(A/N: I just realized how lame chapter 8's title was after I posted it. Oh well.
Erm, here's chapter 9:
"Ah, finally, mail," Harry said to himself, watching a mass of owls descend upon the Gryffindor table. "I nearly thought they forgot."
It was now Thursday, and Harry was eagerly awaiting Lupin's response to the letter he sent yesterday. True, it would probably bring no new information, but he was glad to read a few words from his old professor all the same.
The fury Harry felt last night when his parents' wedding photo was burned still boiled fury in his throat, making every word he uttered come out dry and flat like concrete. Oh how he loathed Gates now. No longer did he simply hate the man: he positively abhorred him. Gates's passionate cruelty gnawed incessantly at Harry's mind, escalating their antagonism to a whole new level. The hate they shared evolved into a deep, unforgivable loathing of a breed that Harry recognized as an inevitable lifetime feud.
He furtively glanced down the table, catching a glimpse of Ron prodding his breakfast with a fork, appearing glum. Gates was studying Ron carefully from across the hall. The thought that he had possibly been too hard on Ron last night concerning Percy was not lost on him, and he felt a twinge of regret at doing that to his best friend; especially when it was not totally his fault. He made a mental note to talk to Ron after breakfast, wanting to sort their issues out. It would not do to have Ron in a sullen mood for the entire day. Chancing another glance down to the far end of the table, Harry was relieved to see that Dean and Ginny were not sitting next to each other; as Ron did not need extra pressure on his emotions at the moment. He was notoriously overprotective of his little sister.
Across from him, Hermione was staring blankly at her porridge, stirring it absently with her spoon. Harry suddenly remembered that she had met with Professor McGonagall yesterday evening, and that, whatever the punishment, Hermione was likely not in the best of moods. He was about to ask her what happened when Hedwig landed heavily on the table, nearly knocking over his pumpkin juice. He eagerly grabbed the scroll and fed her a bit of toast. Hedwig hooted gratefully and flew off, a few short, snow-white feathers floating through the air in her wake. Hermione looked up from her porridge curiously.
The name on the letter confirmed his suspicions. It was from Lupin.
Harry,
If Gates is going after Professor Snape, then you had best keep yourself distanced from the two of them as much as possible. Although I did not know Alexander nearly as well as Sirius did in school, I knew that Alex was obsessed with honor. He would never hex Professor Snape in the back, or any other 'dishonorable' thing. When Sirius told Alex to 'humiliate' Severus, he most likely took it to mean fight him. I believe Alex will attempt to draw Professor Snape into a duel.
I have no idea how Alex could possibly achieve this, for Severus, if anything, has built up a resistance to taunts. Alex, though, is bound to complete Sirius's request, and will try to do it honorably. I have no doubt that Alex will resort to dishonorable means if Professor Snape does not give in. When that happens, you had best be a good distance away, because it will be very ugly.
I suggest you warn Professor Snape about Alex; but do it discretely. If Alex realizes you are interfering, he will be quite angry. Other than that, you can do nothing other than let these events play themselves out. As Sirius may have told you, Severus is a very competent wizard and knew more curses in his first year than most seventh years did.
I cannot give a reason for Sirius's request. To be honest, I did not think Sirius would seek revenge. Unfortunately, it seems that Sirius took Severus's insults far more personally than I originally believed. Deep down, though, I do not think Sirius wanted Severus attacked. Just humiliated like he was in the old days.
As for the necklace and bracelet, I'm afraid I cannot help you there. I have no recollection of Alex possessing either during our time at Hogwarts. I talked to Arthur, and he remembers Alex having both during his time at the ministry as an Auror.
On another note, Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall, as well as the other Order members, have been keeping a close eye on Alex and you. If he becomes violent, do not hesitate to contact Dumbledore or any of the other Order members.
Remus
When he finished reading, Harry frowned, thinking of the hammer Gates held over his head that prevented Harry from telling anybody about future punishments. The threat of Gates severing his last connection with his parents with a simple burning spell sent shivers down his spine, and he unconsciously clenched his fist. Now, he thought, Gates has absolute control. He gazed at Hit Wizard, who stood stiffly against the stone wall, and saw the smirk playing across his lips, as if Gates knew what Harry was thinking.
"Can I see?" Hermione asked timidly, losing interest in her cold porridge, "If its not personal..."
Harry immediately handed her the message. "'Course you can. Show it to Ron, too. Me and him aren't exactly on speaking terms right now."
"I thought so," Hermione said as she read the letter, "What happened with you two last night? Let me guess. Percy, right?"
Harry nodded his head. "I sort of tried to convince him that he's the only one holding a grudge against Percy. I shouldn't have said anything."
"No, you did the right thing. Someone would have to tell him eventually. Who knows, maybe now they'll start talking again." Hermione added doubtfully.
"Maybe."
"What did Percy want yesterday, anyway?" Hermione asked casually.
Harry paused. He had forgotten about it. "He was telling me that he would have a talk with Gates today; that he had some influence. Now that I think about it, I think it was just Percy being pompous."
"Well, we'll have to see."
"Even if Percy's assurance ends up empty, at least he isn't being a git anymore." Harry remarked.
"So it doesn't look like Professor Snape has much of a chance, does it? Gates is going to be provoking him all year." Hermione said when she finished reading the scroll. She handed it back to Harry.
"No," Harry groaned as a sudden thought struck him. "And I have Potions and, err, detention with him today. It's going to be unbearable."
"Just be careful around the two of them," Hermione cautioned, "You don't want to get involved."
"Yeah, that's what Remus told me. Easier said than done, unfortunately." Harry muttered.
