A Reflection of Himself

Chapter Thirteen

The hour was late, and darkness had fallen over the world... over Harry's world, even more foreboding than any blackness that surrounded him. He lay in bed that night, the covers pulled up to his chin with both of his arms crossed behind his head. He stared aimlessly up at the ceiling of the four-poster's canopy, willing himself to try to clear his mind, hoping beyond hope that he would be able to find solace and sleep that unsettling night. Beyond the closed drapes that surrounded his bed, the other Gryffindor boys managed to sleep, and he could hear their faint snores and steady breathing, but one bed was empty. One bed that the previous night had housed the body of Harry's friend and classmate, Dean Thomas, now laid cold and unused amidst the circular dorm room.

Harry turned onto his side and pulled his covers higher, until his head was nearly completely covered. He squeezed his eyes shut, wincing with anguish and pain over the dizzy feeling within his stomach. Empty his mind, indeed. Harry silently spat over such words, for they reminded him all too much of the previous year when Snape had tried to burn those very words into his head during Occlumency lessons.

Hella good those lessons did me, Harry thought. I was able to block Voldemort when I wanted to... when the time called for it at the Ministry... but it was... too late...

One lone, rebel tear managed to escape from its imprisonment behind Harry's closed eyes, and then before he could control himself any longer, Harry reached the breaking point, and the tears flowed relentlessly, like a mighty river overpowering the dam that had been built up to block its flow. The young Gryffindor buried his head in the pillow, sobbing uncontrollably, soaking the pillow. He finally was drained and left feeling more alone than ever. Harry knew then that he couldn't stay in this room a moment longer. He reached for his glasses on the nightstand beside the bed and wiped his eyes with his sleeve, then placed his round spectacles over his red, swollen eyes.

Standing up, Harry slipped his feet into his slippers and reached into his trunk for his Invisibility Cloak. He left the room as quietly as was possible, but the other boys were all slumbering deeply, so they were left undisturbed as Harry closed the door and proceeded to walk down the stairwell to the Gryffindor Common Room. Once he reached the Common Room, he didn't feel any sense of comfort. The fire that had been burning fervently in the grate just hours before had been long since been extinguished, leaving the usually bright and warm room feeling desolate and cold. The comfortable armchairs appeared as black masses within the room, and what little starlight managed to enter through the windows was not enough to give the sad room any sort of glow.

Harry sighed and shook his head, thinking that he needed an escape from this place. Being anywhere near anything Gryffindor only served as a further reminder that one of his fellow Gryffindors had been taken and was probably now dead, his body left lying in some forgotten ditch or alleyway somewhere. He pushed such horrific thoughts away as he left the Gryffindor Common Room through the portal in the wall and began wandering without thinking through the halls of Hogwarts.

As Harry strolled slowly through the hallways, his eyebrows arched with anger as he thought about what had happened earlier that day in Hogsmeade. Snape had been witness to the entire incident in that back alley, yet he had done nothing... nothing... to stop it. He had simply stood there in the doorway as those Death Eaters were taking poor Dean to his demise, and Harry found himself wondering if Snape had enjoyed watching something so terrible. The Potions Master seemed to find pleasure in tormenting Harry with his venomous words and harsh demeanor, and after all, Snape had been a Death Eater. For all accounts on the side of Voldemort and his followers, they still thought that Snape was on their side. This wasn't the first time that Harry had questioned where Snape's loyalties resided. What if the sneaky Slytherin of a man had simply been fooling Dumbledore all these long years, simply feeding off the Headmaster's kindness, forgiveness, and trust? Harry thought that Dumbledore would be too powerful to be fooled in such a way, but after seeing the weak side of the old wizard back in June, Harry had since come to realize that Dumbledore was fallible just like anyone else.

Harry had lost himself in his thoughts as he wandered, for he suddenly realized that he was now standing in the dungeons, of all accursed places. He momentarily panicked when he also realized that Snape was pacing the corridor, his black form stalking menacingly through the place, and he was headed straight toward Harry. Harry turned to walk away and go back up the stairs, but as he turned, his cloke caught on his right slipper, causing him to fall to the floor, and the cloke fell off, completely revealing himself. Harry hastily reached for his sacred tool of invisibility, but it was too late. Snape's eyes came to rest upon Harry's form, and with a penetrating glare, Snape stopped only a couple of feet away from Harry.

