- Rating:
- PG-13
- House:
- The Dark Arts
- Characters:
- Harry Potter Severus Snape
- Genres:
- General Drama
- Era:
- Multiple Eras
- Stats:
-
Published: 01/31/2004Updated: 07/22/2005Words: 484,149Chapters: 73Hits: 73,081
Resonance
Salamander
- Story Summary:
- Snape adopts Harry in this story that stretches from the end of year six until Harry starts his Auror apprenticeship. Harry defeats Voldemort and has to deal with not only with his now greatly increased fame, but also with some odd, disturbing skills he inherited from the Dark Lord. Both he and Snape fumble around trying for some kind of family normalcy, which neither one is very knowledgeable of. Harry survives his seventh year at Hogwarts with a parent as a teacher and starts his training as an Auror.
Chapter 10
- Chapter Summary:
- Harry, stuck at Hogwarts for the summer, wanders the castle looking for something to do. He learns a few of the castle's unrevealed secrets but eventually grows bored enough to see what is happening in the dungeon. Dumbledore tries to set some plans going for the future, but his Potions master is reluctant to consider his part in them.
- Posted:
- 03/29/2004
- Hits:
- 1,399
Chapter 10 - The Request
Harry explored the castle over the next few days. He discovered a large wooden box of blue wombats in an attic, thought of telling someone, maybe Hagrid, then decided that, since they looked pretty happy, Hagrid was probably responsible for them being there. He also discovered a secret passage that wasn't on the Marauder's Map. It led from the sixth floor landing via an old staircase and narrow passage to the Defense Classroom. One of the panels on the back wall turned open in the middle with a simple unlock spell. Harry didn't know what use it might have, but it had potential. He locked the panel with a much better locking spell before leaving the room.
This led to him pulling out the Marauder's Map to try to figure out how to edit it. His dad had helped create it while he was at school; certainly Harry could work out the magic given enough time. And time was what he had. He wrote Hermione and then, thinking more, Fred and George, to ask if they had any ideas on where to start.
While he waited, he went to the library and started reading. He read through dinner apparently, because he got to find out what happened when he didn't show up for a meal. The door to the library opened suddenly and Professor Sprout put her head in, started to pull it back, then stepped in. "Mr. Potter, there you are."
Harry looked around as if that didn't make any sense.
"Just wondered where you'd gotten to since you weren't at dinner."
Harry glanced at the clock in surprise. "Lost track of time, ma’am," he explained.
"Very good." She brightened upon hearing that. "Well, carry on. Oh, you do know how to get to the kitchens if you want something later?"
"Yes, ma’am. Thank you."
She smiled at him and departed. Harry went back to reading a very interesting book on paper intelligence spells. It didn't provide anything about the Map, but he was starting to think that this book was probably the one Tom Riddle started with when he created his diary.
Harry lit a lamp and kept reading. He'd had to pull over a few lamps from the other tables; it seemed like the bright days outside made it harder for him to read at night.
"Interesting reading, Harry?" Dumbledore's voice came from the darkness. He hadn't made a sound coming in.
"Yes, it is." Harry glanced around at the rather significant pile surrounding him. It would be hard to pretend he was reading idly.
Dumbledore stepped over and peered over his shoulder, tilting his head up to look through his halfmoon spectacles. "Hm."
"I was curious how Tom Riddle created that diary," Harry said.
"Thinking of creating your own?" Dumbledore asked amiably.
Harry laughed lightly. "No sir. Just curious."
"Well, Harry you are free to keep whatever hours you wish, but given the propensity for boys of your age to keep rather late hours, you might want to at least attempt to sleep at a reasonable hour."
Harry glanced at the clock. It was just after eleven. "Yes, sir."
Dumbledore patted Harry's shoulder and departed. Long after the door to the library closed, he could feel the spot on his shoulder where the old wizard had touched him. Feeling unsettled, Harry stacked the books neatly and put a note on them for Madame Pince, even though she hadn't been at meals.
He slept well that night and woke feeling better than he had in a while. He didn't like using the potion every night: that seemed like a cheat. Reading himself into exhaustion seemed like a good alternative.
Harry stalled on figuring out the Map; he was too afraid to damage it to try anything really experimental. He needed to figure out a way to make a new one and that would take a lot more reading, from which he needed a break. Bored again, he wandered down to the dungeon without really thinking about where he was going.
