A Touch of Evil

Chapter Two
Truths

Harry was sitting shocked in McGonnagul’s office. All the Weasley’s were present, along with Dumbledore and Snape. The deathly pale faces were a testament to emotions as Harry was forced to recount his tale yet another time.

“What do you mean the Dark Lord let you go?” Snape asked incredulously after hearing that part of the story.

“He said he wanted to see his greatest enemy, on bended knee in front of him when his words are proved true. In all honesty this scares me simply because he has so much confidence in what he said. I really don’t want him to be right.” Harry told them all curling up tightly into himself.

He hadn’t told them about the kiss, even though his lips still burned from the touch. He was sure that if the people in this room ever found out about that moment Voldemort’s predictions might just have more weight behind them. His instincts told him to stay silent and in this case he listened.

The narrowing of Snape’s eyes was missed entirely as Harry was struggling with his own mind. The dark potions master was wondering just how much information Harry was hiding. All the years he had played a double agent had made him read people well. The Potter boy was definitely hiding something, but fortunately for Harry he was too young for Legilimency to be used on him safely.

Snape knew that would change soon enough. When Potter was old enough he was determined to find out what secrets the boy was hiding. He didn’t trust the bratty son of James Potter with any secret that was possibly damning to others, namely him self. Snape was already wondering when his long dormant dark mark would awaken with painful vengeance. If Potter was at least telling some of the truth his other master had returned. He wasn’t sure when the call would come, Voldemort hadn’t implemented the Dark Mark until after he had left Hogwarts. His new body wouldn’t bare the mark so he will have to rebind himself to his own mark before he could call anyone unless he caught another of his followers.

Snape turned back into the conversation going on around him just in time to hear the words that in the future would be recognized as beginning of the end.

“You were my friend Harry, and you let my sister die!” A grief stricken Ron said. The words themselves hurt Harry enough he didn’t need what came after it, wave upon wave of silence.

When no one corrected Ron, Harry came to realize Ron had just voiced the opinions of the rest of the people in the room. They were upset that the Boy Who Lived had failed to save the girl he had nearly died to protect.

Harry wouldn’t know this until he grew up a little more and had more worldly experience but very few if any of the people listening to his story believed he had conquered the basilisk by himself. In carrying Ginny’s body the bloody sword was left in the chamber, and when Fawkes healed his bite all that was left was a scar too faint to be seen.

Dumbledore had listened to Harry with a grave expression on his face. He let his disappointment be felt by a strategic retraction of the twinkle in his eyes. He knew Harry practically lived for his approval. He wanted it known he had expected Harry to be able to save Ginny, and he was not happy with Harry at all right then.

Hopefully it would be enough to make the boy easier to mold. The kind of power the boy would eventually be able to wield was too great just to leave be. It needed to be kept under control at all times. Harry simply couldn’t be allowed to think for himself, that left way too many opportunities for all that power to slip between Dumbledore’s aged fingers.

“Harry, I had hoped you would succeed tonight, but alas you are too young yet to shoulder this burden.” Dumbledore said in his grandfatherly tone that fooled everyone in the room, with two exceptions. Snape knew from experience that when Dumbledore wanted to chastise someone he used a tone that would let only the person he wanted to belittle understand the meaning behind the words.

The words to Harry cut like a knife in his soul. He had disappointed the man he thought of like a grandfather, the one that had brought him out of his horrible muggle life into this safe world. Harry just let his head hang in shame. Those were possibly the worst thing he could imagine hearing. His despair was obvious to anyone who bothered to look.

Snape was using the Gryffindorish tendency to let emotions show on the face to watch Harry’s reaction to Dumbledore. He saw the guilt fall heavily on the boy’s young face. The palpable waves of pain flowing off the boy didn’t even make Dumbledore pause, but it did to Snape. He knew if one wanted to survive this war than it was best not to underestimate anyone or anything.

Potter’s reaction was not the normal one a boy his age would have to these simple words. After all they spoke the truth, no twelve year old boy should have to even consider shouldering the burden of ridding the school of a basilisk. That obviously wasn’t the part of Dumbledore’s words that was upsetting potter so bad. Snape’s instincts told him it was the first part when Dumbledore had said he expected more from Potter. If Potter was doing all this to please the headmaster than the boy must feel he owed the Headmaster for something.

What could a second year student have done, or maybe was hiding, that would make them owe a debt to a Headmaster of a school? Students normally didn’t have a one on one talk with Dumbledore until they either did something wrong or old enough they had something to offer worth his time. Even Snape had to admit he hadn’t managed to catch Potter doing something bad enough to warrant a visit to the Headmaster’s office.

Snape started to get angry thinking that Potter was getting special attention thanks to extraordinary luck when he looked back at the guilty face of the boy. Snape had known what dealing with Dumbledore would involve at least he had been given a choice, and by all appearances Potter had not been given one.

“I tried to save her, if I had gotten there just a few minutes sooner. I know I failed I will do better next time.” Harry groveled to the occupants of the room.

“I know you will Harry.” Dumbledore replied. That was it, no gentle reassurance that a situation like this wouldn’t happen again. No telling Harry not to be so hard on himself. That simple sentence from Dumbledore was encouraging Harry to always try and save everyone regardless of whether or not he survived the encounter. The harder Harry was pushed now the less orders he would need later.

Snape knew exactly what the Headmaster was doing. It was the same thing Dumbledore had pulled on him to make him turn spy. It took him years to decide which master he wanted to serve in truth, until then he worked both sides of the war. Even now he was sure that neither of his masters knew who had his true allegiance he was just too valuable for either of them to dispose of.

He took one last look at the boy with abject guilt on his face. He had to leave the room then. He saw himself in that boy. Now Severus Snape was not a compassionate man. He definitely wasn’t in to giving out comfort. What he could do for potter was much simpler. He would teach the boy to question every order, every action. Never taking anything for granted. The most he would do for this boy was give him a choice in the whole battle.