Panthera

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Thanks to Kei for her betaing Job....

Chapter Four

Harry kept his gaze on Ron, who dropped his eyes after a moment. “Sorry mate,” he whispered, knowing that he said too much.

Harry sighed heavily and nodded his head in acceptance of the apology. Closing his eyes briefly he gathered his courage and looked up at Snape. Glittering black eyes meet cold green in a silent contest of wills, even as the Headmaster tried to get Harry to talk and explain what both he and Ron meant. “Harry my boy, of course it matters. Please explain this to us.”

“No, Headmaster. I'm sorry, but I won't be explaining this to you,” Harry told him as he maintained the eye contact, refusing to back down.

Snape, for his part, gave Harry one of his patent sneers. “You will explain, Mr. Potter.”

“No Sir, I'm sorry, but I have other things to do today before the train leaves. The first is to explain to Ron and Hermione what's going on, and then I need to get hold of as many members of the DA as possible before they leave, for about an hour. So can we please get on with it?”

This got Hermione's attention. “You need to expel that much magical energy already Harry? What happened?” she asked, breaking the staring contest.

Harry turned towards his adopted sister and smiled softly. “I lost it last night, 'Mione, bad. The only thing that I can think of to do at the moment is to take on the DA, so I can survive the holidays without exploding.”

“Alright, I understand that. As soon as we leave here, I'll have the DA meet us in the Room of Requirement. That should give you enough time to lose what you need, before the train leaves,” she told him.

Harry smiled in thanks, but Snape decided to switch their plans for them. “I don't think so, Mr. Potter. If a duel is what you need, then I'll give you one, but I will get the answers to my questions from you in doing so,” he snapped.

Harry thought about this for a moment before agreeing. “Alright, I'll answer some of your questions if you win the duel. If you lose, you leave me alone until I'm ready to talk about these things with someone, and you won't force me to talk to you, if I chose someone else to trust,” he said laying out the terms, and received a sharp nod of agreement in return.

“Agreed, now start explaining to your… friends… what's going on,” Snape said with a sneer.

Relaxing slightly, Harry walked over a picked up the teapot from its spot and poured everyone another cup of tea before turning his chair around and straddling it, resting his arms on the back. Silence reigned as he organized his thoughts. “Alright, long story short. The alarms on my trunk went off last night while I was busy, and no Hermione you don't need to know with what. Dobby brought it to me, and told me that he found the same curse on it as was on those roses from Halloween. We informed the Headmaster, who, with Professor Snape, neutralized the curse. It was then that the decision to move me into the dungeons where I would be better protected was made,” he told his two friends.

Hermione and Ron soaked in this information before Hermione asked her next question. “How did you get out of your rooms last night, Harry?”

Harry gave her a fond smile, having expected this question, before answering. “Do you know how many secret passages there are down here? Beside that, I had the map with me, there's a lot of information on it if you know how to look,” he said giving her the partial truth.

Ron gave Harry a funny look before nodding his head, understanding what Harry hadn't said. Hermione, unfortunately, didn't take the hint that Harry didn't want to talk about it. “You sidestepped that question Harry James Potter! How did you get out? I was sitting outside your door until it flashed silver, and it didn't open once,” she said with a glare.

Sighing softly, Harry slumped in his chair and rested his chin on his arms. “Fine Hermione, you win. I don't think this is going to go over very well with those concerned, but I did have help getting out of my rooms last night,” he said in defeat before glancing over at the Headmaster and saying softly, “I'm sorry Sir.” He then gave a soft three tone whistle and then turned to Hermione with a mournful look.

Everyone but Harry and the Headmaster started in surprise when, with a burst of fire, Fawkes appeared in the air near them. With a joyful trill, Fawkes flew around the room before settling down on Harry's shoulder and nuzzling his cheek. Reaching up, Harry ran his hand down Fawkes’s feathers with a contented smile and turned back to Hermione. “I was safe Hermione. I have more help then you realize.”