Hermione looked at him pityingly. "Please try? This isn't your fight."
"Alright," Harry agreed, somewhat grudgingly, "But tell me what Professor McGonagall said to you last night. She wasn't mad, was she?"
Hermione tensed. "Well, when I came in she looked at me sadly and told me to sit down. After I did, she started telling me how disappointed she was in me, and that I was supposed to be more responsible. I wish she'd of just yelled at me," Her voice began to crack as she continued. "Then she said that Professor Snape demanded that I have my prefect status suspended, and she agreed. She took my badge and now I am suspended for a week." Hermione covered her face with her right hand to hide her eyes.
"Oh God, I'm so sorry," Harry said earnestly, his mind being overwhelmed with guilt, "I'm the one who got you into that. You're the one who wanted to listen to Snape. Did you tell her that? It was my fault!"
Hermione dropped her hand and Harry saw that she was on the verge of tears. He suddenly regretted bringing this topic up. "Of course not because it wasn't. I'm the one who wanted to go out in the first place, remember?" She gave a dignified kind of sniff and continued. "But she wants to see you anyway, I almost forgot. She told me to tell you to report to her office this evening. My last prefect duty for a week..." Harry thought she was going to break down again but she recovered.
"I can't though, I have detention."
"She knows," said Hermione as she wiped her eyes. "She said to come earlier than your six o'clock detention."
"Any ideas on what she wants to talk about?"
"No, and I knew better than to ask. She was disappointed, and rightly so."
Harry felt a twinge of apprehension as he helped himself to an extra waffle. Whatever the head of house Gryffindor wanted to speak with him about, it could not be good. On the lighter side, Harry would be able to explain his involvement and take the blame off of Hermione.
"Don't you dare," Hermione warned, as if reading his thoughts, "I know what you're thinking. I already told her that it was my idea."
"I'm thinking no such thing," Harry said innocently, not meeting her eye.
Hermione hmph'd an returned to staring at her porridge, which was now cold and runny. After while, she took a brave spoonful of it and swallowed it quickly, a look of disgust playing about her face. Satisfied that she was eating again, Harry reread Lupin's letter and mulled over his next move.
"Hey Harry, Hermione," Ginny said as she sat down, startling Harry out of his thoughts, "Where's Ron?" She pulled out a rather large Transfiguration book and dropped it heavily onto the table, rattling the surrounding plates and cups and causing Hermione's goblet to slop over. Ginny did not seem to notice.
Harry watched her disbelievingly. "Studying at the breakfast table? Isn't that sacrilege in your family?"
"No that's only Ron's custom," Ginny answered nonchalantly, "The rest of us enjoy breathing while eating." Drawing her quill, she began scribbling in the book's margins and underlining the text.
"That's a good habit to have Ginny," Hermione commented, "Especially with O.W.L.'s coming up. Ron delayed his studying and his scores weren't as good as, umm, they could've been."
Harry could barely see Ginny's face because of the veil of red strands that fell down in front of her as she leaned over the book. "This isn't actually for the O.W.L.'s. Professor McGonagall assigned the fifth years a foot long report on the second day of classes, so now everyone is panicking. I don't want to procrastinate, so I'm getting it done now."
"Better not let Ron see you, he'll have a stroke. Procrastination is his art."
Ginny looked up at the mention of Ron's name. "So where is Ron? He isn't sick again is he?" she added in a worried voice.
"No, well, he's down there," Harry replied, pointing his finger down the table at Ron's forlorn form, "I haven't talked to him yet today."
Ginny frowned. "What's causing him to sit down there? You three are usually inseparable. Oh no," she said grimly, "Did he have a nightmare last night Harry?"
"Err, no, I don't think so," Harry said, "Actually it's my fault."
"What happened?"
"I sort of got angry with him over Percy. Essentially, I told him to grow up, but not in those exact words, of course." he added hastily.
"I can't say that's surprising," Ginny said, turning back to her Transfiguration book, "Ron's been fuming over Percy since forever. They're polar opposites, you know?"
"What do you think of Percy?" Harry asked tentatively.
To his relief, Ginny sounded indifferent. "Really, I don't care right now. Percy admitted he was wrong, which is more than I thought he could do, so fine. I certainly won't deny his existence anymore, but he better not expect any help from me with Ron or anyone else. But if he betrays us again," Ginny's eyes visibly narrowed, "I will hex him into dust. By the way, what made you change your mind about Percy Harry?" she added in an afterthought.
Harry briefly related Percy's birthday 'gift' and their few verbal exchanges. When he came to the part where Percy promised to 'talk' to Gates, Ginny furrowed her brow.
"Percy not respecting misguided authority?" Ginny said skeptically, raising an eyebrow, "Small wonders never cease. What is with Gates anyway?"
Figuring that he might as well tell Ron's sister, he gave her a skeleton explanation of his situation with Gates. When he finished, Ginny looked only slightly surprised.
"I see…" Ginny said slowly, "I guessed some of that from Ron's conversations with you guys, and the way you three always acted around, err, Gates. I suppose I see now why you've forgiven Percy, though I'm not sure his plan with…talking to Gates is going to work."
"So why's Ron different?" Hermione asked, no longer feigning interest in her thin porridge. "Ron sounds like he's the only one who is still holding a grudge."
"I have no idea," Ginny said, passing a subtle glance in Ron's direction, "But lately he's been almost stalking me and Dean. Not like he's angry or anything, but like he's guarding over me or something."
"He's always been a protective brother."
