Without Armor

Chapter 3

The week after his emotional breakdown, Harry came again to my chamber. We avoided emotionally draining conversations, as he must have been ashamed of the incident. I didn't press him about it, for I was very familiar with that feeling. I too, had avoided Albus for almost a month after my break down. I hadn't even thought that he would ever seek my company again, but against all odds, he came back.

Unable to bear the uncomfortable silence, I asked him about his lessons, if he had any difficulty in following his classes. He shook his head. I asked him about Potions and why he couldn't excel my class although he had the potential for it. The boy was as bright as his father. But unlike James, he didn't excel in his lessons, although I knew he put more effort into his work than James did. After some inquiries, I concluded that Harry had difficulties because of his Muggle upbringing. Since he was trained in Muggle's logic for eleven years, he has difficulty in comprehending the fundamentals of magic. That was why he couldn't develop a spell of his own, or combine what he has learned.

Of course, offering to tutor him seemed to be the most logical solution, wasn't it? Besides, it could put his mind off his unhappiness.

So there he was, sitting behind the large table in my office, frowning from concentrating too hard on his textbook. "Sorry, Sir, but I still cannot understand the meaning of 'different kind of logic' as the author of this book says."

I leaned against my chair, looked at him, and unusually patient, began my teaching, "We think differently from Muggles, Harry. That is one of the main differences between wizards and Muggles. As you can see, some Muggles too possess some magical abilities, like what they call ESP or intuition. But they cannot tap into their power, neither set their minds to control their magic."

"So, you're saying that what sets us apart from the Muggles is the way our minds work?"

"Yes, and of course our inborn magical power. That is why wizards often see themselves as far more superior to Muggles."

"How do our minds work differently from theirs?"

"We think *above* common logic, or what we call Muggle logic. For example, if we add two apples and two pears we can have four apples if we want to bother transfiguring the pears. We can go to a faraway place in the blink of an eye, without any means of transportation. These are, according to the non-believers of magic, opposing logic and physical laws, and thus cannot exist. They deny that there are some things that they cannot explain with physical laws. Those are the people who bind themselves and their knowledge within the boundary of physical laws. Of course, there are some Muggles who don't merely rely on physical laws to explain things. Most of them live in eastern part of the world, I believe. They use magic on daily basis, though most of the effectiveness of their effort is hindered by their non-existent magical power."

"So, we are twisting logic and physical laws with our magical power?"

"Not exactly. We are working *beyond* them. You see, there is another law that is working in the universe beside the physical laws. It is what religious Muggles call 'spiritual law'."

****************

"I think I get it," he said. This was the fourth time I tutored him about the basic laws of magic. He progressed far quicker than I had previously predicted. He was truly a bright boy. How could he not be? He was the youngest person ever in mastering the Patronus charm, winning the Triwizard Tournament, and of course, he repeatedly escaped from Voldemort.

"What do you get?" I asked him, my voice devoid of any sarcasm or sneer I usually showed in class. I must have been getting soft.

"Floo Powder is like a warp, isn't it?"

"What is a 'warp'?" I frowned.

"Um... it's a Muggle thing. Never mind." He chewed his Sugar Quill, a gift from Granger for agreeing to be tutored by me. "I mean, traveling by Floo Powder is like this." He drew two dots on a blank parchment in front of me. "If we want to travel from here," he pointed to one of the dot, "to here," he pointed to the other dot, "the Muggle way would be like this," he drew a line from the first dot to the other. "But the wizard's way would be like this," he folded the parchment so that the two dots touched.

I smiled.

He smiled too.

Seeing his bright expression, I wondered why I didn't smile more often.

**************

"So what's the difference between Muggles and wizards then, Harry?" I tested him. If he knew enough of the fundamentals of magic, I could stop the tutoring that had taken much of what little free time I had between teaching and spying. Strangely, deep inside of me there was a little annoying voice that told me I'd miss these sessions. Worse, that dratted voice knew that I somehow wished he would fail the test so I could keep giving him private lessons. Had I gone mad?

Maybe I had been Crucio-ed too often.

"Wizards can think above logic," he answered confidently.

"What does it mean?" I inquired.

