Stay Free

Chapter 16: Escapes and Duels

Harry kicked the garbage can in frustration, causing crumpled parchment and broken quills to spill out onto the floor. He took a deep breath to steady himself. In through the nose...Out through the mouth...

He had been practicing Summoning Charms on various objects in Snape's rooms, and things had been going well. Then, he had attempted to use a Levitating Charm. It hadn't worked.

"I don't understand," Harry growled at himself. "Summoning Charms worked. Levitating didn't. I'm doing the same thing. Why isn't it working?"

He paced back and forth. As the time had ticked by, the flames in the fireplace had died down to a few embers flickering in the dark dungeon room. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but he was beginning to get bored, not to mention thwarted by wandless magic.

Harry paused in front of one of the glass bookcases. The title of a thick, leather-bound book had jumped out at him. The Beginner's Guide to Wandless Magic, by some author that Harry didn't even bother to try and pronounce. He stepped closer eagerly. This was exactly what he wanted. After all, Snape had suggested he read books on wandless magic. It would probably explain the dangers, as well as any problems you might run into. And he was getting annoyed with his failures.

Harry hesitantly raised his hand to the glass, and touched it. A sudden bolt of electricity surged through his fingers, spreading to his entire body as he jerked involuntarily. Then he was falling backwards onto the floor, darkness flooding his eyes.

* * *

Severus stared for a full minute at his son before Draco tapped him on the shoulder, snapping him back to reality. He twitched at the contact, and the Slytherin pulled his hand away quickly.

"Mark," said Severus, his voice quavering, "how did you get here?"

"You remember me?" Mark whispered. He was gripping the bars in the same way David was, but his head was thin enough that he could place it between the bars. "But you were never in the room while I was talking to Harry--"

"How does he know Potter?" Draco interrupted. He was beginning to look nervous. "And how do you know him?"

"Yeah, how do you know him?" chimed in David, looking suspiciously at Mark.

"Shut up," Severus snapped. What was his son doing in Malfoy Manor, in the dungeons? How did he get caught? Was he all right? God, this must be what parenting felt like. "Mark, how did you get here?"

Mark shrugged. "Some man grabbed me when I was walking back from the playground. He had a wand--"

"How does he know?" Draco persisted. "Professor, who is this boy?"

"I'm going to Hogwarts this year, that's how I know," said Mark proudly.

"What the hell are you talking about?" This was from David, who was looking more and more confused as the conversation continued.

Severus sighed heavily and massaged his temple with the tips of his fingertips. They had already wasted enough time. Lucius would probably be coming back down to inspect their work. He couldn't leave Mark here. No, he wouldn't. Mark was going to be safe.

He took the candlestick out of his pocket, tapped it with his wand, and handed it to his son. Mark extended his hand to take it, but eyed him warily.

"This is going to bring you to Hogwarts," Severus said quietly. Draco watched with confused eyes. David had given up on trying to understand what was happening.

"A Portkey, right?" said Mark eagerly. "Harry told me about these."

"Yes, a Portkey. It's spelled to my room. Potter should be there. If he isn't, just wait until Draco and I get back."

"But what about--"

"They'll be fine."

"Okay." Mark took the candlestick. "Will Harry explain this to me?"

"Yes. One...two...three." With a small pop, Mark disappeared. David recoiled back in surprise, and the girl let out a scream.

"Where did he go?" she screeched. Her voice was raspy; a deep, grating sound that made Severus wince. "What are you freaks doing? I want to go home! I want my mother!"

She sank to her knees, sobbing quietly. David bent over to console her, but she slapped his hand away.

"I think a Memory Charm would help right now," said Draco under his breath. "Can you do one, Professor?"

Severus sighed again. He despised using Memory Charms, but it was becoming more and more necessary. He withdrew his wand, pointed it at the girl, and said clearly, "Obliviate."

She immediately stopped crying, her eyes becoming unfocused. She tilted her head to look at David. "Have we met?" she asked dreamily. David looked back at Severus in horror.

"What have you done to her?" he demanded. The girl giggled. "I trusted you, you snake--"

"Obliviate!" said Severus forcefully. David stopped talking. His eyes drooped, and he crumpled to the floor. Severus winced. He hadn't meant it to be that powerful.

"Should we leave now?" Draco inquired.

"Yes." Severus turned on his heel and began to walk away from the dungeons. Draco hurried after him. "You'll have to learn Unforgivables from your father, Draco. Or from Dumbledore. I cannot teach you now."

"Who was that boy?" Draco challenged. "He said he knew Potter, and you know him, too. Who is he?"

