By Guile Eyes- Chapter Two Snape's Lesson
Snape’s Lesson
“Get up Potter.” Harry heard Snape’s voice; his eyes opened to see the soft light of early dawn creeping through the window blinds. He gave no response as he sat up, itching the back of his head with one hand, disrobing himself of his blanket with the other.
Snape was sitting at his newly adopted desk (or the coffee table as some would call it) giving Harry little notice as he drank a bit of his morning coffee.
Black coffee was utterly disgusting in Harry’s humble opinion.
The emerald-eyed young man was happy for not being spoken too by his teacher; he really didn’t want his day to start off with an argument. Particularly one he couldn’t even fight back in.
He stood up, pulling himself up off the couch with a lunge and went into the kitchen. It was relatively large, about the size of the Dursley’s kitchen, a comparison that Harry tried his best not to make often. An ancient white sink (which he and Remus had cleaned rigorously the first day they’d arrived) with long silver handle sat at the center of a long counter on the left side of the room. Tile flooring of mixed blue and white in a checkered pattern beneath the tan boys feet, something left over from the seventies.
Just like Remus, in retrospect.
Silently Harry opened the fridge, getting a bit of cheese and went to his Soap Man beside the window. He gave a tiny smile to himself as he placed the cheese before his new friend. The little man seeming to be curious about the odd colored thing before his face poking it gently with a long white arm. He hadn’t yet developed fingers. Harry bit his lower lip, how to show him how to eat it…
The boy nodded to himself silently and went back to the open refrigerator, taking out a full piece of the yellowed cheese. He sat before the Soap man and slowly showed him now to eat; the man mimicked his actions slowly. It wasn’t easy going, the man had a hard time trying to get it to his face and off of the tiny plate that Harry had given him; secretly Harry was glad he had fingers. Looked like a lot of trouble trying to hold something between two slippery round edges that stuck off of your body at an odd angle.
Grinning Harry pat his head. “Good boy. Just do that when I feed you and you’ll be just fine. Then when you get fingers maybe you can have an easier time at it.”
Snape came into the kitchen, pouring himself another glass of coffee. He wasn’t in his dark robes yet, something that mildly disturbed Harry. He, after all, had never even thought to imagine the Potions Master in anything other than a sinister black cape. But here he was, dressed in a muggle shirt and gray sweat pants, just sipping away at his coffee as if…
He was normal.
Harry couldn’t resist a snort at that, which consequently caught Snape’s attention. “What is it now Potter?” he questioned with malice. “I’d never seen you in anything but your robes.” Harry replied holding back a snicker; it wasn’t a lie. He really never even seen the man much, period, when other people weren’t around, which made the likelihood of him wearing anything but his traditional robes near nothing.
Somehow Harry doubted that Snape would be caught dead in a pair of sweat pants around other wizards.
“Well I suppose you’re privileged then, aren’t you?” He replied with a sneer. Harry turned his head away with a small roll of his eyes. If he glared at his keeper directly there was a very good chance this ‘vacation’ would be cut short by a poisoning or a well placed forbidden spell. And besides it was far too early to get mad just yet.
Harry held no illusion that Professor Severus Snape did not know each and every one of the forbidden curses and that if given a good reason (or one that could stand up reasonably before Dumbledore and The Ministry) he would use that magic’s
Frightening as that might be, it was also very impressive.
Sickeningly so.
“Your lesson will beginning in an hour. Be ready.” Snape snipped taking one of his quills and marking something on a large overly marked parchment (it looked to Harry as if it was some odd sort of note taking system.)
Harry glanced up again. “Alright, what will we be studying?” he questioned turning his gaze to Snape. The teacher glanced up and gave a small glare. “I guess you’ll just have to wait to find that out, Mr. Potter.” Snape stood up, taking his belongings with him and departed the kitchen.
Harry flipped him off as he left, smirking to himself at the action. It felt good to know that he could turn around and see it. Harry knew he wouldn’t be looking back; after all it was just stupid Potter.
Nothing worth noticing.
Harry found himself more annoyed than usual at his Potions Professor, they’d been walking up the mountainside for at least an hour and the man had yet to say a word.
That seemed particularly rude, even for Snape.
He was wearing his black again, those robes that seemed to make him ten times more menacing just in the way they billowed out.
Harry had pulled on a red t-shirt and some aged slacks; both he’d gotten from Ron when they’d grown to small for his long legs. (That boy really had grown to fast, made Harry feel like a midget standing next to him.) Personally Harry felt that comfort came before image, so this attire was much preferred.
They came to a halt, standing before a wide flat plateau in the mountainous area. Harry didn’t say anything, watching for what they could possibly have come up here for. Nothing unusual seemed to exist on this little bit of forgotten land.
Snape strode forward pulling his wand and flicked it in a near jerk to the front of him. “Do you know why I bothered to bring you here?” he questioned staring at Harry intently. “No.” he replied watching the man as he gave a smirk.