"No, this is different," Ginny said, closing her book and tucking her quill away. She crossed her arms over the table and began rubbing her wrist absently. "I don't know. I'm probably just being stupid. He's just being Ron."
She threw open her book again and continued scrawling feverishly in the margins, not looking up. Harry and Hermione exchanged nervous glances.
"I'm definitely going to talk to him after breakfast." Harry said quietly to Hermione.
Instinctively, Harry's ears pricked as he heard the familiar squeaking of polished boots approaching the Gryffindor table. Turning his neck so fast that his backbone audibly popped, Harry locked his eyes onto Gates's scarlet-robed figure; which was now mere meters away from where he sat. Harry shot a glance at Dumbledore, who appeared to be watching Gates intently. Soon, the entire staff table joined him in silent observation. Even Professor Whams, who was normally oblivious to his surroundings, gazed at him curiously, his great owl-like eyes blinking rapidly behind the powerful lenses.
To Harry's surprise, Gates strode past where he sat and stopped abruptly nearby, as though he had ran into a wall. He pivoted on his right heel and stared down pointedly at the back of a student, who sat hunched over his plate of eggs and sausage. Harry's heart dropped with a dull thud. The boy Gates was staring at was Neville. A surge of rage coursed through him and he turned to Dumbledore, expecting the headmaster to be on his feet and stepping down from the elevated staff table. Instead, Dumbledore sat as still as stone, his eyes hard and expectant.
Gates cleared his throat and sucked in his cheeks, looking very much like a man who has just swallowed a rock. At length, he said with forced politeness "Young Neville Longbottom? May I have a word?" The noise in the great hall began to dim and fade away as students turned curiously in their direction.
Neville whirled around in his seat and gazed up at Gates, all color leaving his face. His jaw worked itself mechanically; though in anger or fear, Harry could not tell. "What?" Neville croaked.
Gates's fixed smile never left his face, though behind the façade, Harry could tell that he was immensely embarrassed at what he was about to do; evidently apologizing was something that he was not used to. He shot a wicked glance in Harry's direction, and then turned back away with a much more believable grin. It was as if a reminder of his absolute control over Harry had outweighed the humiliation he felt, and that his mind dwelled on that thought rather than concentrating at the task at hand. In other words, he retreated into the depths of his brain.
"I would like to apologize for my unnecessary outburst towards you yesterday," Gates said, his smile easy and benign and empty. He sounded as though he was simply reciting the words from an old speech. "I'm afraid that, on that day, I was frustrated with a certain charm that I was practicing, and I released my frustration on you. You were completely undeserving of my wrath, and for that, I beg your forgiveness." The double meaning of his last statement was not lost on Harry, and he quelled a sudden urge to curse Gates with a full body bind. Gates's expression was that of someone who did not have the faintest idea of what true remorse was; and was merely mimicking that of other people.
Neville, too stunned for words, nodded meekly.
"I am grateful for your acceptance," Gates said lowly, giving a short, formal bow and extending a letter with a gold seal from his hand. "I have sent copies to your immediate relatives, and as a courtesy am providing you with the original."
Gates stood like that for a minute, until Neville, finally understanding what he was supposed to do, quickly snatched the scroll out of Gates's gloved hand. Gates, his grin now bordering a smirk, straightened, smoothed out his robe, and walked away with a supremely haughty air. Dumbledore, as though he expected such an exchange, steepled his fingers and said nothing; though his eyes never left Neville. Professor Whams, shifting his spectacles nervously over his eyes, darted his head back and forth, as though uncertain of what happened.
"That's disgusting," Hermione muttered, "He didn't mean a word."
For a brief, fleeting moment, Harry made eye contact with Gates. Instantly, Harry understood that Gates was attempting to read his mind, and Harry automatically willed one single, powerful thought to surface in his mind. He concentrated until it hurt.
Gates you bastard. I swear that one day you will get yours. Damn you and your line for what you did to Neville.
Gates recoiled as though struck, and then turned sharply away. His robes billowed out behind him as he strode to his usual section of stone wall, the satisfaction gone from his face and malice replacing it.
Suddenly, Harry saw Percy stand up from his position on the staff table and walk confidently towards Gates, his eyes level and back straight. Gates watched him approach with a sneer that made Snape look like an amateur.
Gates met Percy with his arms crossed, and, as Percy spoke, Gates's eyes became steadily narrower. Abruptly, the few traces of color that lurked in his hawkish face vanished in an instant. Percy, excellently hiding his inevitable elation, continued on with a masked face, his expression betraying nothing. When he had finished, Gates regarded him dangerously, and remained silent for a moment, as though carefully considering his words. Gates's eyes flitted in Harry's direction and Harry quickly turned away, not wanting Gates to think that he was aware of Percy's actions.
At length, Percy returned to the staff table, leaving Gates with a very sour expression on his face. Gates's lower jaw was thrust out, a clear sign of an internal struggle taking place within his mind. Eventually, his face cleared and his mouth was drawn into a thin line. He was apparently not pleased with the decision he arrived at, and Harry could only view this as a good thing.
"Percy came through," Harry said, unable to keep a large grin off of his face, "And, whatever he said, I think it made Gates absolutely furious."
"Ooooo, wonderful," Hermione said, her eyes sparkling as though this was the best news she had heard in some time.
"And Harry," she continued, her smile faltering slightly, "Yesterday I went down to Hagrid and, well, the Centaurs have expressed their displeasure at his ventures into the Forbidden Forest. You remember how they warned him last year?"
Harry nodded.
"They tried knocking him around a bit to prove their point. Nothing serious," she added in a hurry, "But he insists that those 'mules', as he put it, wouldn't try it again."
