Sometimes, the truth really was best left alone. “I was just feeling a little frustrated and I wrote everything I was feeling down on that paper. I never meant for you to read it!”

“Indeed. That explains quite a lot.” Snape’s brow furrowed as he thought everything over. “And yet there are still a few mysteries that were never quite solved. How exactly did you get such a wealth of information regarding my past, Mr. Potter?” Harry wriggled uncomfortably in his chair, wondering how much Snape suspected. He would never give up his friends but he didn’t really know what else to say.

“I… heard it from someone.” Harry spluttered.

“Indeed. Would this someone be Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley by any chance?” Harry didn’t respond. He just tried his best to keep his face expressionless as he looked anywhere but at Snape. There were rumors going around the school that the man could read minds. Of course, these rumors came from the same people who thought Snape was a vampire so their information wasn’t exactly accurate. Still, better be safe than sorry.

“Never mind, Mr. Potter. I suppose it does not really matter.” Harry nodded feeling a weight lift from his shoulder. At least he hasn’t betrayed his friends.

“May I point out that you still have not addressed the issue at hand.” Snape continued, watching Harry’s face intently.

“Where do we go from here, Mr. Potter?” Harry shrugged his shoulders desolately.

“I guess we could start everything over.” Harry replied hesitantly.

“Alright, let us attempt that, shall we?” Snape cleared his throat audibly and drawing himself up, started speaking.

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making. As there is little foolish wand waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the…”

“Oh no, not the speech again!”

“Well, you did say that we should start over! That is how we first met!” Snape’s lips twitched as he fought back a smile.

“Besides, I happen to think that my opening speech is rather enchanting.” Harry smiled despite himself.

“A bit arrogant aren’t we, sir?”

“As every Slytherin knows, it is not arrogance if it is true. I had the student’s immediate attention with that captivating speech of mine.”

“You ended by calling everyone dunderheads, professor!”

“That was merely another statement of fact.” Harry felt the sudden urge to stick out his tongue at Snape. Instead he crossed his legs underneath him and wriggled in the chair, getting comfortable. At least, as comfortable as he could get on a high wooden stool.

“I’ll show you what a proper starting over looks like. Watch and learn.” Harry cleared his throat, held his back straight and extended his hand for Snape to shake. “Hello, my name is Harry Potter, I am your new student.” Snape’s shook his hand, dipping his head in Harry’s direction.

“Hello, Mr. Potter. I am your new potions professor also known as the dungeon bat, the vampire terror, the glaring man and many such flattering names. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Harry laughed giving Snape’s hand a hearty shake.

“Wow, you seem like a really nice teacher, not at all the sort to take unfair points off Gryffindor!” Harry smirked.

“Why thank you, Mr. Potter. You seem like a model student yourself, not at all the sort to disregard all school rules and give your teachers weekly heart attacks.” Harry smiled and looked at Snape’s face. It’s funny how he always thought Snape could never smile or be happy but slowly he was coming to realize that Snape laughed and smiled too, just like the rest of them, only Snape’s smiles were harder to make out. You had to look very closely to see the wrinkle at the edge of his eyes that only appeared when he was amused or the sudden twitch of the lips. There was much more to his professor than met the eye.

He really loved spending time with Snape when he was like this. Not angry, not jumping to conclusions and being unfair, only having a bit of fun. Snape really did need more fun in his life. Maybe this was going to be alright. Snape really wasn’t so bad. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Harry forgave Snape and just decided to let the past alone.

“Sir?” Harry asked, his voice suddenly serious again.

“Yes, Mr. Potter?”

“You wouldn’t really kill anyone, would you? Not now that you’re working for the Order?” Harry watched Snape’s face, holding his breathe. There was only one answer he would accept and he hoped with all his heart that Snape would be able to give him this answer. A few second passed. Snape opened his mouth and closed it with a snap. Harry could feel his hands getting clammy. No. Not again. Oh come on, Snape, just say the damn words. Go on, Snape.

“Its c...”