Snape was brewing something in his office. It smelled like lemon balm. Harry knocked on the doorframe when it looked like an opportune moment. He didn't think it a good idea to startle Snape, although it occurred to him that he'd never seen that happen.
"Potter," Snape said.
Despite his teacher's tone being neither inviting nor dissuading, Harry stepped in and went over to peer in the cauldron. Ground pearl dust was added in a steady stream while the liquid boiled. It turned a swirling pink.
"What is that?" Harry asked.
"Amorphous Solution."
"Oh." That was an ingredient they had used for one potion near the end of the last year.
Harry considered asking Snape if he knew anything about parchment intelligence spells but decided against it. Snape had not only seen the Map, but had been insulted by it. He might realize why Harry was asking. "You're making a lot of it," he observed, to make small talk.
"There is a lot of brewing I would like to do over the summer since it looks like I will be here."
"Normally you wouldn't?" Harry asked.
"Of course not. You may enjoy considering the school home, but I do not."
Harry narrowed his eyes. "I don't enjoy it. I don't have any choice."
"One almost always has a choice," Snape stated as he drew out the stirring stick and wiped it with a rag.
Harry thought about that. He could, he supposed, consider the Burrow as his home instead. The Weasleys had certainly urged him to do so in the past. It didn't seem like two weeks in one place over sixteen years would quite qualify. Grimmauld Place might qualify if it hadn't been auctioned to some wizard from Edinburgh who may have managed to remove Mrs. Black by now. He couldn't go back to thinking of Privet Drive as home. He'd consider any place before that.
"Gave you rather a lot to think about, apparently," Snape commented.
Harry looked up from staring into the burner flame below the cauldron. "Yes, sir," he agreed, feeling empty inside. He headed for the door, still thinking.
"Potter," Snape said, halting his departure. When Harry turned, he asked, "Still having nightmares?"
Harry nodded.
"You are not out of potion?"
"I don't use it every night," Harry explained.
"That is of course, your choice," Snape said.
Harry had a realization that night as he sat on his bed, running the Map through its paces. He'd stared at the introduction so many times that he'd ceased to read it. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs it listed. The thought that Pettigrew had touched the Map at some point made Harry feel unclean. But it had also been his dad's, so that overrode his desire to destroy it in a fit of pique. Padfoot and Prongs couldn't help him but Moony might be willing to.
Heart beating a little fast, Harry pulled out a parchment and quill and wrote a letter to Lupin. He hadn't seen his former teacher since the Voldemort Demise Party. He had a lot to tell him, so the letter went on a long time before Harry got around to asking for help with adding a secret passage to the Map. Since he kept Hedwig in his room now, he sent the letter off right away. Hedwig gave him a friendly nip as he held her at the window. He supposed it was because she much preferred deliveries at night.
His response arrive at lunch the next day. Seeing the return address, Harry tucked the letter in his pocket rather than risk someone reading about the Map over his shoulder. He cut his lunch short and headed off with a wave at Hagrid, mostly to make sure no one thought he was testy about something.
In his room he opened the letter. Lupin's first paragraph was filled with a long series of grateful statements about Harry's success against Voldemort. He told Harry that he was working with Gringott’s part time, but he couldn't say what his work was exactly. Follwing this he explained in detail what he knew of the Map, seemed eager to do so. He was amazed that Harry had ended up with it after so many years. He attached a list of book references, apologizing that he knew there were others Harry would need and, if he remembered them, he'd pass them along.
Harry reread the letter, then quilled another one, asking specifically how easy it would be to damage the Map while he worked on it, or should he start again. Lupin's insistence that his dad and Sirius would be thrilled to know he was keeping it up to date, as amending it was something they had been diligent about, made Harry's heart twist as he wrote out the reply.
With a heavy heart, Harry sent Hedwig back off. He lay back on his bed and stared at the canopy for a lot of the afternoon.
Eventually, the list of references got him curious enough to return to the library. He had found some of the right books but not the right chapters. He settled in to read, facing the clock, so as to not miss dinner again.
"Moving?" Harry asked a few days later as he saw Professor Snape hovering a trunk down the fourth floor corridor. Harry immediately answered his own question. "Ah, Dumbledore finally let you have the Defense teaching job."
Snape gave him a look that dared him to make further comment. Harry just shrugged. "Hermione will be disappointed, I think." He followed along as Snape took the empty trunk back to the dungeon. "Are you going to last more than a year?" Harry asked with extra innocence.