Harry mulled over this new problem, and could find no solution. Hagrid would visit his little brother no matter what the Centaurs say, and there is nothing he could do to change that. The only possible answer is, of course, to get rid of the Centaurs.
Absently, Harry shifted his gaze towards where Gates stood in the corner, his eyes smoldering with anger. Whatever Percy had told him, it did not go over well with the Hit Wizard.
Idly pouring more pumpkin juice into hid goblet, a sudden idea formulated itself in Harry's mind, nearly causing him to drop the pitcher. The plan would be perfect, and he would hold no guilty conscience afterwards. Gates's own arrogance would do him in. Unable to fully contain his glee, Harry settled for a broad smile as he tore out a piece of parchment and scribbled down a note to Hagrid.
Hermione, watching him with a tilted head, said "What is it?"
"A plan," Harry said as he finished the message. He would send it off with Hedwig this afternoon sometime, as he did not have Care of Magical Creatures today. "A plan to get Gates back. He'll regret taking my- err -I mean tormenting Neville like that."
"What are you going to do?" Hermione replied slowly and suspiciously.
Harry grinned wider. "Not me. I won't be doing anything. That's the best part. I can't tell you now though: Gates might be able to lip read and this isn't worth risking." His exchange with Snape and his following conversation with Gates was the foremost on his mind.
"Then write it down."
Smacking his forehead for missing the obvious, Harry scrawled down the plan on a piece of parchment, than pushed it towards Hermione. As she read, Harry took casual bite of toast, watching her for her response. To his delight, she seemed to approve.
"That's clever," Hermione praised, then her tone turned serious. "But that's risky. Are there…precautions?"
Harry arched an eyebrow. "'Course there are. I can ward them off easily now that I know the required spell. I doubt Gates would know it, as its probably only used by specialists."
Harry took a large bite of bacon when he saw Ron stand up to leave, his expression unreadable. Harry took a long, confident sip of his juice and moved towards him, conscious of Gates's malevolent glare. He felt Hermione's gaze on his back. Ron was now aimlessly shuffling his books, preparing to leave the great hall. His eyes were wandering and unfocused, reflecting the turmoil within. When Harry approached, Ron fumbled with his books and accidentally dropped one on the ground. He bent to pick it up.
Harry noticed with alarm that Ron's breakfast was only half-eaten, as though he had lost his appetite; which was very un-Ron like. Pretending to just notice Harry's presence and failing miserably, Ron feigned a look of surprise.
"Oh, hey, mate," he said awkwardly, his eyes darting from his books to Harry's face.
Harry crossed his arms uncomfortable, feeling guilty about his temper last night. "Sorry I was so short with you about Percy, Ron. He's your brother. I shouldn't be telling you how to feel about him. These things don't fix themselves overnight, and I think I was asking for too much."
A look of confusion crossed Ron's face, then one of relief. "Oh, that? No problem mate, forget it." he said quickly, sounding like he expected something much worse. He grinned, though Harry thought it was rather hollow.
"Erm," stuttered Harry, thrown off by Ron's placidity, "Aren't you a bit upset about what I said?"
"No, why would I?" Ron answered, his grin faltering and turning crooked. His ears slowly deepened into a shade of red. "We all have our own opinions, don't we? I guess I could give Percy a shot?" It sounded as though he was willing to agree with anything at the moment.
Harry scratched the back of his head. "Well, you did sit down at the far end of the table." Harry said, pointing out Ron's isolated seat.
"Blimey, you're right," Ron said, sounding genuinely bewildered, "I was just a bit tired when I came down, that's all. I was up fairly late last night. Yeah, just some lack of sleep. Sorry 'bout that. Didn't mean for you to get the wrong idea." He began wringing his hands nervously.
"That's okay," Harry said inelegantly. His conversation with Ron was not going like he planned. He thought of several scenarios, but none of them were remotely like this.
"Right, so, uhh, classes are coming up. I'll- I'll see you in Care of Magical Creatures today." Ron stammered, sounding as awkward as he looked. His ears were dark red and paper was falling out of his books. "So gotta go!"
Ron strode quickly away, almost running, and vanished before Harry could point out that they did not have Care of Magical Creatures today. On the whole, Ron seemed friendly but was evidently hiding something. Turning around, Harry noticed with growing apprehension that Gates had watched the entire exchange, a smirk tugging at his lips.
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The afternoon slowly passed in Transfiguration as beams of sunlight breached the narrow windows and spilled onto the stone floor. Harry found it difficult to concentrate on his studies as the bright sun tempted him to leave and go outside. Absently, he gazed out the window rather than listen to Professor McGonagall's lecture, and ended up losing Gryffindor five points when she asked him a question on the subject they had been discussing for the past twenty minutes.
On the other hand, Ron seemed to become more cheerful as the day continued; the distant expression he wore at breakfast no longer visible. He returned to his normal, unenthusiastic self and shot bored glanced at Harry in short intervals when the professor had her back turned, though Harry was sure that Professor McGonagall could see out of the back of her head as she eyed Ron suspiciously throughout class when she turned around. Hermione hissed angrily at him, but Harry could tell she was relieved to see Ron back to his usual self. Harry suspected that she only scolded him in Transfiguration in an effort to make up with Professor McGonagall. By the way the professor smiled discretely in Hermione direction, he knew that Hermione was forgiven.
At the end of class, Professor McGonagall held him back briefly to remind him of his obligatory meeting with her tonight, and then sent him off. Ron split off from Harry and Hermione as they descended into the dungeons for Potions, this class promising to be exceptionally hellish by the way Gates's eyes glinted as he strolled behind them. Clearly, he was already making plans on how to draw Snape into a duel.
