A Father's Sin

A Father's Sin

Chapter 6 -The Lion

            Harry wasn’t sure if the loud crack of thunder was real, or just a fleeting remnant of his dream. Something had been chasing him through a forest, he remembered, but he’d never once seen what it was. A second crack of thunder echoed through the dormitory, causing the windows to rattle dangerously in their panes. He could hear Ron’s marble start to roll across the table, finally clinking to a stop against the candleholder. So…he was awake then. Eyes held stubbornly shut, Harry merely lay there, struggling to ignore the faint sounds of his roommates waking and kicking off their sheets. He was hoping that if he lay there long enough, everyone would set off for breakfast and let him have the room to himself. However, such was not to be.

            “Harry, wake up! We’ll miss breakfast!” Ron said from someplace nearby. Harry only groaned and rolled over, not even bothering to open his eyes.

            “So?” he muttered, his voice slurred with sleep.

            “So? We never miss breakfast! And you’ve still got to get Hermione to teach you that spell; we’ve got Transfiguration today. Remember?” Ron persisted, and Harry’s eyes snapped open. The spell…there had to be some way to get out of it, wasn’t there? If he was partnered with someone and they cast the spell….

            “I’m not going to class,” Harry said, then finally uncurled and sat up stiffly, regretting the fact that he hadn’t bothered to change into his nightclothes. The room was illuminated only by a dim, grayish light seeping through the blurry windows, the glass obscured by the pounding rain.

            “What?! You can’t skip it! She’ll take off points, and we haven’t got many to start with!” Ron said desperately, all the while struggling to pull on an old tennis shoe.

            “I’ll come to breakfast, but I don’t promise anything,” Harry said, reaching up to straighten his glasses. Were his glasses even real...? Harry wondered, his fingers lingering on the frame. When he looked back up, Ron was no longer watching him impatiently, but his expression was concerned instead.

            "Are you gonna be okay?" he asked, and the room was briefly illuminated by a nearby flash of lightning. Harry didn't answer, but turned his gaze to the floor, watching the reflected image of the rain upon the cold stone floor. "What did Hermione want to talk to you about?" Ron asked suddenly, and Harry flinched, pulling one knee up against his chest.

            "I can't...not right now," Harry said, shaking his head.

            "That bad?" Ron asked quietly, lip curled slightly.

            "Yeah," Harry whispered, then abruptly stood up from the bed, straightening his wrinkled robes. "Let's go to breakfast, okay?" he said, and attempted a cheery smile. He was sure it wasn't the least bit convincing, but Ron smiled in return anyway.

            "Breakfast it is, then," Ron said, and they headed off toward the stairs.

            Hermione was waiting for them down in the common room, shifting anxiously from foot to foot near the portal. Her eyes were still a little red and puffy, but she did an excellent job of hiding it with a cheery smile when they came down the stairs.

            "Morning, 'Mione!" Ron said happily, and she rolled her eyes at the nickname.

            "Good morning, Ron," she said as he passed through the portal beside her. When she turned to look at Harry, her eyes were filled with concern, and much remorse. "How are you, Harry?" she asked quietly, and he only shrugged in reply, pausing near the doorway. "Listen, I'm sorry.…" she began, but Harry shook his head quickly.

            "No, you've nothing to be sorry for. It's good that you told me, it took a lot for you to do that," Harry said, and managed a small, genuine smile. He knew it must have been hard for her to break the news to him, knowing just how much of an effect it would have. She'd told him the truth straight out, and he knew without a doubt that he had a true friend in her.

            "Thank you, Harry," she said, smiling lightly. Wasn't she the one supposed to be comforting him? She thought. Harry nodded and passed through the door, eyes still cast toward the ground. The three of them continued on to the Great Hall in silence, save for the constant howling of the wind outside and the intermittent crash of thunder. It was very eerie walking down the dim, gray halls, with the torches flickering in an hour not their own. Harry felt himself slowly drifting away, senses slowly dulling till it seemed like he was watching everything through a window. By the time they reached the Great Hall, his eyes were dull and unfocused, his mind blissfully blank.

