Better Be Slytherin!

Mouth pursed, he tapped the rolled up essay on his desk top. 'Questions?'

'No, sir!' Harry fairly flew into the classroom. Separating dragon scales! Compared to some of the jobs he'd done -- cutting up Flobberworms and Bobotubers came to mind immediately -- this was a cake walk. Indeed, the job wasn't hard or messy at all. He had to wear dragonhide gloves, as the scales could be very sharp and cut through a finger before you realized it, but the professor had a pair that sized magically to fit any hand, and so were not too loose on him, despite his small hands.

The dragon scale chips ranged in size from smaller than Harry's least fingernail to almost as large as his palm. The containers to hold them, however, were large enough to accommodate both extremes in size, and everything in between. The scales themselves were beautiful, shimmering even in the meager light of the dungeons in an array of colors broader -- and shinier -- than any rainbow. Every time Harry held one of the scales up to inspect it, sparkles of bright light arched off the dungeon walls and cascaded down the sides, like a multi- faceted waterfall.

Altogether, this was a job Harry wouldn't mind doing again.

He lost himself in the colors and light. When a silky voice sounded from behind him, saying, 'Are you finished yet?' he startled rather severely.

Harry dropped the scale he was currently separating from its fellows, and cringed as it hit the worktable with an audible clang. 'Sorry, sir,' he said quickly, turning round to see his professor, hunching his shoulders automatically. 'Sorry for being clumsy.'

Silence greeted his words, and he chanced a look up at Snape's face. He could not read the expression he saw there, so he bit his lip and said hesitantly, 'I'm almost done, sir, honest.'

'Good. Finish up then, and return to my office. You and I have some issues to discuss.' Snape turned and stalked back into the other room.

For the second time that evening, Harry felt his stomach drop like a stone. His essay must be utter crap, he decided. And Snape wasn't going to let him see those pictures of his Mum. Harry's eyes stung suddenly, and his throat closed up. He bit the inside of his cheek to stave off any tears. He was not going to cry over pictures! He hadn't seen them before, so not having them now was no big deal. Right?

Right.

The shine had quite gone off the dragon scales as Harry finished sorting them, knowing he was going to be lectured or worse in a few minutes. Snape'd probably assign him detention now, since the essay wouldn't count as punishment, if it was as bad as he thought.

With a soft sigh, Harry returned the gloves to their storage place, and put the labeled containers of dragon scales in the inventory closet. Then he wiped down the table and trudged into Snape's office as if he was going to the gallows.

'Sit,' Snape said, pointing at the chair Harry had occupied earlier in the evening. Once Harry had, the professor regarded him solemnly for several long moments before speaking again. 'You seem to have a real . . . saving people thing, Pot--Harry.'

Harry looked up in surprise at Snape, for using his given name. What was that about? 'Sir?'

'It's a terribly Gryffindor tendency, to charge in without considering the consequences of your actions, with no regard for your own safety. But you, Harry, are no Gryffindor.'

Harry swallowed. 'No, sir?'

'No. Only a Slytherin could have survived ten years of living with those Muggles without killing them, whilst managing to keep his sanity intact.'

Harry's eyes widened. Surely he didn't mean . . . 'Sir?'

'You misunderstand me,' Snape said, his voice uncharacteristically soft, without being menacing. 'I do not mean to imply that you should have sent them to their graves, only that . . .' He sighed and then glared at Harry. 'Why must this be so difficult?'

'I don't know, sir.'

'Oh, I didn't mean you, boy.' Snape rose, while Harry scrunched back in his chair, farther away. But the professor merely turned his back on Harry and adjusted a few glass containers on the shelves behind his desk. He continued doing so for several minutes, and it crossed Harry's mind that this might be a way that Snape covered his own nervousness. He dismissed the idea almost at once. Surely Professor Snape was never nervous.

Finally, Snape glanced over his shoulder, almost as if to see if Harry was still there. When he saw Harry was, he sighed again, and sat back down at his desk. He folded his hands on top of his desk and peered at Harry through his curtain of hair. 'Did your uncle ever hit you, Harry?'

'What? No!'

'Did your aunt?'

'No!' Harry crossed his arms over his chest. 'Why're you asking me stuff like that?'

'Do not be so quick to answer,' Snape said, still using the quiet tone he seemed to have adopted for this talk. 'You had numerous injuries when you first came to school, do you not remember? Contusions in various stages of healing, broken bones that had not been set correctly, and internal damage to some of your organs. Never mind the malnutrition, we'll get to that.' When Harry opened his mouth to angrily retort that the Dursleys had done nothing, absolutely nothing, Snape held up his hand to silence him. 'From your essay, it is quite clear they were emotionally abusive and criminally negligent at the very least, with regards to your safety and well being. . . . I need to know if your aunt and uncle were physically abusive as well.'

Panicking slightly, Harry leapt out of his seat. His breaths came harder as he tried to decide if he should make a run for it. This was crazy! He hadn't said anything like that in his essay! Sure, his aunt and uncle had told him he should never have been born, and that he was worthless, but that didn't mean he actually was or anything. To his shame, his voice cracked as he yelled, 'Why do want to know stuff like that? Why can't you just leave me alone!?'

Professor Snape merely lifted an eyebrow at his outburst, and then, to Harry's surprise, answered him fully. 'I