"And what, pray," he whispered dangerously, "have we here? Mr. Potter, care to explain yourself?"

Harry regarded Snape nervously, swallowing the lump in his throat, but then his brow furrowed as all previous thoughts came rushing back to him, and regainig his composure, Harry stood up and brought himself to his full height, which was still considerably shorter than the Potions Master. Try as he might, Harry's return glare did not rival Snape's, but Harry replied just as dangerously low, "Why should I be the one explaining myself to you?"

Snape sneered, "Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter, for your insolance and lack of complete respect and ten more points for wandering the halls after curfew. You know the rules, Mr. Potter, and perhaps it is high time you start paying attention to them, lest you do yourself further harm."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Harry retorted. "Are you threatening me? Would you rather see me taken like Dean was and tortured by Death Eaters while you simply stand there as an onlooker, never once wavering, but merely enjoying watching someone else suffer? Would that satisfy your complete loathing of me, Snape?"

Harry turned quickly on his heel and wanted nothing more than to be away from the vile man that had taunted him and those he cared about, but then something totally unexpected happened. Before Harry was more than ten feet away, he heard Snape's voice.

"Mr. Potter... wait."

If he wasn't mistaken, Harry thought he heard a slight quiver in Snape's usually smooth voice, but other than that, it sounded just as heartless as ever. Harry stopped, but he did not turn around. He wanted nothing more than to punch Snape squarely in the nose for everything he had been put through by the treacherous man, but the Boy Who Lived stood there frozen, unable to move.

"Turn around and face me, Potter," Snape demanded.

"Why should I?" Harry challenged, baring his teeth.

"Blast you, Potter," Snape scowled, losing his patience. "For once in your life, listen to me. Turn around."

"Fine," Harry spat, wheeling around fiercely to face Snape. "I'm turned around."

"This is not a game, Mr. Potter," Snape said, watching Harry's facial expression carefully, "but there are rules, and you cannot just go about doing whatever it is your thick head tells you. Do you have any idea just what I sacrifice by doing my small part in his whole war? No, you don't, Mr. Potter, and for your information, you are wrong."

"I'm wrong?" Harry asked in confusion.

"Yes, you are wrong. If you think for one moment that I enjoyed standing there today watching a student be taken, then you are very wrong. There was nothing I could do... nothing. Do you understand? Had I made myself known in that instant in front of those Death Eaters, my cover would have been blown. There is more at stake here than just one student's life."

"It hasn't just been one student!" Harry hissed. "What about Cedric? What about my parents? What about Sirius... and- and everyone else who died last time?"

"My point exactly, Mr. Potter."

"But- oh..." The sudden realization came over Harry in that instant. He had known it all along, but he had been so bend on his own anger and frustration that he had failed to see it. "It's about all our lives," he said quietly.

Harry looked up at Snape, wanting to know what he would say in reponse, but the Potions Master had already walked away. Harry was left alone, his mouth gaping open. He had never heard Snape speak like that to him in all his years at Hogwarts, but what had really just occurred? Had Snape truly opened up just the smallest amount? Harry was still quite shocked by this new side - to him, anyway - of the Potions Master, but from that day forward, Harry would never look at Snape in the same manner again.

With nothing else to do, Harry returned to his dorm and finally drifted off to sleep, because believe it or not, Snape, of all people, had actually granted Harry some sort of strange peace of mind that abberant night.

Sunday called for an emergency staff meeting in Dumbledore's office to discuss the events of the previous afternoon in Hogsmeade. As soon as everyone had finished dinner in the Great Hall that evening, they went to the Headmaster's private study, where he patiently waited for them to find a seat. Despite his efforts to make the situation under which they met seem inviting by offering tea and having several candles lit throughout the heavily ornamented room, the overall feeling of the place was unnerving and tense. Worried glances were cast about the room, but once Dumbledore took his place at the head of the gathering, everyone turned their attention to him.

"I am quite sure you are all aware of the happenings in Hogsmeade yesterday afternoon," he began gravely, "so that is precisely the reason I have called this emergency staff meeting. I want to thank you all for taking time out of your busy schedules to be here, but as you all know, the safety and well-being of our students is a number one priority. Yesterday, Dean Thomas, a sixth year Gryffindor, was kidnapped during our student outing to Hogsmeade. I haven't heard anything since then regarding his whereabouts, but sadly, I think it would be safe to say that we can assume the worst."