"No one. Just someone from Potter's neighbourhood." He's my son! he screamed inwardly. He's my son!

Draco didn't look convinced, but he said, "Okay..." and was silent for the rest of the walk.

When they reached the study, the Dark Revel was in full swing. Various Death Eaters stood over their victims, using both Muggle and wizarding methods of torture. Severus breathed through his mouth so he wouldn't smell the blood. Draco looked like he was going to vomit again.

"Lucius," said Severus, coming up behind the man and tapping him on the shoulder. Lucius turned away from watching Dolohov and a young, red-haired man.

"Ah, Severus. Did things go well?"

"Perfectly. They've probably lost most of their memory." He prayed that this lie would work. "Draco's quite good with the Unforgivables. You've obviously taught him well."

"Excellent," said Lucius, smiling broadly and beaming. He clapped his hand on his son's shoulder. "I'm very proud of you, Draco."

"Thank you, Father," mumbled Draco, watching his feet.

"We'll be heading back to Hogwarts now, Lucius," Severus continued. "Dumbledore will worry if he can't find Draco around the school. I don't need the Ministry putting out a search team for him, especially since we'll be leaving your residence."

Lucius nodded sadly. "We'll be sad to see you leave, Severus. We were planning to go visit a couple of Muggle villages before the night runs out, but I suppose we'll be all right without you. Have a good trip back."

He hadn't mentioned anything about the potion. It was undoubtedly a test, and Severus wasn't willing to fail.

"Would you like me to get the potion later, so you don't have to disrupt your...work?" he asked, sweeping his arm out over the bodies. A sharp scream caught his attention, and he peered over Lucius's shoulder towards the sound. A young boy, about the age of nine or ten, was being--was being--

Lucius followed his sight. He chuckled. "Yes, I suppose Avery really enjoys what he does, doesn't he?"

Severus's stomach twisted. Good God. He glanced down at Draco, who had his eyes closed.

"We'll be going, Lucius. I'll pick up the potion tomorrow. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, friend."

Severus grasped Draco's shoulder once Lucius turned back around, and led him out of the house into the fresh air. Both wizards leaned into the flowerbeds by the house and vomited. When they were done, they both got into the carriage and travelled home in silence.

* * *

"Come by my rooms if you need a Dreamless Sleep Potion," said Severus quietly as he dropped Draco off at the Slytherin common room. "We can talk with Dumbledore tomorrow."

Draco nodded. "I doubt I'll even attempt sleeping tonight, Professor."

"Very well. Good night, Draco."

"Night, Professor."

The Bloody Baron was waiting outside when Severus left his House's dormitories. The ghost bowed, and Severus jerked his head.

"Watch the entrance. If anyone comes out that isn't Draco Malfoy, or someone is trying to enter without the password, come straight to me. Do you understand?"

The ghost's lips slid into a small smile. He bowed again, and Severus left for his own rooms. When he reached the door, he triple-checked the wards, making sure no one had attempted to enter his private rooms. No one had. And if they did, they were quite good at covering their tracks. Severus opened the door, saying, "Potter, are you still--"

He stopped, mid-sentence, with his mouth gaping open. Potter was lying on the ground, spread-eagle, his eyes wide in shock. His body was directly in front of the glass case where Severus kept his most dangerous (and probably illegal) books. Directly in front: The Beginner's Guide to Wandless Magic.

"Idiot boy!" Severus roared. He lashed out a fist, hitting a lamp and sending it straight to the ground, where it shattered into hundreds of pieces. "Did you not think to check for wards? Idiot, idiot boy!"

Severus crouched down and grabbed Potter's limp wrist, searching carefully for a pulse. He found one, but it was weak. Holding back another angry snarl, Severus withdrew his wand to begin waking the unconscious fool. Before he could, a faint sob reached his ears. He nearly dropped his wand in surprise. He had forgotten about Mark.

"Mark?" Severus called out. "Mark, where are you?"

Another whimper answered his call. He strained his ears. It sounded as though it was coming from the bathroom.

Ignoring Potter for the moment, Severus stood up and headed for the bathroom. He opened the door cautiously, afraid that Mark might be behind it. However, the boy was sitting in the small space between the bath and the toilet, his arms wrapped protectively around his knees. He held them to his chest, and he was rocking back and forth as tears streamed down his cheeks. He looked up when he saw Severus enter the room. Fresh tears tumbled from his eyes.

All thoughts of being his usual nasty, spiteful self disappeared at the sight of the crying boy. Severus dropped to his knees in front of his son, and held out his arms. Letting out another wail, Mark flung his arms around his neck and buried his head in his shoulder.

