Nothing Hidden

Harry awoke late the following morning rested and with a clear head. But his heart gave a harrowing thump as he recalled the events of the previous night, understanding coursing through his brain in a flood of thoughts and images.

He remembered where he was, and sat up in bed. The room was as dark now as it had been the previous night. Of course, the dungeons would be dark, illuminated only by torch light.

He felt acutely that he was not alone, and turned slowly until he faced the other side of the room. As he had expected, Snape sat at his desk, his piercing eyes fastened on Harry. In his hand was a quill, and in front of him the desk was littered with bits of parchment and several open books.

Neither Snape nor Harry spoke. Harry was afraid to break eye contact, so for a time they stared mutely at each other. Harry's skin crawled as he felt Snape's penetrating gaze probe him. Like many times before, Harry wondered uneasily if Snape could read minds.

Finally Snape dropped his eyes back onto the parchment in front of him, and returned to his writing. Harry was left in the uncomfortable position of being ignored as well as fearful of causing a disturbance by moving from where he sat. Only his eyes moved, and took in the fact that his trunk had been brought down and now stood at the foot of the bed, and that Hedwig had apparently been fed.

Several minutes of sitting motionless convinced Harry that Snape had no intention of acknowledging him. He was unable to sit still much longer, his legs already beginning to cramp. He got up as stealthily as he could and kneeled by his trunk. Opening the lid a few centimeters he felt inside and pulled out the first book his hand groped.

He returned to the bed with Quidditch Through The Ages and began to read. His mind drifted often from the pages he read, but nonetheless he was able to pass the time.

He jumped when Snape stood up, his chair scraping across the floor. Apparently his work was finished.

"Come along, Potter," he ordered, walking past Harry and opening the door.

They walked in silence until Harry began to recognize the vacant rooms they were passing. He was better oriented now, he believed he knew how to get from Snape's room to the Potions classrooms, and from there up out of the dungeons.

When they finally reached the Great Hall, Harry felt he could breathe again. The enchanted ceiling was crystalline blue, sunlight streaming down to the marble floor.

There was a single place set at the only table in the Hall. The meal laid out was meager compared to the regular school meals, but Harry quickly ate every crumb, his appetite only slightly impaired by the presence of Snape, who stood behind him, his stare drilling into the back of Harry's head.

As Harry finished his meal, the plates disappeared through the table. He surmised that although it was summer, the house elves working down in the kitchens must still be at their posts.

Snape seemed to be in an agitated mood, he waved impatiently for Harry to follow him as he walked out of the Great Hall, and Harry ran to catch up.

They walked through the familiar hallways and up familiar staircases, each one deserted and still. Where were the ghosts, Peeves, or Filch? Was Hogwarts in the summer devoid even of its poltergeist? Professor Dumbledore had told him that two other members of Hogwarts staff were still at the school, but for the moment Harry felt himself at the mercy of Snape. Who knew what Snape had in store for him? Harry could only hope for Dumbledore's rapid return.

They came finally to the Charms classroom on the seventh floor. Snape picked up a book from the desk and seemed to study it intently. There was a long, uncomfortable pause, during which Harry studied the pattern on the floor tiles.

Snape's face twitched and he put the book down, resigned to get on with what could not be avoided.

"Professor Dumbledore wishes that you begin studying new spells and protections. You will begin immediately."

Harry looked up, surprised and more than a little unnerved. Did Snape intend to give him dueling lessons? He recalled the last time Snape participated in a dueling lesson, resulting in a most unfortunate incident involving a giant snake that would have attacked a student had Harry not been able to stop it. Harry did not feel that he wanted to repeat this experience.

"You will begin by studying these books," Snape waived to the stack on the desk, "and practicing the incantations I have marked. When you have completed your study, we will begin practical exercises."

Practical exercises? It looked as if Harry's fears were about to be realized.