Several gasps were heard throughout the room from the women, but other than that, there were nothing but silence. Dumbledore regarded everyone with defeat written in his eyes and sorrow upon his aged face.

"For that reason," he continued solemnly, "all future Hogsmeade visits have been cancelled until further notice. We cannot risk another attack on a student. I will be talking to the Ministry tomorrow morning immediately after breakfast, though, and it is my hope that Cornelius will send some Aurors to Hogsmeade and keep them stationed there. Unfortunately, the Ministry has not done anything since June to aid us in this war."

"Fudge is an ol' fool!" Hagrid exclaimed, standing up with anger. "He hasn' done a bloody thing. Dumbledore, sir, yeh've gotta take matters into yer own hands, I'm 'fraid."

"Yes, yes, Hagrid," Dumbledore acknowledged the half-giant, "but even in my position, there is only so much I can do. I trust everyone here to take extra precautions around Hogwarts, especially on the grounds. The Heads of House will need to ensure that their respective houses are following the new rules, as I plan to make an announcement tomorrow morning about them."

Heads nodded around the room in agreement, followed by a few murmurs. Dumbledore looked at all their concerned faces and concluded, "If there are no more questions, then I think it is safe to call an end to this meeting. I thank you for your time."

There were no further questions to be asked, so the meeting quickly disbanded, leaving the Headmaster alone for the night. Among those who walked out together, Lupin and Snape managed to brush shoulders as they left the office.

"Pardon me, Severus," Lupin said softly, not looking at Snape.

"It's all right," Snape mumbled, which came as somewhat of a surprise to Lupin, since Snape's usual reaction would have been to scowl and retreat quickly.

Lupin sighed as they continued down the corridor. "What a night," he remarked. "I just can't believe it's true..."

"Believe it, Lupin," Snape said faintly, keeping his eyes diverted toward the floor.

Something in Snape's tone was unsettling to Lupin, so he stopped and placed a hand gently on Snape's shoulder, willing him to stop stalking through the hallway so fast. Snape started upon feeling human contact, but then he stood there as stiff as a statue.

"Severus?" Lupin asked. "Is something wrong?"

"It is none of your concern," Snape replied, trying to put some bite into his tone, but his attempt was rather feeble.

"Is it because- because you witnessed-"

"I said it's none of your concern!" Snape barked, suddenly fixing a hard glare on Lupin's concerned face.

Before Lupin could say another word, the Potions Master had left as impetuously as he could. Snape returned immediately to his private chambers and sulked in his chair in front of the fireplace. The fire that burned within the grate was small and offered no warmth whatsoever to the cold man.

He crossed his arms tensely across his lean body and glowered at the nearly non-existent flames. How could those fools ever understand? he thought. They didn't know what it felt like to have to put up a front for so many years and pretend to be one person in one situation and someone else completely in another situation. They didn't know how much it stung to sit by and watch the damage be done... did they?

Snape thought about his encounter with Harry Potter the previous night, and he partly wanted to kick himself for being that open with the boy. He never let his guard down, damnit, especially in front of a Gryffindor student who was far too much like his father, but he had left his guard down, even if for only a moment. Did Snape regret it? Yes and no.

Nothing was black and white in his life and probably never would be. He was used to everything being blurred and not falling into the "good" or the "bad" categories. Only people like Dumbledore and Voldemort could be so easily placed into neat little drawers and labeled, but people like Snape, who were constantly walking the fence between the two sides, they were some type of muddled grey that had stained the white for having spent too much time amongst the darker colors.

He reached for a bottle of whiskey and prompty downed it in a few gulps and heavily replaced it to its spot on the table. Then, standing up wearily, Snape sauntered into the bathroom and reached for a vial of Draught of the Living Death. A potent sleeping draught for a dreamless sleep was the only way he would find any sort of rest. He went to bed and was among the last to do so that night within the walls of Hogwarts.

The school stood dark and silent among the stars of early-autumn, and to any onlooker, it would have been difficult to imagine that so much fear and unease resided with those sturdy walls. To everyone outside, it seemed just another peaceful September night, but anyone was dared to look a little deeper would find how true Lupin's words to Harry had been: Never take anything - or anyone - at face value if you can help it.

One thing was for certain, though. Sirius still shone bright as ever in the night sky.