"Hush," Severus murmured, stroking his hair soothingly and rubbing his back. He tried to remember what Lily had done for him, when his mother had died and he had come to her for help. "Hush, now, it's all right..."

He held his son until the shudders stopped. When he was done, Mark lifted his head up. His lower lip was quavering.

"I've never seen a dead body before," he whispered. He was gripping Severus tightly, enough to leave bruises. "I can't believe--"

"Wait a minute," Severus interrupted. Mark looked slightly hurt, and he felt a stab of guilt. "What dead body?"

Mark gestured to the main room. "H-Harry."

"Potter's not dead, Mark. He's just Stunned."

Mark stared at him for a moment, then broke into a deep, rich laugh. "Stunned? God, and here I was, thinking he was dead..."

"Anyone could have made that mistake," said Severus gently. "He does look dead. But I can awake him."

"Good." Mark pulled himself away slowly, and wiped his eyes. "Can you do it now?"

"Of course." Severus stood up and led the way back to the main room as he took out his wand again. He pointed it at Potter, saying, "Enervate."

He didn't awake. Mark looked up nervously. "Is he okay?"

"Yes. He's just in a semi-coma. He'll awake in a couple of hours."

"Good."

Severus bent down and scooped Potter up, who wrinkled his nose at the sudden movement, though he didn't awake. He placed the boy onto his couch, keeping his head on the armrest. Murmuring a few words, he summoned a blanket and pulled it over Potter's body.

"Am I to stay here with you?" asked Mark. "While you help Harry, I mean."

Severus shrugged. "If you want to."

Mark nodded eagerly. "I do."

"Okay." Severus glanced down at Potter, who was still sleeping. "I'm going to make a potion for Potter. Would you like to help?"

"Yeah!" said Mark, grinning broadly. "It'll get me started in Potions before everyone else in my classes."

Severus's chest tightened at the sight of his smiling son. Would he ever be able to tell him? How would he take it? Would Mark understand why he, the father, didn't try to contact him? Would he know that he couldn't tell anyone else about it?

Pushing the thoughts away for the time being, Severus placed his hand on Mark's shoulder and led him into his lab. Mark immediately headed to the smoking cauldron in the centre of the room, his mouth in the shape of an O.

"What's this?"

"Wolfsbane," Severus answered. "It gives werewolves their own mind when they transform. I--er--make it for an old friend."

"Wow..."

* * *

Harry tried to open his eyes. He quickly dropped that idea when the feeling of someone pressing their hands against the sides of his head took over his attempt to open his eyes. He struggled to move his arm, but it wouldn't budge an inch. Harry nearly screamed aloud as burning pain shot down from his shoulder to the tips of his fingers. The heat spread throughout his body, and his stomach twisted. He tilted his head to the side as far as he could move, and emptied the contents of his stomach onto the floor.

"Scourgify," said a stern voice above him. Harry winced.

"Sorry," he whispered, but the act of speaking made him ache. Tears welled in his eyes.

"Hush," said a familiar voice by his head. Harry tried to open his eyes again, groaning in pain. A cool washcloth was pressed into his forehead, and a goblet pressed to his lips. "Drink this."

Harry opened his mouth obediently. A warm liquid was poured down his throat. It tasted vaguely of peppermint.

"All right. Try not to move, all right?"

Harry grunted in response. The person beside him chuckled, and he felt the blanket being rearranged, so that it came up to his hips rather than his chin.

"Excellent. I'll be back in an hour."

Harry grunted again, then drifted off to sleep.

* * *

When Harry awoke, his head was feeling completely clear. Hesitantly, he opened an eye. Snape was sitting in an armchair beside him, scribbling something across a sheet of parchment. Harry cleared his throat. The other wizard looked at him and snorted.

"Forgot about wards in your haste to learn more about wandless magic, Potter?" Snape asked, sneering as he folded up the parchment and tucked it into his pocket.

"I'm sorry," Harry croaked. He adjusted his glasses. "Really, I am."

"No, Potter, you've done me a favour." Harry looked at the other man in surprise. A favour? "You've proved that my skill at putting up wards is just as good as it was in the past. Each and every spell I put into it went straight into you."

Harry glared. Snape did his half-laugh thing, but sobered after a few moments.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better. My head doesn't feel like it's going to explode anymore."

Snape studied him critically. "Your face isn't flushed either, so the fever must have died down. Can you sit up?"

Harry tried. His vision swirled uncontrollably, and he began to feel light-headed. He lay back down.

