Unforgivable Promises

Unfinished Promises

Chapter 10

-----

After a lunch punctuated by gasps brought on by sore muscles, Harry pulled Hermione into the parlor. Things between the two had been strained for days, and while he still worried about the girl's curiosity, he also knew he needed it. He had a theory that only Hermione could help with.

"Feel like some extra homework?" Harry asked with a grin.

Hermione grinned back and sat down. "I knew you were up to something." Her satisfied emphasis on "knew" and "something" grated on Harry.

"I'm always up to something. Don't you read the Daily Prophet?" Hermione laughed, and Harry kept talking, hoping she wouldn't interrupt in another one of her know-it-all tones. "Anyway, I need your help."

"Yes, well. . ." Hermione said. Of course you need my help. I told you so. Harry filled in the unspoken chide. He gave her credit for not saying it, though.

"I was talking to Snape before about the Dark Mark and my scar, and I think maybe they're more alike than even he realizes. Or Voldemort." Anything in Hermione's posture that had been smug melted as she entered full-on–take-no-prisoners–study-mode.

"What did he say? No, wait." Hermione jumped up and led Harry up to her room where she readied a stack of parchment and row of quills.

"You're taking notes?" Harry laughed. By now, Ron and the rest had sensed something was up and joined them.

"Harry, it's not like there are any books written on the Dark Mark. As much as anyone can tell, it's a completely unique spell and only he knows how to create it. And since you're the first person to survive a killing curse like that, the few books on that were just speculation. No one could study you or the scar."

"There were books written about my scar?"

"A few. None by any really important wizards. I don't think Dumbledore wanted anyone to figure too much out about it since he knew Voldemort would be coming back. Most of the best theoretical wizards are either loyal to him or Voldemort. And none of his people are going to write a book about it. So none of the books are likely to be very useful."

"You've read all of them?" Neville asked.

Hermione looked insulted by the question. "Of course I have."

"Now, Harry, tell me everything." Harry knew by her tone that it was going to be a long afternoon.

By the time they were called down to dinner, Hermione had recorded everything Snape had told Harry about the Dark Mark as well as everything Harry had experienced about his own scar. As they made their way down the stairs to the kitchen, Ron asked, "Hermione? What exactly do you want to do with that book you just wrote?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know, but Harry's got some plan, don't you, Harry?"

"Wait a minute. You just spent hours asking about every tiny little thing you could think of, and you don't even know why?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at the redhead. "Well, it doesn't matter, does it? You can never tell what little bit of information is going to be useful, so it's best to have all of it. We'll figure out what to do with it after dinner."

Everyone quieted as they entered the kitchen. Their sudden silence was greeted with a suspicious glare from Mrs. Weasley.

After dinner, Snape descended upon the kitchen and left a worried Harry in his wake as Hermione was whisked into the parlor. Later, Hermione emerged from the room behind the glowering teacher.

"I trust you understand, Miss Granger, that neither I nor Headmaster Dumbledore will tolerate any disobedience in this matter."

"Of course, Professor," Hermione said in what Harry recognized as her most innocent voice. Harry was still worried.

-----

Severus swept back to his room silently. The girl had not been lying, not really. But she was not telling the entire truth. The Potions Master growled as he slammed his door shut. He knew the students below would hear the bang and took a moment of pleasure imagining their winces. Potter was plotting again, and this time the boy was going to try to save the last man in the world he should be worried about.

"Stupid child," he said quietly as he set several cauldrons to heat. He needed to calm down, and nothing was as relaxing as a nice brewing session. "He's trying to save the world one wizard at a time, and he's going to get himself killed." This latest turn of events had Snape worried that he'd made a mistake in agreeing to these new combat lessons. For that matter, it would have been best if Snape had simply gone on hating the boy as he always had. The child had been so easily blinded by his dislike of the older man in the past that he never would have realized the danger Snape was truly in had Snape wanted to keep it secret.