"The main difference between a wizard and a Muggle is that a wizard can accept and think beyond common logic, and thus they are able to utilize their spiritual power into use. Of course, the mind isn't everything. You'll need a great deal of magical power in order to twist the physical law. Both abilities must exist in order to be a powerful wizard."

"The ability to think beyond the obvious is not necessary in order to utilize our inborn magical power," he added. "Like Crabbe and Goyle for example." He almost smirked. I wholeheartedly agreed with his unsaid opinion about those two. "Because of our magical power, we can still do magic without thinking like a wizard should, but we cannot develop beyond certain points. And that is why some people cannot understand magic enough to be an Animagus or to get their Apparition license."

"That is a very accurate way to put it." This had to be the first verbal compliment I had ever given him. He noticed it and beamed happily. His eyes lighted up beautifully. Perhaps this was a better way to see his eyes spark with such life rather than taunting him cruelly in class.

"So, do you wish to continue our tutoring session?" I asked him.

He nodded.

I almost jumped in happiness.

Dear Merlin, I was positively insane!

**********

"Dammit!" I exclaimed.

Harry put down his quill and looked at me worriedly. I cursed once more, holding my burning arm and ran out of my chamber. "Tell Professor Dumbledore he's calling," I shouted.

I ran to the nearest Apparation point from Hogwarts, a few paces before the Forbidden Forest, and apparated. The Dark Mark burned intensely, signaling Voldemort's anger. He could will the Mark to burn more intensely than needed, just to torment us. Knowing first hand his cruelty to his own men, I shuddered to think what he would do to Harry if the boy fell into this maniac's hand.

I arrived at an eerie graveyard, a different one from the last meeting. Voldemort seemed to have this ridiculous penchant for graveyards ever since his return. With his red eyes, and his repulsive body, he reminded me of a zombie, neither alive nor dead. I felt like throwing up in disgust.

"My Lord." We fell to our knees and bowed deeply.

"Lucius, do you bring any news from the Ministry?" he asked impatiently. None of us dared to lift our heads before he ordered us. Judging by the burning intensity on my arm and his tone, I guessed that we would bow before him throughout the meeting.

"The foolish excuse for a minister still believes that you haven't returned again, milord. But the rest of the ministry staffs have started to doubt his leadership as well as his conviction about you. I have decided that backing him up will do more harm than good, therefore to ensure that people will doubt his competence and trustworthiness, I support Dumbledore's claim about your return, milord, pretending to back up that old fool's decision to defy you. In time, not only I can take Fudge's office, I can also gain Dumbledore's trust."

"Good plan, Lucius." Voldemort sounded pleased. I was not surprised to hear Malfoy's plan. Dumbledore had suspected it when the Daily Prophet had reported that Lucius Malfoy believed in the return of the Dark Lord. "I believe a reward is in order."

I heard Pettigrew's footsteps approaching and then a sound of fingernails clicking on glass. I was very curious as to what Voldemort had given him since it was not the Dark Lord's habit to be so generous, so I dared myself to peek a little. I saw Lucius pocketing a blue vial. What was in that stuff? A poison, maybe. I tried to sniff discreetly, but smelled nothing.

"I give your son the honor to assist me in executing Harry Potter, Malfoy. After he completes his task, I will honor him to be my youngest servant."

"Thank you, milord," Lucius said with satisfaction in his voice. Dear Salazar, he had to be mad, ordering his seventeen year old son to kill! And that certainly made my job a lot more difficult. I had to prevent that spoiled brat from poisoning Potter while Blaise would watch Draco to make sure that he succeeded. Interference from my part would cause suspicion from both of them, from other, yet unknown, spies. Whoever thought that Hogwarts was the safest place on earth had to be insane.

Voldemort approached me. I had to gather every ounce of my will not to shiver when I heard his dissatisfied tone. "It has come to my attention that one of our most valuable members has not come to me with any satisfactory reports. Severus, you have stayed at Dumbledore's side for such a long time. Yet, you haven't given me any useful report. What do you say about this matter?" It was very clear to me that the cause of his anger tonight was me.

I bowed lower. "Forgive me, milord. But Dumbledore suspects me and no longer shares any information with me."