“Please, don’t say it’s complicated, sir.” Harry leaned forwards on his chair and watched Snape’s face. “Please don’t. I need a straight answer!”

“I... Mr. Potter, I cannot merely say that I will never kill again. I am spy and there will come a time when I will have to kill again, to preserve my cover and to aid the side of the light.” Harry gulped. He felt uncomfortable with the idea of murder for whatever reason but Snape had a point. In a war there were casualties. Harry couldn’t stop that no matter how much he didn’t like it.

“Alright, professor. Then, tell me you will only kill for the greater good.” Snape mouth dropped open in surprise and for a second he just stared at Harry as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. His mask had dropped and his face was the picture of shock. What had he said? Harry thought, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“For the greater good.” Snape whispered, his lips tasting the words. His chest rose and fell as he took two deep breathes and for a moment, he stayed silent, watching Harry’s face intently.

“So… Will you promise, sir?” Harry asked quietly, his words slow and deliberate, as if talking to a particularly volatile child.

“The greater good. That is a dangerous phrase, Mr. Potter.” Snape spoke smoothly, his eyes glazed and far away. “One could do so much under that simple excuse. They could commit the unforgivable and think themselves right, all for the greater good. Oh, yes. That phrase is very dangerous, indeed.” Snape’s eyes blazed and Harry couldn’t quite name the strong emotion that was glistening in those black orbs. What was Snape talking about? Was he saying that he has committed unforgivable acts thinking that it was all for the greater good. What did it mean?

“Sometimes, I almost forget how very young you are, Mr. Potter.”

“I’m nearly twelve!” Harry stated indignantly. Something about Snape’s tone irked him. “I have survived a fully grown mountain troll, a three headed dog and Quirell with Voldemort stuck to the back of his head.”

“And yet, the world holds so much worse. It holds things that you cannot even begin to imagine.” Snape sighed and sat back on his chair. His gaze, when it fell on Harry, was filled with what looked suspiciously like pity.

“What can be worse than facing Voldemort and nearly dying?” Harry snapped. He was getting irritated. He was not an ignorant child. He and his friends have been through so much. Snape had no right to sit there and look down on him like that.

“The truth can be a lot worse. Finding out that the people closest to you are not what they seem to be. Finding out that not everything is simple and straightforward. These are the hardest problems to face, child. You cannot understand this now but, I’m afraid that all too soon, you too will understand.” Harry was confused. He tried to understand Snape’s words, he really did, but they just didn’t make any sense. The people closest to you are not what they seem? What was that supposed to mean? Maybe Snape was talking about himself and his death eater pals. They were friends but then Snape understood what they truly were. Was that it? Harry got the feeling that there was more to Snape’s words than that.

“Well… I guess it’s important to trust the right people so that they won’t ever lie to you,” said Harry uncertainly.

“People lie, Mr. Potter. Even people who seem perfect on the outside might still hold something entirely different in their hearts. Trust is futile and often times dangerous. Trusting in people who work for the ‘greater good’ might not be as effective as you think.”

“Okay…” Harry nodded, not understanding a word. This conversation was getting a bit too complicated for him to follow. There seemed to be hidden meaning in every word and if there was something that Harry really couldn’t understand, that was subtext. Harry was an open person, not given to hiding anything or trying to figure out what other people were hiding. He considered asking Snape straight out what the heck the man was talking about but before he could, Snape spoke again, his words quiet and solemn.

“I will make a promise to you and I intend to keep it. Whether you believe it or not is your decision.” Harry waited with bated breath. He felt that this would be a turned point in their relationship, something that will help Harry truly and completely trust his new mysterious guardian. “I promise you, Harry, that I will no longer kill or torture anyone unless it is to protect my students or to help the side of the light win the war against the Dark Lord.” Harry’s looked at the burning intensity in Snape’s eyes and he just knew that Snape would never break his promise to Harry. Hadn’t he always told him the truth, no matter how unpleasant it was? He could’ve hidden the fact that the death eaters were his friends but he didn’t. He could have simply lied and said that he regretted killing that family but he didn’t. Snape had been honest even if a lie would’ve been much easier and that is why Harry found himself truly believing Snape’s words. The promise was real.