            “---said that he’d be collecting it today,” someone said, and Harry jerked up, for the first time realizing that they were already seated at the table, and that somehow he’d managed to devour half of his breakfast without even noticing it. Hermione was looking at him as if expecting a reply, and Ron was leaned over, digging busily through his school bag.

            “Sorry...but what did you say?” Harry asked, setting his fork back on the table. His stomach didn’t seem to like being fed this morning, it was still roiling unpleasantly with a bit of nausea.

            “I just asked if you two had done your Charms homework, Professor Flitwick said he’d be collecting it today,” she repeated, then inclined her head and finished off the last bite of her breakfast.

            “Yeah...I finished it before Quidditch practice,” Harry said, blinking repeatedly in an attempt to clear his mind. Thoughts didn’t want to form properly, as if his brain was still sleeping, or refusing to think for fear of rousing demons. However, that didn’t stop a tremor of fear to surface at the mention of classes. “Hermione, did McGonagall say what we’d be doing today?” he asked, and her gaze instantly snapped up.

            “Don’t worry, Harry. She’s just lecturing today, that’s why she told us to practice on our own. If she changes her mind, I promise to do something, distract her or...something,” Hermione assured, setting aside the glass of juice she’d been holding. Ron was looking at the two of them strangely, but he didn’t say a word.

            “All right...I guess I’ll come then,” Harry muttered, and Ron’s face lit up with a thankful smile. “We’d better get going.”

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            ‘I shouldn’t have said a word, I should have just given him a month’s detention...’ Severus thought again, stalking down the dungeon hallway toward his classroom. If it were at all possible, his gaze was blacker now than it had ever been. What had been his excuse to the boy? Respect for his mother? Indeed, perhaps that had been part of the reason, but he wouldn’t fool himself into believing it was the entire truth. No, the real reason he’d bothered to spill his darkest secret to the son of his enemy could be summed up in one word. Guilt. Guilt and a sorry attempt to alleviate some of the pain that the memory inspired. Instead, hat very guilt had kept him up all night yet again, staring into the blackness of his room while seeing her face over and over again. The face of his school-time friend, twisted in terror, eyes widened and horrified as she realized her fate.

            “No,” Snape growled angrily, gritting his teeth so hard that his jaw muscles began to twitch. He would not allow those memories to surface again. Wasn’t fifteen years enough to kill his guilt? Shouldn’t he be able to sleep at night now, without her face haunting his nightmares, without that idiot child reminding him of her every bloody time he opened his eyes? Yes, telling her son had been a sorry attempt to make it up to Lily, to prove that he regretted it his every waking moment. It was supposed to make him feel better, to release him from the guilt and remorse that weighed him down into darkness. Oh yes, he had plenty of other things to be guilty for, a lifetime’s worth of it in fact. Was it really asking so much to be forgiven for one thing? Something he’d strived to make up for since that horrid day itself?

            As he slammed open the doors to his classroom, Snape sighted one figure in particular and knew it was not to be. As long as he was at Hogwarts, as long as his name was in conversation, in the newspapers, or even alive Severus knew he’d never be free of the pain and guilt. How could he, with those haunting green eyes watching him through her son?

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            It had taken every ounce of willpower Harry possessed to walk through the door. The very instant he’d seen it, he’d frozen on the spot. In fact, he was pretty sure he’d nearly collapsed with the way his legs had suddenly weakened. And then there was the doorway...gaping like a black maw ready to suck him down. The feeling vaguely reminded him of his second year, before entering the chamber of secrets. It had been the same today, standing before the doorway knowing that something horrible was waiting within. In the end, he’d stepped through, clutching his bag in a white knuckled grasp. And then he’d made his way to the front of the room to set the lion back on the desk, and then slowly returned to his table, focusing on one step at a time. He sat between Ron and Hermione, wrapping his arms tightly around his chest as they waited. Snape was never late, and as the minute ticked closer, Ron had to put a hand on his shoulder to keep him from bolting. Thankfully, Hermione had been right about Transfiguration earlier. McGonagall had made them take notes on how to end a glamourie spell, and hadn’t even bothered to demonstrate. For once, something had gone well.