When Harry stepped into Snape's perpetually chilling Potions classroom, he met Snape's eye and focused strongly on Gates's intentions. Snape, evidently understanding his meaning, gave a curt nod and stood in front of his desk, waiting for the class to file in. Harry decided that Snape might as well have a fair chance against Gates; as much as he hated the Potions master, he hated Gates more. He wanted Snape to have every possible advantage to deflect Gates's attacks.
Gates chose to stand stiffly in the front corner of the room, rather than his usual place in the back. Knowing this could not bode well, Harry looked meaningfully at Snape and then flicked his eyes at Gates. Snape made no move to acknowledge Harry's warning, but curled his lip back in a severe sneer, the meaning clear: Mind your own business Potter.
Harry and Hermione took their seats near the front, and waited expectantly to see what would happen next. The rest of the class must have sensed the tension, as nearly everyone was looking uneasily from Gates to Snape. Malfoy, normally brimming with taunts and insults, was for once silent with nervous foreboding. Obviously, his confrontation with Gates on the train was still fresh in his memory.
"As you all have proven to me that you are far too incompetent to safely produce relatively elementary potions," Snape said in a seething voice, "I will lecture you on the concoction you will be creating in your next lesson. Our benevolent headmaster has decided that it would be too…reckless of me to ask you to create the more difficult and dangerous of solutions without prior knowledge. And who am I to argue with the administration?" he added in a tone that assured everyone in the classroom that he would love nothing more than to have an accident occur so that he could cut someone out of his N.E.W.T. Potions class. "Therefore, further screw ups will be taken as a personal insult, as it proves that you have indeed been wasting my time. Thus, failure will be judged more harshly." His eyes rested with a peculiar intensity on Harry when he said this.
The class continued uneventfully as they jotted down notes on a solution insidiously named 'The Avenger's Poison', a potion particularly well known for becoming acidic whenever comes in contact with saliva in the mouth, resulting in a particularly gruesome death to anyone who swallows it. Hence, it is commonly used by assassins or bored dark wizards for entertainment. Harry was not sure the purpose of learning a potion like this as it had no practical value, but from the vehemence and passion Snape exuded when he described its effects, he had a nasty feeling that the professor simply found a potion that perfectly matched his personality.
"-and while the Potion appears to be simple at first class, my young and foolish disciples," Snape lectured, "I assure you that if you are inconsistent with your measurements, you will find your cauldron reduced to molten metal and yourself suffering wounds that no amount of time in the infirmary can heal."
At this point, Harry was nearly sleeping. Snape's mind-numbing voice faded away as he hunched over his desk and propped his head up with one hand. He stared open mouthed at Snape, as though he was watching a dead flobberworm in a zoo. He had never known Potions could be so utterly boring, and he now completely understood why Snape never gave lectures. Potions rivaled History of Magic in dullness. Hermione tried poking him several times to snap him out of his trance, but with little avail. Instead, he watched his frozen breath slowly drift up to the ceiling.
"Potter," said Snape softly, "What is the last ingredient you add to your solution to prevent it from prematurely boiling?" When Harry did not answer, he continued. "Did I interrupt your nap Potter? As taxing as being a celebrity can undoubtedly be, I do ask you try to spend some of your precious concentration on your Potions, as merely scraping an 'Acceptable' will no longer be considered an adequate performance. Is that clear? Ten points from Gryffindor…" Harry gazed absently around the room to see most of the class sunk in a similar stupor, with some blatantly burying their heads in their arms.
Gates seized his chance. "Severus, which Potter are you referring to?"
Snape continued as there was no interruption. "As I was saying, The Avenger's Poison can prove to be highly unstable if a sprig of gillyweed is not added promptly after ten minutes of stirring. This will-"
"Severus," Gates repeated loudly, "Which Potter are you referring to? You did not answer me before. The ghost of the one who humiliated you, or the one who intimidates you?" Harry's attention spiked as Gates finished his statement, and Harry knew from the sudden intake of breath from around the class that they were now enraptured in the confrontation taking place before their eyes.
A shiver of rage visibly coursed through Snape's body, but the Potions master valiantly continued on. "This will prevent any build-up of muck on the bottom of your cauldron, which would eventually lead to the entire solution to congeal and solidify. This, class, would result in a zero as well as a trip to Madam Pomfrey to treat scalding."
Gates looked unimpressed. "Or have you forgotten? I understand that the fumes of so many potions would addle your brains, causing derangement and psychotic episodes. Possibly even something more…primal." he added with a smirk, apparently making an inside joke.
"-remember to keep your solution under low heat at all times," Snape spat, his voice becoming steadily more enraged. His face turned white with fury and his teeth were bared. "Not doing so will-"
"I think I can jog your memory, however," said Gates with feigned serenity, "I believe the Healers at St. Mungo's try to use familiar terms on the subject's childhood -- you know, to help revive old scenes and acquaintances. Let's see, what was that nickname? Oh yes, James called you Snivellus. Does that bring back any memories?"
A suppressed, inaudible snort shuddered through the classroom, and Snape glared at them furiously, as though daring them to laugh openly. His hands gripped the edge of his desk tightly, causing his knuckles to turn pearly white. "I will not be taunted, Alex, especially by juvenile insults," Snape warned in a low voice, "That man's deluded requests will go unfulfilled."
Gates's eyes narrowed. It was his turn to become irritated. "If you say so, Snivellus. For one who claims to be above such juvenile insults, you are still stuck in petty feuds by hating your long dead enemy's son."
