Dance With Me Harry

DANCE WITH ME HARRY

By Aerie22

CHAPTER 12

"Not of the Wizarding World"

Harry brooded for a long time after his meeting with Professor Dumbledore. He did not respond to Hermione's or Ron's questions about the meeting not out of reticence, but because he simply didn't hear them. Finally, as if in a daze, he walked up to his dorm.

Harry was both upset and a little frightened by his actions. Harry had looked on the old Headmaster as a sort of mentor or idealized grandfather. But he was upset that Dumbledore would suggest he leave the Strowbridges without asking him. Tony and Mae were as close now to being a family to him as he had ever known. His reaction in the Headmaster's office alarmed and frightened him. But the thought of leaving the Strowbridges frightened him even more.

Suddenly, as he sat in the Headmaster's office, he felt like a pawn in a larger game of wizarding chess, being moved for purposes he didn't understand by forces he was unaware of and only being able to see the squares immediately around him, but knowing all the while the consequences of a wrong move by the person making the moves.

And now, as he sat at his desk, he began to wonder about the person making those moves. He had been angry at first at the Headmaster when he was recovering from his injuries in the hospital this summer. But he soon realized that this was being unfair. Dumbledore had no way of knowing about how critical the situation could have, and actually did, become.

But Harry began to have even more troubling thoughts. No, Professor Dumbledore had no way of knowing about the Dursleys. But what about other things? Surely the Headmaster couldn't have know about Professor Quirrell in Harry's first year either, else he could have done something to stop Voldemort when he was at his weakest. And Dumbledore couldn't have known about location of the Chamber of Secrets, or he would have done something to contain the menace that the Basilisk posed to the Muggle-born and half-Muggle students. And what of how the TriWizard Tournament had been manipulated to ensure that Harry would win and claim the portkey Championship Cup that led to Voldemort's rise? Or of Barty Crouch's disguise?

If Professor Dumbledore did not know these things, which nearly cost so many lives and, in Cedric Diggory's case, ended in death, what else did he not know?

Suddenly Harry felt like the child who discovered that the father he loved, feared and worshipped was not the all-powerful, all-knowing center of the universe. Albus Dumbledore was the most powerful wizard of his age. And he was kind and strong and wise. But now Harry understood fully that there were limits to what the Headmaster knew, or could do, to protect him. Albus Dumbledore was a great wizard. But he was human.

It was a shattering thought for a naïve boy. And Harry now understood that, if his defiance of the Headmaster might have conflicted with or interfered with larger or smaller considerations, at least it was right for him. And he was satisfied that he had done the right thing.

And now he understood that he would always listen carefully to Professor Dumbledore and follow his advice when he could. But he also understood that He would ultimately make his own decisions.

* * *

Dear Mae and Tony,

I made it to Hogwarts after a fun day with my friends Hermione and Ron and Ron's brothers and sister. Ron thinks Hermione likes me, but I don't know if that's true. He was a little upset about it, but I let him know he will always be my best friend, no matter what.

He did flirt with Parvati, the girl I told you about. The one who I took to the Yule Ball. She's grown tall and is even prettier than last year. And she noticed Ron, too. She told me she wouldn't mind going out with him. But getting Ron to ask her will be a real trick. I think they would make a nice couple.

I met all the first year students and they are very nice. But I think they will be a handful. Being a school prefect will not be as easy as I thought. I look forward to getting to know them all better.

Already, I have met some new people from my year. They are nice, too. I thought about what you said about paying attention to people I don't know. You were right. I think some of those people I didn't pay attention to before are interesting and could be good friends.

I miss you both already. I love being here but I also wish I could see you both more often. I've only been away for three days and already I miss talking to you, asking your advice, just sitting around a chatting. I told the Headmaster that I would be coming back to the vicarage for Christmas. Is that all right? I hope so. I can't wait.

I love you both.

Your foster son,

Harry

* * *

"Whoa! Harry, check out Hannah Abbott," Ron whispered.