"No, sir, I can't."

"How about moving your arm?"

Harry lifted his arm and waved.

"Good. You'll be all right, Potter."

Harry opened his mouth to thank the man, but was interrupted by the sound of the toilet flushing. He rolled his eyes back as far they would go so he could try and see who was coming out of the bathroom, and cried out in surprise as Mark Evans closed the door behind him quietly.

"Harry!" Mark exclaimed, running up to him and kneeling by his side. "You're awake! How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been fooling around with his wards," said Harry, jerking his head at Snape, who snorted. "What are you doing here, Mark? Has term started already?"

Mark shook his head. "No, term hasn't started yet." He glanced at Snape, who nodded. "I was captured by one of those Death people you told me about."

"You were captured by Death Eaters?" Harry exclaimed. He tried to sit up again, but Mark pushed him back down.

"I'm all right, Harry. Professor Snape gave me a Bortkey--"

"Portkey," Harry corrected. Mark blushed slightly at his mistake.

"Right, a Portkey. He gave me one of those to get me out. Him and some blonde bloke."

"Malfoy?" Harry supplied.

"Yeah, him."

"Are you all right?" Harry persisted. "It was one of those Dark Revel things, wasn't it? Did anyone hurt you? Are you all right? What--"

"He's fine, Potter," Snape interjected. Harry sighed in relief. "When Draco and I went down to the dungeons, we found him with two other hostages."

"What happened to them?"

Snape looked away. He was silent. Harry regretted his question.

"Er...Professor, should I be going to the Headmaster's office now?" asked Mark hesitantly. "You said I should go once Harry was awake."

Snape nodded, his jaw clenched shut. He moved to the fireplace and grabbed a handful of black powder off the mantle piece. He tossed it into the fire, shouting, "Draco Malfoy! Get in here!"

As Remus had done in his third year, Harry watched as a dark shape emerged from the flames. Malfoy stepped out, brushing the ash off his robes and eyeing the three people in the room with confusion.

"What's--" he began, but Snape cut him off.

"Take Mark to Dumbledore. Then show him around the school."

"Okay," said Malfoy, shrugging. He glanced at Mark, who was shifting his feet nervously. "Hey, kid, I'm not going to bite."

Mark smiled and relaxed slightly.

Snape placed two fingers in his mouth and whistled sharply. A pearly-white ghost drifted through the wall. The Bloody Baron, Harry realised.

"Watch them," Snape ordered, pointing at Mark and Malfoy. "Don't leave until they're both safely in the Headmaster's office. If anything happens, come straight to me. Understand?"

The Bloody Baron nodded mutely. Mark's eyes widened as he stared at the ghost. Malfoy put a hand on his shoulder.

"He's just a ghost. He doesn't bother anyone. Don't worry about him."

"Says the boy who nearly wet himself when the ghost sat next to him the first supper at Hogwarts," Harry muttered. Malfoy shot him a dark glare. Mark giggled. "Oh, don't deny it, Malfoy. I remember the look on your face. You were terrified."

"I was not!" Malfoy protested. He looked at Snape for help. "Right?"

"I hate to say it, but Potter is telling the truth. You didn't look happy with the seating arrangements."

"Whatever." Malfoy began walking to the door, and Mark followed after him. The Bloody Baron floated eerily behind them.

When they were gone, Harry looked at Snape. "Are you okay?"

Snape shook his head. His jaw was still tight, his mouth a thin line.

"Erm..." said Harry, his voice trailing off. He was really bad with this comforting stuff. Snape noticed it, and snorted half-heartedly.

"I saw a boy in Lucius's study," Snape began. He took a seat, gripping the armrests tightly. Closing his eyes, he continued, "He was--he was being raped by Avery."

"How old was he?" Harry whispered.

"Not a day over ten," Snape answered hoarsely. He rubbed the space between his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. "All I could think about was how lucky Mark was, that we got to him early enough. If Avery had gotten to him..." He left the consequences to Harry's imagination. "I see myself in him, Potter. It's like looking in a mirror. I looked exactly like that when I was his age."

"I think you should tell him," said Harry quietly.

Snape looked at him. His eyes were glistening, and Harry realised it was because of tears. Well. That was unexpected.

"I can't ever tell him I'm his father. He knows I'm a Death Eater. Even if I'm loyal to Dumbledore, I'm not exactly fatherly material, am I?"

Harry hesitated, wondering if it was a rhetorical question.

"It isn't," Snape retorted, seeming to have read his mind.

"Oh," said Harry. He propped himself up on his elbow. "Well, to be perfectly honest, you're not that bad."

