A Reflection of Himself

Chapter Twelve

After a full week of tryouts for all four Quidditch teams had passed, everyone looked forward to the beginning of training the following week. Harry anxiously awaited the first day of training, hoping to improve the Gryffindor Quidditch team, making it even better from its former days of glory when Oliver Wood had been the captain of the team. The first game wouldn't be for another three weeks, so that gave them plenty of time to prepare, and overall, Harry's general attitude was confident. To make matters even better, Harry's heart was pounding with joy inside his chest, for ever since the day Ginny had kissed him on the Quidditch pitch, he felt like his chest would burst open.

"Hey, mate, did you hear me?" Ron asked.

Harry came out of his reverie and stared at Ron with a puzzled expression plastered across his young features. They had been sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room, supposedly studying on that late Friday afternoon in front of a crackling fire.

"Er, sorry... no," Harry replied slowly. "What did you want?"

"I was asking you if you were plannin' on going to Hogsmeade tomorrow afternoon. It's the first weekend visit planned for the year, and I can't wait. I want to stop by Fred and George's and check out their newest line of merchandise," Ron chattered on excitedly.

Harry smiled ruefully at his friend and nodded, saying, "Of course I'll go. Why wouldn't I?"

"Oh, I dunno," Ron teased, "maybe because you'll be too busy snogging my baby sister."

"I heard that, Ronald Weasley!" a voice very much resembling Molly Weasley's exclaimed. Ron suddenly felt a hand smacking him squarely in the back of the head, to which he brought his hand to the slightly sore spot and groaned in mock pain.

"Oh, please," Ginny said, sitting down on one of the armchairs, rolling her eyes in the process. "Like your thick head would even feel a thing!"

Ron was about to protest rather loudly when Hermione joined them, laughing at Ginny's latest comment. Sitting down next to Ron on the floor, she looked at him and observed, "You know, I think your sister makes a very valid point, Ron."

Harry couldn't suppress his own laughter a minute longer, so he, too, joined in on the simple silliness of the whole scene. It was quite relieving to him to be able to laugh and pretend, if only for a short while, that he had not a care in the world. The likes of Voldemort and Death Eaters seemed further away from Harry's world than they had in a very long time.

"The plan is ready, Master," Peter Pettigrew trembled as he knelt in front of the Dark Lord.

"Is it, Peter?" Voldemort hissed dangerously low. "Because I do not want any mistakes. Is that perfectly clear?"

Voldemort's red eyes bore into Wormtail as if they were examining every last inch of the pitiful excuse for a man... more like a miserable rat. Pettigrew shook uncontrollably, despite his not-so-valiant efforts to retain some control over himself. Daring to look into Voldemort's eyes, Pettigrew's voice faltered as he replied, "Y-yes, sir... I mean, my lord. No... no mistakes."

"Good, then make sure that you keep this with you," the Dark Lord cooed silkily, handing a small vial to the rat.

Extending his right silver hand, Pettigrew took the offered vial and placed it inside his robe's inner pockets. Voldemort handed two more identical vials to two other Death Eaters, Avery and Nott, and then he retreated into the darkness, leaving his servants to do his bidding.

Saturday afternoon brought beautiful weather for a mid-September day, and as the students talked over lunch about their trip to Hogsmeade that very afternoon, Snape sat up at the Head Table, glowering down at them and at the plate of food in front of him.

"Oh, surely it isn't that bad, Severus," Dumbledore said off to the side.

Snape didn't bother to look at the old wizard, but instead, he picked up his fork and stabbed it into a piece of beef that was on his plate. Bringing the fork to his mouth, he chewed on the helpless piece of meat like it was being punished. He then set his fork back down on the plate and quickly wiped his face with a serviette. Standing up to leave, Snape was once again graced with the persistent voice of Albus Dumbledore.

"Leaving so soon, Severus?"

"Excuse my manners," Snape drawled sarcastically, "but unlike you, Headmaster, I have to prepare to escort a bunch of hormone-driven teenagers to a place where they can load up on sugar and jokes."

"On with you, then," Dumbledore replied genially and left Snape to retreat to his chambers in the dungeons for the time being.

As Snape descended the stairwell leading to the dungeons, his facial expression hardened, only adding further to his dislike of having to "babysit" on a Saturday afternoon. He much preferred to spend his Saturdays doing his own personal research or reading the latest articles in Ars Alchemica, but not this weekend. Dumbledore had appointed Snape and McGonagall as the chaperones for the trip to Hogsmeade, and although the Deputy Headmistress found much enjoyment in prancing merrily into town and enjoying the company of others over Butterbeer and Chocolate Frogs, Snape wanted no part of it. If nothing else, he figured that he could at least stop in the apothecary and pick up some ingredients for his experiments.

He promptly removed his academic robes and draped them over the back of a chair and reached for his frock coat. Making sure that all the necessary wards were in place, he left the room and headed for the main entrance hall.