Harry chuckled. They had just entered Greenhouse Number 3 for their herbology class with the Hufflepuffs. "I know," he said with a smile. "I told you. And check out Ernie MacMillan. He's almost as big as you and I'll wager he's got a hex with your name on it if you say anything to her."

Ron chuckled. "It might be worth it."

Harry glanced at Hannah. She had her golden wavy hair pinned up to keep it out of the way while dealing with oft times aggressive plants. But a few tendrils had charmingly fallen free. And her robe was cinched at the waist, also for safety reasons, emphasizing her well-developed figure. And her peaches and cream complexion a gray-blue eyes made her probably the prettiest girl in Hogwarts.

But for all her physical charms, she seemed to be a sweet and mild-natured as ever, as Harry had found during the prefects' meeting on the Hogwarts' Express. And she seemed as devoted as ever to Ernie MacMillan. Harry had noticed them walking hand-in-hand in the hallways, blithely oblivious to the occasional comment that they should get a room.

She was drawing stares from several of the boys in the class and Ron was no exception. So Harry was startled when he heard Ron yelp.

"Ron, I believe there's an open seat over there," Parvati whispered in an annoyed tone. "Over on Hannah's lap."

Parvati turned back to Lavender and whispered something, who then leaned over to give Ron a dirty look.

Ron blushed and turned to Harry. "Parvati pinched me," he said in a startled voice.

"You're lucky she didn't break your nose," Harry giggled.

Harry still was chuckling, and Ron was still blushing, over Parvati's proprietary interest in Ron's amorous attentions when the class ended.

As they left the greenhouse, Ron frowned. "Time to go to hell," he grumped.

* * *

Snape had completed listing the latest potion's ingredients on the chalkboard when he quickly turned and leveled his gaze on Harry.

"This year, the focus of this class will be on medicinal, curative and preventative potions. Tell us, Mister Potter, what is the significance of limiting the belladonna in the Oculus Corrigere potion to one-half a leaf," Snape snapped.

Harry looked up from his cauldron. He had studied the potions to be prepared for the class, but was uncertain about the point of Snape's question. Belladonna was a common ingredient in many medicinal potions. But what was Snape getting at? Harry decided to guess.

"Adding more than a half leaf would tend to reduce the effectiveness for the potion, professor," Harry ventured.

"Oh, really?" Snape said with arched eyebrows. "Are you familiar with the properties of Belladonna, Mister Potter? Are you aware that it contains the alkaloid atropine? And could you enlighten us on what would happen if you used, say, five leaves, rather than point-five leaves?"

"Could kill ya," muttered Goyle, from the Slytherin side of the room.

"Quite correct, Mister Goyle," said Snape, to the snickering of the other Slytherins. "That's why it is also called the Deadly Nightshade. So, Mister Potter, your answer is technically correct. 'Adding more than a half leaf would tend to reduce the effectiveness of the potion' in one who tried it if that person had a sudden heart seizure or went into convulsions and died," Snape sneered. "It has been our experience in the wizarding world that potions generally are not considered efficacious if they kill the person taking the potion ... unless, of course, death was the intended consequence. As your answer was, in the most general of senses, correct, I will only assess 10 points against Gryffindor, rather than 20 points."

Harry sunk down in his chair in embarrassment and fury. 'It's starting already,' he thought in a rage. 'The first day of the new school year, and Snape is already at it,' be fumed silently.

Throughout the class, Ron and Hermione kept giving Harry worried side-long glances as he continued to stare malevolently at Snape. When the class mercifully drew to a close, Ron and Hermione began packing their cauldrons and ingredients to leave, but Harry didn't move.

"Come on, Harry," Hermione whispered. "We have to get this packed away before lunch."

But still, Harry didn't move.

Ron started to say something but caught the direction of Harry's gaze, which was leveled on Snape. "Don't do it, mate," he whispered to Harry. "The git's not worth getting expelled over."

