Harry tried, but since he didn't really want wandless magic, the results were no more impressive than before.
Draco had seen enough. "If I have to come back over there to shake some sense into you," he threatened, "I'll smack you while I'm at it! For Merlin's sake, Harry! How dare you act like wandless magic is noxious and you're so far above it!"
"Voldemort can do it!" Harry shot back.
"So can Severus! And your precious Dumbledore!"
Harry actually did know that, though in his panic it hadn't been his foremost thought. Now, the idea that he was insulting his father was rather distressing. He hadn't meant to imply that wandless magic was evil... he just wished he could be like his friends, instead of constantly different. But there was no avoiding it, was there? Draco was right. He was being a prat.
"Light up," Harry said again, this time with more determination.
Rays of light flowed from the same three fingers, this time illuminating the meadow all around. He could see fifty feet by this light, at least, but what was more interesting was that it streamed outward from his fingers in all directions. Rather disorienting, actually, especially when he moved his hand around.
Drawing his wand, Snape incanted Lumos himself and walked to Harry's side. "Can you match it to this?"
Concentrating, Harry gazed at his fingers and willed them dimmer and dimmer until he had a glow about the same strength as his father's.
"Good," Snape approved. "It's to your advantage if such powers are kept under wraps as much as possible."
"That's going to be a little bit difficult with light streaming out my fingers," Harry pointed out.
"Lumos by its nature is problematic, I do agree. You should probably avoid it. Most spells do not produce a sustained visual effect, however. If you are holding your wand in a certain manner when you incant, no one will assume you are doing wandless magic."
Harry stared at him. "You want me to perform wandless spells with a wand in hand."
"I hesitate to even suggest it," Snape admitted, "as you are so diffident about your special talents. However, the misdirection may well save your life. The less an enemy knows of your weapons, the better."
"Yeah," Harry agreed. "So... Incendio next?"
"Dinner next, I should think. We will work on shielding and the spell lexicon tomorrow. You will not attempt any spells, wandless or otherwise, without me present, is that clear?"
"Yes, sir."
He must have sounded more irritated than he was, for Snape at once added, "Harry. I will lift that restriction as soon as I feel confident that you are past the mishap stage."
"It's all right," Harry sighed. "I'm just tired, I think. Um, maybe I should get my pillow back while we're still in the out-of-doors? Just in case it goes wrong again? Um, I messed it up with a wand so I figure I'd better fix it the same way..."
Fetching the animals from his pocket, Snape quickly enlarged them and ended his immobility spell, then watched as Harry extended his wand. One quick glance at Draco's crest, and the boy was hissing in Parseltongue, "End the enchantment!"
Nothing. Harry tried a few variations on that theme, but didn't hit the right words until it dawned on him that whenever he'd used Finite in the past, he was usually thinking in more specific terms. Sort of like with Lumos/Nox. That spell was only cancelled by using a special incantation just for it. So... what would he think of to cancel a Reparo? "Go back the way you were!" he commanded, and saw the animals vanish in a poof of feathers and fabric scraps. Then, lowering his wand so that he would be sure to use just his fingers, he called out, "Like new!"
A pillow popped into existence and fell to the damp ground.
Snape seemed pleased enough with his progress, though Harry felt he had to admit, "I can't do a standard Finite. Apparently I have to counterspell with words that more closely match exactly what I want to see happen."
"So include that in your lexicon. Come Harry, home. You do look tired."
He was, but his mood picked up as soon as they Flooed back home. There on the hearth was a folded piece of parchment, the name Harry scrawled across it writing he'd recognize anywhere.
Snatching it up, Harry read,
Dear Harry,
I came by to see how you were doing, but after about twenty minutes standing in the corridor--I'm sure I know which one, by now--I figured nobody must be home. Dumbledore saw me sneaking down to the kitchens for a bite, though, and when I explained he said I could use his Floo to let you know I tried.
I guess Snape told you my detention's over, huh? Ha, about damned time. Snape tried to tell me that he only assigned so many lines 'cause he was trying to make sure you and I got back on good terms. I don't really believe that but I think he does, which is kind of interesting. Honestly, Harry, how do you stand so much Slytherinness?
Anyway, you know how I apologized to Snape? I think I'd better tell you I'm sorry, too. I should have listened when you tried to tell me that you and he were getting along. I just couldn't imagine it, and I was pretty sure it was some sick game to him. Like, he'd kick you out the minute you really needed him, or something. But not even to trick you, I think, would he humiliate himself by singing to you like that. (Humming, my arse.)
Well, Dumbledore's sort of tapping his foot so I guess I'd better finish this. Let's see... tell Snape that nobody heard it from me about what happened last night. Not even Hermione, and boy did she push me for details. I had to say that you'd hit your head before I even got there (that way she couldn't ask me how, see) and you were just concussed enough that I wanted to wait until you woke up. So where'd you go tonight, anyway? I hope you were well enough to celebrate you-know-what. You'll have to tell me what Slytherins do when they're happy.
Friends,
Ron
Snape must have recognized the writing too, for he asked in a cautious tone, "Everything is all right, I trust?"
"Yeah," Harry admitted, grinning like an idiot. "Everything's great. Ron says to tell you that he kept quiet like you wanted."
Draco made a low, growling noise.
Harry shook his head at him. "Go back to calling him Ron, all right? Why did you switch back to Weasley?"
"Well, at first I thought he'd cheesed you off and made your wild magic fly... and after that..." Draco sighed. "I could tell, all right? Just looking at him, I could tell. He was worried. The two of you were going to make it up!"
"Yeah, well that's what friends do," Harry announced. "And we were friends all along, however it might have looked there for a while."
Draco turned away slightly.
"Brothers forgive each other too," Harry added.
That had the Slytherin boy turning back to fume, "Are you implying I've done something that needs to be forgiven?"
"Hmm." Harry began counting on his fingers. "Let's see. Tattling. Serpensortia. Playing Dementor. Buckbeak. Hermione's teeth. Rita Skeeter. Umbridge. Inquisitorial Squad--"
"Something recently, Potter?"
"Oh, recently." Harry smiled. "I think the wand's in the other hand when it comes to recently. Actually, what I meant was that you'd been good to forgive me for being so rude and ungrateful to you at first. So, see? I can overlook Ron's bad attitude the same way you overlooked mine."
"That's different," Draco admitted, narrowing his eyes. "I need you to keep me out of Azkaban where my name's likely to land me. You don't need that red-headed twerp for anything."