Situational Ethics

Situational Ethics

By Mizzfreestyle (Zega)

Edited by Laurie-an


Chapter Thirteen:

“A Father’s Vigilance Knows No Limit”

Harry stared at the Potions Master for one, heart stopping moment. His mouth worked open… and then closed. He felt his breakfast coiling into stone in his stomach, sweat broke out on his forehead and, still, he stared. Silence pressed into him from all sides, choking out the sounds of the yells and laughter in the Great Hall. Someone, just to the side of him, made a definite clearing of the throat kind of noise but, still, Harry stared.

Snape didn’t just stare back, he glared, his hands fisting his robes at his chest. Then, momentarily, his eyes shifted, from coal black to a glitter of… something. Confusion.

And Harry finally breathed.

“My stomach is alright now, the sickness, it’s gone. I… I have a class to get to.” Harry made to get up off the bench and thought, for a moment that he saw Snape’s hand about to reach out for him. He dropped his gaze to his trainers.

“Good day then, Mr. Potter.” The hand quivered a little more, and then Snape stepped aside.

Harry fled the hall, trying not to look back. He made it to the doors before the temptation stopped him and made his head turn despite his brain’s resolve. Snape was standing where he had left him, and there it was again. That look. Relief washed over him and he turned for the main staircase and for the safety of his dorm.

Every Gryffindor was either scoffing down their meal or in the library, diligently preparing for the end of term exams. With the dorm to himself, Harry settled himself on his bed, back against the headboard, and opened the package. Inside was a wide, long belt made of a stretchy black and gold fabric. He draped it over his left hand and, peering closely, he saw that the gold was in fact lettering. He knew Hermione would be able to decipher the writing but, to him, it was satisfyingly enigmatic. That the band’s enchantments were contained within the letters he had no doubt and he shrugged off a little bit of the disappointment that the thing in his hands seemed to be so very normal.

He lifted his shirt and wrapped the band around his waist. It was adjustable, warm, and surprisingly comfortable. He looked at himself, smoothed the black, silky fabric and nodded. It would do nicely and, hopefully, would fulfil its promise of protection. What exactly the protections were or how one activated them he wasn’t too sure, as the package came sans an instruction leaflet. Swearing to himself for possibly being a gullible fool, he promised himself a smack on the head if the cheap, book advertisement proved to be a scam.

SEVERUSSNAPESEVERUSSNAPESEVERUSSNAPE

Midway through the second trimester, Harry’s appetite became almost voracious. Never being able to satisfy his hunger pangs, he made frequent trips into the kitchens between meals. The house-elves, ever keen to provide, proved to be welcome companions. He still shunned the company of his friends and they, finally, now left him to his own devices. However, he felt the creep of loneliness and the elves’ chatter and predilection for school gossip was a welcome respite. Especially as they did not ask questions. When he wanted just to sit at the table and think, they let him be and returned to their appointed tasks.

Four months into his pregnancy Harry finally began to detect a slight rounding to his profile. He decided to keep the Band for when the bump became more noticeable or for when he was on his broom, so often wore one of Dudley’s old sweatshirts to hide in. It was during one of the practice sessions for the upcoming Ravenclaw game that Harry discovered, by a happy accident, one of the Band’s enchantments. By rubbing his wand against it, the fabric became invisible, deceiving the eyes into seeing a flat stomach. He felt no small measure of relief that the cheap book advertisement wasn’t a lie after all and began to relax.

On a warm spring day, Harry found himself a small patch of grass, hidden behind the Hufflepuff changing rooms, stretched out on the softest blanket. He had transfigured the red and green creation from a coin he had found on the floor of the dorm that morning. He had seen it after tucking the Band back into his trunk and, picking it up, had childishly repeated the rhyme “See a penny, pick it up, and all day long you’ll have good luck”. It wasn’t really a penny but neither was it a knutt or a sickle. Turning it, he thought it looked like the toy plastic money Dudley had played with as a child, except this was metal. The blanket was warm, soft, fuzzy, and not to mention, waterproof. It also felt soothing and he relaxed into its folds as though they were an embrace.