Hermione's eyes widened in fear. "Do what??" she whispered in a panic. "Harry, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to tell Snape what I think of his teaching...and him. I'm tired of being bullied. Of all of us getting bullied. Four years of this is enough," Harry said with an edge of steel in his voice.

"No!" Hermione whispered furiously, while Ron tried pulling out Harry bodily from the classroom. But Harry would not be moved.

At that point, Snape turned around and glared at the three remaining students. "Shouldn't you three be joining your little friends at lunch," he said sarcastically.

"Professor Snape," Harry said icily. "I need to talk to you."

Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry. "Mister Potter, if you have a question, raise your hand in class and ask it. Now I'm very busy, so be off with you, all of you."

"This doesn't have to do with potions, professor," Harry said in a low tone.

Snape stared thoughtfully at Harry for a moment. "Potter. My office. Now!" he snapped. He then turned to Ron and Hermione. "You two. Get out. Unless you'd like to spend the next month scrubbing cauldrons."

Hermione and Ron nervously gathered up their belongings and headed for the door. "I'm telling you, don't do it," Ron whispered.

But Harry had quickly gathered his materials and stormed out of the classroom in Snape's wake.

Snape was still 20 feet from his office when he muttered a spell and casually waved his wand, opening his office door. He swept into the office without breaking stride, with Harry right behind.

"Sit down, Potter," Snape said as he sank into the chair behind his desk.

But Harry remained standing. He put his hands on Snape's desk and leaned forward. "I want to know why you are constantly picking on us, humiliating us."

"Are you questioning my teaching methods?" Snape spat angrily.

"Yes I am," Harry growled.

"Don't take that tone with me, Potter! I'm not one of your little friends in the Gryffindor common room."

Harry continued to glare at Snape.

Snape leaned back in his swivel chair, his fingers tented under his chin, and gave Harry and narrow-eyed, appraising stare. "Are you sure you want to know, Mister Potter?"

"Yes, I want to know!" Harry said angrily.

"SIT DOWN, POTTER!" Snape commanded, and Harry slowly sank into the chair in front of Snape's desk.

Snape eyed Harry as he swiveled back and forth for several seconds. "Potter, you're a slacker. You like to cut corners. You cram everything you need to know the night before and probably promptly forget it the next day. In other words, you're a lousy potions student."

Harry bit back a nasty response. Taking a deep breath, he leveled his gaze at Snape. "I do well enough in your class," he said angrily.

Snape snorted. "You'll have to do more than well enough if you know what's good for you."

"Are you threatening me?" Harry snapped.

"Watch your tone!" Snape snapped back, then took a moment to recompose himself. "No, Mister Potter. I'm warning you."

"Warning me about what?"

Snape was silent for a few seconds. "I'm warning you about your ability to survive in the wizarding world."

Harry's glare intensified. "I seemed to survive pretty well so far, against greater enemies than you," he spat.

"I warned you about your tone, Potter. Maybe you'd like to spend the rest of the term scrubbing cauldrons."

Harry leaned back in his seat, but didn't take his eyes off Snape's.

"I'm not talking about Voldemort and the Death Eaters, you fool," Snape barked. "I'm talking about simple everyday living. You, of all people, should be working furiously to catch up."

"I study hard. I'm no slacker. And what about Hermione? She's the top student in the class, but that doesn't keep you from tormenting her, humiliating her in front of everyone."

Snape snorted again and paused to look at Harry thoughtfully. "Tell me, Potter. What's your favorite class?"

Harry started at Snape, confused. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Tell me, Mister Potter. What's your favorite class?" Snape repeated.

Harry shifted in the chair. "Defense Against the Dark Arts," he said, "as if that had anything to do with anything."

Snape leaned forward, staring intently. "Oh, it has everything to do with you, Mister Potter."

Harry looked confused.

"Tell me, you were raised as a Muggle, weren't you?"

