Nothing Hidden

Over the next few days a routine developed.

Harry would wake to find Snape surveying him from the other side of the room, which tended to ruin the rest of the day for him. Snape would march him down to the Great Hall for breakfast, then upstairs to the Charms classroom, where new books appeared daily for Harry to study.

Lupin's parting words apparently had some effect on Snape, because from then on he came promptly at dinner time to escort Harry through the school to the Great Hall. Harry found meals disheartening. Snape stood behind him as he ate, his eyes following every morsel that Harry put in his mouth.

After the meal, Snape grudgingly allowed Harry several hours of free time, during which Harry was really only free to wander through the empty ground floor rooms. Then Harry spent more time studying before being marched back down to the Great Hall, and then to the dungeon room. The door would shut behind Snape, and Harry would be left with only his own depressing thoughts for company. Hedwig had been taken to the owlery, apparently Snape was concerned that Harry would use her to send out messages. He needn't have bothered, Harry had given his word to Lupin.

Lupin came twice, looking thin and tired, and on the last occasion he told Harry that he would be traveling to meet Sirius. As they must stay undetected, they would travel without magic. Harry could not expect them until the following week. Harry tried to gather information about the world outside of Hogwarts, but each time he asked, Lupin only shook his head, avoiding Harry's eyes.

Harry found it surprisingly easy to get along with Snape. He figured out that if he stayed silent and followed Snape's orders quickly enough, Snape was content to say as little as possible to him. As a matter of fact, aside from instructions during Harry's Defense lessons, Snape wasted few words. In the morning it was "Up, Potter," and after meals it was "Follow me, Potter," but there was very little else. Loneliness cut into Harry, but he was convinced that Snape still paid more attention to him than comfort would have allowed.

After a week of studying, Harry felt that he had memorized as many spells as would fit into his head.

Apparently, Snape shared this view, because for the next three mornings he hesitated, each day a little longer, before leaving Harry surrounded by his spell books. New books stopped appearing on the desk, and Harry found himself reading about the same hexes repeatedly to pass the time.

On the fourth morning Snape had evidently made up his mind to put an end to the dallying.

"We will begin practical lessons this morning," he said, "but first I will teach you a simple shield."

Easier said than done, Snape thought to himself. A shield was a relatively simple spell to learn, and in fact by the end of the fourth year a Hogwarts student had already been taught several similar spells, but a shield strong enough to hold up against a true attack was altogether different.

When after numerous tries Harry had managed to produce a shield only as faint and wispy as his first Patronus, Snape sighed with frustration. Was the boy dim? He felt close to losing his patience.

"That will be all," he said after blasting apart another one of Harry's thin shields with a simple disarming spell. "We will attempt this again after dinner."

Harry was angry and frustrated as well. He was tired; his wand arm was aching; his shields refused to hold; and he sensed Snape's growing displeasure. Most of all, Harry hated that Snape thought he was incapable of learning a simple spell.

Harry brooded all through dinner, looking so despondent that Snape called off the afternoon lesson in favor of marching Harry down to the Potions classroom and dosing him with a foul concoction that he brewed in a small silver cauldron. Harry spent the better part of the next hour gargling and spitting in the bathroom.

Snape must have been intent on making up for lost time, because that night they met for another lesson. It was a change from being left alone in Snape's dismal dungeon room, but Harry felt tired and wretched. His first attempt at a shield failed to produce even a wispy arch around him, and Snape glared at him.

"Again," he commanded.

Harry tried. Again, and again. He thought his last shield looked stronger, but it must have been wishful thinking because a flick of Snape's wand caused it to disintegrate.

"Again," Snape barked.

Harry flopped down in a chair and pushed his wand away from himself across the desk. Snape's glare had no effect on him. He was finished.

In fairness to Snape, he was justified in his frustration. He had managed to keep his temper through several hours of this failed exercise; he was under the stress of having sole responsibility for the safety of Voldemort's next target; and having been banished from his own room by Harry's presence, he had not slept well in days. He was coming to the end of his patience.

"I said, Again!" he barked at the slumped Harry.

Harry didn't move.

Snape raised his wand, and his eyes narrowed, "I am about to hex you with boils, Potter, and unless there is a shield in front of you when I do, you will be spending the night with Madam Pomfrey."