"You've got to be kidding me," said Snape, fixing him with such a look that Harry had to laugh.

"No, I'm serious! I mean, you've been hanging around with me this summer, and it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," said Harry truthfully. "Sure, you're a Death Eater, but you're reformed."

"Reformed or not, Potter, I'm still a Death Eater," said Snape harshly. He was rolling up the sleeve on his left arm as he spoke. "I still have a mark on my arm that declares me loyal to the Dark Lord's service. It will always be there."

Snape thrust his forearm into Harry's view. The Dark Mark was pitch-black because of Voldemort's return to power. It glared at Harry, as though it could sense he was there. The snake looked as though it was flicking its tongue, and the skull's empty eye sockets shook Harry's mind. He tried to look away, but it was as if his eyes were drawn towards the ugly tattoo. He pulled the blanket around his chest tightly, as though it would protect him.

"You see this, Harry?" Snape was saying, his voice quavering. Harry wrenched his eyes away from the Dark Mark. "Do you see it? I received this when I was sixteen years old, and I've grieved over it ever since. It will always be there. Can you imagine a child growing up with this? What do you think Mark would say, to hear that his father has slaughtered helpless people before--and enjoyed it?"

"You were only sixteen, though," Harry reminded him. "You didn't--"

"Oh, I knew, Harry," Snape cut in. He didn't seem to notice that he wasn't calling Harry by his surname anymore. "I knew everything about being a Death Eater. Lucius told me everything I needed to know, and I was eager and willing. I can't blame this on my teenage ignorance."

"Then blame Lucius," Harry suggested. "He was the one who gave you the idea, right?"

"I didn't need any convincing, Harry. I wanted it. Badly." He stared at the mark on his arm, looking strangely embarrassed. "The only person I can blame is myself." He yanked his sleeve back down, hiding the Dark Mark from view.

"Blaming yourself never works out in the end, though," Harry pointed out. "And if you're spilling all this out to me, shouldn't you be on the couch if I'm the shrink?"

Snape stared at Harry for an entire minute before the corners of his mouth started to twitch. He then threw his head back and laughed. It was frighteningly close to Mark's laugh; a deep, rich sound that filled the room. It took years off the older wizard, and Harry wondered how long it had been since he had laughed.

"Merlin, Potter, I needed that," said Snape once he had calmed down. He wiped the tears from his eyes. "If becoming an Auror doesn't work, you could be a psychologist."

"I'll look into it," said Harry dryly. He straightened, swinging his legs over the edge of the couch so he was sitting normally. He kept the blanket, though. "So..." He fleetingly remembered a conversation with Ron at Grimmauld Place, and sat up straighter at the memory. "Do you know what my O.W.L results were? I keep meaning to ask Dumbledore, and I probably need to sign up for classes next year."

Snape studied him for a minute. "Would you like to duel for them?"

"What?"

"Would you like to duel for them?" Snape repeated.

"Why?" Harry asked, bewildered.

Snape shrugged in response. Harry pushed the blanket off, reaching for his wand. Snape half-smiled.

"I'm touched, Potter. However, are you well enough to stand?"

Harry nodded. "I'm not dizzy or anything."

"Good." Snape flicked his wand, and some of the furniture was yanked to the walls of the room. A few items remained, like a couple of bookcases and a chair. "Have you studied anything new lately, Potter?"

"A few things," Harry answered truthfully. "Nothing too impressive, but I did read up on those German ones Hermione gave me."

"Do you remember what I've taught you?"

"Attack first, defend later," Harry recited, keeping his wand pointed at Snape. "Always think two steps ahead of your opponent. Try to learn your surroundings. Never hesitate."

"Good. On the count of three...One...two...three!"

From their numerous duels, Harry knew that Snape tended to start off with a strong hex. He had prepared a Shielding Charm just in time; the Ever-Laughter Hex bounced off and hit a bookcase.

"Noceo corpus!" Harry bellowed. A jet of blue light shot out of the end of his wand, hitting Snape straight in the chest. He doubled over, coughing, and Harry took the time to hit him with a Stunning Spell.

"Aduro somes!" Snape gasped, waving his wand half-heartedly at his opponent's feet. Harry jumped back with a yelp; they had been set on fire. He extinguished the flames with his wand, dodging a Stunning Spell as he did so.

"Misfacio!" shouted Harry, sending the Wrong-Doing Jinx towards the Potions Master at the same time Snape yelled, "Vulnero!"