Shit.
“I didn’t think so. Only the obvious for you it seems?” it wasn’t really a question, so Harry didn’t bother answering. He had much more pressing matters to attend to, such as the something that was currently pulling at his shoe. The boy glanced down; thick red roots had attached themselves to the muted colors of his pant leg.
Slowly pulling him down into the dark black mud that had seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Now Mr. Potter…” Snape said waving his wand with a flick of his wrist, using a silent spell (Harry suspected that this spell was to increase the plants strength).
“What are to you do?” he questioned with little emotion watching Harry with a nearly amused look. Harry really wished that the damn plant wasn’t keeping his arms bound behind his back so he could punch that smirk right off his crooked nose.
“Well I guess I should use a spell!” he spat out glaring at him, he didn’t have any idea what to do! This thing was going to kill him and he didn’t know anything that would kill it…wait.
“Ingnorato!” he shouted wand in hand, a bright orange flame shooting from his wand and catching the red vines on fire, spitting out as if wicked firecrackers. The cursed plant seemed to scream and reel away quickly, allowing Harry to stand, though he was gasping for breath. The thick little monster of a plant pulled into the ground, once again looking perfectly harmless. Harry had learned that lesson.
Nothing here would be harmless.
He was panting and glaring at Snape.
“That could have killed me!” he yelled out, venom seeping into his voice as his adrenaline faded quickly, leaving exhaustion and irritation in its wake.
“Yes, but it did not. It is good to see that the child who shall save us all from the Dark Lord was not strangled to death by a plant.” Snape responded, raising a long black eyebrow; Harry bristled at the jibe.
If Severus Snape ever needed help when being strangled by something (even if it was Old Lord-Voldie-Butt himself) Harry now swore that, no matter what, he refused to help that asshole.
“He’s awful Ron! I’m not kidding you this time, I’ve nearly been strangled three times, once by a plant and then three more times by some sort of flying creature. I think the first one was a demon. “ He fiddled with his hands. “As well as the fact that I’ve been burned a total of seventeen times in the past two weeks!” Harry spoke, bowing his head into his folded hands. He was currently outside, sitting at the picnic table that Arthur had conjured for the Weasley family and Harry.
Harry Potter had never been more miserable.
And that was saying something.
They were all having a bit of a holiday that weekend that Harry secretly felt was more to distract him from the horrible companion that was Snape. Molly had already told the man to leave Harry alone with Ron, a good enough start in Harry’s opinion.
He only wished she had told him to simply go away forever.
Snape had burned Harry, and although it was all an unfortunate accident from his own wand, he knew that Snape was using his wandless magic to activate it. He’d forced Harry to study constantly. It made him feel that he wouldn’t be prepared for the Quidditch tryouts that were no doubt immediate when (and if) he returned to Hogwarts.
‘I don’t think I’ll ever go back.’ He thought with a depressed tone.
Ron gave a small smile as if trying to be comforting, it wasn’t helping anything, and the boy was just awful at it. “Well, look up mate, maybe they’ll send someone else soon.” He spoke, nodding faintly, bright red hair blowing slightly in the wind as he gave Harry his best consolation.
“Yeah, that would be too lucky Ron. You know that Remus is doing important research and Sirius is still on the run. Even Tonks is doing important stuff for Dumbledore!” he whispered the last, not wanting anyone to overhear something that might endanger one of his favorite adult female friends or his adoptive fathers.
“I wish you could just come with us.” Ron murmured with a sigh looking down at the table; he’d been picking at the top of it and had inscribed his initials in the thick surface.
They heard a crash, a loud scream echoing from the area near the cabin. Harry stood up rushing towards the sound breath catching in his throat Ron not far behind as they made a mad dash into the unknown. The two boys spotted a hooded figure in a long dark cloak, dark curses shooting from the end of his wand.
They’d been found.
DeathEater.
Harry froze eyes widening as he saw Ginny on her knees screaming, one of the Unforgivable Curses had been used.
The Cruciatus curse.
He could see her shuttering form, her tiny body being tortured. She appeared as if a rag doll as she writhed on the ground, tearing at her eyes in an attempt to stop the all-consuming pain that wracked her mind and soul. Fresh lifeblood poured from the abused sockets as she screamed to the gods for the torment to end. Ron was already trying to curse the bastard who was driving his sister insane.
Harry saw red as he drew his wand, Ron screaming something behind him and attempting to try and save his sister once more.
Harry would save her.
Harry felt power, raw all consuming energy that he grabbed onto as if a lifeline, pulling it into himself. It was addicting, his eyes widening and filling with complete black as he readied himself to destroy his enemy.
He attempted to shout the first thing that came to his mind but those words never came to his lips. The world faded away to nothing as he dropped to his knees, someone had gotten him from behind, a spell draining away his strength.
“Avada Kedavra!”