"I do intend to," Snape commented.
Harry had to walk fast to keep up once they were down the stairs. "Are you good at teaching Defense?" he asked honestly. "I need to get a good score on my N.E.W.T."
"What do you need that grade for? Supreme Ruler of the Wizard Universe does not have a N.E.W.T. requirement," Snape commented levelly.
Harry brushed that off. "No, but the Auror's program does."
They reached the dungeon. Snape stepped into his office and opened the trunk in front of the next full bookcase. Harry wandered over to the low cabinets along the righthand wall. An entire row of cauldrons bubbled away on the tops. "You have been busy, Professor."
"Those are the long-brew potions needed for the school's stocks. While school is in session, it is very difficult to successfully brew them; something or someone," he sneered, "inevitably happens to them." He'd packed the remainder of the books away and started in on other items from the shelves. Breakables were wrapped in rags before being placed atop the books.
"Misthria Potion?" Harry asked as he watched a gold-flecked liquid simmer in a brass cauldron.
"Yes," Snape replied, a little surprised. He watched with hooded eyes as Harry walked down the line, peering into each.
Running feet brought both of their heads up to the doorway. Trelawney, trailing a diaphanous robe, stopped breathlessly in the hallway outside the door. Upon seeing Harry, she smiled sweetly and composed herself. "Severus," she said in a friendly voice as she leaned lightly on the doorframe, "you are needed upstairs." Snape stepped over to her and, after a brief hesitation, stepped around her and down the corridor. "How are you, Harry?" she asked as though they were neighbors talking over a fence.
"Fine, ma'am," Harry replied carefully.
She caught her breath and looked around the room casually. "I can't wait to meet the new Potions professor. Can you? Greer I think her name is."
"Is she as nice as Professor Snape?" Harry asked.
"Uh," she said thoughtfully and then giggled. "That's a good one. One would tend to assume maybe a little nicer."
Harry turned back to the cauldrons, hoping she would go away. He was always a little worried she'd start prophesying again at any moment. She only ever did that when they were alone together.
"Well, I'm sure I'll see you at lunch. Bye for now."
Harry sighed and shook his head. Beside the next potion a book lay open. Harry perused the instructions and peered into the cauldron. The next step called for linden bark threads. A small basket of them sat on the shelf below. They were to be added as soon as the potion boiled clear. It sure looked clear to Harry. He listened and didn't hear any footsteps. Shrugging at the thought that the potion would be ruined if he didn't add the ingredient, Harry started dropping in the threads one at a time, as it said.
"Really, it is nothing," Dumbledore was saying as Snape entered the Great Hall. McGonagall was apparently helping the headmaster up. "Just a moment of unbalance."
Snape was across the room in an instant, taking Dumbledore's other arm. "Hospital wing?" Snape asked his colleague.
"Really, I must insist that is too much," Dumbledore said.
"Yes," McGonagall answered Snape in a hard tone.
On the fifteenth thread a deep emerald bloom spread from it throughout the liquid. It was a very nice color. Harry dampened the burner like it said and read the next step. The mixture was supposed to be thickened before it cooled. Harry realized that he recognized it now. It was the insect bite ointment Pomfrey gave out in little tins. Harry looked around on the shelf below and didn't see any gelatin, agar, or anything like that. The other stocks were being rearranged, so if there had been an organization scheme, he wasn't likely to pick up on it now.
He wandered over to the cabinet that was still left as it was. On the top shelf was a dusty jar of tapioca beads. Still hearing no footsteps, he took down a clean mortar and pestle, ground a handful of beads into fine powder and stirred it slowly into the cooling liquid. He stopped when it was about halfway to what he remembered the ointment to be, figuring that it would set more when it finished cooling.
He moved the cauldron to a worktable, sat on a stool and stared at it with a faint frown. He couldn't very well just leave it like this. Even though he was pretty sure that, if it set up in the cauldron, it could be reheated and poured out, the incompleteness of it bothered him. He looked around for any empty large tins with screwtops like Pomfrey had. The side door to the supply room stood ajar, which was not normal for Snape. Harry peered inside and saw what he needed between stacks of filter paper and empty one-dose vials.
Using a few thermal rags, he poured the green glop out evenly into four large, shallow tins and set them apart to cool on the work table. He stared at their glistening jewel-like surfaces, and waited.
"What happened?" Pomfrey asked as the trio entered the hospital wing trailed by the Divination teacher.