Sighing softly to himself he gave into lethargy. He often felt this way when he didn’t have Quidditch practise. He would try his hardest to ignore Neville and Ron’s chattering and sleep in. Later he would rise, eat, complete his homework and then rest some more. Now that he had the blanket and the days were turning warm, he would be more able to snatch moments of rest away from the others. Out here, where students didn’t usually drift, Harry bent his mind to focus on Corporeal Energization and Mental Stability that they had learned in transfiguration this last term. However, his mind allowed his obligations to slip away and settled into a wool-gathering daze. The world turned around him, blue sky the colour of a baby’s nursery was broken by cotton wool clouds and a barely-there breeze brushed his skin. He pulled his arms up and rested his head in the cup of his hands, closing his eyes and just enjoying the peace.

A short time later, a singularly large cloud doused the warmth from the sun and, uninvited, Harry’s mind conjured up thoughts of the man who wore too much black. Opening his eyes, he gazed at the clouds, seeing only picturesque visions of the man who had never wanted to love Harry but also had never wanted Harry to love another. Snape was selfish, egocentric and disingenuous, and an adulterer. Why couldn’t he thrust him out of his heart? Because Snape had beguiled him with his resonating voice and captivating appearance; he had seduced him with his unfathomable character and his inherent darkness. What does that say about me?, he thought.

Even now he could see images of the man amongst the clouds? Not walking, not wavering, not smiling, but drifting away, much like he had done with Harry. “Severus.” Harry reached towards the cloud-Snape, begging it to descend upon him and swathe him in its allure. He was helpless… hopeless. In the face of his love for Snape he knew himself to be weak and without virtue. However that point could, he considered, be argued. As wrong as his own actions were, they were internally good.

“Thing will work out in the end.”

Harry dropped his arms and let them fall onto the blanket. As ever when Snape enters his thoughts, he felt warm, ever so warm, and yet broken. He closed his eyes for a second to feel the fire burn in his soul. Snape possessed him bodily and psychologically. Ever enslaved, Harry’s heart would belong to that man.

He sighed and slowly opened his eyes to see black hair and a familiar hooked nose above him. Dreamily, he reached out to the cloud-Snape again, yearning to touch it, to bring it closer. Cloud-Snape stretched out its own hand too and Harry felt the hardness of bone in its touch. He sat up with a start and looked at Snape. Why and for how long was the man there?

“If you do not develop sufficient senses then how will you differentiate the norm from a peculiar abnormality?” the very un-cloud-like Snape sneered.

The boy hadn’t heard a word. The fact that his hand felt ignited with the simplest of touches from Snape demanded far more attention.

Snape dropped the subject and instead said, “Stand up and follow me.”

Harry had always questioned Snape’s authority; even when he didn’t have to abide by his words. During Harry’s free time, unless Harry was violating school rules, Snape’s words were not law. Yet, Harry was helpless when he demanded something of him. He cast a Finite Incantatem on his blanket and stuffed the coin back into his pocket, hurrying after Snape like a dog tied to a leash.

Snape strode away from the castle and into the forest, looking neither left nor right, but driving a path of his own beneath the trees. Harry guessed that Snape was well acquainted with these surroundings and wondered at it.

Once they were hidden from sight of the castle, Snape felt inclined to take Harry’s hand in his. This process, though as simple as it appeared, nevertheless proved problematic for Snape. Alas, after trying to arrange Harry’s hand in his he found that he lacked the skill. He mentally chastised himself for reaching for the damn thing in the first place and wondered, now, why he had. It was something about the boy, but what that was slipped around in his mind and would not fix into a substance he could explain.

For Harry, this was in every way wrong and yet in every way right and wonderful. He didn’t protest and arranged their hands so they would fit comfortably, despite the cold metal of Snape’s wedding ring. Why are you doing this? Harry thought as he walked close to Snape’s side, lengthening his stride to match the taller man’s. They weren’t – couldn’t be lovers anymore. With a sense of déjà vu, he asked himself why Snape had not been this attentive, this lover-like when they had been together. Then he would have revelled in it, but now, it felt so wrong. Not like this. Not now that Snape had a wife.