Harry smiled in satisfaction as his jinx caused Snape's Injury Incantation to change into a simple Transfiguration spell of turning a toothpick into a needle. But as there were no toothpicks to be found, the spell hit the floor, making the threads of the carpet turn into tiny thumbtacks. Snape jumped away from it, but Harry didn't.

"Schmerzen seele!" Harry roared. Snape, who had been expecting him to change the carpet back, was caught off-guard. He stumbled backwards, falling into a chair with his hands clamped over his head tightly.

It was symptoms of the Agony of the Soul Curse, created by a German man in Frankfurt to replace Dementors. It replayed the worst moments of someone's life right in front of their eyes, as though watched it on a television. However, Dementors lasted much longer, and the Agony of the Soul was only temporary; the prisons were looking for more long-term suffering.

Before he prepared his strongest Stunning Spell, Harry remembered for a fleeting moment how much Snape disliked Dementors. How his hands had shook when someone spoke of them. Harry lowered his wand, feeling ashamed of himself. This was how he was treating someone? Even if you didn't care for someone, you didn't give them a personal Dementor, however long it lasted.

"Nocea!" came Snape's voice from the chair. Harry staggered forward as what felt like hundreds of fists pounded into his stomach. He hadn't expected Snape to get over his curse that quickly, no, not at all...And he was standing there, feeling sorry for the man in the middle of a fight? He was letting his mind wander, and Snape had always warned him that was the worst thing you could do. It almost always guaranteed a loss.

Deciding to bring more emotion into their duel, Harry raised his wand, announcing, "Pavor timor!" The peach light zoomed over Snape's head as he ducked the Horror Hex.

Frustrated by the miss, Harry called out, "Formidonis despero!", but Snape avoided that one as well, shooting off an Injury Incantation at Harry's head, which he narrowly dodged.

"Professor, where do you get your reflexes?" he demanded, wiping the sweat from his brow with his left hand. "I don't think you played Quidditch--Shit--" He stooped down as yet another Insulting Incantation zoomed over his head, nicking the top of his hair.

"Practice, Potter. I practice. Stupefy!"

The force of the spell pushed Harry into the wall, hitting his head sharply on a bookcase and knocking the wind out of him. He sank to the floor slowly, lying on his back and trying to regain his breathing.

"That wasn't half-bad, Potter," said Snape from somewhere across the room. Harry closed his eyes, ignoring the throbbing pain in his back from the stone floor. "You're using a strong variety of spells, which is always a good idea...Keep your opponent guessing, that's a nice trick to have..."

"I hit you a couple of times."

"Yet I managed to knock you off your feet in less than five minutes."

"It wasn't fair," Harry protested, opening his eyes and sitting up. His bruised body objected strongly, but he ignored the pain. "You were talking. You distracted me!"

"That, Mr. Potter, is called strategy. You seemed to be using quite a bit of it yourself. Using a lot of Emotion Enchantments, aren't you?"

"Well, yes," Harry admitted. He stood up hesitantly, careful to take it slow so he wouldn't hurt his aching muscles any more than they needed to be. "I read in one of the books that a lot of wins can be achieved simply by putting fear or angst into the person's body. That's why I did the Agony of the Soul thing."

"Quite a powerful spell. I wouldn't have recommended it to someone your age."

"But I still managed it," Harry pointed it out. "And kept you muttering to yourself for at least a minute."

"And you let your mind wander," Snape reminded him, returning his wand to his pocket. "You did not expect me to ignore the spell that early. You were not thinking ahead. You hesitated. Never hesitate."

Harry cast his eyes to the floor. "Yes, sir."

"Let's try again, Potter."

"Okay." Harry looked up, and ducked behind a bookcase as a Stunning Spell nearly set his hair ablaze. His fingers tightened on his wand, heart thumping wildly. He hadn't known it would begin that quickly!

"What did I tell you about paying attention?" Snape called out. "They won't wait for you, Potter. The Dark Lord and his faithful Death Eaters will not wait for you to calm yourself, to be ready. They will attack when you are weak, and you must not be weak!"

In response, Harry whipped his wand out to the side and bellowed, "Levis!"

A blinding light filled the room, and Harry could see Snape stumble backwards as it hit his eyes. However, he flicked his wrist, and the light disappeared. Harry's heart sank.

"Evictum!" Snape shouted. Harry dove to the floor and rolled out of the way of the Fastening Hex. "That was a good distraction earlier, Potter, but it is easily removed! Forget about those juvenile spells, they will do you no good!"

"Unda charybdis!" Harry yelled from the floor. A colossal amount of water shot from the end of his wand, hitting Snape in the abdomen as Harry stood up. The water swelled, becoming a whirlpool--and Snape was caught in the middle of it. "Stupefy!"