"My staff is overreacting," Dumbledore stated as he was lowered onto a bed. "A mere moment of disorientation is all."
"He fainted," McGonagall supplied.
Trelawney stepped to the end of the bed, jingling softly as she shifted nervously from foot to foot.
"Well, I think we'll keep you here overnight, Headmaster," Pomfrey said as she checked his pulse.
Dumbledore graced them all with a chastising look but gave in.
Harry was just deciding that the tins had cooled enough. He wiped out a lid with a clean rag and touched the side of a tin to see how much it jiggled.
"Potter?" Snape said as he stepped in the doorway. His gaze shifted from the empty spot on the side cabinet back to the work table. Brows drawn low, he stepped over and lifted a tin to look across it. "Hm, what did you use to thicken this?"
"Oh," Harry fidgeted once. "I couldn't find anything but the tapioca." He gestured at the tall cabinet. As Snape eyed the ointment again, Harry added quickly, "I thought it was nonreactive in this case."
Snape's dark gaze slid over to him at that. "It is. It seems to set the color better as well." He put the tin down and pushed it over. Harry waited to be yelled at. When nothing but a close look was forthcoming, he put the cleaned lid on that tin and pushed it to the side. As he started to wipe out the next lid, Snape said, "Are you bored, Mr. Potter?"
Harry swallowed in relief. "Yeah, I guess so."
Snape stepped back over to his trunk. "Many of the potions are rather basic, if you truly wish to assist." Harry brightened. "Do try to practice somewhat better technique than you usually manage in class."
"That's easy when you aren't hovering around waiting for me to make a mistake," Harry commented, then held his breath.
Snape looked up from continuing to pack breakables. "Is that how you explain your rather extraordinary O.W.L. performance?"
"Yes."
"Where's Dumbledore?" Harry asked when they sat down to lunch.
"He is on a small holiday," McGonagall supplied.
"He could use one," Harry said stridently as he assembled a roast beef sandwich for himself.
"Yes," McGonagall commented emphatically, sounding a little put-out.
Harry stared at his sandwich for a long moment before reaching for the horseradish.
"Ma'am, can I speak with you?" Harry asked after he knocked on the doorframe of McGonagall's office.
She was sorting through a large stack of parchments. "Of course, Mr. Potter. Come in."
Harry sat down in one of the visitor's chairs. Mice ran around suddenly in the cage above his head. He waited for them to stop before he took a deep breath and asked, "No one is usually here right now, are they?"
She sighed, "No. Not usually."
Harry slouched and said, "I feel bad making everyone stay on my regard."
"Harry," she said sharply. "I'm sorry for the implication I made earlier. It is truly not a problem. We would be ten times busier and under a hundred times more stress if you hadn't finished Voldemort off for us. If we forget that for a moment and imply that you are any kind of a burden, whatsoever, then we are sorely in the wrong."
Harry frowned and stared at his feet.
"Has anyone implied that besides my slip at lunch? Has Professor Snape?" she asked suspiciously.
"No, ma'am. He seems happy to be moving his office."
"Yes, I can imagine he would be." She straightened a stack of papers that threatened to slide off the desk. "For myself I am taking care of things that I would be doing just before the year begins anyway. Getting it done now means having less to do later. I expect the Ministry will have managed to round up the remaining D.E. in short order, and we can all do as we wish then. If not, I will personally hunt them down myself."
"Can I help, ma'am?" he asked eagerly.
"Harry, you have done far more than your part already. Take it easy now."
Harry sighed and felt the walls of the castle closing in again.
The rest of the day, Harry spent with this notes from the references. He'd prepped a piece of lambskin parchment with the spells he'd found in the second book. He couldn't decide exactly what he wanted the sheet to do. The little word animation at the beginning of the Map's activation amazed him when he broke it down into its components, unless it was a single more complicated spell that took care of the many small details. He sighed. He'd found a book that described how the scoreboard at the Quidditch World Cup worked, but most of the complication with that had been the ability to constantly update it from several locations. Harry wanted something that had some smarts without further intervention.
On a separate piece of paper, he made sketches of Hedwig in several poses. He took a deep breath and used a duplicitous spell to copy one to the smart parchment. He then tried to get it to show when he tapped the parchment and said, "Hedwig". The image seemed to have just disappeared. With a frustrated sigh, he read through his notes again and wished Hermione were there. Maybe he could get Lupin to visit and show him, he thought, as he pulled out a volume from the stack and sat back to read some more.