“Where are you taking me?” Harry asked softly. He didn’t ask the follow-on, which was the big And Why? It had been nearly a month since Snape and he had been alone, that time he had been sick, and Snape had not once sought out his presence since.

Snape glanced at the boy but did not answer. The truth was that he that he was reluctant to do so, again, not sure exactly why. He stopped then, and turned to face the boy, taking in the bewildered expression, the doubt, the self hatred and, yes, beneath he could detect desire. And then, for once, it was Snape who felt his body lacked strength and leaned against a tree.

“I want to…,” Snape couldn’t finish his sentence for he could not summon the courage to admit what he wanted. He instead brought Harry to him and when he was close enough he said softly, “I’ve been wanting… waiting to be with you.”

His arms enclosed Harry so that the boy couldn’t flee. He pressed him against his body and touched Harry’s cheek with his own. Lovingly, he caressed Harry’s face and let his breath out in a slow whisper of lust.

Harry felt his body react immediately to Snape and the sudden arousal made him dizzy for a moment. He could feel an echo of his own hardness pressed against his stomach and he groaned into Snape’s ear, thrusting his hips. Are you trying to court me NOW of all times?!

Harry’s thoughts were louder than he anticipated and Snape pushed against his shoulders slightly so he could look into the boy’s eyes. “Court? Consider the wider implications should I make such a rash decision; how impossible the concept.” His voice was sharp and contemptuous. He looked as though he was going to thrust the boy from him but didn’t.

Snape was frustrating Harry. The boy knew how his body wanted to react; what it wanted. But did he really want to subjugate himself so that Snape could further exploit his weaknesses? Perhaps, since that was the only thing Snape ever got out of being with Harry. “Severus… why are you…”

“Silence.” Snape closed his eyes and closed the distance between them again. He brought his face to the young man’s, their lips a whisper away.

Don’t… don’t do this… No… no more. I cannot bear this. Don’t kiss me… don’t hold me.

In seconds, their lips were dancing against each other, rousing a vigorous, bittersweet fire that burned with each and every second that their lips did not part. Soft mumbles and groans were emitted unabashedly and their hands sought relief through desperate touches and insensitive clawing. Harry groaned deeply as Snape thrust and ground their hips together, their erections straining for release with the friction. He didn’t know what he wanted. He didn’t know if this was right anymore. And suddenly, submitting to sin never seemed more right. Snape’s arms were so tight around him he thought he would suffocate. They held him around his back and shoulders. Nothing was going to break them apart. Don’t stop now… don’t your dare pull away. Harry’s hands fisted and yanked so hard at Snape’s clothes that for a second, he thought they would disintegrate.

But Snape did stop, eventually he did pull his lips away.

“No more,” Harry said softly against Snape’s lips.

“No more what?” Snape inquired, his voice low and ragged.

“This can’t go on any longer.”

“Why not?” Snape lowered his head to look into Harry’s eyes.

“Because you’re using me and I don’t like it. You don’t want me, you never have. I made a mistake wanting you, and now you’re married… and I don’t want to hurt Caitlin. She doesn’t deserve this. No one deserves this.”

Snape felt something curl in his chest and thought it was his pride… or, perhaps, disdain, he wasn’t certain. “Why the sudden change of heart? I thought you wanted this no matter what the consequences.”

“I did… and I still do, but I can’t continue to do this.”

For a full two minutes, Snape stood in contemplative silence. “I see,” was all Snape said before he pulled his body away from Harry.

In that moment, that surety of movement, Harry felt permanence. Pain drove into him; into his soul and his eyes widened with the shock of it. He knew then that his wanting for Snape was so large that it left the one-sidedness, the evidence of unrequited love and even his guilt buried under its shadow. But Snape had consented so easily.

Snape watched the play of emotions in the emerald eyes, but felt no need to comfort the boy. He had chosen this route; he had spurned this little dalliance. He felt rage build, a red hot, blinding rage that made his breath halt and stutter in his chest. For a second or two he could not see or hear, but, feel, oh yes, he could feel. He felt the need to inflict pain on his erstwhile lover.

