Go With the Tide

Chapter 6. *hits play*

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Two days later, Snape was surprised to see Lupin walk into the main hall with a Harry Potter that did resemble the usual, insufferable brat instead of a broken shadow of what had been. He clenched his teeth and bend over his tea again. How could the werewolf do it? How was he a natural at something that Snape staggered? It annoyed him to no end, and increased his rather foul mood. He was worried. There had no been much of a call or summons from Voldemort in almost half a month. It was not yet a time span to imply that anything was amiss, yet Snape still felt queasy. He watched as Lupin walked normally, almost nonchalantly, and Harry followed, his head rather unmoving, tilted to the side as he was listening, and his eyes still, yet brilliant.

The boy seemed stronger in spirit. The body would soon follow if that were true.

"Good morning, Severus," Lupin said. He looked like he had not slept the past two days. Snape did not sympathize. It was standard practice with the Potions Master, and he felt he had far too many fish to fry, and a small pan to fry them with.

"If you say so," he muttered and looked at Harry. "How do you feel about walking and sounds, Potter?"

Harry shifted. Remus had made the whole process of adjusting to orientation by sound a game. He had tied Harry's eyes with a blindfold, as if playing children's games, and then had urged Harry to grope around, to find stuff, and then to find the DADA professor. It had been difficult at first, and he was afraid of stumbling against furniture, but after the first twenty or so times of bruising his knees it did not matter anymore, nor did a bump seem threatening. It was easier with the blindfold, at first. It gave Harry the illusion of being voluntarily deprived of sight, and that by loosening the cloth he'd be able to see around him again.

It was late in the previous night that at last he had memorized his room well enough not to bump into things, and his ears seemed to pick out even the tiniest of sounds, easily pinpointing their source in his mental map of the room, like a shadowy representation of the marauder's map in his head.

Harry had almost been confident, but something had happened this morning that had checked his speed.

He had frozen again when he stepped out of his room. He had needed Remus' quiet soothing, and his support to resist the need to run back into his now-familiar surroundings, in his sanctuary where he did not need his sight.

It was only his trust that Remus would not let harm come to him that had offered him a hold on his emotions. They had retreated to an acidic pool at the base of his stomach by the time they had reached the Main Hall. He felt that he could hear too well. Birds chirping, furniture creaking, echo, window rattling... His heart was beating fast, his mind working overtime to discern the influx of auditory stimuli and focus on the footsteps and robe swishing of Remus Lupin. In the end he was almost wishing that every goddamn bird in the sky would drop dead. How would he ever survive with all this noise in his head? His mind was staggering.

"I asked you a question, Potter. Grace us with an answer, boy." Snape's voice snapped at him. He flinched, more because the word 'boy' reminded him of people perhaps worse than Snape than anything else. At least one plus in his whole predicament was that he was spared Snape's image. And Snape's voice was not so threatening when not accompanied with one of his deadly glares.

"We will see, professor," he said sardonically. It was ironic for him to use that verb perhaps, but he liked it.

Snape scowled and glanced at Lupin. He was looking strained yet rather optimistic. And much as it chagrined Snape to even think to himself, he trusted Lupins' evaluations. He nodded.

"Have you had any breakfast?"

Harry shook his head.

"No professor."

"Good. Follow me. Lupin, stay here."

The last order that Snape bossily fired off made Harry's glass, fragile sense of well being crumble again. What would happen to him with just Professor Snape there and nobody else to put a break on the man when Harry would not be able to follow or cope?

"Severus, why don't--"

"No. You'll distract the boy. Come and get him in a couple of hours."

Harry took in a shaky breath. Remus' hand clasped his shoulder, and the raggedy professor whispered in his ear:

"Don't worry Harry. You can do this. I wouldn't leave you alone if I didn't think so."

Harry swallowed nervously. Remus added, almost too low to hear, but still crystal to Harry's now-sensitized ears: "I believe in you, and so does Snape, even if he won't admit it."

The image of Snape in black pom-poms and cheerleader's skirt was amusing enough to make Harry smile and nod.

By the look of Harry's face, Snape was positive that whatever the boy was thinking it was not something he would appreciate. He gritted his teeth and got up.

"Follow me, Potter. When I stop, you stop. When I move, you move. I will warn you of stairs and turns. The rest you are more than capable of figuring out on your own."

"Yes, sir," Harry hissed. He felt that the Potions Master was an easy trigger for his frustration. But Remus believed in him. He saw worth in him, and perhaps so did others. Harry would not disappoint them before he had given it his all, even if that meant the Potions Master and his snide remarks.

The walk towards the classroom Snape wanted to go to was very eventful. At first, Harry kept bumping into the Potions Master when he stopped abruptly, earning himself a down putting remark of 'Clumsy, Potter. Clumsy.' However he was able to follow the man closely and he only bumped in two out of a total of six corners the Potions Master turned sharply-- after the second time he'd yelped, he decided to use his hand to trace the wall as he walked.

Snape glanced over his shoulder and smiled momentarily to himself. How much was the distance this boy could go if he was adjusting so fast and so easily? It was mind boggling, even to him. He made an effort to make sure his voice would be indifferent when he finally reached the doorway of the old, now unused classroom.

"We're here, Potter."

"Where is here, Professor?" Harry asked rather acidly, but he was beginning to get a grip on his manners just as he was beginning to somehow get a grip on his sense of control.

