"Yes."
"But I'm just a... a kid, and he's... Voldemort--"
"To think I ever called you arrogant," Snape groaned. "Listen, Harry. He has not had his darkest powers split wide open and made available for his use, as you have. You will have far more power than he can dream of. All that remains is to learn to channel it." His teacher paused. "Do you remember when I told you that your instincts were often good?"
"Yeah. It's why I don't trust Malfoy," Harry put in.
Snape ignored that. "Deciding to have your marrow tampered with... for quite some time now I have felt that it was a serious miscalculation, leading as it did to your illness, and then indirectly to Samhain as well. Now, though, I begin to suspect that it was as I said: a good instinct on your part. The end result may be your ascendance into powers that can finally vanquish the Dark Lord."
Yeah, sure, find the silver lining, Harry thought. "But Professor," Harry protested, "has anybody ever done what you're suggesting? Brought deep powers completely under conscious control?"
"Not to my knowledge, no," Snape confirmed.
"Do you know how I would start? I mean, how to even try?"
"I don't."
"So what's the point to any of it, then?"
Snape reached out and patted his hand, the touch light and reassuring. "I think you once believed that you could not Occlude, either. We'll find a way through this, too."
Harry just felt exasperated, and wanted to get off the subject. For the moment, anyway. He'd think about it more when he was alone. Try some things with his wand, maybe. Hmm, maybe all he really had to do was think of Draco before he let a spell loose... anger had worked to unleash that accidental magic, maybe it was the key to making dark powers flow at all. "I remembered my question about the portkey," he abruptly announced. "The headmaster said my wild magic nullified every spell for leagues around. So why did the portkey even work, after that?"
"That would be instinct again," Snape explained. "The headmaster's, this time." A clinking noise drifted through the air as Snape settled something around Harry's neck. "It's a wide gold ring studded with emeralds. I've hung it on a chain for you." He paused, then said, "It's the ring your father gave to your mother on their wedding day. Albus recovered it from Godric's Hollow the night they were killed; it's been in his keeping every since."
Harry fingered it, imagining how it must look. "Um, so this was spelled to be the portkey? It..." he cleared his throat, not really wanting to cry again in front of Snape, and changed what he had been going to say. "It's tiny. This wouldn't fit on any of your fingers."
"It's a wizard's ring," Snape drawled, clearly amused. "It was made in Lily's size, but it'll change to fit whatever finger it's thrust onto. That's why I put it on a chain for you. I thought you might like to keep it the way she had it."
"Yeah," Harry murmured. "Thanks. But... I still don't understand why it worked after I unleashed my dark... um, deep powers."
"You might as well call them dark," Snape advised. "I think half the solution to getting them under your control will be to accept them. However, as regards the ring. Your parents' love for one another is bound up in that ring, and it's that same love they gave to you, right up until the night they died. I suppose some part of your wild magic recognized it as safe, as part of yourself."
"You suppose?" Harry echoed. "You don't know? That isn't why the headmaster made the portkey this ring?"
Snape gave a sharp, dry laugh. "We were hardly expecting you to run amuck, magically speaking, and enable our escape."
"Then why the ring?" Harry pressed, before the answer came to him. "Oh, simple. Because it could be bound to my mother's sacrifice. Like... warding."
"Our hope was to keep the Dark Lord from detecting that it had been spelled," Snape agreed. "Of course his own wards kept the spell from functioning, until you obliterated them. Albus and the Aurors were casting like madmen to try to break through..." Snape groaned in remembrance. "I could do nothing for you save keep my hands on you so that the ring would transport us both out the moment it began to heat."
Harry glanced up, though he could see nothing. "Oh, I get it... so that's why you didn't really object to holding me down to be tortured!"
Snape's voice went low and cold. "Why did you think I didn't voice more than a token objection?"
"Well, I didn't know!" Harry cried. "I thought it was odd that you would... er, almost join in like that. I suppose I thought that you had to because Voldemort had asked, and defying him would have made him suspicious.... It's not like I thought you intended to enjoy yourself, Professor! I trusted you, I really did. I just didn't really... understand."
"I suppose," the Potions Master replied, sneering at the memory, not at Harry, "it's a good thing the Dark Lord did demand I participate. Otherwise, I would have had to ask for the honor of restraining you to be tortured. I would have had to beg, and I dare say you'd not have trusted me so readily after hearing that."
"Of course I would have--" Harry objected.
"Don't be stupid!" Snape barked, that time unmistakably at him.
"All right, maybe not," Harry conceded. "You did know when I slugged you that I didn't really mean it. Didn't you?"
"I should hope you didn't. You barely bruised me."
That set Harry's teeth on edge. "Well, I was sick to my stomach from just Apparating, not to mention seriously dehydrated, reeling on my feet, and scared to death!"
"All the same, it clearly demonstrates a need for you to be trained in some more effective fighting techniques. It's folly to rely solely on magic, which can be foiled in various ways. Still, I will admit that your verbal misdirection---so I'm a rat bastard? what a charming epithet---was somewhat more believable than your pitiful blow."
"It wouldn't kill you to utter a simple Well done, you know," Harry groused.
"Indeed," Snape drawled, "I do believe I am still alive."
"What?"
"As I recall, I was most forthcoming on the subject of your Occlumency and misdirection during your ordeal."
"Yeah, well you didn't say well done," Harry groused.
Snape softly laughed, the sound sardonic, but also rife with amusement and resolution both. Harry didn't really understand, not until his teacher spoke again, suggesting an agreement that was Slytherin to its very heart. Something Snape wanted, for something Harry wanted. But that was all right, Harry supposed; the agreement was well balanced. "Let me put in the Elixir without holding you down, Harry, and then, I'll most decidedly say well done."
It wasn't pleasant by any means, and it took them more than one try to get it right, but by the time Snape headed off towards his own quarters, he was able to deliver those words that meant so much to the Gryffindor boy. He even ruffled his hair a bit as he said them.
"Well done, you idiot child."
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Coming Soon in A Year Like None Other:
Chapter Thirty-Three: Slytherin
Comments very welcome,
Aspen in the Sunlight
Chapter 33: Slytherin
http://archive.skyehawke.com/story.php?no=5036&chapter=33
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A Year Like None Other