“Do you think my life will falter in any way due to your absence?” he waved his arm in a sweeping gesture between them, “This was for you, all for you because I felt sorry for The-Boy-Who-Had-No-One-To-Love-Him. If you think you are strong enough to make it alone, then I agree this ends. Here. Now.”

Harry felt his heart stop beating. He just stood there impotent. All that helped him wake up in the morning, everything that urged each foot forward to keep on going had now been wrenched from him. No, I’m not that weak.

“Get over it,” Snape said suddenly; his words as cold as the scales of the Basilisk. “I cannot imagine the future hero of our world being weak enough to cry over something so petty.”

Harry’s mouth hung open and he could feel tears stinging his eyes. He willed his shock and sorrow away, not wanting to let Snape see how he had hurt him, reduced him. He closed his eyes and felt wetness fall over his cheek. Then he felt a touch, a soft scoop of a finger gliding over his cheek to stop beneath the teardrop.

Harry slapped Snape’s hand away, and allowed the older wizard to gaze upon his red eyes. He wiped away another falling tear before Harry stepped back and said, “Maybe… if you knew how I really felt about you, then you’d understand that this isn’t as petty as it seems.” He turned around and walked a couple of steps. Ignoring several objects at his feet he could have thrown at Snape, he instead threw another jibe, “But then again, how can someone as cold as you are understand what it’s like to feel something for someone?”

Behind Harry, Snape’s voice was soft again as he whispered to the small teardrop on his finger, “We were never meant to be.”

Harry looked back at the man but his eyes were just as unreadable as ever. Just as cold and unmoved as ever. Harry felt sick again. He could not take any more of Snape’s callousness so left the forest. By the time he reached the soft grass of the lower lawns, his eyes were far more red and tears were falling like heavy rain. Why am I so weak?

Left alone in the forest, Severus Snape considered the last half-hour. He had come across the boy – no, the young man, definitely not a boy – laid out on a blanket, t-shirt drawn up to reveal velvety soft skin and an arrow of dark hair. He had had a wistful smile on his face that Snape had wanted to be a part of. Standing over Harry, he had felt such a keen desire to touch him, to kiss him and to envelop him that it had taken great control to remain standing. He did not know why the boy had such an effect on him, or indeed what that effect was, but he seemed unable to resist searching him out, watching him. The physical effects though, the blood rushing deep into his groin at the sight of the boy’s flesh, were recognisable enough but he did not comprehend the tumultuous emotions Harry caused in him. Normally, he would ignore plunging into their depths but this afternoon had stunned him and so he did look. Deep.

“Think what you may, Potter,” Snape said some time later to the path Harry had taken, “But I never took you lightly.”


HARRYPOTTERHARRYPOTTERHARRYPOTTER

Through the halls and past many students, Harry walked slowly, not as slowly as he could, but slow enough. That arsehole. Harry turned the corridors over and over, went up the ever-changing staircases as carefully as he could and into the Gryffindor tower. He didn’t even stop when Caitlin, then Ginny and Neville called to him. After being hoodwinked by Snape into thinking he had been more than a sordid affair – A Pity Fuck – Harry felt he would never again trust his heart to another. Snape would probably jape about Harry for the rest of his days, laugh at his childish attentions. It had been nothing but a sordid romp and Harry promised himself once he got to his room that he wouldn’t sink into misery like some hormonal teenager. Once he sat on his bed, he realized with a jolt that Snape had never actually, physically, shown that he had wanted more than to control him or for sex. When he had demanded fidelity from Harry it had not been the honesty of commitment, rather it had been akin to the coveting of a possession. They never had shared kisses for the sake of being treasured and intimate. No, they had been a component of sexual release, nothing pure in them at all. Harry felt dirty, tainted but, above all, used and deceived.

“No… I can’t do this anymore. I won’t have it.” Harry mentally drew a line under all things Snape and worked out plans to evade him, with the exception of class and meals.

Or the Quidditch game that was to come.