"West wing, third floor, first door to the right. Now you know, now you come here every day on your own."

"But--"

"Merlin Potter. You have been roaming this castle far more than any other pupil. You know this place just as well as anyone. Trust your instincts and stop being so tiresome in your display of uneasiness," Snape said irritably as he opened the door and ushered Harry inside.

The room smelled musty; dust tickled Harry's nostrils. Although he couldn't realize why, he had the sense that the ceiling was high above his head, and that the room was quite large. Then he realized why he was under the impression. The Potions Master's footsteps were echoing very slightly, implying the size of the room. Harry smiled to himself. This was getting easier fast.

"The first essential thing that you have to learn Potter, is to be aware of things happening around you. The moment I am satisfied that you can do that, you will have your wand back and we will start on the really important things."

Harry had been bristling, but at the thought of getting his wand back and thus having more substantial help, everything was washed away. He heard the Potions Master come up to him.

"Hold this," he pressed what seemed a furry ball with a bell in it.

"A dog's chew toy?" Harry said in disbelief after fingering it for a while.

"Correct." Snape snatched it from Harry's hands and took a few steps backwards. He tossed it up and caught it again. "Did you hear that?"

"Of course," Harry said a little irritably.

"Good," Snape said and suddenly he threw the ball squarely at Harry, and hit him squarely in the chest with it. Harry scowled and jumped, startled.

"What was that for?" he snapped. Snape smirked and called the ball back to him.

"Avoid it, Potter. Hear it coming, and avoid it. Up to then, I'll target practice."

Harry was dazed. How was he to dodge a flying object?

Rring pock!

The ball hit him at the chest again.

"Accio ball." Snape's relentless voice.

Harry had opened his mouth to protest when

Rring pock.

The ball hit him again. Again, and again.

Rring pock.

Against his chest,

Rring pock,

against his torso,

Rring pock!

Against his legs. Snape was having fun; Harry was getting angrier and angrier.

"Much as the shades you are taking are lovely Potter, you are not getting out of this unless you make some effort of dodging it. Hear the ring, and move away from the sound. Move away so that the sound will pass you by."

Rring pock.

This time the ball hit Harry in the face. That was it. This would not continue.

Snape knew that Potter was wound up to dangerous levels. But then again, he wanted Harry to be so mad that he would perhaps disregard the obvious and act as if he had no hindrance. He threw the ball again.

Rrrrrrrrring...

The boy had sidestepped.

"Finally, Potter."

But Harry was not finished.

"Accio ball!" the ball obediently came to his hand and he threw it towards where he heard Snape's voice.

It missed, of course, but Snape liked the fact that Harry had reacted this way. Or at least, he did in the first few seconds. Then he realized that the boy wanted to hit him and that did not sit well with him.

"Excellent Potter. Now keep dodging," he growled and conjured up a couple more balls.

When approaching the old classroom, Remus' lupine hearing picked out growling, rings, bounces and thuds. It sounded like there was a full fledged duel going on in there, and his heart leaped to his throat as he rushed in, only to be hit squarely in the forehead with what seemed to be a rubber ringing ball. He blinked in surprise.

Harry was sweating, hair in his face, eyes blazing in anger that was even more prominent because they were so unmoving. Snape was also sweating, tossing about 3 balls at the boy and calling them magically back like a lunatic.

That was not what amazed, Remus. What amazed him was that Harry was making every effort of dodging, avoiding. And while he was mostly hit with the balls, he did dodge a few. And Remus was sure that that number would increase.

Once a seeker, always a seeker, James Potter's voice said laughingly in Remus' head, from memories of happier times.

"Session is over. Tomorrow, here, Potter. Nine sharp. Don't make me come and get you," Snape snapped and stormed out of the room, leaving a livid Harry to the soothing care of Remus, who was in all accounts rather itching to try to throw a ball to Harry him self and see what happens.

Snape walked in the dungeons, throwing his cloak on an armchair in his personal quarters. He was tired, and scowling. He poured himself a glass of brandy, to ponder on Harry's behaviour and responses, and whether he should be feeling a little soothed in his worry for the September deadline.

He did not have the chance. The brandy glass smashed at his feet as his hand jolted.

The Dark Mark was calling, and Snape had no choice but to go. He put on his death eater outfit, holstered his wand, sent an unconscious plea to whoever was watching, and walked to the edge of Hogwarts, and Apparated.

***

"The moment is arriving, my faithful Deatheaters, that all shall be finally as it should. The traitor is caught," Voldemort announced in his calm, triumphant and chilling voice. Snape's heart skipped beats. Was he going to be executed?

Two masked Deatheaters brought in a limp figure. Snape felt both relief and sickness wash over him. He was not the traitor in question.

Igor Karkaroff was.

Snape sincerely hoped the man was already dead.

He was not.

"Please, my Lord," the man sniffled, his face already bloody, his one hand already mangled. "Have mercy!"

Snape shut his eyes. Of all the things to tell Voldemort, mentioning 'mercy' was the best way not to get any.

Voldemort walked up to Karkaroff and stroked the man's cheek with long, fleshless fingers.

"I will show mercy, Igor...," he said as he swished and flicked, and the man was hurled upwards. Tom Riddle grinned horribly. "...Eventually."

And somewhere in Hogwarts castle, Harry Potter sat up in bed and screamed.