Snape was shaking with anger; a few stray sparks flew out of the tip of his wand.

Harry seized his own wand barely in time. He saw Snape's wand emit a short burst of light, which cut through the air toward his unprotected face. Harry threw his left hand in front of his eyes.

There was silence. Also, no pain. Harry lowered his arm, and saw Snape gaping at him from behind a luminous blue haze.

"Well," Snape finally said, "I see that I have found the way to get through to you. Pity I hadn't thought of cursing you earlier."

From behind the blue haze, Harry glared. Hadn't thought of it? When did Snape think of anything else?

Whatever had caused Harry's block earlier was gone. His shields were strong now, even Snape was satisfied after testing him thoroughly.

Snape was truly relieved. The thought of failing to teach Harry the spells Dumbledore expected him to learn was unbearable. When the boy had proven to be so obtuse, Snape could see himself being replaced by the likes of Remus Lupin. That he felt he could not stand. For years he had desired the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, only to see it go to those who were clearly less knowledgeable in the field. Werewolf, indeed!

Perhaps because of this, Snape seemed to ease up on Harry after that night. At least, he no longer locked him in the dungeon room immediately after supper.

Harry would have appreciated this, if only there had been anywhere else he could go. The dungeons were a gloomy place, and in the evenings Snape worked in one of the Potions classrooms, causing acrid smells to waft through the corridors. Several times Harry had looked into the room where Snape was working, but Snape had ignored him.

Alone and bored in Snape's dreary room, Harry's thoughts were always dark. He was worried about Sirius and Lupin. It was days past their expected arrival, and Harry had no way of knowing what may have befallen them. He worried also about his friends, and Professor Dumbledore. He had no one to share his worries with — it never occurred to him to seek out Snape's council.

Finally Harry could stand it no longer. The atmosphere of the dungeons threatened to suffocate him. As they left the Great Hall that evening, Harry asked if he could spend the evening in the library.

Snape looked as though he would like to refuse, then changed his mind.

"Fine," he conceded, "as a matter of fact I have business there myself."

Harry groaned inwardly. Did Snape have to watch him every minute?

Once at the library Snape headed for the restricted section, and Harry went to the farthest corner of the library. He had intended to try to find books on Quidditch, but now he sat down by the window, the first window he had seen so far at Hogwarts than was not covered by heavy drapes. He gazed dully out into the twilight outside, his eyes passing over Hagrid's abandoned shack, and out over the grounds.

Something caught the corner of his vision. He looked, and jumped up excitedly. In the far corner of the lawn, where the trees grew thick, stood a great black dog.

Sirius.

For a moment, Harry lost his head. It had been so long since he had any true companionship, or even what could pass as a civil conversation. It was clear that he was not thinking straight, because he ran across the library to where Snape was absorbed in a thick tome.

"Professor! I saw. . ." too late, Harry caught himself.

Snape looked alarmed. The book he was holding snapped shut.

"What did you see, Potter?" he demanded, and when Harry hesitated Snape grasped him by the arm and shook him. "Where?"

Left with no choice, Harry said weakly, "Sirius Black."

Snape looked as if he had tasted something sour. He began to drag Harry toward the library door.

"Professor Snape," Harry begged, "please let him in. He's only here to help!"

Snape ignored him.

Harry's arm hurt under Snape's vice-like grip. He stumbled behind Snape as he was dragged across Hogwarts. Snape finally let him go once they reached the Great Hall. After glaring Harry into sullen silence, Snape left him. Minutes later Harry heard angry voices in the direction of the staff room. He thought recognized Lupin's voice, but could not catch the exact words.

His eyes jumped to the window. In a second he was out of his chair and peering behind the heavy drape. He could just see the grove of trees, and there . . . his heart leapt.

He knew what he had to do.

He ran to the dungeons as fast as he dared to go down the steep staircase, and rummaged through his trunk until he found the Marauder's Map. Quickly chanting "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!" Harry watched lines appear on the parchment. There. The passageway out of the castle.

Emerging from the dungeons, he quickly found the right room, and muttered "Bluebeard" to the gryphon statue in the corner. It sprang aside, revealing a large crevice in the wall.

Without hesitation, Harry stepped through it.