But Snape had not wanted to keep it a secret. Not entirely. His solitude was as much necessity as preference, and the boy was so damned easy to talk to sometimes. It was no wonder the wizarding world vacillated between hero-worship and fear where the boy was concerned. It was hard not to like him. But the same could be said of the Dark Lord before he had been twisted into that inhuman thing he now was.

"Stupid child," he said again, then corrected himself quietly. "Not a child any longer, though." The boy was indeed growing up. About damned time, too. He could actually be seen showing restraint when it came to his friends. His brainless courage and loyalty had given Dumbledore no end of sleepless nights. It was good to see him finally realizing that there were others more suited to some tasks.

But therein was the real problem. There was one task that Harry, and only Harry, could manage. Had the boy ever given any serious thought to anything beyond facing the Dark Lord? As far as Snape knew, he hadn't. He had heard from Minerva that Harry had hopes of becoming an Auror, but did he really expect to see that come to fruition? Or had that been the first answer to the question he knew Umbridge, the imbecile, would find troubling? Snape had no idea.

Still, Harry would make a decent Auror if he outlived his nemesis. Dark Wizards would turn themselves in rather than face the one who defeated the Dark Lord. Of course, his future as an Auror depended on him doing better in Potions than Snape believed possible. Perhaps that should be added to the growing syllabus. Severus had achieved miraculous results in the past, and cramming some kind of proficiency in potion brewing into Harry's enormously thick skull would be a crowning achievement.

It would have to be just Harry, though. The other brats were still just barely tolerable when their instructor had them working too hard to talk. Anything more than an hour or two a day with all of them would have him looking forward to the start of term and a slow death at the Dark Lord's hands. Snape grinned cruelly at his private little insult, then blinked. Harry Potter had managed to be come the least objectionable company this forsaken manor had to offer. Merlin help them all. Besides, tutoring the young man would likely drag out the summer endlessly. And truth be told, Severus Snape was in no particular hurry to die.

-----

The group filed into Harry's room and looked at Harry expectantly.

"He asked me if I was helping you with anything dangerous. I told him you hadn't asked me to help with anything at all. I think he was using Legilemency on me. I guess it's good dinner was a little early today and you didn't have time to tell me what you want. But he definitely knows something's up."

"Speaking of that," Ginny said, "what is up?"

"I was thinking that if Voldemort could control the bond he has with the Death Eaters, maybe I can learn how he does it."

"Like read his mind?" Neville asked.

"No." Harry shivered. "I doubt I could do that without him knowing I was there. Right now I think it's more like I'm looking through a window. I don't even know if I could get that far into his mind. And I don't think I'd want to anyway." Nods greeted the last.

"If nothing's been written about the Dark Mark, how can you learn anything about it?" Ron asked.

"Well, that's what I need help with, isn't it? I was there in his head when he marked Draco. I didn't really find anything out, though." Harry blushed.

"If it was that painful, Harry, you shouldn't feel bad. He probably makes it extra bad just to make them scream," Ginny leaned over touched his arm.

Harry nodded. "I suppose so. And that's really the first problem we need to solve. Why do I always feel his victim's pain? I'm in his head, not theirs."

"Can You-Know-Who feel it too?" Neville asked.

"I bet he does," Hermione said before Harry could answer. "It doesn't make sense otherwise, does it? I thought about this last year when Harry's visions were so bad. Harry, if you were connected to the Death Eaters somehow, through your scar and their Mark, you'd feel it whenever he was manipulating all the Marks at once, like calling them to him. But you don't. I think he can feel what they feel through the Mark."

"Why in the world would he want to do that? It's horrible."

"Well, I'm not sure about that," Hermione chewed on a lock of hair. "But there can be any number of reasons. Maybe it's just for more control. Maybe he enjoys it. Maybe it doesn't bother him." Harry grew pale. "It's not like he's normal. But the point is, I think Harry's feeling it through Voldemort, so Voldemort must be feeling it too."

