A Reflection of Himself

Hermione could feel the eyes of everyone on her. With Harry gone, they all turned to her, the second in command, for what they should do next. Hermione regarded the grief-stricken first year Slytherin boy and walked over to him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Glancing back at Ron, she nodded firmly. Ron took her cue and said to the room at large, "You heard him. This meeting is over."

Several groans and sighs elicited from the members of the DA, but one by one, they began to leave. Hermione gently asked the boy, "Are you all right?"

He glared up at her from his low vantage point. "I don't need any bloody Gryffindor coddling me," he ground out and then roughly shrugged off her hand and ran out of the room.

"Oh, dear," Hermione murmured, watching the boy leave. She looked helplessly back at Ron and Ginny, the only two people remaining in the room.

"What's Harry playing at?" Ron asked a bit angrily. "Maybe we should go find him and talk some sense into him, and if that doesn't work, maybe I'll just have to-"

"No, Ron!" Ginny desperately exclaimed, looking at her brother with large, watery eyes. "We've already tried talking to him, and it's not really done any good."

"But we're his friends!" Ron protested hotly. "If he can't talk to us, then who can he talk to?"

"He needs to come to us... or whoever on his own terms," Hermione said sadly, realizing the horrible truth of the matter. "You know what he's told us - that he doesn't want to get too close to us, to anyone, and cause them harm because he is the prime target of Vol- Voldemort."

Ron was beside himself. "I can't believe you two!" he shouted. "Who's he gonna talk to? Huh?"

"Well," Hermione said, trying to keep calm, "there's Lupin, Hagrid, Dumbledore... uh, Sirius... maybe even Sn-"

Ron wheeled around and said in a tone of disbelief, "Were you just about to say 'Snape,' Hermione?! You think Harry would actually choose talking to Snape over us?"

Ginny nodded slightly. "Well, maybe-"

"No, not maybe!" Ron exclaimed, his face now as red as his hair. "I don't care if-"

"Ron, please," Hermione pleaded. "The adults have seen the first war. They know more than we do. We're not in the Order, but they are. I know you don't like him, but Snape has been putting his life on the line for years now by spying for Dumbledore and the Order. He might just be Harry's best source when it comes to dealing with You-Know-Who."

"Rubbish," Ron mumbled, making for the exit. Hermione tried to reach for his arm, but he sped away from her, leaving the two girls gazing at each other sadly.

Even Harry couldn't desensitize himself to the overwhelming cold. When the chilliness grew too unbearable for him, Harry reluctantly returned to the castle. While he was trudging back, he thought about stopping by Hagrid's place, hoping for some understanding from the gentle half-giant, but Harry just as quickly changed his mind, not wanting to impose himself and his problems on anyone if he didn't have to do so.

Harry wasn't sure how long he had been outside, but he wagered it couldn't have been for more than a half an hour. In that short period of time, he had not realized that the young Slytherin he had yelled at would literally go running to his head of house and tattle on him. So Harry was unprepared for the encounter he was about to come across.

The moment he entered and took not two full steps into the castle, Snape was bearing down on him. "What have you done now, Potter?" he demanded, his black eyes boring into Harry.

Taken aback, Harry jumped as the wind slammed the door shut behind him. He glared at Snape for a second and then made to leave, feeling he owed this unrelenting, brooding man any explanation. You can imagine the shock Harry felt, then, when he suddenly felt Snape's hand grasping his arm rather harshly.

"Look at me, boy," Snape growled.

Harry felt his hand inching toward his wand. "Let go of me, or I'll hex you, Snape," Harry said in a low hiss, one that was quite uncharacteristic of him. "I'm not in the mood to play games with you right now."

"You forget your place in this school, Potter," Snape spat. "You are the student. I am the teacher. There are grave penalties to pay for hexing a professor, including, but not limited to, expulsion."

"I don't care!" Harry snarled, finding the strength to pull his arm away from Snape's death grip. "Go ahead! Expel me! Isn't that what you've always wanted?! Then you and everyone else here will finally be rid of me, and you won't have to worry about my very presence cursing everybody to death!"

"What rubbish are you blathering about, Potter?" Snape asked. "You have been acting strangly the past few weeks, even for you and your insufferable... oddities. To get to the point, however, since you seem so bent on trying to distract me with your foolish gibberish, a student of mine just came to me and informed me of your treatment toward him. What have you do say?"