When he reread the text after a few spell attempts, much more of it made sense. He supposed he would just have to keep trying and reading until it worked. It must have been easier for his dad, he had three friends to help him. Or maybe his dad had just been better at magic.
Snape stepped into the dispensary carrying a smoking stone cup. He set it on the stand beside Dumbledore's bed, careful to do so quietly.
"Severus," Dumbledore said, apparently not asleep. "Have a seat; I have been thinking and I want to talk to you."
Snape stepped over to the next bed and picked up a chair. "That is a downside to your incarceration here," he commented.
Dumbledore laughed. "My dear Severus, you can always be counted on to speak the truth--as you see it anyway. I wonder if you'd permit me to do the same?"
Snape sat back with his hands clasped over his abdomen. "If you wish," he replied tediously
"This little setback came upon me unexpectedly. It makes me very concerned that I have somewhat less time than I thought. As well I am even more relieved to have certain critical things taken care of." He reached over to the night stand for his glasses and perched them on his nose. "After a hundred and sixty years I have to remind myself that I cannot possibly take care of everything personally." He steepled his fingers and sat silently for a long minute. "I want you to consider something for me, Severus."
"Consider, meaning it is not an instruction you are giving me outright?"
"I would never make such a request outright." He looked Snape over. "You have come a long way, Severus," he observed.
Snape hmfed and looked vaguely insulted.
"Realize, it is the only reason I am asking this of you."
"It is just for my consideration?" Snape repeated. At Dumbledore's nod, Snape asked with some trepidation, "What is it?"
Dumbledore's eye twinkled as he said, "I want you to consider adopting Mr. Potter."
Snape's eyes widened in dismayed disbelief. "You must be joking, Albus."
Amiably, Dumbledore replied, "No, Severus, I am not." When Snape shook his head, Dumbledore said kindly, "Think about it longer than that."
"There is nothing to think about!"
"Severus . . . " Dumbledore hesitated. "Here is where you are granting me the right to state things as I see them." He waited for Snape to calm down and sit back again, relaxed more. "I saw that boy bring out a side of you I did not imagine existed."
Snape frowned fiercely and looked away down the long side of the wing.
"Yes, I know what you are thinking. But I know you saw him bring down the most powerful wizard in the world with precisely that set of emotions."
Snape scoffed. "What you don't know, and what Mr. Potter skipped telling the Ministry, is that I almost made him fail at it."
"Hm . . . you underestimate Mr. Potter."
"And you underestimate what happened," Snape came back. "Your request is absurd," he said angrily. He didn't meet Dumbledore's gaze. "I certainly hope that is the only request you have of me." He stood up and shifted the chair out of the way.
"Yes, Severus, it is," Dumbledore stated kindly.
"You should drink that within the next hour or so," he said, indicating the potion beside the bed.
"Thank you," the headmaster said sincerely.
With a deep frown, Snape stalked out of the wing.
"Do you need any help today?" Harry asked from the doorway. He almost didn't--Snape seemed miffed about something as he sorted through the shelves of potions that surrounded the room. At some point, Harry apparently had learned the subtle difference between ordinary Snape orneriness and real anger.
Snape looked up and considered him a long moment with an unreadable expression. "There is not much to be done today." As Harry's face fell, he added, "But the burn plaster will need to be finished tomorrow, if you want to familiarize yourself with the instructions for it at this time."
Harry stepped in and accepted the potion manual. He flipped it open and glanced at the relevant pages before closing it around his finger at that spot. He hesitated, deciding whether to stay or go. Snape went back to his task, which involved evaluating each bottle of any age at all. He looked intent on it.
"Thank you, sir," Harry said and slipped out the door.
Harry tossed in his four poster and woke up. Grey light filled the tall windows. The dark shadows from his dream faded only slowly, taking with them his panic to escape them. He got up to use the lavatory and didn't feel like sleeping anymore. He turned up the lamps, sat on the floor, and sorted his chocolate frog cards. The one of Dumbledore winked at him and he picked it up and read the back of it for the hundredth time, remembering the first time he had read it on the train on the way to his first year here. That moment seemed ten lifetimes ago. Flamel's name made him wonder suddenly if Dumbledore hadn't also been using the Philosopher's stone to make elixir. The thought chilled him.
Two days later, Dumbledore returned to dinner.
"Did you have a good rest?" Harry asked him.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he replied, "Yes, my dear boy, I did."
