Better Be Slytherin!

whisper, a very dangerous whisper that Harry recognized at once as something he had no wish to prolong.

'Um . . . well . . .'

'Answer the question!' the professor snapped.

'Yes, all right?' Pain flared in Harry's palms, and he looked at his hands in curiosity, to see his nails had bitten into the flesh hard enough to draw blood. Frowning, he shook out his hands and said, 'I disregarded him. I knew Hermione was in the bathroom; I'd heard someone at lunch say she was upset and crying in there and had been since morning. And so, I knew she wouldn't know about any danger.'

'You should have sent word to a teacher--'

'I asked the Bloody Baron to go warn her, and he wouldn't! He said he had to keep an eye on me.' Harry drew a deep breath and looked down again. His confession came out in a whisper. 'So I figured he could keep an eye on me while I went to find Hermione.'

Snape was silent so long this time that Harry almost thought he had not heard what Harry had said. When he finally looked up again, it was to find Snape staring at him, looking not angry per se, but very disappointed. His heart clenched. Angry he could deal with, he was well used to making people angry. But he did not want to disappoint his Head of House.

'Sir?'

Snape slowly shook his head. 'I cannot believe, after all we have done to try and keep you safe this year, that you would put the Baron in such a position. That you would so endanger other members of your House, as well, with no regard for their safety or well being.'

Feeling his face grow hot, Harry dropped his head again. Shame washed over him in a heavy wave. He hadn't been thinking of it that way, only that he had to rescue Hermione. Save her, like his own mother had saved his life, ten years before. But Teddy and Millie could have gotten killed, because of him and his stupid heroics. Maybe Millie was right. Maybe he was too much of a Gryffindork.

'I'm sorry, sir,' he whispered.

'I should hope so,' Snape said, his voice still soft and disappointed sounding. Harry flinched. 'But sorry is just not enough.'

'No, sir,' Harry agreed. He steeled himself and looked up at the professor, needing to face his punishment head on.

Snape stared at him, his dark eyes unreadable. One long finger traced his lower lip as he stared, and Harry was sure he was going to get detention for the rest of his life. But then the professor sighed. 'You will write another essay, this one on the topic of why you deem your life so worthless you would throw it away without thinking about the consequences.'

'I'm not worthless!'

A spark of something ignited in the professor's eyes. 'No. You are not. Which is why we shall explore why you seem to not care if you live or die.'

Confused, Harry could do nothing but glare at the man, but Snape seemed not to care, or notice. 'How long?' he asked at last.

'At least three feet. Due Monday evening.'

Bastard. That would take him the whole weekend to write. And he didn't even know what to say.

'Tomorrow,' Snape said, in a more normal tone of voice, 'you and I will take a little trip.' He rose from his desk and turned away, fiddling with a jar of something on one of the shelves of potion ingredients.

Harry squinted at him. 'What? Where?'

'There is a place I believe you need to see. Be here, in my office, at 8 am sharp. Dress warmly.' A moment's pause, then, 'You are dismissed.'

Startled at the abruptness, as well as the command to be ready to go on a trip the next day, Harry jerked up out of his chair and was half way to the door before he even realized what he was doing. Snape seemed to be paying no attention to him now, and Harry was grateful. He didn't know how he was going to make up for his latest mess, but he figured the essay would be a start. He just wished he had some idea of what to write. He wasn't worthless. And he wasn't trying to throw his life away on stupid things. Was he?

As he went down the corridor toward the common room, where he would meet his friends before dinner, the Bloody Baron floated up next to him.

'I did not tell him, young Harry Potter,' the ghost said at his elbow.

Harry nodded. 'I know. He just seems to know things.'

'He is very concerned about you. He would be very upset were anything to befall you an he could prevent it.'

Great, guilt and shame. 'I know,' Harry said miserably. 'Do you know where he's taking me tomorrow?'

'I do not.' The Baron floated along in silence until they were just outside the portrait to the common room. 'I would suggest you tell him the rest of what happened, Harry Potter.'

'Before he finds out on his own, you mean.'

The Baron regarded him, head titled a little to the side. 'Not at all. I believe he thinks he has the whole of the story now and will not search for more details. But it is my opinion that he needs to know the kinds of magic of which you are now capable.'

'That spell? But I don't even know where I learned it.'

'Because you did not learn it, not in the normal sense of the word.' The Baron paused, and looked away as if uncomfortable. 'The spell is one we used when we fought together.'