Hermione and Ron both stared at the Phoenix on Harry's shoulder in shock before Hermione managed to come back to herself and gave Harry a small smile. “Alright Harry, I understand. I'll stop nagging you about this,” she said softly. Glancing at her watch she looked over to Ron, and then the others. “We need to go and finish packing or we'll miss the train. Thank you, professor, for allowing us to visit with Harry this morning.”

Snape gave Hermione a slight sneer. “It was not my decision to have two more Gryffindors enter my chambers this morning, Ms. Granger, but in light of a few things that I learned, I will say that you are welcome.”

Ron and Hermione shared another glance before turning to Harry as one with looks of concern. Harry, for his part, managed to stop himself from rolling his eyes before standing carefully and waiting a moment as Fawkes readjusted his weight. With a glance at Snape, who gave him a small nod, Harry walked with his friends to the door to Snape's chambers.

“Bloody hell mate, I don't how you'll survive being down here with him,” Ron said quietly, so the two older wizards would not hear him.

“I'm sure we'll manage to stay out of each other's way,” Harry replied dryly.

“Just be careful, Harry,” Hermione told him.

“Don't worry 'Mione, I'll be fine. You two just go and enjoy your holidays.”

“You too, Harry. Don't forget to write,” they both replied at the same time, forcing Harry to hide a snicker as he opened the door for them and held it open until they had started to walk away.

Sighing Harry turned to walk back to the kitchen, one hand reaching up to scratch beneath Fawkes’s crest feathers, and receiving a soft rumbling trill in response. “My thanks, Fawkes. You saved me from many hard-to-answer questions. The only problem I have now is facing Professor Snape,” he said with a sigh. Fawkes just gave him a few reassuring notes and nuzzled his cheek as Harry walked back into the kitchen. He didn't even make it back into his chair before Snape started in on him.

“Would you like to explain to me, Mr. Potter, why you told outright lies to your friends?” he asked with one of his deadly glares.

Harry stopped and stared at the Potions Master and answered in a soft voice, “I don't remember lying to them at all.” Shock colored his voice.

“You told Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley that you called the Headmaster and myself when Dobby told you about the curse, and that it was our decision to move you to the dungeons. After that, you told them that Fawkes was the one that moved you out of your rooms,” Snape recited back to him.

Harry's shocked expression slowly formed into a smirk of amusement which was echoed by the twinkle in the Headmasters eyes. “Professor Snape, are you denying that you were with the Headmaster when you where informed about my trunk being cursed?” Harry asked curiously.

Before Snape could answer, Dumbledore spoke up. “You must admit, Severus, that it was not Harry's decision to be moved into the dungeons. That decision was made by Dobby and me.”

Snape transferred his glare from Harry to the Headmaster and back to Harry. “I concede the point on those two facts. But you cannot explain away Fawkes!” he practically growled.

Harry laughed softly, amused. “I tried telling the truth on that one, but Hermione just was not willing to believe that I found another secret door out of my study,” he said while reaching up to stroke the phoenix in question. “I never said that Fawkes helped me leave the room. When I called him to me, I told Hermione that I had more help then she knew about, nothing more.”

Snape sat back in his chair and thought about what Harry had just told him, and about the events that took place after breakfast. Finally he looked back up at Harry and nodded his understanding. “You, Mr. Potter, side step things you don't want to talk about extremely well. In fact, if I didn't know better, I would say that you were a member of my own House,” he told the teen.

Harry's eyes opened wide as he looked at the Headmaster. “You mean you never told him?” He asked in shock. When Dumbledore indicated that no, he never told the Potions Master, Harry dropped his head down to the table and refused to look up. “I'm sorry, Professor Snape. I thought that Headmaster Dumbledore would have told you that I was almost placed in your House. I argued with the Sorting Hat and it placed me in Gryffindor instead,” he mumbled.

