“Protegero.” He blocked the spell from the students, watching its power dissipate against the shield he’d thrown up, then turned toward the duellists.
“Expelliarmus!” He heard Aidan cry the same spell; he disarmed the Gryffindor boy and Harry disarmed the Slytherin – just as the boy cast “Tundero!” at his opponent. His wand flew from his hand and the spell went astray – directly toward McGonagall and Snape.
The hammer-spell struck the crumbling support column beside them with a blinding flash of red; before Harry could utter a restraining spell, the stone shattered and tumbled to the ground in a spray of dust and rubble.
Harry caught the two duellists’ wands, tossed them at Aidan, and darted across the grass, hearing his name in surprised exclamations from various students.
Professor McGonagall stood dusty but unhurt, leaning toward Snape, who lay beside a huge chunk of the pillar.
“Professor!” Harry jumped over a chunk of stone, but Snape was already sitting up and cursing.
Harry slid to a stop on his knees and grabbed Snape’s arm. “Are you okay?”
“No,” Snape said with infinite irritation. “The blasted thing’s on my robe…” Indeed his robe was pulled taut between the chunk of stone and his own efforts to get up.
Harry quickly undid the robe’s fastenings. “Never imagined undressing you in this situation,” he muttered. Snape found nothing to say in response, though Harry thought he heard a high-pitched meep from the hovering McGonagall.
Free of the cloak, Snape sat straight with a groan, and Harry steadied him as the two men got up.
“You are hurt,” Harry said, low, as Snape carefully worked his left arm.
“It hit me coming down,” Snape answered. “Just bruised.”
Harry opened his mouth but Snape’s glare silenced him.
Aidan came over to meet them, having dismissed the audience and told the two duellists to wait.
“Nice work, Harry,” he said with a grin. “Quick thinking and quick spell casting.”
Snape snorted, very softly, and Harry said, “That’s me, Harry Potter, heroic playground monitor.”
“But…” Aidan reached out one finger and took a quick swipe at Harry’s chin, “it ruins the heroic effect when you have bits of chocolate frog on your face.” He held up the finger and its chocolate smudge for a moment. McGonagall snickered.
Harry chuckled, rubbing the back of his hand over his mouth.
Aidan looked at the others. “Anyone hurt? Severus?”
McGonagall looked at Snape too. The man was clutching his left arm and looked a little pale. “Severus? Do you wish to see Poppy?”
Snape laid an eloquent glare upon her. “I can take care of it myself. Thank you.”
Harry said casually, “I’ll walk back with you. Make sure you don’t suddenly fall down and have a fit.”
“Potter—” Snape ground his teeth for a moment whilst Harry stared innocently back. Then Snape looked away, toward the two students who’d been dueling, and his expression darkened.
“Canby!” he barked, and the red-headed Slytherin jumped, went from pale to death-white, and slouched reluctantly toward his head of house.
“You come with me.” Snape’s words were a dire warning.
“See you later, Harry, I hope,” Aidan said.
“Yeah – here, let me take his wand,” Harry said, and Aidan handed him Canby’s wand.
He followed Snape and the boy back into the castle, leaving McGonagall and Aidan to deal with the other boy and the cleanup.
* * *
Harry trailed Snape and Canby to the dungeons and into Snape’s office in silence, shutting the door behind himself, setting Canby’s wand on Snape’s desk, and looking at the Slytherin head of house for a moment, brow raised.
“Should I wait in the other room, sir?” Now was no time to appear to undermine Snape’s authority in any way, and it seemed from the look Snape gave him – and from his civil response – that the potions teacher appreciated Harry’s realization of that.
“If you would, Mr. Potter.”
Harry nodded and went into Snape’s private office, shut the door, and resisted the temptation to put his ear to it. After all, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t heard Snape tear into a student plenty of times. He knew Snape wouldn’t shout at the boy; Snape used shouts selectively, heavy artillery employed to best effect, generally in surprise. His strength was in sneak attack, getting under, rather than through, his opponent’s defenses.
Harry chuckled at his own metaphors and wandered about the office. Here was where Snape kept his more valuable or dangerous books and potions – though Harry supposed the best of both were locked away somewhere even safer. The room felt more lived in, more personal, than the outer office. The desk was larger and more ornate, the chair looked more comfortable, everything was of noticeably better quality and lesser wear, though Harry saw nothing that looked brand new.
Harry heard the outer door open and close, then Snape came in. Harry stood out of the way while the man came around his desk and sat, muttering curses.
“Are you mad that he was dueling, or that he was losing?” Harry ventured. “And to a Gryffindor at that.”
“He wasn’t losing,” Snape snapped, and Harry laughed out loud. After a moment the anger eased from Snape’s face and his body relaxed a little into the chair.
“The boy is bright but he has no discipline,” Snape muttered. “He refuses to apply himself or to control his temper or his irrational prejudices.”
Harry was caught: Snape actually cared. He actually cared that his students did well, not just in his classes but in general. Then Harry thought that he should have realized that a lot earlier than this.
“In fact,” Snape said slyly. “He reminds me very much of another student…” He glanced at Harry, who was willing to play along.
“Hey. I didn’t have any irrational prejudices.”
The brow called him liar. Harry gulped.
“Well … I may’ve had a few convictions that were based on erroneous information. Or … er … no information at all.”
“And the difference?” Snape asked.
Harry said in a small voice, “Am I one word away from detention?”
Snape laughed the tiny, grudging laugh that delighted Harry when he was the cause of it.
“Hardly. You’ve already scrubbed all my cauldrons to painful brightness and organized all my ingredients to within an inch of their shelf lives.” He pulled a book and a quill toward him, opened the book to a blank page and dipped his quill. As he wrote he said, “I noticed that today you found something to do with your time other than annoying me.”
Harry, back to scanning the man’s shelves, laughed softly. “I don’t expect you to thank me, professor, but I’m glad you noticed.”
Silence. Harry turned around. Snape was scowling at him.
“What?”