"And what, pray tell, have you done that he lost his trust in you?"

I stiffened. "Perhaps my frequent disappearances have led him to believe that I am reporting to you, milord."

"Are you saying that *I* caused you to be suspected, Severus? Crucio!"

The all familiar rush of pain hit me expectedly. I tried to stifle my scream by biting my lower lips. It bled. I fell onto the ground and curled up in fetal position, whimpering. Dear Merlin, no matter how many times I had suffered this curse, I could never get used to it. It burned like fire on every nerve in my body; it hurt like thousands of poisonous knives piercing my skin. Oh God, please stop it. Please. I'd give anything to make it stop. I finally gave up my resistance and screamed in pain.

After a few minutes, which seemed like an eternity, the pain stopped. I quickly gathered myself and resumed my previous kneeling position. Blood dripped down from my lips. The Crucio had been so powerful that I must have suffered an internal injury.

"I give you one more chance, Severus. Find information about Black and that werewolf's whereabouts within a month. Fail it and you'll wish you were dead," Voldemort said menacingly.

I swallowed the blood in my mouth and replied softly, "Yes, milord."

To my immense relief, he turned to the Death Eater beside me; my session for this night was over. "You, MacNair? What good news do you bring?" he asked.

"I have found the traitor, milord," he said triumphantly.

My heart skipped a beat. I heard a sound of someone being dragged, screaming and begging hysterically. Igor Karkaroff.

I let out a deep breath. There should be a law that forbids someone to feel so relieved when someone else was facing a fate worse than a Dementor's Kiss. But I couldn't help it. I knew that Igor's fate would be merciful compared to what Voldemort would do to me if he found that I was a spy for Dumbledore. Shivers ran down my spine. I would kill myself rather than fall into their hand.

"Crucio," Voldemort said calmly. Igor screamed. I could practically *see* the Dark Lord's sadistic smile above Igor's quivering body.

The screaming stopped after a very long time. Igor couldn't scream again. He was just whimpering pitifully. I had never liked him, but I felt no enjoyment in seeing him suffer. Hearing his screams and whimpering were pure torture; I almost couldn't stand it anymore. I wished I could run away. I clenched my fists hard. Remembering my previous torment, I couldn't imagine what Igor was enduring. I was tortured for five minutes and I barely could stand it. Igor had been crucioed for more than twenty minutes. God, or whoever hears this, please give mercy to the man! I prayed.

"So, while my devoted followers rot in Azkaban, you've spent your blissful life as the Durmstrang's Headmaster, Igor. I should have awarded you for your cunningness."

"Please, milord." Igor begged pitifully. "Have mercy."

"Mercy? Ah, but you spared no mercy for my poor followers just to buy your escape, didn't you, Igor? You *spilled* out their name."

Igor didn't answer. Wise decision.

"So, Malfoy. Since you've gained my favor today, what do you think I should do to this traitor?"

"Kill him, milord. Kill him slowly and painfully so that all of your followers shall see the consequences of betraying you."

"And how, pray tell, shall I carry out his punishment?"

"Burn his heart, milord." Lucius' cruelty was almost a match to his Master.

"You truly know what's in my heart, Lucius. Very well then. Cardiacus Incendio!"

I felt the burst of heat in front of me and I knew what was happening. Voldemort was killing Igor with the spell that burnt the heart of its victim from within. Igor had lost his voice because of the Crucio. I couldn't imagine what he would sound like if he had had any strength to scream. I felt very sick.

I felt the flame grow hotter before it faded and died. I raised my head a little and saw that there was nothing left of Igor's body but a diminutive pile of ashes. Finally his suffering ended. Never in my life had I felt so relieved that someone was finally dead.

"Severus," his hissing voice was merely inches above my bowed head. "Let this be a warning for you. I would love to try a more, ah, complicated spell should I know that you have turned against me. Do you understand?"

I swallowed again. "Yes, milord."

**************

Chapter 4

Thankfully, with all my sore body and fear-clouded mind, I could still manage to Apparate and sneak to my dungeon unnoticeably. I'd tell Albus about the meeting tomorrow. Now I was so bone-weary tired and I just wanted to sleep. I threw myself on the bed and closed my eyes.