“Will that be sufficient?” Snape asked, a single eyebrow rising to form a perfect arch.

“Yes, sir, it is.” Harry nodded solemnly before giving him a tentative smile. Snape didn’t smile in response, not openly, but the edges of his lips curled upwards ever so slightly. Most people would have missed the subtle change of expression but Harry was slowly getting used to understanding Snape’s moods even if he hadn’t come close to predicting them yet.

“So, I trust you will at least make an attempt to leave the sins of my past undisturbed.”

“Yes, professor,” said Harry quietly, trying to think of what to say to his friends. Hermione would not back down this easily. She was determined to dig up Snape’s past and Harry had the feeling that nothing he could say would change her mind. She could be so stubborn sometimes. What if Harry told them about Snape’s promise and tried to persuade them that he believed his guardians words? The very idea was ridiculous. Ron would definitely not believe Snape’s promise and Hermione would purse her lips and say that she needed more proof. It was hopeless. Besides, if Harry told his friends about this conversation they would be even more suspicious of Snape and determined more than ever to spy on him. What could Harry do? He couldn’t just keep spying on Snape but he couldn’t get his friends to back down either. Damn it! When would things stop being so ruddy complicated?

“Yes, Professor, I won’t go digging up your crimes again.” Harry promised worriedly.

“Thank you, Mr. Potter. I shall endeavor to be more civil in the future.”

“That would be nice. I’m a little tired of fighting all the time.” Harry sighed. “Hopefully, after this honest heartfelt talk I won’t mistrust you as much.”

“Honest heartfelt talk? No self-respecting Slytherin would ever participate in such a thing.” Snape mumbled with a mild sneer.

“And hopefully, you won’t insult me as much and we’ll get along nice and smooth.” Harry finished, wisely choosing to ignore Snape’s interruption.

“That is easier said than done. As I have proven on occasion I can become rather unreasonable.” That’s putting it mildly, Harry thought with a mental shake of the head.

“Maybe you can write a list of things that I should avoid. You know, some topics that’ll make you mad.”

“There is no such definite list, Mr. Potter.”

“No, but there are some things that always upset you. If I could avoid these things then maybe we can get along a little better.” Harry tried to think back on all the arguments they had over the past few days. The insults, the angry words and the fights. What triggered them all? “Well, for starters, you don’t seem to like the phrase ‘for the greater good’.”

“Let’s see. What else?” Harry tapped his fingers on the table and continued with his list. “You don’t like it when I mention anything to do with Gryffindor house and you definitely can’t stand any mention of my father.” Basically everything in life that is important to me, you hate, Harry thought bitterly.

“Anything the matter, Mr. Potter?” Snape asked, watching Harry’s expression closely.

“Nothing, it’s just that… even if I’m the boy who lived, I don’t really have much to be proud of. Yes, I survived the killing curse but that was just pure luck. My only living relatives hate my guts and my grades are mostly average. The only two things in life I’m proud of are my house and my parents. When I’m going through rough times, I get courage by telling myself that I’m James Potter’s son and a Gryffindor but now, it looks like I’ll have to hide who I am so that you’ll accept me.” Harry took a deep breath and fidgeted with his sleeve. He hadn’t meant to say all that but it was the truth. Snape hated everything he loved and stood for. That hurt more than Harry cared to admit.

“You are a good intelligent person in your own right, Harry. You do not need anything else to be proud of. Your house and your parents, I understand that they are of importance to you but they are not everything.” Snape whispered solemnly. He was not meeting Harry’s eyes and his fingers fidgeted on his lap. Harry had the instant impression that Snape was hiding something important.

“Is there no way I can change your mind about my father?” Harry asked hopefully but Snape merely shook his head once. He didn’t even consider it.

“I have no doubt that your father is important to you and that in some levels he is considered a good person but I can never like him. I have been through too much to ever consider that option.”

“Can’t you tell me what happened, sir? What made you hate my father so much?”

