A Reflection of Himself

Sirius's portrait was hung on the wall of Lupin's office that faced his desk head-on, and that night when Harry returned to Hogwarts after the Order meeting, he rushed to Gryffindor Tower anxiously to tell his friends what (or more like who) he had found. As he sat in one of the armchairs around a blazing fire, Harry recounted the story of discovering Sirius's portrait hidden in the attic of Grimmauld Place to Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Hermione. His friends all regarded him incredulously, for the news seemed almost too good to be true.

"D'you mean to tell me, Harry, that you found Sirius... er, his picture?" Ron asked rather stupidly.

"Yes, that's what I've just spent the past ten minutes telling you, isn't it?" Harry replied. "He's now in Lupin's office, and I swear it, if you were to go there tomorrow, you would see him."

"Poor Sirius," Hermione remarked sadly, "left all alone in that horrible attic all that time. It's a good thing you found him, Harry, when you did.."

Harry nodded as Neville silently watched the others with large eyes, too shocked to really say anything. Neville had never known Sirius, but he had been there when he had fallen through the Veil, and Neville knew that Harry had lost someone very special to him in that awful moment in time.

Ginny smiled at Harry and shook her head in disbelief.

"Did he say anything about having met your parents on the other side?" she suddenly questioned.

"Er... no," Harry said slowly, his brow arching in consternation. "I didn't ask him, although maybe-"

"Do you really think that's a good idea?" Hermione interjected. "I mean, Harry, what if Sirius wasn't in contact with your parents? Don't you think he would have already said so if he had been? I don't know, but I have a bad feeling about this. You may just be setting yourself up for disappointment, Harry, if you ask Sirius and he tells you that he hadn't been able to reach them."

Ron argued with disgust, "Oh, please, Hermione! Why wouldn't Sirius have been in contact with Harry's mum and dad? I mean, he did go into the afterlife, right?"

"Hey, hey!" Harry exclaimed, suddenly standing up between his two friends. "Look, I don't know anymore than the next person what or who Sirius saw in that other realm, but when I ask him, I'll be prepared for whatever he has to tell me. It's not really for you to decide, is it?" he questioned, feeling hurt that his friends were arguing over one of his own issues.

"I'm sorry, mate," Ron apologized. "It's just that I hope you do finally get to talk to you parents... somehow or another."

"And, Harry," Hermione added, "you know I wish the same for you. I'm sorry if my over-analytical mind made it seem like I didn't believe it possible."

Harry smiled ruefully and nodded, "Okay, guys... Thanks. I think it's best we all head to bed now, though. For me, at least, it's been a long day.."

Ron and Hermione wished him good night and retreated toward the stairs together, holding hands. Neville stepped forward and said, "I'm glad you were able to find your godfather again, Harry. From how you reacted last year, I know he's important to you."

"Thanks, Neville," Harry replied with a smile.

Neville turned and left, leaving Harry alone with Ginny. As the fire grew dimmer, the shadows increased around them, dancing across their young faces. In the growing darkness, Ginny reached for Harry's hand and pulled him closer to her, and then lips locked lips, and they kissed sweetly and with a longing that seemed beyond them in their youthful states. Finally, after what could have been forever or a mere second, they parted and went their separate ways.

The next morning dawned rather bright for a winter day, with the sun full and bright and not a cloud in the sky. As Harry prepared for a day filled with classes and school work, he wanted nothing more than to be able to go to Lupin's office and visit Sirius. If he could, he would have chosen to stay there the whole day and probably for several days thereafter, for Harry felt like he had to make up for all the time he had lost while separated from Sirius. However, there was little time for any sort of visit, at least in the morning.

After a quick breakfast, Harry and Ron went to Divination, where Professor Trelawney graced them with her oh-so-ever-elusive, pseudo-mystic presence. Today, she had her class working with Tarot cards, and it came as no surprise to Harry that the magnified-eyed professor predicted his death yet again.

As Ron and Harry left Divination and headed from Transfiguration, Ron rolled his eyes and huffed, "You'd think that batty old fly would give it up after all these years. Honestly, how'd she ever get rehired here after last year?"

"Good question," Hermione interjected, joining the duo, having overheard Ron's remarks about Trelawney. "Well, I still think you both would have found Arithmancy much more fulfilling. Plus, it's a real subject about predicting future events."

Harry smiled and shook his head as they entered the Transfigurations classroom. Professor McGonagall entered the room shortly thereafter and announced the start of class.

"Today," she began in her typical lecturing tone of voice, "we will be learning how to transform parts of our bodies, such as our hair color, eye color, the shape of our noses..."