Harry could tell by the furious whiteness in Snape's face that this comment struck home, and that several years of barricades crumbled into dust. Regardless, he snarled "I will not be lectured on morals and ethics by a renegade Hit Wizard who came from a family in the league with the Dark Lord himself."
A collective gasp resounded through the class, all eyes locked on Gates, aghast. With a significantly more arrogant expression on his face, Snape resumed his lesson. "The Avenger's Poison must be on low heat at all times because if it is too hot, the potion will boil prematurely and the fumes will dissolve your eyes and most of your face. Again, this cannot be rectified by a simple healing spell…"
Gates resigned himself to a quiet brooding, and, despite himself, Harry concentrated on the Hit Wizard rather than Snape. Hermione, constantly scribbling down notes (She already had at least two feet) poked at him with her quill and mumbled under her breath for him to pay attention. Finding it hard to ignore her, Harry compromised by alternating between staring at Gates and writing down Snape's words.
"As the more perceptive of you bunch may tell," Snape drawled, "This potion required precise timing. However, this potion is far from excessively demanding, and I will expect no one to suffer any injuries now that I have explicitly explained every step of this procedure. Those who are moronic enough to foul the solution up-" Snape glared at Harry. "-will suffer whatever consequence I feel is suited to the crime."
Pulling his face back into a sneer, Gates said loudly "Perhaps you, Severus, would enjoy elaborating on your family history?"
Snape, who clearly expected Gates to keep to silence, froze instantly. "My family is none of anyone's concern, Alex." he said slowly and deliberately.
"Your family was blacker than the night itself. True dark wizards. Why, its even known that your very parents wore the mark." Gates's face contorted into a visage of grim pleasure. "Such things tend to be almost….hereditary, are they not?"
Snape's face paled considerably, and every muscle in his face twisted and moved as though it could not decide whether to snarl, sneer, or feign shock. Gates's grin grew wider as he realized that he hit a nerve. Harry sucked in his breath, his entire being aware of the exchange playing out in front of him. The monster versus the git. Who will win?
"Presumptions and conjectures made by wizards with over-active imaginations." Snape snapped, his response even weaker than the silence surrounding it.
"And I suppose you pretend to be ignorant of the reason why the headmaster consistently refuses your request to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Gates accused, going in for the kill, "I daresay the he would find you teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts unbearably ironic."
Harry had never thought it possible, but he was actually pitying Snape. True, the Potion's master was now getting his comeuppance for his arrogance, but no one deserved this. It was just like Neville Longbottom…all over again. Unidentifiable, long-concealed expressions and emotions crossed Snape's pale face, and Harry could tell that Snape was running out of options. Snape could no longer speak, as it took all of his concentration to reign in his rage.
"Snivellus is speechless, is he?" said Gates icily, all feigned amusement gone from his face, "Yes that's what happens when the old demons surface, Severus. Do you see? The old demons, severing your heart." Gates's clawed hand clutched at his chest, the imitation unmistakable.
Next to him, Harry felt Hermione shaking. He felt the tension mounting in the room; the irrevocable, growing power that threatened to tear the room asunder. Without realizing what he was doing, he timidly reached out and covered her hand with his. His own instinctive fear stopped, and, as far as Harry could tell, Hermione's fear vanished as well.
"Alex," Snape said at length, his voice absent of force, but still managing to carry subtle malice, "You know nothing of my demons. They have incubated, but I prefer them to yours. Drawing strength through the demons is fallible and inevitably leads to self destruction." His voice was strange, as though Snape was not really speaking, but someone else. His tone was older somehow. It sounded like something that Dumbledore would say. Abruptly, it turned back into the heartless, conceited tone that Snape was so famous for. "Your demon is alive and flourishing and horrific, Alex."
"But my demon is not on my forearm!" Gates spat. All remaining traces of color drained from Snape's face.
The clear implication and accusation in that statement left the class stunned with mixed revelations. Most were in denial; absolutely refusing to believe that the man who has been teaching them for the past six years, however cruel, was a Death Eater. A few Slytherins, namely Malfoy, showed no surprise.
Harry stared blankly at the two wizards, not quite believing what he saw. In front of him, two terrible wizards were lashing out on each other, the wounds deep and vicious, with old scars breaking open. Lupin warned Harry that it would be ugly, but Harry never dared to imagine enmity on this level. It made himself and Draco look like old, bantering friends.
"Look at that necklace you wear!" Snape snarled, "You think I don't know what it is? I've seen one before. The Death Eater it belonged to had an ego far larger than his ability, and it got him dead." Suddenly, Snape's eyes locked onto Harry and Hermione's clasped hands, and he froze, his mouth halfway into a sneer.
Gates, following Snape's gaze, saw their hands and grinned. Harry and Hermione quickly withdrew, blushing slightly. "I see. Yes I think I do," Gates brought his hand up and stroked the countless diamonds on his necklace gently. "He looks just like James, doesn't he? And, well-" he hesitated. "Brings up old memories, eh? Strange time to be reminiscing, Severus."
Snape whipped his head around so fast that Harry thought he heard it snap. "Just what do you think-"
"Would you like me to tell young Potter your little secret, Snivellus?" Gates mocked, bringing up the nickname for effect, "How does that sound? Would you be able to look him in the eye after I tell him?"
"You wouldn't dare," Snape snarled, his voice low and threatening and underlined with trepidation. "You would never-"
"I would in an instant," Gates retorted, taking full advantage of Snape's position with a renewed malice. "Now what will it be?"