Realizing what this was about, Harry groaned. "You're telling me that he went running to you already? If that kid is really that cowardly, then maybe he shouldn't have joined the DA to begin with. He didn't seem to know a curse from a counter-curse to save his life."

"Not unlike your friend Longbottom?" Snape inquired smoothly, knowing where to dig deeper to provoke Harry.

"That's an unfair comparison!" Harry said defensively. "Neville's improved a lot the past couple of years, and after what happened to his parents and him, how can you blame him? He hasn't exactly had an easy life."

"And what do you know of this young boy's life whose you have just ruined?" Snape snarled.

"Please!" Harry shot back sardonically. "I haven't ruined his life by just one little outburst."

"Perhaps... perhaps not. The point is that you may have taken away whatever small amount of hope he ever had. Why do you think I favor my house so? It is because the ill-fated, much-hated Slytherins are practically trampled on by bullying Gryffindors such as yourself, Potter."

"Oh, and I suppose you would know a lot about what that feels like," Harry spat cruelly, obviously referring to how his father and Sirius had treated Snape in his school days. "If you wanna talk about bullying and having hope taken away, then what's your excuse, sir?" Harry purposefully placed a severe emphasis on the last word. "You yourself have treated me like filth on occasion after occasion. You are a hypocrite, sir."

"I suggest, Potter, that you take a long, hard look at yourself in the mirror one day. Your behavior and your actions are a reflection of mine more than you would like to believe. That makes you a hypocrite, too."

Harry was surprised that Snape didn't outright deny his own hypocrisy, but Harry didn't much like being referred to in the same way. Looking at Snape now, Harry thought he was seeing himself in more ways than he would have liked. He shook his head, looking away, ashamed.

"I shouldn't have taken out my anger on that boy," he muttered. "It was wrong."

"Yes, it was wrong," Snape said in clipped tones.

"I'm sorry, sir," Harry whispered. "I just feel like I've been pulled from so many directions, all at once, recently. I sometimes don't know where to go or what to do. It sounds crazy, and it probably is," he paused and laughed bitterly. "I just didn't want to have to bring anyone else down with me when the time comes."

Snape frowned. "What's this rubbish about bringing people down, Potter?" he asked, the usual venom gone from his voice. If Harry didn't know better, he would have thought there was even concern in Snape's tone.

"More people dying because of me, the Voldemort-magnet," Harry said. "You know what I mean."

"You are a fool if you think you can face him alone," Snape pointed out roughly. "I used to think the same thing. Why do you think I resented you so much?"

"I- I thought it was because of my dad," Harry stuttered.

"Don't mistake me, Potter. I hated your father as much as he hated me, and having to see his face staring back at me every time I see you is an unpleasantry I wish I could change. Your recklessness and disregard for the rules and authority are very much reminiscent of him as well, but as I have told you, you are not your father. I realize that now. But I thought I somehow had something to prove, perhaps more to myself than anyone, and I thought that if anyone should bring down the Dark Lord, it should be me. When you came along, having apparently done nothing to deserve the dismal honor, shall we say, of destroying the Dark Lord, and you were granted instant fame, it made me sick. That is out of my control, though."

"You thought you could defeat him?" Harry asked, aghast.

"A suicide mission, I know now." Snape was silent for a moment, then said softly, "But if you think you are to face him alone, you are wrong, Harry."

Harry was always surprised when Snape used his first name, for it somehow made whatever he was saying more personal, more sincere, maybe even more kind. A part of him wanted to go on arguing, but he was mentally and physically exhausted. It took a lot out of a person to keep shoving everyone away. He finally nodded.

"Now, I suggest you stop this foolishness of pushing people away and acting as if your problems are the worst in the world," Snape smirked ironically, "and go back to your dormitory."

Harry had nothing else to say. With a mumbled "Good night, sir," he left and returned to Gryffindor Tower.

When Harry entered the common room, he was not surprised in the least to see his friends sitting there, obviously waiting for his return. They all had looks of apprehension on their faces, but Ron was also appearing angry. Harry tried to smile at them, but figured his supposed smile resembled more of a grimace.

They were all pleasantly stunned when Harry actually approached them. They hadn't been sure what to expect from Harry upon his arrival. Would he be angry and start yelling at them, or would he be withdrawn and avoidant? He was neither. He was, in fact, oddly calm.