            And then the doors suddenly opened, slamming wide with enough force to rattle the cauldrons on their stands. Harry froze, the wheels inside his mind grinding to a sudden halt. His eyes were wide and staring, focused on the dark swirl of cloth as the Potions Master headed to the front of the room. Once he’d reached the chalkboard, he turned to the class, staring off into the Slytherin side of the room.

            “Take notes,” he said flatly, and began scribbling a list of ingredients on the board, his back to the room. Harry sat stock still, afraid to move or even breath. The muscles in his cheeks were aching from clenching his teeth so tightly, but he hardly noticed. All he wanted was for the class to end, for Snape to ignore him completely. More than anything in the world, he wanted to slide down in his desk and disappear. Why had he even come? He should have stayed in the dormitory, crawled under the covers and stayed there until graduation. Maybe he could still slip out quietly....

            A sharp elbow in his ribs startled him out of his thoughts, and he turned to see Hermione frantically pointing at her notes. He hadn’t even bothered to unpack a quill and parchment yet. Quietly, Harry snatched the things from his bag, eyes never once leaving the front of the room, as if Snape would attack the instant his gaze was turned. But Snape didn’t turn around, and Harry began scribbling his notes, struggling to focus on neatly copying the words on the board and nothing else. And then Snape turned around briefly, and Harry blotched his notes, struggling to slow his racing heart. Seeing that black gaze turned on him once again triggered a flood of images, flashes of his mother’s capture, of Snape admitting to raping her, of Hermione with her head in her hands, reluctant to bring his world crashing down. One word that had once been so cherished he couldn’t even think anymore, any thought even remotely associated with it causing his chest to constrict, threatening to crush his lungs and stop his heart. Now his mind shied away from the word like a horrible disease, something that would leap out and destroy him if he dared get to close. That man was his...no, his mind couldn’t even admit the truth. After so many years of wishing for nothing but his family, wanting desperately to call someone by the name ‘mother’ and...the other. And now...now he couldn’t bare it, couldn’t even attempt it without nearly suffocating.

            “Your homework for tonight is to write a paragraph on each of these ingredients, describing where they can be found and for what they are most commonly used. I expect you to be thorough,” Snape said, half turned toward the class with his arms crossed. Harry’s quill scratched to a halt at the voice, other words it had spoken rising in his mind. ‘...I chose your mother.’ Harry drew in a slow, deep breath, concentrating on getting the quill moving again. *scratch* *scratch* *scratch*

            “Now....” the voice drawled again, “I believe you all have some homework to hand in?” Snape continued, mouth curving into a slight smirk as every student began frantically digging through their satchels. One student, however, remained perfectly still, staring at his quill with an expression like that of a hunted deer. Snape’s smirk grew wider, and his eyes flashed darkly. He moved slowly down between the tables, turning and gliding silently in front of the petrified student. Oh, he had so been hoping he’d do something punishable, wishes did come true, it seemed.

            “Something the matter, Potter? Or did you forget that I assigned you three pages on the Eternal Flame potion?” he said, enjoying the way the boy’s hand spasmed in surprise at his voice, and the sudden vertical streak left on the parchment by the quill.

            “I...don’t have it, Professor,” Harry stuttered, his voice quavering slightly. He’d forgotten completely about the paper, he hadn’t even started it. Slowly, he raised his head, doing his best to steel his expression as he sighted the professor’s face.

            “That’s too bad Potter,” Snape drawled, though he was vaguely surprised by the expression on the boy’s face. Potter was never usually so frightened of him, nervous, yes, but never shaking in outright fear. Snape passed it off as a result of the previous night’s conversation, and deepened his smirk into a glare. “I suppose you think yourself too ‘special’ to bother with your homework,” Snape said, then turned his gaze to the ceiling, tapping his jaw in thought, “I wonder, what would your parents think of you?” he said, and several Slytherins began snickering loudly. All memory of guilt blissfully vanished and Snape looked down again, enjoying the sight of the famous ‘Potter’ shaking in sheer terror.