Harry kept his head down while the silence in the room lengthened. It was only broken when the Headmaster’s robes rustled as he stood up. “As much as I would love to stay and chat with the two of you, I do have other things that require my attention. Don't bother getting up to show me out Severus, I'm sure I can find the door on my own.” As he walked behind Harry's chair he placed an old gnarled hand on Harry's shoulder. “I do believe, though, that I'll leave Fawkes here with you to help keep the peace. Don't do anything foolish my boys,” he said amusedly, and, giving Harry's shoulder one last squeeze, left the room.

Harry waited until he heard the outer door close before leaving his chair and talking quickly as he walked, said, “I'm sure you'll excuse me Professor, but I, like yourself, have many things that need to be done. I'll just be in my room…” he started to say.

His getaway was stopped by long, strong fingers clamping down on his arm. “I don't think so, Mr. Potter. You have a whole lot to explain to me today. We have three weeks to get everything else done.” Snape's voice was a silky dark purr as he led Harry through to the study they now shared.

Harry took the chance to look around the room as soon as Snape let him go. It wasn't hard to tell which desk was which, even if you didn't notice the difference in the woods used to make them. Snape's was made from the darkest mahogany, scarred from years of use and littered with student essays and his own research. Harry's, on the other hand, was made from a lighter oak, and almost looked new. Neat piles of written notes, along with the books from his classes, were stacked and organized. The only similarities were the nearly identical piles of reference books scattered across their surfaces, seemingly waiting for someone to pick them up and use them.

The decor showed neither Slytherin nor Gryffindor House colors, like one would suspect, but instead was done in neutral shades of brown, with black accents. Four book cases, two behind each desk, were full of the most commonly used books and supplies, keeping everything needed for either wizard close at hand, while a fireplace complete with flanking winged back chairs kept the chill of the dungeons out of the air.

Before Harry could decide to put some distance between himself and his irate Professor, Snape settled in one of the two chairs by the fire and pointed to the other. “Sit,” he said with a glare.

Sighing resignedly, Harry let himself fall into the indicated chair and lifted his head only far enough to watch Snape without meeting the man’s eyes. Fawkes, who had left Harry's shoulder when they entered the room, circled around the two of them before settling on the mantel of the fireplace and glaring at the two wizards. His song turned commanding as if to scold unruly children, and then he disappeared in a burst of false flame. “Showoff,” Harry muttered under his breath before turning his attention back to his professor. “What would you like to know first, Sir?” He asked with a sigh.

“Let’s start with the most recent developments, shall we? You convinced the Sorting Hat not to put you in Slytherin. How and Why?”

“Like I've already told you, the first time I found out I was a wizard was my eleventh birthday, when Hagrid came and took me to Diagon Alley. There I met Draco Malfoy as we were both being fitted for our school robes. He was prattling on about pureblood supremacy and how anyone who didn't know about the Magical World and Hogwarts until they got their school letter shouldn't be allowed in, and how he knew he was going to be sorted into Slytherin, just like the rest of his family and how Slytherin was the best House to be in. He had the whole 'holier than thou' attitude and reminded me of my cousin Dudley. Spoiled rotten to the core, and knew without a doubt that he was better then everyone else, and made sure everyone around him knew it too. After I left Madam Malkin’s I asked Hagrid about the four Houses and he told me that Slytherin produced mostly dark witches and wizards, including Tom Riddle. He also explained exactly who that was, and what he had done to me,” Harry told him before summoning a cup of tea for each of them from the kitchen, unintentionally using wandless magic.

He sat in silence for a few minutes drinking his tea and gathering his thoughts about that long-ago day. “I had already watched Draco be sorted into Slytherin when my turn came and quite honestly I wanted nothing to do with him. So when the Sorting Hat tried to decide which of the three Houses to put me in, I kept telling it ‘not Slytherin’. It finally decided on Gryffindor,” he finished.