Meanwhile, the students had finished eating lunch and were filing into the entrance hall as well. As Harry and his friends filtered past a group of Ravenclaw third years, who were all exuberantly jabbering about their first trip to Hogsmeade, Harry noticed that Snape was standing near the front door, looking as imposing as ever.

Leaning toward Ron, he muttered, "Don't tell me he's coming along."

Before Ron could speak, Hermione replied, "Well, of course he is, Harry. You know that the professors take turns chaperoning the students. It's all a part of ensuring our safety."

"I'd rather ensure my safety to a spider going for the kill," mumbled Ron, to which Harry nodded in full agreement.

Once everyone had gathered, McGonagall announced for the students to follow her through the front door and to the gate of the grounds. Snape was to take up the rear of the long line of students. They filed out through the double doors and down the front stairs, quickly across the grounds, and before Harry realized it, they were nearing Hogsmeade.

As they entered the quaint village, Ron's eyes immediately fell upon Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and he practically dragged Harry, Hermione, and Ginny into the store. While inside the infamous joke shop, Harry watched with sheer amusement as Fred and George shared their latest inventions with the ever-growing Hogwarts crowd. Many of the Gryffindor students had been fans of the Weasley twins and their off the wall sense of humor, and they were more than willing to be guinea pigs for their newest tricks. Ron gazed at the numerous rows of candies and tricks with amazement, and when he noticed a red colored candy on a stick that appeared to be some sort of a lollipop, he reached for it. Curious, he unwrapped it and read the label right before he placed it in his pocket.

"Tongue twister," he mused. "Hmmm, I wonder what it does."

Ron placed the candy inside his mouth, and although it tasted wonderful (like wild cherry), his tongue began to coil uncontrollably inside his mouth. The piece of candy became lodged in his mouth, stuck between his twisting tongue and the roof of his mouth. He cried out incoherently in fright, and many eyes regarded him curiously.

"Oh, I see Ron's gone and tried one of our Tongue Twisters," Fred mused.

"Yep, they're a real kick on the mouth, so to speak," added George. "Don't you worry, little bro; it'll dissolve soon enough."

"And your tongue will be back to normal," Fred finished, smiling widely.

If Ron would have been able to speak at the very moment in time, Harry wasn't sure he would have wanted to hear what words would have come forth from his mouth. The youngest Weasley brother was bright red in the face, but like the twins said, the candy dissolved soon enough, leaving Ron able to speak again.

He breathed heavily for a few moments before saying anything, but his poor tongue was spent.

"What kind of sick- " he began to say, but he was cut off by several overly-excited voices as many Hogwarts students moved toward the Weasley twins, saying they wanted to try the Tongue Twisters for themselves.

"Ron, you really should have read the label before you placed it inside your mouth," Hermione lectured, shaking her head.

Harry could only think to himself how much this scene resembled several others he had seen between his two best friends over the years. It was always the same: Ron did something foolish without first thinking through his actions, and Hermione in turn told him that what he had done was stupid. Ron usually would react by turning several shades of crimson, not wanting to acknowledge the fact that Hermione was right yet again. However, oddly enough, that did not happen this time.

"You're right, Hermione," Ron replied, shaking his head. "What was I thinking?"

"Perhaps you weren't thinking, Ron," she said matter-of-factly, eyeing him as if she were his mother.

Ron hung his head in defeat and walked out of the joke shop, but none of the students, save for Harry and Hermione noticed. Ginny was occupied with the ever-growing crowd, and so, she was helping Fred and George hand out Tongue Twisters and other sorts of candy. Harry and Hermione exchanged glances and both shrugged, surprised by Ron's strange behavior, so they followed him out of the store and found him sitting on a bench outside. He was slumped over, his hands buried inside his worn coat pockets.

"Ron, what's up, mate?" Harry asked, sitting down next to him.

"Nothing," the red-haired boy muttered, his eyes downcast, examining his untied shoe laces, perhaps.

"Oh, don't give me that," Hermione insisted, taking a seat on the other side of Ron. She placed an arm across his shoulders and continued, "Come on, now, Ron. Tell us what the matter is. Is it something I said?"

"What d'you think?!" Ron exclaimed, suddenly standing up and throwing his arms up in the air in exasperation. "It's always the same thing. You're always right; I'm always wrong. You must really enjoy always knowing you have the upper hand, Hermione!"

"What?" Hermione asked, totally taken aback with confusion. "I never said-"

"No, Hermione," Ron countered. "You say it all the time!"

"Oh? And what's 'it,' exactly? Enlighten me, Ron."

Ron opened his mouth to continue the argument, but Harry came and stood in between the two of them. He sent glares in both their directions and began as evenly as possible, "I've known you both for five years now, and time and again, I have witnessed the two of you at odds with each other over trivial, oftentimes ridiculous, matters. Well, I'm finally going to tell you both what I should have said a long time ago. It's obvious that you two are meant for each other, yet you're just too daft at times to see it. These silly games you play with each other have become really old, and I won't stand here anymore and listen to the two of you bicker. I'll leave the two of you to yourselves to work out your 'lovers quarrel,' but I am sick and tired of being the middle man."