"You want your duel?" Snape demanded, his face white with fury, his right hand clutching his wand tightly. "Have it! Formal. Bring your wand."
"Tonight, then," Gates said in a restrained voice, obviously taking great effort to hide a surge of ecstasy, and then fell silent.
Snape, positively infuriated, addressed the class. "You are all dismissed. Get out of my sight."
The class rushed to obey, not daring to say a word as they left. Everyone regarded Gates and Snape in an equally eerie and suspicious light, glancing often in their directions. When Harry crossed the room to the door, he found himself called back.
"Except you Potter. Come here." Snape commanded, pointing to a spot a pace in front of him.
Harry timidly approached the fuming Potions master, unsure of what to expect. Snape was in a rage that surpassed all others. "I will be at detention at six," said Harry, knowing that Snape did not want to discuss his detention.
"Yes you will," Snape said in a voice just above a whisper, "But you will call off your bulldog first."
All the memories of Snape insulting Sirius at Grimmauld Place came flooding back to him in one, blinding image. "I can't," Harry said loudly, "And even if I could I'm not sure if I would. I remember what you said to Sirius-" Harry dropped his voice. "-and Sirius didn't forget either. It's finally coming back around, isn't it?" He spun around and strode out of the classroom before Snape could formulate a retort.
Gates, wearing a triumphant smirk on his face, strolled out behind Harry and Hermione, practically bouncing on his feet. Wearily, they retreated towards the Gryffindor common room.
Portraits whispered excitedly as they passed by, their conversations obvious from the way they stared at Gates meaningfully and ceased speaking when he approached. The news of Snape's dueling challenge was apparently spreading through the school at a speed only gossip can manage. By the way Gates was nearly skipping down the corridors, Harry inferred that he was dazed with euphoria. His sharp face was distorted with an unusually gleeful grin, as though his Christmas had come early. It looked like someone had hit him with a Cheering Charm.
When they met up with Ron again by the common room fire, Harry and Hermione immediately cornered him and bombarded him with questions on duels. Though Harry read The Art of Dueling, the book described how to duel properly, and did not elaborate on the traditions and nuances behind duels.
"Wait! Hey!" Ron exclaimed, "Slow down! What's this about?"
Quickly, Hermione related everything that had occurred in Potions, with Harry sometimes adding a detail or event that she missed. When she finished, Ron sat back in an overstuffed chair, a mix of shock and elation written across his face. His brooding, detached mood that existed earlier this morning was no longer there.
"Well old Snape is going to get his, then!" Ron declared, his mouth forming a wide smile. "Gates taunted Snape into dueling him? How the hell did that happen?"
Harry quickly answered. "Gates threatened to tell me one of Snape's secrets, so he pretty much blackmailed him."
"More secret than being a Death Eater?" Ron asked incredulously. At their simultaneous nods, Ron continued. "Snape can't back out now. Formal duels take place the night they are made. Usually nine o'clock. And since the challenge was made in public…it has to be performed in public."
"Which means?"
"Everyone in the entire school is going to see Professor Snape get humiliated," Hermione finished for him. "Just like Gates planned."
"That's pretty much it," Ron said joyfully. "I hope Colin brings his camera."
"Not in front of the entire school?" Harry scoffed.
"It's got to be. The challenge was made in public, so it has to be executed in public. No one can be refused a view of the duel. it's a matter of honor." Ron explained, sounding as though everyone knew these things. "Don't you already know all this Hermione?"
"I can't know everything Ron," Hermione said, sounding offended, "There are entire eras of wizarding events for me to research. Really, nothing about duels has ever come up in any school projects yet. Besides, reading up on how wizards try to kill each other isn't exactly high on my priorities."
She did not notice as her eyes were focused on Ron, but Harry stared at her sadly. What if she knew what I must do?
Ron looked at her disbelievingly. "Anyway, this duel ought to be real vicious if Gates is half the wizard he's supposed to be. Snape isn't a slouch, either, mind you. They'll be really going at it."
"Not to the death…" Hermione said slowly.
"Of course not," said Ron quickly, "Not unless Snape specifically said it would be a mortal duel. Did he?"
"No," Harry and Hermione answered together.
Ron nodded. "Then no, it won't be to the death. Old Snape will live, because if Gates holds his honor as dear as he pretends to, then he won't kill in this duel," Ron sounded disappointed. "It would be very dishonorable if he did. In fact, it would be enough to strip him of every title he ever earned."
"Then how do you know who wins?"
Sighing, Ron said "They'll conjure a Dueling Shield, which is basically a massive blue dome that blocks every spell imaginable. Except the killing curse, of course. Then whoever yields, is knocked out, or is physically thrown out of the dome is the loser. I don't think anyone has ever been thrown out before," Ron added thoughtfully, "Those domes are supposed to be nearly impossible to breach. I reckon they just made that rule just as a precaution." He began rubbing his chin, staring vaguely into the fireplace.
"Ah, and what is the purpose of this little congregation?" Gates drawled at a distance, moving directly towards them with an easy bounce in his step.
Ron stiffened instinctively and coughed, while Harry, now used to Gates's sporadic intrusions, simply spun around and greeted him with a blank stare. "We're just discussing…things. You made quite a spectacle in Potions class today." Harry said tonelessly, intentionally matching Gates's bored drone. He shuddered at how similar he sounded to Malfoy, but knew that he had managed to throw Gates off balance with his even reply. His more subtle message, however, was clear. You won't intimidate me you bastard.
Gates's eyes narrowed. "I imagine so," he said, now sounding perturbed, "Old Severus hasn't changed much in all these years. No, that's incorrect. He hasn't changed at all."
