Well, he got what he had asked for, he supposed. Exactly what he had asked for, magnified as all his spells seemed to be, now. Instead of a neatly repaired pillow, what he got was one bleating sheep and no less than five honking geese! One of the birds lumbered awkwardly onto his bed and looked to be settling in; the sheep began to graze on Draco's bed hangings.
"Shite, shite, shite!" Harry groaned. It was on the tip of his tongue to demand Silencio from them, but for all he knew, an amplified silencing charm might remove their vocal cords permanently or something! Frustrated, he hung his head in his hands as he sat there on the floor, his wand flung to one side.
"What is going on in here?" Draco exclaimed as he flung the door wide. "Harry, what did you do?"
Snape wasn't far behind him. He was wiping his hands as he entered, just as though he'd been interrupted in the middle of some complicated brewing, something he often did on Saturdays. Great. His father hated to be yanked away from those potions of his... Sure enough, the words that came snapping out Snape's mouth were, "Potter? Explain!"
"Uh... I just wanted to see if things were better today, magic-wise," he sheepishly admitted, ducking his head.
"What spell did you incant?" Draco sneeringly inquired, using his wand to prod the sheep away from his bedding. "Aparecium livestock?"
"It was a Reparo spell on my pillow, if you must know!" Harry retorted. By then he was having a difficult time not laughing, though he knew he'd better not. Snape did not look amused. Thinking better than to keep sitting on the floor, Harry pushed to his feet.
Snape drew his wand and cast Immobilus before the animals did any more damage to the room. Then he turned a rather grim expression on Harry. "Did I or did I not," he thundered, "make it clear that we would work on your magic later, Harry?"
"Not," Harry quickly answered, to which Snape ground out, "I beg your pardon!"
"You didn't make it clear," the boy insisted. "I mean, not that you wanted me to wait."
"I should think that would be clear without words," Snape sneered. "You do recall torching half my quarters, I trust? If not, perhaps you should glance about the shambles in the parlor."
"I thought I was your first priority, not your furniture," Harry muttered as he followed Snape out of the room. It was even worse than he remembered. Blackened gouges criss-crossed the walls. The sofa was half-immolated. And there was a gaping hole straight through the wall of Snape's office. The bookcase wall. Harry almost swore again. He'd browsed those shelves plenty of times as Snape had sat marking papers at his desk, and he knew that a lot of the volumes... hell, most of them, probably, were rare and valuable Potions books.
Yet another hole in the far wall of the office showed a view of a dark hallway, or maybe an unused storage room; hard to tell.
"I'm sorry," Harry groaned, suddenly feeling really really bad. So much so that his stomach was twisting, actually. "Um, if you let me borrow my vault key I'll write away to Gringotts' for some money so you can start replacing whatever was lost, and I guess I should pay for the repairs as well--"
"I do not want your money!" Snape erupted, taking him by the shoulders. Harry was sort of expecting to be shaken, but all Snape did was maneuver him over to a somewhat charred chair and shove him down into it.
"Well, you're upset about all the stuff I wrecked--"
"I am upset that the knowledge of what your Lumos did has had apparently no impact on your thought processes! Practicing magic alone," Snape scoffed. "What if the spell had injured you again?"
Harry actually hadn't thought of that. He'd just been so excited to feel like a wizard again... Blushing, he admitted, "Um, well... Gryffindor recklessness, you know. Sorry, sir. Um, I mean Father."
Snape still looked furious as he drawled, "Merlin preserve me. Two sons with impulse-control issues."
"Can you just change the... uh, livestock, back into my pillow?"
His father gave him a rather sour look, but then stomped back to the bedroom. Harry and Draco followed, Harry blushing again to see the bizarre results of his spell. His face flamed even hotter when he realized that Snape's Finite would almost certainly coat the room in feathers and wool scraps. Then, of course, he'd have to explain how he'd destroyed his pillow in the first place.
Or not... because as it turned out, Snape's rather emphatic Finite did nothing except cancel out the Immobilus spell. As the animals began milling about again, Snape cast another Finite at them. That time, nothing whatsoever happened.
"What does that mean?" Draco put in, his brow furrowed.
Snape took a moment to consider the matter. "The spell that created them was incanted in Parseltongue," he decided. "Apparently the counterspell must match that."
Draco whistled through his teeth. "Brilliant," he said, flashing Harry a smile. "Nobody else can undo your spells, then."
Harry wasn't nearly as happy. He was sick and tired of being such a freak. "Voldemort could; he speaks Parseltongue," he pointed out, though it hardly made him feel better. He didn't want to be like that madman, not in any respect.
"The Dark Lord can speak it," Draco agreed, nodding, "but I'd bet my vault that he can't incant in it. You had to have your dark powers split wide open by all that trauma, remember? The Dark Lord's still got all his surface magic getting in the way."
"Oh, for pity's sake," Harry erupted. "Why can't you call him Voldemort like Severus and I do?"
Draco was so startled that he took a step back. "I've never given it any thought." He cleared his throat. "Remember, I heard about him all the time when I was growing up and it was always the Dark Lord..."
Harry knew how deeply a childhood could affect you. Even after six years in the wizarding world, he still sometimes thought of himself as a freak, he realized. Which was wrong and stupid; he knew that. But the thought still surged up inside him, like it had just the moment before. Really, it was remarkable that Draco had come as far as he had. Draco, who'd been reared to believe in all that pureblood rubbish... but who now could admit that a Muggleborn witch was both cute and smart. Well, he hadn't actually said that last bit, but calling Hermione a walking library came close, didn't it?
"Give it some thought," Harry advised him, deciding he wouldn't push the matter. Then, to Snape, "So should I try my own Finite?"
"Until we better understand the dynamics of your dark powers, I would advise caution. Is that explicit enough for you? If not, allow me to be clear. You are not to cast any spells without adult supervision. There is simply no telling what might happen."
Draco scoffed at that. "Well, I think we can probably guess. It looks to me as though his dark powers just magnify the intended effects of the spell. So Lumos produced light so bright it burned holes in the walls; Reparo restored items to their original condition--literally."