I almost dozed off when a hand touched my skin tentatively and a soft voice above me whispered, "Professor Snape?"

I opened my eyes immediately. Harry was kneeling beside my bed; his face was filled with concern. His scar looked throbbing and red.

"Why haven't you returned to your room, Harry?" I scowled, which of course, didn't affect him at all.

"I...I saw you, Sir. You were in the graveyard. Voldemort cast Crucio on you for a very long time. And Karkaroff. Voldemort burned his heart." His body was shaking. "My God," he whispered, still trembling.

My scowl deepened. "What do you mean 'you saw'? You weren't there, were you?"

"No...," he rubbed his red scar. "But this scar." He paused, hesitant to tell me. My curiosity awakened. Was there anything else about Harry I didn't know? Was he a Seer, that he could see something while his body was in other place?

"Explain," I said, forgetting about my fatigue.

"Can I sit here, Sir?" he asked, pointing at my bedside. I nodded and got up to sit beside him.

"Umm... I saw you, Sir, being tortured by Voldemort, because you didn't give him information." My eyebrow rose because he spoke Voldemort's name so casually, but I said nothing. "And Albus trusts you, so I guess it's okay if I tell you, sir."

"Stop stammering, Harry. What is it? If it's something to do with Voldemort, I need to know." His eyes widened a bit, probably because I too, addressed the Dark Lord by his name. Well, it's ridiculous to be afraid of a name, really. It was all just Riddle's campaign to spread unnecessary fear among people so that they wouldn't dare to oppose him.

"My scar somehow connects me to him, Sir. If he feels particularly nasty or if he's near me, I feel my scar burn horribly. I also have visions about Voldemort when he is torturing or killing people. I saw Wormtail being tortured and Voldemort killing an old man before my fourth year. And when I was portkeyed to the graveyard in my fourth year, my scar burned like hell. I saw him kill Mrs. Weasley too, Sir. He... he... tortured her first, then...." Harry took a deep breath and continued, "I can always see when he tortures someone at the meeting. And tonight, after you left, my scar burned and then I saw him torture you and... and... I saw him burning Karkaroff's heart."

Harry had witnessed my weaknesses. How embarrassing! But that was not what was bothering me. Salazar! That a boy this young must witness all of Voldemort's cruelties first hand... And tonight. Tonight was the worst, as far as I could remember, because I had never seen Voldemort kill with such a fury as tonight. I could only imagine how it felt to hear and *see* Igor being murdered in such a sadistic way. Even *I* couldn't stand it, though I didn't really see him being killed. The deep hatred I had long harbored toward Voldemort flared with a maddening intensity. I could feel my veins throbbing under my skin. I would never forgive him for ripping away Harry's innocence and throwing him into such deep distress.

"Sir, are you okay? Do you need something? He put you under Crucio for a very long time."

And he was still concerned about me. This boy was marvelously selfless. I shook my head. "I am fine."

"No, you're not," he objected. I looked at him questioningly. He looked away "I know how it feels, you know. Being put under Cruciatus. Voldemort tortured me after he killed Cedric." His eyes looked suspiciously blurry.

This time, I had to close my eyes and take a deep breath to calm myself down. Put under Cruciatus when he was fourteen? May Merlin help us all! I would never wish it on any child, not even Sirius Black. Or even Lucius.

"Sir? Sir? Are you okay? Should I call Madam Pomfrey?"

"No. I am fine. Just bring me a glass of water."

He fetched what I asked him, along with a phial of painkiller and a jar of muscle relaxant ointment. I raised my eyebrow at his unexpected thoughtfulness. He smiled and said, "I am not a complete idiot, you know."

"I am aware of that, Harry," I said dryly. "You just happen to hide that vast knowledge of yours under a very good constructed façade of a totally brainless twit."

He grinned.

I smiled faintly. "Go back to your room, Harry. Your friends might start asking questions if you haven't returned."

He shrugged. "I'll just tell them that I went to Professor Dumbledore because of my scar then. They know that my scar hurts when Voldemort is being nasty."