"Betcha Snape could use a transfigurated nose," Ron muttered to Harry, snickering.

Harry stifled a laugh, only to receive a glare from McGonagall. She paused only briefly and then resumed, "Now, I want you to please repeat after me: Corpus Mutatus."

"Corpus Mutatus," the whole classroom replied in unison.

"Good," she remarked, nodding with affirmation. "Now, I caution you to be very careful when you perform this transfiguration. You may perform it either on yourself or on another, but it is easier to perform on another, as you are able to see them. It is highly recommended that you employ a mirror if you so choose to do the transfiguration on yourself. Now, pick up your wands and point them at your partner, picking a part of the body that you would like to transform. Focus and concentrate hard on what you would like to change about that particular feature. When you have it, utter the words Corpus Mutatus."

Harry and Ron were each pointing their wands at each other. Harry's wand was on Ron's fiery red hair, and Ron's wand was on Harry's vibrant green eyes. Harry willed himself to picture Ron with bright blue hair, and just as he uttered the appropriate words, he heard Ron say them at the same time.. For a split second, Harry felt a small jolt of energy hit his eyes. He blinked, and when he opened his eyes, he was looking upon a very strange-looking Ron Weasley.

Harry found himself laughing, but Ron was laughing at Harry as well.

"What's so funny?" Ron asked in between fits of laughter.

"Your hair!" Harry exclaimed.

Ron turned and faced a mirror at the front of the classroom and nearly fell over. His face turned very red as he suddenly flushed.

"Well, you think you're so clever. Why don't you have a look in the mirror, mate?"

Harry turned and nearly gasped. His irises were pink!

"You are truly mad," Harry remarked with mock hurt.

"Likewise," Ron replied, still laughing.

Similar reactions were heard throughout the classroom, but before long, Professor McGonagall announced that they needed to all resume their natural forms again. Several Finite Incatatums were uttered, and then she ended the class by assigning homework, much to the chagrin of every student except Hermione.

They headed to lunch, which unfortunately wasn't very long that day. During lunch, Harry thought how wonderful it would be if he could simply skip his afternoon Potions class and visit Sirius instead, but he knew it would only result in detention, and luckily enough, Snape had not been giving Harry a hard time lately, although Harry wondered if that would change now that Sirius was back.

It was with a heavy heart that Harry took his seat near the back of the Potions classroom in the dingy, dreary dungeons that early afternoon. Next to him, Hermione was busy organizing her notes for the start of class. Harry focused on his friend, hoping for a distraction, but that was short-lived when the door to the classroom opened with a resounding bang!

Harry wasn't the only student who jumped upon hearing the sound. Even most of the Slytherins regarded the Potions Master warily at he stalked into the classroom. Harry had seen Snape in a foul mood on many occasions over the past five and a half years, but there was something very disturbing about the expression on his face. He almost looked inhuman.

Snape didn't say a single word. He roughly picked up a piece of chalk and began to write on the board, his handwriting very forced and edgy. Before the list of ingredients was complete, several pieces of chalk had broken.. By the time Snape was finished writing, he looked like he was about to burst into fury if the students didn't begin working immediately.

Finally, he turned and faced them, glowering at them all with what Harry thought had to be utter loathing. Snape growled one word: "Begin."

Harry didn't dare to question the man. Meanwhile, Snape swept through the classroom like a creature in the night hunting for its prey, looking for the smallest infraction to remove points. When he came across a student who wasn't performing to his standard, he simply stood there, looming relentlessly over them, breathing hot vapors down their necks, and fixed them with a glare of utmost hatred. He said not a word but mentally deducted points.

That class period seemed to be the longest Harry had endured in his time at Hogwarts thus far, and when it finally drew to a close, Snape resumed his position at the front of the classroom.

"Bottle your potions," he barked, "and write me a sixty inch piece of parchment on what it is you have brewed and what it does and its history, to be turned in next class period."

"But, sir," a timid Ravenclaw said from Harry's left, "that's only two days away-"

"Do as I say!" Snape hissed.

The boy immediately was silenced. All around Harry, the students worked to hastily bottle their potions and left them on Snape's desk as they exited the classroom. As Harry bottled his potion, his elbow accidently bumped his cauldron, sending the remainder of the potion all over the floor. Hermione had already left by this point, and as Harry dared to look up, he suddenly noticed that he was the only student left in the classroom, and Snape was glaring at him as if he would personally use one of the Unforgivables upon him.

Snape quickly approached Harry, who was by now feeling quite helpless. Try as he might, he was not quick enough to clean up the spilled potion.

"Potter," Snape hissed dangerously low, "what is the meaning of this?"