            Suddenly, there was a loud ‘bang’ as Harry knocked his chair to the floor, running at full speed toward the door. He could hear Snape yelling after him as he fled into the hall, and the loud laughter of every Slytherin in the room. He couldn’t take it, couldn’t stand being in that room, facing him and knowing who he was. His feet pounded against the stone as he ran, taking the stairs out of the dungeon two at a time. He should have just stayed in bed...should have skipped the class, he repeated to himself. Practically flying out of the stairwell, he took the turn sharply, ignoring the startled looks on the faces of the students in the main hallway. Let them stare, that wasn’t anything new. Now it was in surprise, but maybe soon it would be in disgust in hatred, or even worse, fear.

            Flinging open the main doors, Harry didn’t stop till he was fully outside, standing on the rain-slick steps. He sat down heavily, ignoring the pelting rain that stung his face, fogging up his glasses. Lightning still flashed in the sky, the bottom of the bolts hidden behind the dark expanse of the forest. Drawing his knees up to his chest, he shivered, staring down at the miniature splashes the raindrops made on the steps. It was a good day to rain, a good day for the vicious wind and biting cold.

            “Harry?” a gruff voice asked, and he looked up in surprise to see Hagrid standing next to him, his moleskin coat spotted by the rain.

            “Hi, Hagrid,” he mumbled, reaching up to wipe the rain from his face.

            “Aren’t ya suppos’d to be in class right now?” Hagrid asked, descending a step or two.

            “Yes,” Harry replied, and Hagrid sighed deeply, straightening his jacket. Leaning down, Hagrid placed one massive hand on his shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly, smiling when Harry looked up again.

            “Why don’ ya come over fer some tea? You’ll get sick sittin’ out ‘ere,” he said, and Harry nodded after a moment, rising slowly from the steps.

            “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks, Hagrid,” Harry said, and they headed off down the path, trudging through the stinging rain.

           

            The fire sparked loudly as Hagrid threw another log onto the flames, moving it around with the rusted poker. Harry watched idly, the sparks reflecting in the lenses of his glasses as he stared down at his tea, lost in thought again.  Hagrid hadn’t asked any questions, merely poured him tea and settled a warm blanket around his shoulders. The silence was nice, Harry thought. Just the rhythmic sound of the wind and the rain, and the quiet crackling of the fire.

            “Did I ever tell ya ‘bout the time I almost got eaten by a Peryton?” Hagrid rumbled suddenly, settling down in the chair opposite Harry. Startled, Harry glanced up.

            “No, I don’t think so. What happened?” Harry asked, wrapping his hands around the tea mug to warm them. Maybe a friendly voice would help keep his mind off of things.

            “It happened jus’ a couple a years ago, right ‘ere in the forest. Never been so scared in me life as that day, ‘cept maybe when they carted me off ta Azkaban. But that’s differnt’. Anyway, me an’ Fang were out a huntin’, trackin’ some beastie or ‘nother, when outta nowhere come’s this Peryton, swooping outta the trees like some giant vulture,” Hagrid began, pausing to take a drink from his own tea mug.

            “What’s a Peryton?” Harry asked, never once had he heard of such a creature.

            “Big ole bird-like thing, has the legs an’ head of a dear, only filled with lotsa teeth. Viscious brutes, they’ll attack anythin’ they can fit their teeth in. Anyhow, as I was sayin’, this thing swoops down at us, and I barely get outta it’s way in time. Fang went runnin’ home, jus’ like the coward he is. I took offa runnin’ too, fas’ as I could to get back ‘ere. But that thin’ really wanted me fer dinner, and jus kept on a comin. Finally it got me cornered, and was standin’ there in the path, starin’ at me with those hungry red eyes,” Hagrid paused, a shiver wracking his great form, “Sorry,” he muttered, “Anyway, I happened ta glance off behin’ it, and see this other great beast standin’ off in the brush, watchin’ us like it thought we were amusin’. I’d seen that thing before, hidin’ in the shadows or runnin’ through the trees...never seen anythin’ like it. All I knew was that it scared me, maybe as much as the Peryton, even though he was the one ‘bout to eat me. It’s got eyes like none I ever seen, black as coal, but shinin’ green when the light hits ‘em.”