"You need rest, and I do too." Having downed the painkiller and the water, I unscrewed the jar and applied it to my sore neck.

"Can I sleep on the couch, sir? I am really not up to walking from here to the Gryffindor tower." I looked at him and saw how tired he is. He had practiced Quidditch this morning, went to class all afternoon, spent his evening in his tutoring session, and had had a horrific vision. A lesser boy would have collapsed hours ago.

I nodded. "The Dreamless Sleep Potion is on the shelf, beside my desk," I said, knowing full well that he needed it. Besides, I didn't want to be awakened in the middle of the night by his screaming if he had any nightmares.

"Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome," I said, fighting a big yawn. My tiredness returned with such full force, I felt my eyelids were closing on their own.

"Good night, sir."

"Good night, Harry."

I collapsed onto the bed. The last thought before sleep claimed me was a realization that I never called him Potter when we were alone. And I didn't mind a bit. Harry was nicer than Potter, wasn't it?

***************

"So you assume that Draco Malfoy will try to poison Harry?" asked Albus frowning. Behind the façade of a merry and rather insane old wizard was hidden a serious, powerful and terribly intelligent wizard. Albus was actually as much as actor as me, choosing the mask he wore carefully. He could act like a madman or more frightening than Voldemort, depending on the situation. However, he seldom showed his "mask" to me because although his position was higher than mine, we were best friends in every sense of the world. ('While Black is not', I thought smugly).

"Draco doesn't have a choice. If he fails, Voldemort will punish him or Lucius," I said while rubbing my temple. My head was still throbbing after last night's "punishment", and now it would only get worse.

Draco, Draco, when on earth would he learn to stop his blind admiration for his father? Maybe never.

"I am sorry, Severus," Albus said sincerely. He truly understood my concern for my ignorant, foolish young student. Ever since his first year, we had been so afraid that Draco would turn out to be like his father. Or worse.

"At least Draco is only a foolish, arrogant child. Lucius has always been cruel and cunning, even since he was young," I said.

Albus looked even grimmer. "Draco's foolishness will get himself killed, Severus. He might be sickened by the Death Eater activities after he joins, and then he would want to leave and would endanger himself in his attempt to escape."

I rubbed my temple again.

Albus conjured a pot of chamomile tea for both of us. He offered me a cup and I accepted, grateful. My body felt so tired, yet I couldn't sleep. I felt so tense and worried.

"You'd better rest, Severus. Your body hasn't fully recovered yet," Albus said kindly.

"Yes, yes, I will. Later. I still have to prepare new lesson plans for Harry," I said, sipping my tea.

Albus smiled his all-knowing smile. "How's the tutoring going, by the way?" Rhetorical question really, since I believed that he already knew. He had called Harry to his office this morning and I believed that the boy had told him everything. Albus was one of the few people Harry respected and trusted completely. The others were his mutt godfather, and Lupin. I wondered if he trusted and respected me too.

"Fine," I said.

"I am glad that you have established a better relationship with him, Severus. He has always been in need of a father figure."

I arched an eyebrow. "Father figure?" I snorted. "One can hardly call me a father figure, Albus. And loath though I am to admit it, his maturity is not far below mine. Besides he looks up to you."

"Well, you are his confidante then." Albus picked a lemon drop from a jar and offered one to me. "Lemon drop?"

"No, thanks," I declined politely. Although I sometimes indulged myself in high quality sweets, I could never take a liking to that horrid thing Albus had been addicted to.

"Is that all, Albus?" I asked. I really enjoyed spending my time with Albus, my only true friend, but I really had to go back to my duties.

"Yes. And please inform me about anything concerning young Malfoy."

"I will."

"And would you please escort Harry to Hogsmeade this weekend?"

I was surprised. Ever since his fifth year, Harry had to be escorted by a teacher or a Prefect whenever he went out in public. Since Hermione was a Prefect, she always did the job. Before his death, Hagrid accompanied them, and once Minerva did too. But it had never been me, for obvious reasons.

"Why me?" I frowned.

"Minerva is busy. I reckon that since your animosity has dispersed, it will not be much trouble for both of you."