Before either of them had a chance to reply or protest, Harry stomped off, wanting to be alone all of a sudden. He kicked at the dirt on the road, his shoes clicking over the cobblestone walkway. He looked up and down the street, wanting to just step inside one of the less frequented shops and be left to himself for a while. Harry seethed, thinking that his friends really had no idea how fortunate they were not to be in his position. They could perhaps easily enough go on living their lives without concerning themselves over him, and they could be happy together. Harry felt deep down inside that he may have been a part of the problem, a part of the reason Hermione and Ron had argued so much over the years. He was always stuck in the middle, trying to reconcile them in their differences, but he wouldn't stand for it any longer. If they had issues they needed to work out, then they could bloody well do it on their own terms... without him.

Seeing the apothecary, Harry stepped inside. He had never been inside such a place before, and as he entered, his nose picked up the smells of several herbs and spices. Many slimy, foul things were kept in bottles and jars high up on shelves lining the walls, and all Harry could think was how much seeing such things reminded him of Snape's office. Snape.

Harry's eyes came to rest upon the back of the said Potions Master, who was busily going through satchels, searching for some sort of ingredient for his wares. Snape's nose was hovering closely to the pouch, apparently taking in the scent of the powdered ingredient, perhaps trying to discern its freshness. The only other person in the shop was the shopkeeper himself, and he had just walked into the back room. Harry found himself taking a wary step forward, and as soon as his foot made contact with the old wooden floorboard, a long creak went through the floor, startling Snape out of his wits. The Potions Master stood erect in alarm, totally alerted to the disturbance, and his right hand was already on the end of his wand. He turned around immediately, and when he saw that it was none other than Harry Potter standing there, Snape's eyes narrowed with contempt.

"Potter," he muttered dangerously.

Harry was silent.

"What are you up to now?" he questioned sharply.

"I- uh, nothing," Harry replied, his voice shaking. He felt rather unnerved by what had just happened, but then a sudden feeling of insane triumph went through his veins, starting at his scar and then moving throughout his entire body. He doubled over in pain then, grabbing at his scar in agony as he fell to the floor.

At the same time, Snape felt a twinge of pain in his left forearm. The Dark Lord was communicating his apparent victory about something.

"Damn it, Potter!" Snape yelled, running over to him. "Must you make such a scene. What if someone heard you?"

Suddenly, a really unsettling, piercing feeling went through Snape as he realized that the shopkeeper was no where in sight. He glanced around the shop with haste, and a draft came in through the back door off the back room that Harry had seen the shopkeeper go into when he had first entered the apothecary.

"Lie low, Potter," Snape hissed. "And don't you dare make a sound."

Harry nodded as he watched Snape, wand at the ready, walk into the back room. Snape cautiously eyed the room, not seeing any sign of life, so he moved to the back door and peered around it.

Three men were holding a struggling young man in an alley. One of them muttered a silencing charm on the adolescent boy. Before Snape's eyes, all three of the men began to change form, and the one who he had thought was the shopkeeper turned out to be a fellow Death Eater: Avery. Peter Pettigrew's silver hand gleamed menacingly in the bright afternoon sun as the young man looked with horror upon that hand.

"What'd 'e say this young 'un's name was 'gain?" asked Nott.

"Thomas... er, Dean Thomas, I reckon," Avery replied. "Mudblood, he is."

Avery spat and smiled maniacally as Dean. Pettigrew raised his wand and muttered, "Stupefy," and the last thing Dean's innocent eyes saw before he blacked out was that wretched hand, the replacement of the severed hand that had aided in the rise of Voldemort and was Dean Thomas's greatest fear. The three Death Eaters Apparated out of the alley, taking the student's limp body with them.

Snape withdrew from the doorway and shook his head in defeat. He really loathed this part of his job. As he turned around to walk back into the main part of the store, he found himself face to face with Harry.

"What just happened out there?" demanded Harry, glaring at Snape.

"I don't have time for Twenty Questions, Mr. Potter," Snape replied impatiently, striding past Harry in haste.

Harry had to run to keep up with Snape, but he pressed, "What aren't you telling me, Snape? You know as well as I do that Voldemort-"

They were right near the entrance when Snape forcefully pressed Harry up against the doorframe, hissing, "Need I remind you not to speak the Dark Lord's name in my presence, Potter?"

"Fine!" Harry exclaimed, his eyebrows arching with growing anger. "But you owe me an explanation. You saw something happen back there; I bloody well know it. I felt the surge of his crazy joy shoot through my scar in jolts of pain. What happened?"

"A student was taken!" Snape barked. "Are you pleased now that I have answered you? Now, get out of my way. All students must return to Hogwarts immediately."

Harry silently watched as Snape marched into the street toward Professor McGonagall, and before five minutes had passed, all the students had been gathered together. The Boy Who Lived didn't even have a moment to try to understand what had just happened. He was herded into the school like the rest of the students, where it seemed was the only safe place for them to be.