A Tense Encounter

"It's...private..."

The professor leaned forward with a scowl. "Do I look like I care?"

Harry grimaced. "You...can't tell anyone, sir," he said quietly.

All he received in return was a raised eyebrow.

He took a deep breath.

"Voldemort...he tried to kill me, ten years ago, and I don't know why I'm alive, sir," he said quietly, allowing his voice to waver slightly. "I don't know...why I survived. I don't know why any of it happened." He looked up at his professor, whose face was like stone, and willed his eyes to glisten just a bit. "I don't understand why...why us...why..." He took a deep breath. "What did my parents do to deserve to die? Why was he after them? Why did he try to kill...me?"

He felt something twist in his chest, and suddenly he wasn't acting anymore. Once again, he was acutely aware of Tom's presence in the back of his mind, the presence of the man who murdered the parents. The reason he grew up alone and unloved. His friend. His teacher. His confidant. His...family. The man who took everything from him.

He nearly grit his teeth. He needed to get a hold of himself – he needed to exude grief and fear, not guilt. He needed to continue his act.

"I wanted answers, because I just...I wonder sometimes...no, I wonder all the time...why it happened. Why I don't have any parents. I don't even remember them, sir. I don't even remember what they look like, what they sound like...except, sometimes I hear this voice, when I'm falling asleep, and I know it's my mum's. 'No, not Harry...please ha-'"

"Enough," the man said stiffly, and when Harry looked into his eyes, he saw it there – to anyone else, the Potions Master's face would have appeared to be devoid of any emotion, but Harry knew better. Harry knew that there was grief, and terrible, terrible guilt in those cold black eyes. "I...understand."

Harry sniffled a little. "You do?"

The man nodded curtly.

Neither of them said anything for a good long moment – they just stared at each other, coal black and emerald green meeting in an mutually silent exchange of guilt and grief.

"You may go."

Harry nodded shakily and wasted no time in fleeing the office.

His face twitched a bit as he walked up the stairs to the seventh floor corridor. He was caught up in the remorse he felt for what he'd just done while being simultaneously affected by the ambient smugness radiating through his head. Tom was proud. He could tell.

He couldn't figure out if he'd done the right thing, or had just needlessly hurt someone, and the unease didn't go away when Hermione handed him the small book on ancient Celtic rituals. He tried to read, but his mind kept coming back to his encounter with Professor Snape. He would need to think about it for a long time, he thought - the unfortunate event would more likely than not haunt his thoughts for the next few weeks at least - but then again, soon he'd have far too much time to spare.

That's right. Tomorrow was the start of summer holidays. Tomorrow he left Hogwarts. Tomorrow he returned to Number 4 Privet Drive, a whitewashed prison with a rose garden and a neatly trimmed lawn in front. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, Dudley...

Did he miss them? Not a bit. Not one single bit. He wished he'd never have to see them again. He wished he'd never have to get yelled at, insulted, belittled, rejected, and scorned ever again.

Stupid muggles. Stupid, stupid muggles. Filthy. Cruel. Heartless. Fearful. Cowardly.

He didn't want to return to being hated and feared and locked away like a wild animal. He didn't -

"Harry? Are you alright?" Hermione said. "You've been staring into space for a while."

Harry looked at her, and he could not hid the grief, the sadness, the fear, or the simmering anger; indeed he could feel the most subtle of tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

"I don't want to go back," he whispered.

Hermione tried to smile. "Oh, come on, Harry. I know you love Hogwarts and everything, but don't you miss your family at all?"

A dark look came over Harry's face, and his tears disappeared. Miss them? Never. "Not at all. They hate me -"

"Harry, I'm sure they don't -"

"And I...think I may hate them too."

Hermione gasped. "That's a terrible thing to say."

"Maybe. But they were terrible first, the stupid muggles. They're all the same. Cruel, weak, small minded creatures. I don't want anything to do with them," he hissed with a scowl; he couldn't keep the words from tumbling out. Being around Hermione always made him want to be honest, for better or for worse. Besides, she was raised with muggles too. She'd understand. She knew what they were like.

"Has being in Slytherin changed you so much?"

Starting a bit, he looked at her with wide, confused eyes. "Being in Slytherin had nothing to do with this."

She raised an eyebrow. "Then how come you speak so poorly of muggles?"

"It's only the truth."

"Oh, come on, Harry! What's so bad about muggles?"

Harry grit his teeth, becoming a little annoyed. Why didn't she understand? She was raised by muggles, just like him. She should know of their cruelty and hatred of those that are better than them. "They think we're freaks! They despise us because we're stronger than they are! Don't you remember the all times when the muggles treated you badly, just because you have magic?"

Hermione sat up straighter, that look she had when she wanted to prove him wrong coming over her face. "No, as a matter of fact, Harry, I don't. I -"

"No one at school was scared of you?" he interrupted incredulously.

Hermione looked scandalized. "No of course not!"

"Not even after they saw your magic?"

Hermione frowned. "I never did magic at school, Harry. I didn't even know I had magic. But that's not the point -"

"How is it possible that you didn't do any magic at school? What about accidental magic?"

"Well, obviously there were a few incidents at home -"

A few incidents?

"And your parents never punished you for it?"

"Well, no. They thought I didn't have anything to do with it. They always explained it away; they ignored it. Of course I didn't get punished! What were you expecting me to say?"

....

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