Harry nodded cautiously.

"Have you ever spent much time in a wizarding household?"

"I've spent a lot of time with the Weasleys over the past few summers," he said.

Snape nodded. "A fine old-line wizarding family," he said thoughtfully.

"Yes," Harry snapped. "But that hasn't kept you from ...."

"Shut up, Potter," Snape commanded. "Tell me, while you were with the Weasleys, how many boggarts did you chase off? How many vampires did you fight?"

Harry shrugged, confused.

"And you probably know the six ways to kill a werewolf."

Harry blanched.

"Oh. Did I forget that you were the prize student of Remus Lupin a couple years ago? So you now know how to kill him six different ways. But what happens if your good friend Remus stops by for a visit around a full moon? Do you kill him? Or just lock him in the basement and hope for the best?"

Harry gaped.

"Or do you brew a potion that might ease his suffering and anguish? And protect you and him from having to try to kill each other?" Snape said sarcastically.

"Uhhh...." Harry grunted.

"I thought so," Snape said smugly.

"You are essentially a Muggle. And so is Miss Granger. So let's say you and your Muggle friend Miss Granger decided to set up housekeeping. What would the two of you do first?"

Harry felt his face flush.

Snape leaned back in his chair, casually staring at a corner of the room. "Let's see, what would you start with? Well, I suppose you two being adolescents, the first thing you would do is look for a contraceptive potion. Unless, of course, you were determined to start a family early. Then a nice fertility potion. And maybe a health potion for the expectant mother and her child. And maybe a potion to increase the odds that the child will develop full magical skills. That's a complicated one, with some expensive ingredients. Too bad Filch's parents couldn't put one of those together, eh Potter?" Snape said turning to stare at Harry.

Harry was staring a Snape, gabbling angrily.

Snape returned his unfocused gaze to the corner of the room. "Oh, yes. And the house. How about a nice anti-vermin potion. And an anti-pest potion to keep the flies and mosquitoes out. And a fungicidal potion to keep the mold and mildew away. Of course, you'd want to infuse your carpets in a dirt repellant potion. And your clothes would need another potion to repel stains and to prevent stretching or shrinking. And a potion to coat the fireplace to keep the flue clean. And an potion to keep the wood in the house from warping or splitting. And a potion to help insulate the house from the heat and cold. And a potion for the roof to keep it from leaking."

Harry was now staring wide-eyed at Snape.

Snape continued without looking at Harry. "Oh, I almost forgot. Your medicinal trunk. There's your general tonics, your basic health elixirs, your illness potions. And of course, your ingredients for emergency use for potions for everything from the grippe to morning sickness for your lady friend. There's the pepper-upper potions for those days you just don't feel like getting out of bed, and your sleeping potions for those long nights of tossing and turning," Snape said, turning to face Harry. "You've got to be careful about those, you know."

Harry's mouth was working but nothing was coming out.

"But, of course, you and your brilliant young lady know all about these," Snape said with a sneer.

Harry continued to gape.

"...or maybe not," Snape continued. "You see, Potter, you are in the wizarding world, but not of it. Neither is Miss Granger. Yes, she is very bright. But she treats potions like a series of recipes to be memorized. I have little doubt that she spends all her spare time preparing for her next exam when she should be preparing for life. You think you are studying school subjects, you two. But you are both wrong. You are learning a way of life, a life foreign to both of you."

Harry was stunned.

"So maybe I was a little premature, matching you up with Miss Granger. I'd give you two six months before you went full-blown Muggle. Better you find a nice young Ravenclaw witch...no, you wouldn't want one too smart...a nice Hufflepuff girl. Not too smart, but savvy enough in the wizarding way to at least keep the bedbugs out of your nuptial chambers."

Harry turned red with anger. "How dare you..."