"How about Granger?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Harry will not go to Hogsmeade this weekend, actually. He wants to visit Cho Chang's grave. Yesterday he came to ask for my permission. He actually begged me to let him go alone, but I cannot do that. He is too much at risk. I offered to him to choose his own chaperone and he chose you."

"He chose me?" I asked in disbelief.

"Yes, he did. Would you, Severus?"

"All right," I said, still dazed. After all, I didn't see why not. And I felt inexplicably pleased that he had chosen me of all people in Hogwarts to accompany him.

I wondered why.

***********

I asked him about it that night in our tutoring session.

"Who else?" he asked back.

"Who else? Very keen observation, Harry. Do you think I am the only teacher at Hogwarts? Or the only Prefects?" I said dryly.

Harry shrugged. "Professor Dumbledore wouldn't let me go with Hermione. Too dangerous, he said. So I had to choose a teacher. I don't trust the others, so..."

"You don't trust the other teachers?" I raised an eyebrow.

"I do trust them. But not in things like this. I mean, for all I know I might break down there and do something stupid...like maybe crying my eyes out. Well, I don't want them to see me in such a condition. But if you mind, it's okay, Sir. I will choose someone else." His voice was getting softer and softer; he almost whispered his last sentence. "No, Harry," I said. "I don't mind. I am just curious about what has possessed you to ask for your cruelest, most hated teacher as your chaperone for this highly emotional journey."

He looked at me. "I don't consider you my most hated teacher, Professor. Or the cruelest. In fact, I don't think you are cruel at all," he said matter-of-factly.

"Oh? Even after all the injustices you've been subjected at my hand?"

"So you admit that there are injustices?" He smiled. Cheeky brat, but he was correct.

"You know my difficulties here. One kindness to a Gryffindor and I will jeopardize my position." Although it wasn't entirely true. I *had* been cruel to him deliberately during his first years. It was after the Triwizard Tournament that I began to see him in a different light, although my treatment to him in public hadn't changed.

"I know," he said. "But did you really hate me back then?"

"I've never hated you, Harry," I answered truthfully. I had never hated him, but I *did* resent him. And I was ashamed of myself for it.

"But..?" he wanted to ask again. I raised my hand to stop him, not wanting to discuss this uncomfortable topic.

"Enough talking, let's begin, shall we?"

"All right," he opened his book.

An hour later, I tested him. "So, what is the most powerful magic in the world?"

He thought for a moment before answering. I had noticed that it was more difficult for him to form words in speech than in writing. Then he answered, "The most powerful magic in the world is the Cosmos magic, which belongs to the universe. This is the magic that sustains the planets, stars, and earth and her inhabitants." (The magical community refers to Earth as 'she', as in reference to a mother.)

"So, what should we do to perform a truly powerful magical act?"

"We must use the universe's power when we perform a magical act such as when we cast a spell. We must access its magic instead of our own and channel it for our spell."

"Very good," I said. "Remember that even the most powerful of wizards or witches have their limits. But the universe is limitless, like ocean and sky. Do you understand?"

He looked a little hesitant. "I guess so," he said.

"You guess so?"

"No. Yes. I mean, I understand, Sir," he answered rather haltingly.

I smiled. "This concept is rather difficult to grasp if you only read the theory. You can only understand it fully when you perform it."

"Perform it?"

"Yes. And we will try it next week. Learn about this spell and I will show you how to conjure a fire using magic from the Earth as a start."

His eyes widened. "You're going to teach me to use Cosmos magic, sir?"

"Yes."

"But... but..."

"Now you sound like Miss Granger," I said, annoyed. "I know it is forbidden to be taught to underage children, but experience has taught me that age has no correlation whatsoever with maturity and I deem you're more than mature to handle this kind of knowledge, Harry. Besides, you need it."

He was speechless for God knew how long and I looked at his startled expression amusedly. I wonder if he was more surprised by the fact that I was going to teach him illegally, or that I had just bestowed on him the best compliment I had ever given.

"Well..." he stuttered. "Okay then." He looked away, rather embarrassed because of my amusement over his behavior.

"See you Saturday morning then".

"See you too, Sir," he said. "And take care," he added softly before leaving the room hastily, leaving me befuddled and warmed.