Time raced and it was the day of the Ravenclaw match before Harry could let the recent events settle. Harry had woken late and had to rush to get to the locker rooms. He burst through the doors with his bag in one hand and his Firebolt at his side. Still reeling from the events in the forest, he felt spiteful, vicious and on thin ice, and God help the prat who wished to make a mockery of Harry. He turned his back to the rest of his team-mates and removed his outer, collared shirt. He slipped his Quidditch robes on and then slammed his locker close. He put on his gear and in a few seconds was ready for action.

“Good luck, Potter,” his team-mates patted his back and his captain gave him a confident smile as they gathered in a queue at the entrance to the pitch. Harry didn’t need their empathy or reassurance, he was going to lure in that Snitch and catch it if it was the last thing he did.

No. Harry Potter took it back. He had to play safe.

The doors opened and light burst in, blinding him. His team-mates flew into the blinding sun without fear, without trepidation, without much of a sense of anything. It had become intuitive for them. An involuntary act. There could have been a wall on the other side, and they would fly straight into it with their pride and dignity. Harry was one of the last to leave the locker room. He at least checked once his vision cleared to see if anything would hinder his objective to get over the pitch.

The crowd roared and houses began cheering for their teams. “Gryffindor.”

“Ravenclaw.”

“Gryffindor!!”

“Ravenclaw!!!”

Harry knew Ravenclaw had a new Seeker this year, a little-known fourth-year who had transferred from Dormstrang. Novice or not, this lad’s body was built like an American football player. The broom holding him up lookened like it was going to give up on him the way it shook and trembled.

Madam Hooch came out onto the field and released the balls. Harry was so busy concentrating on the whereabouts of the Snitch that he didn’t see the buffalo Seeker make haste towards him. It wasn’t until the bloke ran into Harry and nearly threw him off his broom that he realized this was going to be a game for those who were as vigilant as a guard dog. Harry held tenaciously onto his broom as he dangled from it. Don’t look down… The Snitch had flown just under him, just out of his toes’ reach, and right behind it was the giant Ravenclaw Seeker.

“Potter’s hanging by a couple of fingers!!” Came the voice over the loud speakers.

“God no,” Harry said as he swung his other hand over to grasp a firmer hold of his broom.

“Hang on, Harry!” cried a fellow team-mate. A Chaser and a Beater hovered beneath Harry’s broom to catch him should his fingers give up.

After a couple of tries, Harry managed to pull himself up, swinging a leg over the handle with a gasp of relief. He pushed the head of his broom lower, gripping it tightly. Livid wouldn’t cover how upset Harry was with the Ravenclaw Seeker. If he survived this game, he was going to make sure that fat excuse of a human didn’t get out of bed for a month.

The Snitch flew by again and Harry turned towards it. From across the pitch, the Ravenclaw Seeker caught sight of Harry speeding towards something and once he put two and two together, he chased after it.

“That bloke is going to kill Harry!” Hermione looked in closely with her binoculars and then turned to Ron. “We have to do something!”

“Like what?”

“I got it!” said Ginny. “Why not call Dobby and get him to magic up another rogue Bludger like he used when I was a first year?”

“You’re brilliant, Ginny!”

From across the pitch, Harry looked over his shoulder and saw the Ravenclaw Seeker heading towards him. However, the eyes were not looking for the snitch, they were intent on his Gryffindor opponent. Harry barely acknowledged that Ravenclaw was adopting Slytherin tactics before he returned his eyes to the snitch, which was flying erratically twenty feet ahead of him. Harry guessed that the other Seeker was planning on throwing him off his broom so that no one stood in his way. “Not today.” Harry would resort to his wand before being knocked off his broom. Offense was the best defense.

From below, Dobby hid close to Hermione and with a few, simple words, one of the bludgers veered from its course towards a Gryffindor Chaser and made determined path for the Ravenclaw Seeker instead.