"If that's true," Harry said, not yet willing to take Hermione's feeling as fact, "then I can't go through another Marking without experiencing all of it. And there's no way I'll be able to pay attention to what he's doing."

Neville sat upright. "Maybe you can block the pain." The boy slumped back into his seat and looked suddenly uncomfortable. Harry was curious about what his friend had in mind, but decided not to pursue it. He noticed Ron open his mouth and close it, apparently thinking the same thing as Harry. There was a part of Neville's life that neither boy would press him into talking about, and they were always worried about doing so unintentionally.

Hermione, though, had other plans. "Is that possible? It's not real pain Harry's feeling."

"They gave my parents something." Neville's voice dropped low and he stared down at the empty table next to him. Hermione's eyes grew wide as she frowned.

"I'm sorry, Neville. If you don't want to talk about it. . ." Hermione looked away from him and reached for a piece of parchment. "There's a lot of other questions anyway."

"No, it's okay," Neville said. "It doesn't happen as much any more, but my parents used to have flashbacks of when. . . Well, flashbacks. My dad more than my mom, really. The normal pain potions didn't work because it was just the memory of the pain. His body was okay. I don't know how it works, but maybe I can find out what it's called."

"It's worth trying," Ron said. "But what do you have in mind, Harry?"

"Snape said that Voldemort can probably break the bond between him and his Death Eaters. What if I learn how to do that? Even if I can't, who knows what I could manage. But I won't know anything unless I can figure out how he's doing it."

Hermione chewed the end of her quill. "If you could break all the bonds, I wonder how many wouldn't go back to him. Maybe Professor Snape isn't the only wizard who's changed their mind. And if you could do them all at once, we could attack Voldemort and he wouldn't be able to call for help."

"You mean the Order could attack him," Harry said.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Let's not get into that again Harry. Fine, the Order could attack him."

Harry let the argument drop. He was running short on time. "We need to figure this all out before the summer's over."

"That's going to be hard, Harry. We can't really get away with much here, can we? What's the rush?" Ginny asked.

"If Draco took the Mark, other Slytherins probably did, too. I don't know if Dumbledore will let Draco back in to Hogwarts, but I want to know as much as I can before we get back to school." Harry hadn't really considered anything about Draco's taking the Mark. He'd always assumed his classmate would. But he did not want to let his friends in on his real plan yet. They would not understand why he wanted to help Snape. Ron had an odd expression on his face but said nothing. His friends, naturally, took him at his word.

-----

Harry was having a hard time remembering why he wanted to save Snape's life.

"What exactly was the point of that little maneuver, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked.

"I, uh. . ." Harry stood up hesitantly as Snape's magical cords fell from his arms and legs. "I wasn't sure what spell that was, so I thought I'd be better off just getting out of your way." Harry looked up to see Ron's face caught between a laugh and a glare directed at Snape.

"And why did your theory not work?" Snape asked.

"You got a second spell off faster than I thought you could."

"Mr. Longbottom, what is Mr. Potter missing here?"

Neville's eyes grew wide and his wand shook slightly. "You only actually cast one spell, Professor. The first one failed."

Harry blinked. "Oh."

"I do not fail, Mr. Longbottom." The boy grew white and Snape turned back to Harry. "The first spell was not a spell at all. It was gibberish. I anticipated your reaction and prepared to bind you after you dodged."

Harry blushed. For the past hour, Snape had proven beyond the shadow of a doubt that Harry's survival up to this point had been almost entirely a matter of luck.

"Note," Snape said to the group, "that particular trick will not work against a Death Eater with any amount of training. Any spell you know, they will know as well. And they are quite accustomed to trickery. They may, however, use the ploy against you, counting on your exceedingly limited skills in order to succeed. As such, I have prepared an assignment for you all." He gestured toward the door and several stacks of parchment appeared. The students groaned, even Hermione.