"I will leave you to your studies," finished Snape, and looking visibly relieved he exited the room, leaving Harry staring dejectedly at the pile of books that he was apparently required to learn.

Harry picked up a book and found the first hex marked with a black ribbon. He thumbed through each book in turn, and found that dozens of pages were thus marked. How many of these did Snape expect him to put to memory?

Harry spent the afternoon reading and practicing alone in the Charms classroom, remembering fondly the days when the lessons he had learned in this room were mere fluff; repelling pillows, floating feathers, and making pineapples tapdance across a desk. What he was practicing now was altogether different. These were not the hexes he was already familiar with, causing boils or warts, or engulfing the opponent in a cloud of laughing gas. These were meant to do real harm. Harry shivered as he thought about having any of these used on him. And that was exactly what was going to happen, wasn't it? That was what 'practical exercises' would be all about. His stomach felt queasy as he imagined the sneer sure to be on Snape's face as he fired hex after hex at Harry.

After hours of studying, Harry felt tired and hungry. Snape did not appear, and Harry did not dare leave the classroom and wander around the deserted school.

He began to wish that Snape would come, to get those 'exercises' started and be done with it.

When Snape still had not appeared by the time the sun had lowered to the horizon in a brilliant display or orange and red, Harry was in a foul mood. When he heard footsteps approaching in the hall outside the classroom door, his eyes narrowed and he raised his wand, preparing to fire off a rapid succession of hexes he was reasonably sure he could manage.

The footsteps stopped outside the door. Harry aimed. Consequences be damned!

The door swung open, and in the doorway stood . . . Remus Lupin.

Harry nearly dropped his wand in shock.

Lupin's worried face broke into a smile as he saw Harry and rushed forward. Behind him Harry could not help seeing Snape, whose expression was grim. As Harry was enfolded into Lupin's arms, Snape snorted, turned on his heel, and stalked off down the hall.

"Harry! Let me look at you," Lupin was saying, and Harry pulled his eyes off the rapidly disappearing back of Snape. "Are you alright?"

Harry had to think for a moment. Was he alright?

"I'm fine," he said simply. Anything more he couldn't put into words.

Suddenly he realized, Lupin had once taught Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, and wasn't it Professor Dumbledore's desire that Harry begin a serious study of precisely that? Lupin has helped Harry learn the Expecto Patronum incantation, and Harry remembered his patience — exactly what he knew Snape to be lacking. Surely a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher would make a better instructor for Harry than a Potions Master!

"Professor Lupin," he implored, "Professor Dumbledore wants Snape to teach me Defense Against the Dark Arts, and now Snape wants me to learn off all these hexes by heart," Harry gestured at the large pile of books on the desk. "And I . . ."

"Professor Snape, Harry," admonished Lupin. "And I'm afraid that I agree with Professor Dumbledore in his choice of teachers. I have taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Professor Snape has knowledge that I do not possess. I could teach you only theories, what you need now is practical applications."

Harry could not believe his ears. Lupin and Snape hated each other. Lupin knew that Snape despised Harry. And here he was, taking Snape's side!

Lupin came over to the desk and began to flip through the books Harry had spent most of the day studying. He frowned as he glanced over the pages, realizing how advanced the incantations were. He was worried. Perhaps not about Snape, as Harry clearly was; because Lupin believed and trusted in Albus Dumbledore's judgment; but about Harry. Harry, not yet fifteen, studying curses meant to inflict suffering and death, because in a short time he may have to defend himself against the most powerful and brutal enemy the Wizarding World had ever known.

He put down the book he had been looking at, and met Harry's eyes.

"I came as soon as I could, Harry. The moon . . ." Lupin's voice trailed off and Harry recalled that the moon had been full the night he had arrived back at Hogwarts. Lupin would have been in seclusion.

"I will arrange to stay close by. I will help with anything I can," Lupin finished softly.

He doesn't understand, thought Harry rebelliously. He doesn't know how Snape loathes me.