"Harry?" Ginny asked tentatively.

"Hi, guys," Harry mumbled, having a difficult time looking them in the faces.

"We were worried about you," Hermione said gently, hoping to find a door to Harry's heart. She took small steps when dealing with her emotionally unstable friend.

"Yeah, and pissed off," Ron muttered. "Where did you go?"

Harry had to suppress the urge to reply scathingly to Ron's rude tone, but he knew that Ron's anger was only a result of feeling put out and hurt. "Sorry," Harry said. He felt like the word evoked nothing but emptiness as he felt his legs give way underneath him. Flopping gracelessly unto the couch, Harry muttered, "I'm so tired."

"Then maybe you should get some rest," Hermione suggested softly. "Maybe you'll feel better in the morning."

Harry nodded, not really believing that he would feel much better. He had to come to the realization that no matter how hard he tried to push others away, they would persist in being there for him and with him. He both hated that and loved that. How could he be feeling such conflicting emotions? Deep down, Harry was touched that his friends cared so much about him that they were willing to potentially sacrifice themselves while fighting along his side, but he wanted to protect them. They had not been forced into his predicament.

"We chose willingly to stand beside you," Ginny suddenly said, coming to Harry's side and searching for his hand and understanding. He wondered if she had somehow been reading his mind, but just as soon dismissed it. Ginny didn't have to resort to Legilimency to know what was on Harry's mind, for she was so close to him, she knew without him having to say.

"Exactly," Hermione agreed earnestly. "You can't decide for other people, Harry. If you can't rely on your friends to be there for you, who can you rely on?"

"Myself," Harry ground out. A part of him wanted to add And only myself.

"No, mate," Ron said, finally allowing his anger to dispel. "That's just insane."

Harry didn't want to say what he was about to say, but he knew it was the truth. "You're right," he said. "I can't force you to decide anything, but I just hope... I just hope you know what you're getting yourselves into. I hope you realize what you're risking."

Your lives. Those words remained unspoken.

"We know what we're willing to put on the line for you, Harry," Ginny said. "Nothing short of our very lives." Again, she seemed to know exactly what Harry was thinking.

Ron and Hermione nodded in complete agreement, and Harry knew in that moment that he could not have asked for better friends.

Since the hour had grown late, the group Gryffindors retired to their beds. Harry lay there, marvelling at the wonder of such friendship. True friends were a rarity in life. Many times, people did what was in their own best interests, regardless of how many people it hurt. There were people who called themselves friends, but when a situation arose which put such supposed friendships to the ultimate test of loyalty, many shattered to pieces in a matter of seconds, never to be mended again.

Harry wasn't sure what he had done to be blessed with such wonderful people in his life. According to everything his ears had ever heard from the Dursleys during ten years of his life, he was a freak and didn't deserve friendship. He was locked in a cupboard and kept at home while they left for hours at a time and enjoyed whatever it was they did for entertainment. Now, thinking back, Harry realized that Dudley probably never had anyone in his life he could call a true friend. Being spoiled with every sort of toy or game or gadget imaginable, Dudley was a rotten child who hung out with other kids like himself: selfish, rude brutes whose only pleasure in life was tormenting smaller kids like Harry.

People like Dudley would never know what real friends were. Harry realized this was the first time he had thought about his relatives in a while and found that he had nothing but pity for them. A freak indeed. Well, if a freak was a person who had good friends, then Harry would rather be a freak than someone akin to his cousin.

Harry silently laughed at the word. Freak.

He rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, but just before he closed them, he saw Ron asleep in his own bed. A smile alighted Harry's face, thinking back to his first day on the train to Hogwarts. Ron had befriended him. Harry had deliberately chosen not to associate himself with the likes of Draco Malfoy at the time, knowing to trust his judgment as to who would be a true friend and who wouldn't. Now, though, against most odds, Draco had become someone who Harry could respect. Harry realized now his own folly in holding a bias against the Slytherins for so long. While Harry didn't think he could ever call Draco or Snape his friends, he knew they were his allies, and that was a start.

Maybe, Harry thought, true friends are a rarity, but being able to rise above evil and choose good... well, that might be even more rare in some cases.

Harry hoped he wasn't so much the hypocrite he sometimes felt he was. When he did look in the mirror, who was truly staring back at him?