            “What was it?” Harry asked, completely wrapped up in the story.

            “A lion, but like none ye’ll ever see in a zoo. See, first off, we ain’t supposed to have lions ‘ere, too far north for ‘em. An second, this lion is black, and as far as I know, they ain’t supposed to be that color. He’s huge too, like no beast I ever seen before. As I was sittin; there, watchin’ the lion an the Peryton, sure I was gonna die by one evil thing or another, somethin’ that I’ll never forget happened. That lion came out of the shadows at a run, and hit that Peryton like the Hogwart’s Express. Smashed it right into the groun’, he did, an’ then took it’s neck in ‘is jaws and snapped it quick as a wink. Then he jus’ looked up at me, licking his pearly teeth, and sauntered back off into the shadows like he adn’t done a thing,” Hagrid finished, shaking his head in disbelief. Harry gaped at him for a moment, nearly forgetting the tea cup he held near his mouth. A lion? Could it be the one from the prophecy?

            “Is it still around?” Harry asked, then quickly finished off his tea.

            “Yup. I seen ‘im a few times, not recently though. I don’ doubt he’s still out there though, still gives me the willies thinkin’ ‘bout it,” Hagrid said, and suppressed another shiver.

            “Thanks for telling me Hagrid, and for inviting me over,” Harry said, setting his empty cup on the table.

            “Anytime, Harry. You’d best be gettin’ back now, they’ll be servin’ up dinner soon,” Hagrid said, rising from his chair and stretching loudly. Harry stood up and folded the blanket on the back of the chair, and headed for the door.

            “Bye Hagrid!” he said, and the half-giant waved back before closing the door behind him.  Heading off into the rain, Harry felt surprisingly better. Leave it to Hagrid to know just what to do, Harry thought with a smile. But that part with the lion was nagging at the back of his mind, and he knew he’d have to share the story with Ron and Hermione that evening. It was better than discussing other things, he thought grimly.

            Harry nearly felt like himself again when he stepped back into the main hallway. There weren’t many people about, as most had already gone to the Great Hall for dinner. He was a bit hungry, Harry realized, and then examined his soaked robes. He’d have to change first, he realized. The halls were nearly empty on the way back to Gryffindor tower, so he quickened his pace to a run, anxious to change out of the freezing garments. From around a far corner, Harry heard a loud sound, like the shutting of a door. Skidding down to a walk, he started to become annoyed by the loud squeaking his shoes made with each step. Then something black suddenly appeared at the end of the hall, and instantly Harry felt his mind freezing up again, shrinking back in pure terror. It was Snape.

            Without even realizing it, Harry dived behind a nearby statue, praying desperately that Snape hadn’t seen him. The last thing he wanted was to be cornered by Snape in an empty hallway, with absolutely nowhere to run. Struggling to quiet his panicked breathing, Harry pressed his back up against the rear of the statue, listening intently for the sound of footsteps. He heard none, however, as Snape rarely made any noise. He was like that, suddenly able to appear out of nowhere as if he really was just a shadow. A minute ticked by, then another. Staying perfectly still, Harry squeezed his eyes shut, still listening for even the softest rustle of cloth. He heard nothing. Another minute passed by, Snape should have been long gone by now. Nearly trembling, Harry opened his eyes, and edged slowly away from the statue, daring to look out into the hall.

            “Evening, Potter,” a deep, menacing voice growled, and Harry stared in horror at the figure leaning against the front of the statue. “I believe we need to have a little chat.”

------end Chapter 6--------