"Shut up, Potter," Snape snapped, cutting Harry off. "You wonder about all the hostility between the purebloods and the Muggle-born--the 'Mudbloods,' as some of our more thuggish wizards call people like Miss Granger. One of the sources of that conflict is the fear that, as more Muggle-born witches and wizards enter the wizarding world, increasing amounts of precious wizarding knowledge is lost or forgotten, as those in the wizarding world start looking to the Muggle world for solutions to basic needs and problems."

"That's why I take issue with some of the Sorting Hat's decisions," Snape continued. "It seems every year, more and more Muggle-born students are concentrated to Gryffindor. Sure, there are a few scattered among the other houses. We even have a couple in Slytherin. But how many Muggle-born or half-Muggle students are there in your year in Gryffindor?"

Harry looked down and shrugged.

Snape snorted. "I'll tell you. Exactly half. The only purebloods are Miss Patil and Miss Brown, among the girls, and Mister Weasley and Mister Longbottom among the boys. Mister Finnegan at least had a fully trained witch for a mother. Mister Thomas, on the other hand, was raised as a Muggle for all intents and purposes, even if his mother was a witch...of sorts. Miss Granger was raised a Muggle and so were you."

"So what?" Harry snapped.

Snape glared at Harry. "You Muggle-borns need as much exposure to the wizarding world and its ways as possible. But by concentrating so many of you in Gryffindor, the Sorting Hat only serves to reinforce your continued reliance on your Muggle habits."

Harry's head snapped up. "So if you hate us Mudbloods so much, why do you pick on Neville more than anyone except maybe me."

Snape leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped behind his head. "Tell me, Potter. Do you think Mister Longbottom is a squib?"

Harry's eyes widened. "You know he isn't," he said angrily.

"Well, is he retarded?"

"No," Harry snapped.

"But clearly slow-witted. Much less intelligent than, say, Mister Crabbe or Mister Goyle from my own house, or Miss Brown in yours."

Harry was getting really angry now. "Neville is not stupid. Neither is Lavender. And Neville's a good student in Herbology."

"So it must be the professor," Snape remarked.

"Maybe it is," Harry sneered.

"The same professor teaching the same classes to Messers Crabbe and Goyle and Miss Brown, who consistently do better on their work than Mister Longbottom," Snape said.

"Well, that's to be expected," Harry sneered. "After all, Crabbe and Goyle are Slytherins."

Snape's eyes widened and he lurched forward, pointing his finger toward Harry's chest. "Now you listen here, Potter. I take care of the people in my house. But I have never, and will never, give a student an advantage or disadvantage in their grade based on what house they are from or what my personal feelings toward them are. You remember that," he said furiously.

Harry looked down. "Sorry professor..." he said quietly.

"You want to know about Longbottom? Is that it? I'll tell you about Longbottom. I knew his father back when I was a student here. He was a few years ahead of me, but everyone knew Frank Longbottom. He was a tough guy. He kept the Gryffindor House in order. But maybe he had to be a tough guy to survive living with his mother. She was a dominating old harridan."

"But Frank Longbottom had a spine. As soon as he graduated from here, he got married and moved out. He went into the Auror service and with Patsy, his wife, were two of the most effective aurors the ministry ever had. Then they got their minds destroyed by that miserable little shyte, Barty Crouch Jr. And their son, young Mister Longbottom, got stuck with Frank's mother."

Snape was breathing hard now. "I sympathize with Mister Longbottom's upbringing. I'm sure old lady Prunella Longbottom terrorized him, never letting him out of her sight or letting him make a decision for himself. I thought that coming here, and knowing a little more about his parents, particularly his father, away from Prunella, would help him grow a spine. Maybe he would learn to fight back. Maybe he'd learn to fight back against me. But then, maybe I was wrong."

Harry stared a Snape in shock.

Snape lowered his head as he glared out at Harry through narrowed eyes.

"Tell me, Potter. What did Dumbledore tell you the first thing before your sorting ceremony?"

Harry shrugged in confusion.