“That truth is best left undisturbed.”

“Why, sir? It’ll be easier for me if I understood your reasons for the way you feel about James Potter.”

“I honestly doubt that, Mr. Potter.”

“What do you mean?”

“Merely that the truth will not be to your liking.”

“Why don’t you try me?”

“No, Mr. Potter. I will not tell you what happened between me and your father. That is the end of this discussion.” Snape’s mouth was pressed into a thin line and his tone of voice was stern and demanding respect. Harry nodded and reluctantly let the matter rest, at least for now. He really didn’t want to get into another argument especially since he was still busy recovering from the last one. He decided to just change the topic instead.

“So, professor, what exactly does this potion do?” Harry pointed at the cauldron where the solid block of green potions was slowly returning to its liquid state.

“It kills.” Snape said tonelessly, sprinkling a pinch of purple dust onto the cauldron. There was a strange gurgling sound like the last desperate struggles of a drowning woman. Instantly, the solid block split apart along the middle and a thick sludge oozed out of it. The sludge was as black as night.

“What!” Harry exclaimed, scooting his chair away slightly as he saw the black potion ooze upwards along the edges of the cauldron as if desperate to get out and contaminate everybody around it.

“There is no need to worry your fragile conscience, Mr. Potter. The effects of the potion are merely temporary. It stops the heart completely for three hours but afterwards, the drinker’s body returns to normal.”

“Why would anyone need a potion like that?” Harry asked, still eyeing the dark mass suspiciously.

“I find it rather useful. When the Dark Lord orders a person to be killed, I merely slip them this potion and rescue them hours afterwards.” Harry looked up at Snape, completely surprised.

“Wow, professor, that actually sounds…heroic. Are these the kind of help you give the order?”

“Among other things.” Snape cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. He walked up to a cabinet and pulled out four empty vials, each one already labeled with a name Harry couldn’t quite make out. Harry tried to read the letters, but Snape’s flowing cursive was unreadable.

“Although, this potion has other, less important, uses as well.” Snape continued.

“Really? Like what?”

“Let us just say that in the recent past it has been used to… how shall I put this?... to give an entire Transfiguration class a much needed nap.” Harry’s jaw dropped open. The Sleeping Beauty prank! Around April, the entire third year Gryffindor Slytherin transfiguration class had fallen asleep while Professor McGonagall was lecturing. She had looked for a pulse but she didn’t find any so she ran down the corridor in a complete panic screaming bloody murder. Really, Harry had never seen his head of house look so scared before. The bun on her head had come loose! It turned out later that it was all just a prank pulled by the Weasley twins. All the students woke up three hours later with no idea what had happened. The Weasleys got into so much trouble but they still said it was all worth it.

“So this is how the Weasley twins pulled that prank. They used this weird looking potion.” Harry watched as Snape held the vials on the rim of the cauldron and the mass of black simply climbed the edges and slithered into the glass container.

“Indeed. It was quite the ingenious idea.”

“But how did they get the potion? Surely they couldn’t brew it by themselves.” Harry’s eyes popped open as he realized something. “Did they steal it?”

“Mr. Potter, why do you jump to such hasty conclusions? Perhaps I, graciously teacher that I am, merely handed it to them.” Snape lips twitched and he looked at Harry sideways. Harry frowned. There was definitely something he was missing here.

“But why did you do that?” All four vials were filled now and properly stoppered. They had to be sealed shut with a locking spell to prevent the potion from oozing out of it again.

“Oh, it was merely me being thoughtful.” Snape was openly smirking now. He looked completed pleased with himself as he glanced at Harry waiting for him to figure it out. “A few of my more… caring students believed it to be a good idea as well.” Harry blinked. There was something more behind this. Something very sneaky and slytherinish. Why did Snape and his students give the twins this potions? Certainly not because the Slytherins wanted to see a prank, they were not exactly the fun loving type. Then what was it? The only thing that happened was that Professor McGonagall got pissed and gave the twins lots of detentions and then…

“Hey, hang on a minute!” Harry exclaimed, glaring up at Snape. “The twins were given so many detentions, they couldn’t play in the Quidditch match! I caught the snitch but we still lost to the Slytherins because our beaters were terrible!”

