CH27

"Potter, stay behind."

Clyde gave him a sorrowful wave goodbye and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"He's talking to the teacher, not the grim reaper! We'll be in the library, Harry! Come join us when your done." He said nothing, his attention on Snape. He hoped the man would reveal some sort of clue as to why he had been held, but his expression was completely passive as he looked over his lesson plans. Soon, they were alone, but neither said anything. When Snape looked him straight at him, Harry avoided his eyes. Snape smirked.

"I see you're not hopeless, Potter. You're obviously capable of learning from past experiences. Did my goddaughter inform you I was a legilimens?" "No. But she said Voldemort was. He did it to me last night, and it felt sort of like what you did at the Dursley's."

Snape smirked. "Your memory is really rather remarkable. I bet you can still remember their first names as well. What they looked like, the sound of their voices, their habits, their many and varied abuses. Most children who spend longer than a week at WYRA can't recall anything more than a few vague impressions."

"Er...well... I don't either, it's just... you left something of an impression." "You flatter me... or you lie horribly. Can you guess which one I'm leaning more towards?"

"..."

"Now, Potter, I have the authority to send you back to WYRA until your past is appropriately meaningless. However, since I do not wish to erase the knowledge you have gained from your summer lessons or upset my goddaughter I am willing to overlook this little anomaly in exchange for your cooperation... and honesty."

Emerald eyes flashed, coming dangerously direct with ebony. "What do you want?"

"Let's move somewhere a little more private, shall we?"

Snape rose from his chair and made his way to a door that none of the other students were allowed to enter. Hermione had told him that it was her godfather's private laboratory, and filled with all his experiments.

"Are you coming, Potter?"

"... No way. You could be a child molester." The look on the man's face was decidedly unamused. In fact, he looked downright livid at the suggestion.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for insulting a professor. Potter, I would thank you not to have such torrid thoughts about my character."

"That's not fair! How could I possible trust you? Your blackmailing me! And so what if you're not going to molest me? You could do anything else you wanted, like cut me open and drain my blood for your potion experiments." "You have a rather sick imagination, you know that?"

"This is kind of a sick world."

"I beg your pardon?"

Harry said nothing, shuffling his feet and looking off at nothing. Snape made an irritated sound.

"You realize that teachers take an Unbreakable Vow not to intentionally harm their students upon accepting a Hogwart's position?" It was the first Harry had heard of it, but it did sound like the sort of thing the school would require. He merely shook his head.

"Well, they do. Now will you come or do you wish to further insult me and risk twenty more house points?"

"Why do we need to do this privately anyway," Harry muttered, reluctantly following the man into his personal domain. The lab was even larger than the classroom, and several intricate pieces of equipment were set here and there. There were rows of locked cabinets. No doubt they stored the man's many rare and expensive potions ingredients. It all made Harry feel very out of place. The doors slammed shut, making him jump.

"Because this is in regards to the events of last night. I believe since my goddaughter isn't shooting a hundred questions at you a minute regarding your recently discovered talent and Draco isn't pursuing your friendship like the politician he is, you have kept it to yourself? Look me in the eye when you answer."

Moving to the other side of a work table, Harry finally looked straight at him. In the dark gloom of the laboratory, his black eyes looked unnatural and eerie.

"Yes."

"Why?" "What do you mean 'why'?" "Why have you not told them? It is a rare and precious gift. Anyone would be honored to have it."

Harry snorted. "Anyone who doesn't mind being compared with Voldemort, you mean."

"That's Lord Voldemort, and I suggest you not forget it. Are you suggesting being compared with the most powerful wizard in Britain is somehow a bad thing? Please help me here, Gryffindor logic escapes me."

"Exactly. You're a Slytherin. Voldemort's a Slytherin. I'ma Gryffindor. I don't want to spend my life with everyone saying I should have been put in Slytherin. I'm not in Slytherin. I'm never going to be in Slytherin. I don't wantto be in Slytherin. I am where I'm suppose to be, and no one has the right to suggest otherwise. Would you want people saying you should have been in Ravenclaw because you're smart with potions?" Snape seemed to consider that. While it irked him that the boy should be so completely ungrateful for his gift, he couldn't argue that the resulting attention might not be all positive. But that was not all Potter was thinking when he decided to keep his talent to himself. No, there was a definite sense of insecurity and self-loathing at the thought of being compared to Voldemort, if not Slytherins in general.

So the boy didn't like Voldemort. He certainly wouldn't be the first, but if his Master wished to use the boy in the future that information could prove invaluable. If Potter ever learned exactly what his parent's role in the war was before they fled Britain, that might further complicate matters.

"You do have a point, but you can not hope to keep this secret long. You seemed to have no control over when you speak parselmouth, and I dare say the school is riddled with snakes. Magical statues, care of magical creature's class, personal pets, and a very wild forest not a stones throw from the castle... it will only take one encounter. One slip of the tongue..." "But until then..." Harry said, shrugging.

"Yes, until then you get to play the good little Gryffindor. You may go."

Harry quickly made his way to the door.

"But be prepared for additional questions later," Snape said, smirking. "My Master and I will likely have more."

A shiver ran up his spine as he walked away, his thoughts now clutching at dreadful images of Snape and Voldemort snickering over their afternoon tea while they discussed his downfall. His stomach lurched, and he rushed into the nearest bathroom. It was, unfortunately, the girl's lavatory. He didn't mind so much with his head half way in the toilet, but once his stomach was empty he was glad it appeared to be empty.

"I'm starting to hate my life," he mumbled to himself.

"Welcome to the club."

He let out a startled cry and stumbled out of the stall until he smack into one of the sinks. Floating above the stalls was a ghost of a rather geeky looking girl, her arms crossed as she looked imperiously down at him. "You know this is the girl's bathroom."

"Er... yes, well... It was kind of an emergency."

"Of course it was. No one ever comes in to my bathroom unless they absolutely have to. No one wants to be bothered by plain, moping, Moaning Myrtle."

Seeing the ghost looked as if she were about to cry, he rushed to come up with words to placate her.

"Well-well, I don't usually make it a habit to visit girls' bathrooms, b-but I'm glad I did this time. I haven't met very many interesting ghosts, you know."

Immediately, her watery eyes seemed to dry and she threw him a rather odd looking smile. Much to Harry's horror, he realized she was trying to be coy.

"You think I'm interesting?"

"Er... oh, yeah, definitely. I mean, the only ghost I've met is Sir Nicholas. I've seen a few other ghosts from afar, but they're all... you know... old."