Harry lifted the head of his broom and headed up into the sky, following the Snitch closely. Very closely. Behind him, the Ravenclaw Seeker was having trouble matching the Firebolt’s speed, trying instead to intercept. Harry stretched forwards and was about to grab the Snitch, when it suddenly dived down. Harry groaned and his limbs secured themselves against Harry’s body and his head lowered to the tip of the broom, pushing it down. He plummeted like a dragon from the sky and then gasped when he saw the recognisable signs of a rogue bludger coming towards him. It was second year all over again. However, the thing passed him and headed towards the other Seeker. Harry was too busy watching the mad bludger that he didn’t see where the Snitch was heading. It was almost too late when he heard a couple of, “Watch OUT!”

He turned, blinked, and pulled back seconds away from ending up in Snape’s lap. He had been mere inches away from making the man legless. A strong gust from the whip of a fast-turned broom blew around the stands and if a few staff members, such as Dumbledore and McGonagall had not managed to hold down their ‘dresses’, they would have exposed more than anyone wanted to see. Snape’s hair flared up and came back down softly. He leaned back as the Snitch moved from side to side, Harry a foot or so from it and him.

“Careful, Potter,” Snape warned. He didn’t want Harry lashing out and accidentally striking him.

“Hold very still, Professor, or I can’t guarantee that there won’t be any marks.” There was perhaps a hint of sarcasm in Harry’s voice, and definitely bitter resentment.

The Snitch slipped back pass Snape, but Harry’s hand was quicker and he seized the golden ball before it could go any further. The movement caused Harry to lurch forward and the momentum threw him off his broom and onto Snape’s lap with a heavy thump. Harry knees collided with the bench and Snape’s nonexistent arse felt the shock after Harry’s weight slammed on him. With the Snitch tucked away in his fist, Harry drew back then held onto his stomach, as it came home to him that he hadn’t considered the effect of his energetics on his baby since the match had started. He considered it now and let out a long groan. He leaned forwards and pressed his forehead against Snape’s shoulder, not caring that the whole school were grimacing as they watched the Gryffindor Seeker nestle into the Potions Master. Albeit momentarily shaken to have the familiar form in his arms, he did hear the whispers of the other professors either side of him. Snape quickly got up and would have successfully knocked Harry over if the boy had not recovered himself at the same time. Harry took a few steps back and then mounted his broom.

“D’you think Harry’s going to be sick?” asked Ginny as she looked at Snape, then back at Harry. “He’s probably covered in grease.”

“Ew, that’s disgusting.” Ron commented as he shook his head at Harry.

While all eyes had been on Harry and Professor Snape, the other Seeker was using the distraction to race down towards Harry, with the Bludger on his tail. Alarmed by the sudden gasps from the stands, Harry looked behind him to the incoming Seeker and bludger. He knew immediately what the Seeker’s intentions were. Harry watched and held his wand steady. He went through a list of spells in his head that he could use and held out his wand as the other Seeker drew closer. Everyone watched transfixed as moments away from collision, a thin raft of light flew from Harry’s wand and both the Ravenclaw Seeker and the bludger were enclosed by a transparent, bluish sphere. Both Seeker and bludger were frozen mid-action, the rippling of the sphere blurring them into indistinct forms.

Harry stared as wide eyed and amazed as the rest of the students. He had no idea what had just happened. He hadn’t said a word. He hadn’t thought of anything but protecting himself from the impending attack. From the midst of the professors’ stand, Dumbledore stood up and recited an enchantment, drawing the sphere on to the ground where it dispersed in a thick mist. The Bludger and the Seeker lay on the ground, motionless.

“Minerva, see that Madam Pomfrey comes out immediately to inspect the boy.”

“Right away.” She took off and several teachers began to hurry down the stairs and onto the pitch.

Snape and Dumbledore reached the Ravenclaw Seeker first. They checked for a pulse and, finding one, nodded to each other with a grimace.

“He’ll live, but he’ll need to go to the infirmary.” Snape confirmed his diagnosis for the Headmaster.

“Harry Potter! My office. Now.” Dumbledore cried out.

The thunderous voice of the Headmaster disconcerted Harry more than Voldemort could ever have. “Yes, professor…” Diverting only to stow his broom in the changing rooms, he followed the rapidly disappearing figure of the Headmaster. “Fuck,” he said. Repeatedly.