"Listed for you are all the spells you are likely to encounter in a fight. They include curses, hexes, charms, and transfigurations. Most are perfectly legal. The last few pages, however, list various spells banned for one reason or another. You are not to attempt any spells on these lists, legal or illegal. Is that clear?" He waited for everyone to acknowledge the rule before going on. "Beginning next week, you will be tested on your knowledge of the list. Any member of the Order here may shout a spell at you. They will not cast, but you will react as if your life depends on it. If the spell is real, you will either dodge the mock attack or respond, in words only–no wands–with an appropriate counterspell. If it is not a spell on the list, you will not respond in any way at all."

"And if we're wrong, Professor?" Ginny spoke up.

"Then you will write eighteen inches on the use of the spell in question."

Hermione's hand shot up. Sheepishly, she lowered it and asked, "What if it's an imaginary spell? If we react to something someone makes up, how can we write about what it's used for?"

"You will have to develop a good imagination, won't you?"

Ron leaned over to the girl. "Shoulda stayed in Divination. Harry and I are experts at imaginary answers, aren't we Harry?" Ron quickly quieted at Snape's curled lip. Harry smiled, though, as he had learned to recognize that particular curl as a sign of amusement. The moment did not last, however.

"On to barrier spells," Snape said. With an economical twitch of his wand, Snape summoned a translucent shield that hovered before him for several seconds before fading. "This spell will protect against several types of blasting curses."

Harry managed the shield with only a little difficulty. Hermione, of course, picked it up slightly before him. Once the two had it, Snape told them he had something to attend to and would return shortly. Harry watched the Potions Master leave, not entirely sure that the man had not left them to give Harry and Hermione a chance to give Neville, at least, some help. Hermione took Neville aside and Harry worked with Ron and Ginny. Ron needed little coaching, and Harry was impressed by the focus his friend showed. Normally, Ron had a hard time putting much effort into spells. After ten minutes, it was Ginny who was still having difficulty.

"It's no surprise," Neville said to the frustrated girl. "You're a year behind us. You'll get it. Watch me again." With a look of intense concentration, Neville called up a shield. It lasted almost as long as Snape's had before wavering and finally fading away.

"Focus a few feet in front of you, and picture the shield appearing there," Neville said.

As Harry watched his friend helping Ginny, Hermione nudged him. "We should ask Neville to tutor Ginny. Maybe he'll do better if he's concentrating on learning it to help Ginny."

"Worth a shot," Harry said. That was another promise he'd made to Snape he intended to keep. If Neville never got to avenge his parents, it would not be because Harry had given up on him.

Snape returned shortly and immediately began testing their mastery of the shield by throwing spells at them. All but Ginny managed to deflect at least a few of their instructor's attacks, and Harry took some pride in noting that he blocked more than he let through.

Finally, Ginny looked ready to start throwing hexes back at Snape. Snape gave no indication that he noticed or cared about the girl's frustration, but called halt to their practice session. Harry dared to consider that the man was sparing her.

"It is time for lunch," Snape said and turned to leave. "I trust, Miss Weasley, you will overcome your ancestry and master the shield spell before tomorrow's lessons." So much for Ginny being spared. "And Mr. Potter, you will join me in my room in an hour."

-----

Severus set up an older cauldron on a table opposite his work area, leaving as much space as the bedroom allowed between his delicate work and the boy. Harry had picked up the shield spell with little enough fuss. He knew the boy had his parents' gift for magic. And his victories over Snape's own house on the Quidditch pitch was proof enough that he was not entirely uncoordinated. Few wizards ever demonstrated the kind of finesse that made one a Potions Master, but Harry was barely competent at best. He should be doing better.

A hesitant knock announced the boy's presence. Snape quickly explained to him that he would be receiving potions instruction in the afternoons. He could tell the boy had questions and some of them he did not want to answer, so he quickly showed Harry where he would be working and gave him his first assignment: a fairly simple potion that he knew Harry had never been able to brew successfully.