Drop the small talk, Harry thought, You aren't here to tell me about Snape's school days. Get to the point you old madman. "What are you saying?"
"Severus always hated your father," Gates continued as though Harry did not speak, "Did he ever elaborate on the reasons?"
"No," Harry replied snappishly. "Is there a reason you're here?" Privately, he desperately wanted Gates to tell him Snape's secret, but he was not about to let Gates know that.
Gates was now annoyed. "If you think I tolerate your blatant displays of disrespect because of third parties, you are mistaken. I tolerate it for the simple reason that I don't care whether you or any of you other worthless little children show respect. It is enough that I know that you all cower when I draw my wand." He inhaled deeply.
Harry was immensely pleased that he had managed to provoke a minor outburst out of Gates despite his glowing elation that Gates possessed since Potions class. It showed that he now could control, to a very small degree, Gates's reactions.
Gates crossed his arms. "Your father and Snape were very…possessive men, if you understand my meaning."
"Is this really the time for reminiscing?" Harry said, echoing Gates's remark towards Snape earlier. He sat back to observe the response..
A low, feral growl escaped Gates's throat. "You tempt me, Potter, but you do not direct me."
The answer stunned Harry though he did not reveal it. He did not believe Gates was so perceptive. The warning in Gates's statement was clear: I know what you are trying so back off.
"What were you saying about Harry's dad, Mr. Gates?" Hermione said in a small voice, evidently understanding the conversation and attempting to disarm it. Harry had nearly forgotten she was there. "About his dad and Professor Snape."
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Gates snapped, "This is a matter between Severus and Potter, not outsiders."
"Then tell me already so I can tell them." said Harry flatly
Gates's eyes became slits and his thin mouth twitched. "Since you asked…no. I changed my mind."
Harry suddenly became aware that Gates was cruelly playing with him, toying with his thirst for knowledge concerning his father's life and school days. Gates never had any intention of telling Harry a word about his dad. His hands gripped the arms of his chair.
"If you are through…" Harry stood up to leave, collecting his books and parchment.
In a quick, deft movement quite unexpected from such a towering man, Gates jerked forward and forcibly sat Harry back down into the chair. "No I am not done, so sit down." he spat. Harry resisted the urge to rub his shoulder where Gates had clutched it.
Gates thrust his hand into his robes, and for a moment Harry thought he was going to draw his wand. Instead, Gates pulled out a tiny, glimmering object and tossed it on the carpeted floor. He then extracted his wand delicately from a crimson pocket and raised it above his head, pointing it directly at the object. He sucked in his breath and spread his arms, as though poised for flight. Then, with a look of intense concentration, he muttered "Finite!" and a white beam shot out of his wand and spilled onto the floor. The tiny object stopped glimmering.
Gates lowered his wand, apparently satisfied. "Upon some reflection, I have come to the conclusion that there would be no point of keeping your Firebolt any longer." He sounded incredibly displeased when he said this, as though he would like nothing more than to toss the broom into the fire.
With another swift wand movement, another beam erupted from the end of his wand and the object on the floor swelled and grew into what Harry recognized as his prized broom. It appeared to be completely intact. In stark contrast from his earlier delight, Gates's expression was now etched with repressed fury, as though he could not stand to see 'Potter' happy. With a snort of forced apathy, Gates resolutely stared at a distant wall.
"You have permission to attend Quidditch practice, play Quidditch matches, et cetera et cetera…" said Gates, sounding supremely violated. It was as if someone had mugged him on the way back from the bank. "I suppose I am acting out of the belief that if you get maimed or permanently injured in some way, as you are wont to do, your misfortune will simplify my task significantly. But I mustn't get my hopes up." He began to idly smooth out the wrinkles from his gloves.
A long dormant memory in Harry's mind stirred, and Harry though he had heard Sirius say something similar to that awhile ago…so very long ago.
"Any particular reason you're doing this?" Ron butted in, his voice laced with suspicion. Ron was evidently unaware of Percy's conversation with Gates this morning, which, Harry was sure, was the reason Gates was returning his Firebolt. Whatever tactic Percy used to bend Gates, it must have been one hell of an idea.
Gates's lip curled. "Out of the goodness of my heart, why else?" Gates snorted. "Don't concern yourselves with my decisions. You meddling children should watch your hands if you don't want to get bitten." Without another word, Gates whirled around and strode away.
Enraged, Harry jerked up from his seat, his hands balled up in fists. Gates had no right to threaten Ron and Hermione. No right at all. "I hope Snape crushes you! I hate him but I hate you more! Merlin knows you'll get yours!"
Gates froze in mid-stride. He dramatically turned around and cast Harry a death glare. "Severus will be humiliated tonight. And your fate isn't any kinder." He swept away and allowed the shadows of the common room to envelope him in darkness.
Harry stared at the black figure, Gates's wordplay and the prophecy the foremost in his mind. What does Gates know?
"Merlin, what a dramatic fool," Ron muttered and Harry laughed. "Is he expecting a prize or something?"
(A/N: This chapter is setting loads of stuff up for later; most of it you can probably guess. IF not, well, good.
The H/Hr is going to have to be pushed back slightly (I rather wish I didn't have to, but there you go) as I have tons of scenes I need to get through. Besides, this is the second week of school. No need to rush anything..yet.
I hope everyone enjoyed the Snape interaction, I found it hilarious. Gates's lines are great to write.
Next Chapter: Fairly obvious what happens here. Meeting with McGonagall, Occlumency lessons with a peeved Snape, and the duel. I've been focusing on the duel action, so you can expect some great stuff there.)