SEVERUSSNAPSEVERUSSNAPESEVERUSSNAPE

Inside the circular office, Dumbledore was standing at the top of a set of floating steps, talking to one of the paintings that Harry had not noticed before. It was of an old, hairless man without eyes. His long nails curled and moved around as he spoke to Dumbledore softly. His face turned towards Harry as if he knew there was another in the room.

“Come in, Harry,” said Dumbledore as he lifted his garment and walked down the five elevating steps. “And have a seat, won’t you?”

A chair came over to meet Harry behind the knees and he gladly sank into it. His hands twitched in his lap as he waited for the Headmaster to speak.

“It appears, Harry, you have been learning dark magic, known as necromancy. Necromancy the type of which is meant only to be practiced by trained professionals and not students during a Quidditch game.”

“I didn’t mean it, I promise. I haven’t a clue what happened out there – ”

Dumbledore placed his hand out before Harry to stop him from rambling on. “I don’t want to hear anything but the truth.”

“But I am telling the truth! I had a spell in my head. I was going to say stupefy but then he got too close and I felt desperate. Professor, you know I can’t do a silent spell for anything!”

There was a twinkle in Dumbledore’s eyes. “I know you cannot.”

Ouch. Harry was pleased that Dumbledore didn’t think he was a liar, but… how little confidence did he have in Harry…

Dumbledore was silent for a long minute, and then he whispered into his steepled hands, “The Siren’s Cage.”

Around the room, portraits were suddenly not sleeping, or pretending to sleep and several lifted their ear trumpets.

“Pardon?” Harry dared to ask after another long minute of silence.

“The Siren’s Cage, Harry. A spell belonging to a family of spells known as the Siren’s Curses. They are a unique set because they are all non-verbal spells taught to most Aurors but mastered only by parent Aurors. These spells can only be performed successfully during desperate times. Putting aside for a moment that you had no prior knowledge of their existence, you must nevertheless have felt yourself to be in grave danger to manage to summon such a powerful spell correctly.”

Harry did not know what to say and so settled for just nodding when Dumbledore looked at Harry over his moon-shaped speckles.

“Which motivates me to ask if there is something you wish to tell me?”

“No. Nothing.” Harry searched for a thread that would divert Dumbledore’s mind. “Um, if you don’t mind me asking, why are the set of curses called the Siren’s?”

“Hmm… Long history, Harry. You’ll fall asleep before I even begin to explain. Suffice to say they originated within a small family of Sirens who had had their tongues cursed by a wizard because they enticed him. Unable to speak, they had to create spells that could be summoned with a strong desire from the heart.”

The heart? “If they’re from the heart, why are they a form of necromancy?”

“Because when you kill someone to protect yourself, you have to mean it. With all your heart. No compassion. No regret. Cold death and nothing more.”

Harry’s face paled and his fingers grasped the arms of the chair for support. “I could have killed him?”

“Yes, if the spell had been cast with greater intent to harm. It seems that not even using all of your heart for protection was dark enough to kill. This time.” Dumbledore stood up from the desk and walked towards Harry. “Now, Harry, you may leave. I am glad I was able to have this conversation with you. In this war it is critical that you are aware of all kinds of curses that could be used against you. However, despite that you must be prepared for whatever the warriors of Voldemort will throw at you, I would beg that you refrain from using that spell again.”

Harry felt it useless to point out that as he hadn’t consciously used the spell it the first place, he would not know how to repeat it. Of course, neither would he be able to stop himself from repeating it for the same reason. Instead, and recognising that he was now dismissed, he made his way to the door.

“On another matter, Harry, the Ministry asks that you meet with some of its members at some time within the next two weeks.”

Harry turned back to look at the Professor. “Whatever for?”

Dumbledore looked over his glasses directly into Harry’s eyes. “I think they want to recruit you into one of their programs for young Aurors.”

“They want to recruit me?” Harry felt an icy fear drip into his stomach. He would not be able to hide his pregnancy from the Ministry and even if he did, who would look after the baby while he trained?

“They wish to prepare you for the war, Harry, that is all. However, I will warn you now, I oppose their offer and I will later inform you why.”

A/N: Thank you for reading. Feel free to comment and critique.