In minutes, Snape had nearly snatched the knife from Harry's hand. At least I can be sure that Harry himself is infuriating me this time, and not his father. "What in the world are you doing, Potter?"

"You said to chop the skins," Harry said. Snape could tell his student was honestly puzzled and not deliberately trying to anger him.

"I did not," Snape said. Harry looked confused, then quickly grabbed his instructions. "I said chop them in fine, even pieces. I did not say to hack at them as though you were suffering through some kind of fit."

Harry sighed. "Yes, sir. Sorry sir." The boy pulled several more lizard skins from the box and took to slicing them stiffly. Snape leaned against the wall and watched for a few moments.

"Why do insist on not following my directions, then get surly when I point out your mistakes?" Snape asked. Harry continued his work on the skins, his posture screaming annoyance. After a few moments of silence, Snape persisted. "Do you intend to answer me?"

Harry did not look up. "I'm sorry, Professor. I didn't think you wanted me to answer that. It's hard to know which parts of your instructions are there because the potion won't work and which are there so you can take points off when we don't follow them."

"Every instruction I give is given for a reason. However, I do not take points off for slouching or stirring the potion improperly if the actual brewing is being done correctly." Why he felt the need to defend himself to Harry, he did not know.

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it quickly. He had not taken his eyes off the cutting board.

"You were going to say something?"

"It's not important."

"Humor me."

Harry put his knife down and looked up at Snape. "I was going to say that you never took points off for Slytherins when they didn't cut their ingredients the right way. So like I said, it's hard to tell sometimes."

"Continue with your chopping." Snape schooled his features as he watched the boy smile almost imperceptibly. No doubt he believed he had scored a victory. It worried the instructor that they were falling back into their old habits. Harry worked in silence as Snape reflected on that familiar routine. It had started in Potions class, so it only made sense that any lingering vestiges would be simmering in a cauldron rather than floating in a pensieve or blasting holes through shield spells. Harry was taking the work seriously now, though. He gathered several long, uniform slices and started chopping them into fine pieces. The way he held his knife was unusual, similar to the manner in which he held his wand. His slender fingers curled around the handle and guided the blade, but his arm provided the power. Snape watched the tendons in Harry's forearms tighten and relax and, for a brief moment, recognized the grace that he had secretly admired in Harry's Quidditch playing.

Severus pushed himself off the wall and went to his own work area. Putting a cauldron on heat, Snape softened his voice and spoke. "Do you know why it matters? The size and uniformity of the skin, that is." He trusted Harry would recognize the tone and not mistake the question for a challenge or sarcastic commentary.

"No, I don't," Harry said. There was a hint of something in his voice. Disappointment? Worry? Regardless of what it was, the answer bothered Snape. Was it possible that Harry honestly did not know? A month ago, he would have cursed the boy for being a fool and given him up as hopeless. But he could no longer indulge in that game. Anything that basic that Harry did not know about potions indicated a failure on his teacher's part. And as he had told Mr. Longbottom, Severus did not fail.

Harry had stirred the chopped skins into the cauldron when Snape returned to his table and moved the cauldron off the fire. "Leave that for now, Harry." The young man looked up at him and Snape could sense him tense up defensively. He was waiting to be scolded. Instead of berating Harry, Snape reached past his student and scooped up some of Harry's original skins. "The skins contain several proteins. One reacts with the dragon saliva to neutralize the poison within it. That makes the potion safe to consume. The other speeds up the primary reaction. When the pieces are not uniform, the reactions do not take place evenly, and the poison remains dangerous. Similarly, when the pieces are too large, the catalyst effect of the skins works before the neutralizing agent is steeped from within the larger pieces and again, the potion retains its poisonous quality."

"Oh." Harry reached into Snape's cupped hand and lifted several pieces. "That makes sense."

"Now, hand me some of that septentrional lichen."