“Oh, that is quite a pity.” Snape smirked, his eyes glistening like a toddler being given a chocolate ice cream.
“It is rather an odd coincidence that the match should fall so soon after that prank.”

“You… you guys set them up!” Harry shook his head and made a face at Snape. The man was still smirking at him, completely pleased with himself. “You cheated, professor! That is really bad. Aren’t you supposed to be fair?”

“Fair?” Snape shook his head, still smiling. “A Slytherin being fair. Whoever heard of such a thing?”

“You do realize that what you did is really childish, right?” Harry vaguely thought that he should be madder about this but he wasn’t. He was just glad that he and Snape were getting along again.

“I am not admitting that I did anything but if I did, it is certainly not childish! It is ingenious!”

“Mature adults are supposed to be above this sort of thing, professor.” Harry couldn’t help it. He smiled up at Snape and nudged him on the shoulder playfully.

“Are you calling me immature, Mr. Potter?” Snape growled lightly, his lips twitching.

“Depends. Are you going to turn me into potion ingredients if I say yes?” It was going to be alright, Harry thought with a small smile. A part of Snape might be evil but he is choosing the light side and in the end, isn’t that what matters? Didn’t Dumbledore say that it was our choice that made us who we are? Snape has killed before and maybe he still wants to but the fact is, he chooses not to. Yes. Harry was going to trust Snape no matter what Hermione or Ron said and everything will be alright. If they said…

Harry blinked. Something was wrong. Harry felt an odd pain in the back of his head and his eyes felt heavy, as if he couldn’t keep them open anymore. What was happening? Could something in the lab be effecting him badly? He looked up at his professor and was about to ask him when suddenly, his vision changed. The image of Snape standing beside him blurred around the edges as if a sudden mist had come into the room. Harry rubbed his eyes and stared. Nothing changed. The shapes around him were still blurred. Was something wrong with his glasses? Spots of black began to dance along his vision and everything around him began to swirl. What the hell? Harry was beginning to panic. He gripped the table in front of him hard and looked around him slowly, trying to clear his vision but everything was so blurred and distorted. He couldn’t even recognize Snape’s face. The dead things around him merged together into an indistinct mass. He could do longer distinguish anything. Oh God.

Harry snapped his eyes shut tight and tried to breathe. Having a panic attack was useless but he hated it when he couldn’t see right. When Dudley went Harry hunting, he always knocked off his glasses so he couldn’t see well enough to run away. He hated it. It made him feel so bloody vulnerable. Was something happening to his eyesight? Harry slowly, fearing the worst, opened first one eye and then the other. He blinked, everything was okay. The shapes were clear again or as clear as they ever were. Harry blinked again. Once. Twice. Nothing changed. His vision was completely normal. Harry sagged with relief as he soaked in all the details around him. Snape standing there twirling a vial in front of his eyes, the plate of lizard tails. Harry was even glad to see the jar of creepy eyeballs staring back at him. Everything was crystal clear.

Harry frowned in thought. What had happened? Why did everything start to blur so suddenly? Was it because he was tired? He remembered that he didn’t sleep much last night. Maybe that was it, he just needed a rest. Snape meant to take him to a sight healer today but with all the excitement about the letter, they had completely forgotten. Harry wondered if he should remind Snape. Getting his eyes checked wouldn’t be a bad idea. Harry thought about it for a moment before giving a light shrug. He was just worried about nothing. All he needed was to go to bed early today and everything would be fine.

Harry dismissed it from his mind and focused his attention on Snape again. The man was busy using an odd silver instrument Harry had never seen before. He leaned forward eagerly and asked his professor all about it. Snape was only too glad to get into lecture mode and explain everything. He went onto to explain about different measuring techniques and then showed Harry how to use them. Snape brewed four more potions that day and somethings he even let Harry help out. Neither of them noticed the sun slowly fade into horizon as morning turned into afternoon.