Harry served himself two chicken legs and a jacket potato. McGonagall spooned a serving of peas beside it. Harry frowned at her but didn't say anything. Sprout was back today. She explained to him about the regular care everything needed. Harry felt better that at least she was here by choice. Hagrid beside her also was. That just left McGonagall, Trelawney and presumably Dumbledore there only to protect him. He felt better when he realized this.
After dinner, Harry sat in the Great Hall before the fire, reading the potion manual Snape had given him. It had recipes for all the basic medicinal potions the school used. Harry was fascinated by what went into some of the things he took for granted. The fire lulled him with its heat. After a while, he set the manual aside and put his head down on his arm.
Shadows that shifted from distinct hooded outlines to smokey, snaking wraiths tracked Harry through a looming forest of dead trees. Tired of running, Harry stopped and faced them with his wand held at ready. They faded out, reappearing in the distance, moving from one trunk to the next, out of range, waiting. He let his wand rest at his side in frustration and impatience. Suddenly, the leaves shifted at his feet and a shadow loomed up in front of him.
"Potter?"
Harry jerked awake and stared at Snape, leaning over the table before him. Breathless from the panic in his dream, he took a moment to recover.
"Nightmare?" Snape asked almost accusingly.
Harry rubbed his hair back and forced his breathing to slow. "Yeah," he admitted, amazed at how much his heart raced. He stretched his stiff neck in a bid for normalcy. "What time is it?"
"Nine thirty."
Still unbelievably sleepy as well as jittery, Harry stood up with the aid of the tabletop. "I guess I should go up to the dormitory," he mumbled.
"Do you want this?" Snape held out the potion manual.
"Yep, thanks," Harry said a little more coherently. He took the book and left.
Up in his room, he sat on the bed and tried to shake the fear that gripped him. That was the second time that had happened--that the shadow looming close in his dream was actually Snape in the waking world. He hadn't wanted to believe that the shadows were anything more than symbols, not real. He changed and slid into bed and tried to recapture the utter exhaustion he'd felt just minutes ago.
When Harry entered the dungeon the next day, Snape immediately reached into his pocket and held out a small bottle. "Here," he said.
Harry stepped over and accepted it. "Thanks," he murmured and put it in his own pocket.
"I'm surprised you still need it," Snape commented as he flipped page by page through a thick book on his desk.
"I'd like not to," he admitted, reading upside-down as Snape's finger traced a set of potion ingredients on the page before flipping to the next. He wanted to ask Snape if what he suspected was true, but didn't know how.
"Care to cut up ingredients?" Snape asked. "Not the most interesting task."
"Sure," Harry said. He took the long wild carrot roots and knife to the worktable and set to cutting them so the fibers were as close to a quarter inch long as possible.
Snape came over a little later and scooped up a small pile of them. "Have you determined if there is anything significant in these dreams?" he asked. "I only ask because this is often the case with you."
Harry shrugged. He'd feel better if he told, he thought. "I'm being chased, hunted more like, by black shadows."
"Hm," Snape replied. He took the roots to the first cauldron and dropped them in.
Heart pounding a little, Harry said quietly, "I can't count them, I don't know if there are seven of them."
"Or eight, or even twenty-six for that matter," Snape commented levelly. He stirred a second cauldron before stepping back over and looking down at Harry. "More than symbolic, Mr. Potter? These shadows?" he asked.
Harry dropped his gaze and went back to peeling and cutting.
"You apparently have reason to believe they are," Snape went on. When Harry didn't respond, he said, "Have you spoken with the headmaster about this?"
Harry shook his head. "Think I should?"
"I think he may have some insight to offer you," Snape said as he sorted through the remaining ingredients, throwing away the dry ones.
Harry didn't feel like bothering Dumbledore with it. He went back to his careful cutting. Moments later, he said, "I wish the Ministry would hurry up and apprehend them, then it wouldn't matter. The way it's going, I'll have to get them myself."
"I even catch you attempting that, Mr. Potter . . ." Snape said harshly as he leaned in close, making Harry lean back. "You will have detention with me every day from now until you complete your N.E.W.T.s."
Harry blinked in shock at the vehemence in his teacher's voice. Snape spun away back to the cauldrons and for a fleeting moment, Harry thought Snape too had surprised himself. "Yes, sir," Harry replied automatically, sounding oddly like he meant it.
Author notes: Next: Chapter 11 -- Fame if not Fortune