“You said three Houses?” came Severus’s quiet question.

“Hmm, yes, although to be truthful, going back over its words and my actions over the years, any of the Houses would have worked.”

“Do you remember what exactly that Hat said to you?”

“’Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes- and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting… so where shall I put you?’ Then it said, ‘Not Slytherin, eh. Are you sure? You could be great you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that- No? Well if you're sure – better be GRYFFINDOR!’. So you see any of the houses would have worked for me.”

“So I see. Care to tell me how you get it all to work?”

“I've always been smart, and when you combine that with a photographic memory, it makes life interesting. You've already read my potions essay, so you know that I'm not just boosting. I use my Slytherin side to hide everything I don't want people to know, and let my Gryffindor image be what everyone sees. Everyone knows that Harry Potter is an impulsive child who just manages to pass his classes. I actually got the idea from you in my first potions class. Soon that's what people saw, and they refused to look further.”

“You do realize that you are letting yourself go to waste, correct?”

“Actually Sir, I'm not. All my original work is marked and recorded, just not under my real name. Only a select few know this, but when the time comes, all my true scores will be on my record,” Harry told him with a slight smirk.

“And who marks your essays? What about your practical work?”

“Professor Dumbledore marks all my practical work other than potions. My essays go out to be marked under an assumed name, along with my finished potions,” Harry told him, trying to keep the amusement out of his eyes as he waited for Snape to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

After a few minutes of thought, Snape finally looked up at Harry with dawning understanding. “What is the name you use, Mr. Potter?” he asked, already sure that he knew the answer.

Harry cocked his head to the side and watched his Professor closely. “Miles Timor.”

Harry had the pleasure of watching his Professor's eyes widen with shock as his mouth gaped open. “Merlin, that explains Albus' twinkle whenever I delivered your results back up to him,” Snape muttered under his breath.

“Is there anything else you would like to know right now sir?”

Snape gave Harry a brooding look. “Are you going to explain more about the eggs?” he asked carefully.

“I would prefer not to at this time, Sir.”

“You do realize that you will have to talk about it some time, along with a better explanation of what you said last night?”

“It really doesn't matter if I say anything or not. The less all the members of the Order know about my home life, the better off Dursleys and I are.”

“Explain.”

“At the end of last year, Moody, Remus, and Mr. Weasley, threatened the Dursleys so they would treat me better while I was there. It didn't work in the way they wanted-- the Dursleys almost kicked me out of the house, and it took some really fast talking and an explanation about the Wards surrounding their home to let me stay. I was told that if it ever happened again, or if they even caught a glimpse of another freak around the house, then I'm truly out of the house, wards or no wards,” Harry explained.

“And how do these Wards work?”

“The Blood Wards around Privet Drive are based on my mother’s Sacrifice when she protected me the night she died. As long as I can call the place where my mother’s blood dwells home, then the Wards and the Blood Protection will be renewed, as long as I spend at least three weeks of each year in their care."

“Would you care if they did kick you out?”

“It doesn't matter one way or the other, the Headmaster would find away to make me stay.”

“You haven't given me an answer Mr. Potter.”

Harry was silent as he contemplated his professor. It was several minutes before he finally spoke again. “I will do whatever is necessary to co-exist with the Dursleys, if only to make sure the wards around their house remain there. If something happened that let them fall and the Dursleys were attacked I'm not sure if I would be able to take the guilt it would cause. And before you say it, I know it, along with everything else, would not be my fault. But it is conditioning on my part. So to answer your question, if the Dursleys ever succeeded in kicking me out of the house, I would be overjoyed with the news of never having to see them again,” Harry said, his voice devoid of any emotion. Walking out the door, Harry ended the conversation.


A/N -=-=- The name Miles Timor was actually chosen carefully. Miles means warrior and Timor means Dread. So Harry's assumed name comes to mean Warrior of Dread. Fitting, don't you think?