But Lupin was his only friend now, the only friend he might have close by. Harry attempted a smile.

"I understand," he said, hoping his voice did not betray the fact that he did not, "and I will try my best."

There was a drawn out pause as each considered the other.

"Have you heard anything from Sirius?" Harry ventured to ask.

"No, but he will be coming, he will want to be close." Lupin frowned suddenly. "Harry, I need you to understand something. I'm afraid you will not take it seriously if Professor Snape tells you, but you must take it seriously from me. It is imperative that you understand." He waited until Harry nodded before continuing. "You must not contact anyone." He ignored the aghast look on Harry's face. "No owls. No outside contact. You must not leave the grounds." He watched Harry carefully as he finished.

Deep inside Harry knew that Lupin would not give him such a command unless it was of vital importance. But Harry could not understand how he could be expected to hide, to cower within the walls of Hogwarts, without even sending word to his friends.

"Hermione, Ron . . ." he trailed off helplessly.

"Ron undoubtedly knows what has happened, from his father. Hermione will learn what she needs to from Ron. They will both be told not to contact you," Lupin reached out a hand toward Harry. "You must understand that contacting them would put in danger not only you, but them as well."

Harry could see the point. Right now he was a danger to anyone who was too near or too dear to him. He would do anything to protect his friends.

"I understand," he finally said, having managed to force the words past the gigantic lump in his throat. Lupin did not look convinced.

"I take it I have your word then?" he asked.

"Yes."

Lupin seemed to think that this was satisfactory for the moment, and changed the subject.

"You look tired, Harry, have you had dinner?"

Anger surged through Harry again as he recalled that he had spent most of the day in the Charms classroom, and that Snape had not concerned himself to provide Harry with a meal. Still, Harry was not about to complain about Snape again to Lupin, who clearly did not sympathize.

"Not yet," he answered, "will you stay long enough to eat with me?" He was remembering the scene at breakfast and hoping that he would not have to spend another meal alone with Snape, at least that day.

"Yes, I believe I can stay that long," Lupin said after some consideration.

They left the room together, and went down to the Great Hall.

They did not see Snape until after their meal. He appeared at the appropriate time to open the castle door for Lupin. Harry realized that there must be charms placed around the castle to prevent anyone from entering — or leaving — without Snape's knowledge.

The entrance hall was large enough to hold an entire house comfortably, but as the three of them gathered at the door, it seemed to shrink, as if Lupin and Snape's past was eating away at the space.

Lupin reluctantly addressed Snape, who wore a most uninviting grimace.

"As I already said to Harry, I believe that he needs to put all the effort he can into learning defenses that may be of use to him in the future," he said. "I suggest that you establish a routine." He paused. "Including a time for regular meals and rest." He had gathered from the way Harry had devoured his food that Snape had kept him at his studies for most of the day.

Snape's lip curled further, and his voice seemed dangerously low, "I believe Albus left me in charge here, Lupin."

Lupin looked for a moment as if he was about to make an angry reply, but thought better of it.

"I'll come back tomorrow," he said in a normal voice. He turned to leave.

"Wait."

Lupin turned to look at Snape, who was holding out a small package.

"What's that?"

"If we are to have a werewolf lurking outside the castle walls," Snape sneered, "I would prefer it if you would be so kind as to remember to take your potion."

Harry knew Lupin was livid, though outwardly he hid his fury well. He took the package from Snape without speaking, and left the castle.

Snape shut the door with a thunderous clang, and stood for a prolonged moment with his back to Harry. When he turned around, Harry could see that he was angrier than ever. His eyes flashed.

"Complaining to the first person who will listen to your whining," he sneered, "so Potter-like." And he swept past Harry, taking the only light with him.

Left in the darkness, Harry struggled with his own anger. He reminded himself that while alone with Snape, he could not afford to answer back. An angry Snape, with no one to control him, was not someone he wanted to provoke. But why was Snape always making snide comments about Harry's parents?