"Sir, I-"

"No," Snape interrupted, "I can see clearly with my own two eyes that this is a waste of my valuable time, as are you and your very presence within this class, Potter. Advanced Potions is no place for you, and it never was. Now, get out of my classroom once and for all."

Harry couldn't believe it. Even though Snape had been unfair and even downright cruel at times over the years, this was unheard of. Harry wanted nothing more than to pull out his wand and hex Snape to oblivion at that moment. Snape knew damn well that Harry needed Advanced Potions for his future career as an Auror, and over one mere accident, Snape was completely ready to permanently remove Harry from his class.

Harry fixed Snape with an even glare and said between bared teeth, "With all due respect, Professor, perhaps you're being unreasonable."

"How dare you question my decisions-"

"No," Harry interrrupted firmly. "You would throw me out of your class because of one honest mistake, after I have worked honest and hard this year, proving that I can, in fact, manage to not only pass but excel at Potions? You know what I think, Snape?"

"Oh? What's that, Potter?" Snape sneered sardonically. "Do enlighten me."

"I think you're a bloody coward," Harry practically spat. "You're intimidated by me, aren't you? Just as you thought you had some sort of control over me, Sirius comes back, and you lose your control. You're lost it before. You can't bear the thought of people actually caring for each other because you're so bitter and well, afraid. And to think you had the nerve to call Sirius a coward. It's no wonder I blamed you."

"You dare," hissed Snape. "You're an arrogant fool just like you pompous father, Potter, and a fool you'll always be until you stop fretting over your loses and start focusing on how you're going to actually defeat the Dark Lord. Your emotions have always been your greatest weakness, after all."

"And your lack of emotions has been yours, Snape," Harry retorted. "You don't want me in your class, fine, but don't you dare try to force your twisted philosophies on me." Harry paused for a moment, continuing to glare at Snape. "You're pathetic, Snape," he finally added. "I never understood how or why Dumbledore trusted you, and if I didn't know better, I would swear your loyalties still lay with Voldemort even now."

Before Snape could say a word, Harry grabbed his bag and swept out of the room in a fury. Unbeknowst to Harry, Snape had felt Harry's words to be hot daggers slashing at his tattered skin, searing the flesh raw. Harry's accusations hit Snape hard, and hearing Voldemort's name drove the knife further into the open wound. Many bitter feelings flooded through Snape in that instant, but it was with a rearing rage that he tore out of the classroom and back to the safety of his own chambers.

He kept himself locked for hours in the darkness and didn't venture to move. Despite hunger and the onset of weariness, Snape didn't flinch. Years of pushing away feelings had taught him to exist in such silence, but it was unsettling and unnatural for any man to endure such solitude. Finally, in the late hours of the night, Snape heard a familiar voice.

"Severus?" Dumbledore's gentle voice asked from the fireplace. The Headmaster's face appeared in the green flames.

Snape lifted his gaze from the floor and just stared at Dumbledore, saying nothing.

"Severus," Dumbledore repeated, now stepping into the room. "Why have you locked yourself in here like this?"

Dumbledore could read Snape like an open book, though, and Snape knew this. He didn't have to say a word about anything Harry had said earlier that day.

"As if you don't know," Snape muttered.

"And you're going to allow his words to condemn you to your rooms?" Dumbledore implored.

"What does it matter?" Snape sighed.

Pause.

"What do I matter?" he whispered.

"You know better than that," Dumbledore firmly replied. "Don't you ever doubt your worth."

"Worth what? A disposable spy? An ex-Death Eater? A bitter man? It seems like little would be lost if I-"

"Don't you dare say it, Severus," Dumbledore said gravely. "Harry may not realize it, but you are worthwhile."

"Just leave me in peace, Albus," Snape whispered nearly inaudibly.

"But you aren't at peace, Severus," the Headmaster gently argued. "Now, we will discuss Harry's performance in your class tomorrow, but for now, I just want you to rest and think about how far you've come over the years."

Snape sighed. "I will never see in myself what you claim to see, Albus. I don't know if that makes you or I a greater fool."

"Severus, stop-"

"No," he shook his head.

"I think we've discussed enough for tonight," Dumbledore remarked, stifling a yawn. "It is late, but, Severus, please think about what I said."

"Very well," Snape replied reluctantly.

"Good night, Severus," the Headmaster said, stepping through the fireplace and leaving the Potions Master alone once again.

Snape sat there in silence for several more long minutes, and try as he might to push Dumbledore's words out of his mind, he simply could not do so..

"You are worthwhile."

"Damn you, old man," Snape mumbled.