"I'll tell you what he said. He said that, once you are sorted, the people in your house will become your second family. And what has Mister Longbottom's second family done to support him? What?! Do you keep him around as some kind of court jester while the rest of you Gryffindors are plotting new adventures and planning new grand gestures to impress the rest of the school?"

Harry shrunk down in his seat in shame.

"I admit that I've failed Mister Longbottom. But I'm not in the hand-holding business. I'm a teacher. And I've got my own house to worry about. But you and your little Gryffindor friends are supposed to be Mister Longbottom's family, his friends and confidants. Yes, Potter, I admit I've failed him. But you should share the greater portion of the failure, the shame."

Harry lowered his head in humiliation. He had known for months about Neville's story. But had he ever taken the time to talk to Neville, to help him? And what had he done for Neville's academic struggles? Console him about what a nasty person Snape was. Show him a few spells. Harry was furious that Snape, of all people, could shame him like this.

"Potter. You raised the issue of Crabbe and Goyle's grades and their being Slytherins. Let me tell you about Slytherin House. You Gryffindors love all the theatrics, the grand gestures. You celebrate your Quidditch victories and your House Cup. But in Slytherin House, we take care of our own, whether it's celebrated or not. I know. I'm probably a lot more intrusive on my house than the other heads of houses. So I see what's going on."

"And you know what I see? I see Draco Malfoy riding herd on the boys in your year, making sure they are prepared, making sure their homework is done. And I see Millicent Bulstrode doing the same thing with the girls. It's part of Slytherin pride. And the ones being helped will always remember those who helped them. It's called a Wizard's Debt. I don't know if you ever heard that term, but it means a lot in the wizarding world. It may not mean much to you, but it means a lot to us."

Harry was near tears in his shame.

"Potter!" Snape barked, and Harry's head snapped up. "I'm going to demonstrate the difference between Slytherin and Gryffindor in terms you can understand."

Snape got up from his desk and approached Harry. "When I was a first year here at Hogwarts, there was something of a fad raging throughout the school. Some of the students had seen some American Muggle Western films and got caught up in the trappings of American cowboys. One of those was something they called the fast draw. Two American cowboys would face each other and attack each other with Muggle weapons. The winning cowboy would blow the smoke out of his weapon and twirl it before smoothly depositing it in its holder."

Harry looked up at Snape with a puzzled expression. 'What is he talking about?' Harry thought.

Snape looked down at Harry with a small, almost embarrassed smile. "It seems very few were immune to this fad."

At this point, Snape turned toward the fireplace in his office. In a motion too quick for Harry to follow, Snape's wand was out and he had lit a fire in the fireplace. Snape then held the tip of his lips, and blew on it, dispersing a puff of smoke from the spell. He then twirled the wand so fast as to be a blur and pocketed the wand again in a motion too quick for Harry' eyes to follow.

Harry sat open mouthed as Snape returned to his seat. He stared intently at Harry. "Mister Potter. Your inattention to detail in today's class cost Gryffindor ten points. If you can come into class tomorrow and tell me honestly that you did not attempt to duplicate my childish little demonstration, I will restore those ten points to Gryffindor. If not, it will cost Gryffindor an additional ten points. Is that understood?"

Harry nodded numbly.

"Do you know why I make this offer to you, despite your rude behavior?"

Harry shook his head, miserably.

Snape leaned forward in his chair. "Because a Slytherin would put his wand in his pocket and leave it there. He, or she, would realize that ten points for the House is important, no matter the urge to play or show off. Can you say the same for a Gryffindor?"

Snape leaned back in his chair. "Unless there is anything else, Mister Potter, you are dismissed," Snape said as he turned to his paperwork.

Harry shook himself and rose. He gave Snape, who was ignoring him, a last look before leaving the office. Halfway up the stairs to the Gryffindor, he noticed that he had his wand out and was absently trying to twirl it. He shook his head. Ten more points from Gryffindor, he thought sadly.