The Stunning Spell collided with his Whirlpool Charm. The water disappeared, and Harry had the satisfaction of seeing Snape resembling a drowning cat before he fell backwards with the force of the Stunning. He jumped up quickly, however, and cried out, "Facultas!"

The force slammed into Harry's chest. He choked at the pain, but managed to duck as a Shudders Spell flew past his shoulder. A Temporarily Blind Hex soon followed it, and Harry stooped down low to avoid it. Snape was throwing curse after curse at him, and Harry was finding it difficult to evade each one.

"Tutaminis!" Harry burst out when Snape stopped for a second to catch his breath. A green mist emerged from the tip of Harry's wand, slowly moving to cover and protect him. It shimmered slightly, allowing Harry to see his opponent. Snape shot a Stunning Spell at the mist, but it bounced back. He slid to the side to avoid it, smiling grimly.

Harry glanced at his watch. His Protection Charm only lasted two minutes, and he had about eighty seconds left. He inhaled deeply to calm himself, cracked his knuckles and wrists, and got into a defensive position. When the mist had cleared, he was ready.

"Iniuria!" Harry exclaimed, sending an Harming Hex straight into Snape's face. He recoiled back as an imaginary fist slammed into his nose. Blood spattered over the front of his robes. Snape held his broken nose with his left, but still flicked his wand with his right.

"Ecinxi!" said Snape weakly. Thin cords exploded from the end of his wand and wrapped themselves around Harry's ankles. He jerked one foot away in an attempt to move, but the cords were too fast. He stumbled, and fell flat on his face.

Harry lay there on the floor as he heard Snape healing his nose. After a vague murmuring, he felt the cords leave his feet. He turned on his back, laced his fingers behind his head, and sighed.

"Damn!" said Harry. "I almost had you that time."

"Only because I'm being easy on you," said Snape defensively.

"And because I broke your nose," Harry pointed out.

"Yes, and because you broke my nose. That hurt. A lot."

Harry got up gingerly, stretching his arms above his head. "You say you're being easy on me?"

Snape nodded. "Trust me, Potter, if we were in a real duel, you'd be on the floor, defeated, without your wand, in less than a minute."

Harry winced. "Please be easy on me."

Snape chuckled. "I will, at least until you get better."

"But I have gotten better, haven't I?"

"Yes." Snape glanced around his rooms. It looked as though both a tornado and a tsunami had hit. He flicked his wand. The water disappeared and the furniture rearranged itself back to normal. "Would you care to have a drink, Mr. Potter?"

"Um...okay," said Harry, shrugging. "What do you have?"

"What do you want?" asked Snape, moving towards a small cabinet besides the fireplace. "There's no butterbeer, so don't bother asking for that."

"Whatever you're having, I suppose," said Harry awkwardly.

"Whiskey it is, then." Snape removed a small bottle from the cabinet. He waved his hand in the general direction of the kitchen, and two glasses zoomed into his hand.

"I don't know much about alcohol," Harry confessed, taking the chair nearest to the fire. Snape lifted an eyebrow.

"Why? You're allowed to drink at home."

"The Dursleys wouldn't allow it. All I've had is butterbeer, in Hogsmeade."

Snape finished pouring, and replaced the bottle in the cabinet. "Here." He handed Harry one of the glasses, who took it reluctantly.

"Does it taste bad?" Harry asked anxiously. He raised the glass to his mouth, but stopped as the smell hit his nostrils. His disgust must have shown on his face, because Snape snorted again.

"It's an acquired taste, whiskey." He took a generous gulp. "Of course, with my history of the stuff, I probably shouldn't come within ten feet of it. Potter, if you don't at least try it, you're going to make me feel like a drunken idiot by the time I finish my glass."

Harry smirked at the thought, but raised the glass to his lips. He tried a tiny sip. The whiskey seemed cold in his hands, but it was deliciously warm as it seeped down his throat into the pit of his belly. The taste was somewhat awful, but he thought he could get used to it.

"Well?"

"It's...an interesting experience, I suppose," said Harry truthfully. He gestured to one of the armchairs. "Do you mind if I sit down?"

"I suppose not."

Harry sat down, watching the fire. He took another sip, larger this time, and spoke. "How did you become such a good duellist?"

Snape shrugged as he took another sip. "Practice. Lots and lots of practice. Of course, with your father and his friends, there was always time to perfect my skills."

Harry cringed. He hated being reminded of his father's arrogance, but Snape seemed to enjoy putting him through a guilt trip. He changed the subject slightly, saying, "Can you teach me how?"

"If you want to become a good duellist, you must become an apprentice to a Duelling Master," Snape explained. "That's how Flitwick learned, and he was once a duelling champion."

"I don't exactly have time for that," said Harry, somewhat annoyed by Snape's answer. He took a gulp of the whiskey, larger this time. "How about just giving me some tips?"

"Very well. Potter, do you play chess?"

Harry shrugged. "Sometimes, with Ron. But he always beats me."

There was the flicker of a smile across Snape's face again. "Yes, Mr. Weasley is quite skilled at chess. It is a game that requires a lot of logic. Of course, if Mr. Weasley is adept as chess, then he should excelling in my class. However, he is not, because--"

"He doesn't pay attention," Harry finished. Snape looked surprised, but quickly moved on.

"Indeed. Now, in chess, how do you play?"

"With chess pieces?" Harry offered hopefully.

"If the term had started, that would be ten potions for cheek, Potter. I meant, do you play just by picking random moves, or do you think ahead and plan your moves?"

"A little bit of both."

"It is better to think ahead, plan moves that will confuse your opponent so you can capture the king. Now, while duelling, do you think a step ahead?"

"Yeah. That's what you told me to do, anyway."

"Yes. You must always think at least two steps ahead. If you use a Stunning Spell, there is a likely chance your opponent will deflect it. You can then use the time to send a curse. Do you get what I'm saying, Potter?"

"But what if they know the counter-curse?" Harry inquired. Snape tilted his head in a slight nod.

"Another tip. Learn your opponent. Study his weaknesses, know his strengths. Understand your surroundings. It sounds easy now, but once you are in a situation that could result in your death, it becomes quite nerve-wracking."

"So, you're saying I should start researching the Death Eaters?" Harry asked. "Read their reports, see what any of the survivors had to say about their techniques?"

"If you have the time, yes," replied Snape. He set his empty glass on the table. "If you do plan to kill the Dark Lord, you should read more about him, too. Sixth years are allowed to take a self-study in any subject, so if I were you, I'd study the Dark Lord."

Harry sucked in his lower lip, gnawing on it thoughtfully. "It's a good idea, Professor. Now, can I have my O.W.L results?"

Snape nodded. He grabbed his empty glass and stood up, heading for the kitchen. Harry heard a slight clunk, then the rustling of some papers. The Potions Master emerged from the room a couple minutes later, holding two pieces of parchment.

"Dumbledore told me to give this to you this summer, but I kept forgetting," said Snape, sounding almost apologetic. He handed one to Harry, who took it eagerly.

O.W.L Results for Harry James Potter:

Astronomy: Poor

Care of Magical Creatures: Outstanding

Charms: Exceeding Expectations

Defence Against the Dark Arts: Outstanding

Divination: Poor

Herbology: Acceptable

History of Magic: Dreadful

Potions: Exceeding Expectations

Transfiguration: Exceeding Expectations

"So..." said Harry, tearing his eyes away from his test results. "Will you take me into your N.E.W.T class?"

"I'm not sure. What did you get?"

Harry glanced back at his paper. "Exceeding Expectations."

"I never take anyone under the Outstanding level, Potter," said Snape, eyeing him in a very teacher-like manner. The bubble of hope in Harry's chest burst. "However--"

"You'll take me in?" Harry blurted out.

"Yes," said Snape nonchalantly. "I need a Gryffindor, anyway. How else will I greaten Slytherin's chance of winning the House Cup?"

"Call the press! Severus Snape has made a joke!" Harry cried out, taking another swig of his whiskey. It was almost gone now. He drained the rest of it, inhaling sharply as the heat engulfed his body. "But seriously, sir, thank you."

"You're welcome," said Snape quietly. He glanced up at the clock. "I think you should take a nap, so you can sleep off the rest of your injuries."

Harry frowned, but moved over to the couch. Snape handed him the blanket, which he wrapped around his body. He sighed, closing his eyes and leaning into the armrest. Snape waved his hand at the chandelier, and the candles dimmed.

"Professor Snape?" Harry said.

"Yes, Potter?"

"Can you tell me more about my mum?"

He could tell Snape was hesitating, but Harry needed something to help him get to sleep. Before he went to bed each night, Harry always thought of something that would upset him. Then, he would concentrate on clearing his mind. He thought it would help him with his Occlumency when the time came, and he told Snape so.

Snape paused, obviously thinking. Harry waited anxiously.

"What do you want to know?" said Snape finally.