Harry Potter and The Shadowed Light

Revenge served cold

Previously

Just as he was about to reach the door, Dumbledore called out to him, "Oh, and Harry? Do remember that if you ever need somebody to talk to, I'm always here. I wasn't lying when I said I saw you as family." The genial grandfatherly tone sold the act perfectly.

Harry actually felt slightly sick; this man had the whole world so fooled. He had them believing his act.

Nodding his head, Harry beamed. "Thank you, sir, I'll remember that," he promised.

"Off you go, then," Dumbledore replied, twinkling eyes shining with victory.

~

Walking the long way to Ravenclaw tower to put his cloak away, Harry tried to dispel his anger - for Dumbledore, he would gladly get over his view on torture.

Lost as he was in his dark thoughts, Harry barely stopped himself from colliding with a dark figure. Looking up, Harry nervously met the eyes of Professor Snape.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said. "I was not paying attention to where I was going."

"Clearly," Snape said, his drawling voice reminding Harry of his last life. "You should take care to pay attention, Mr. Potter."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, standing awkwardly in front of the man.

"It is, however, fortunate for you that I had need of your presence," Snape said. "I have almost finished brewing your scar ointment. If you come by my office after dinner tonight, it shall be ready for collection."

"Thank you, sir," Harry replied.

"It is of no matter," Snape said before he continued down the corridor, his black robes billowing.

Harry, reeling that his conversation had calmed him, quickly made his way to his common room and deposited his cloak in his trunk. Reuniting with his friends, Harry spent the afternoon in the library, covertly looking for any sign of a spell or ritual that could help him to reunite Tom with his sanity.

~

Like arranged, Harry made his way to the dungeons after dinner, Neville bravely offering to go with him. However, like in his last life, Neville was truly abysmal at Potions and feared Snape terribly, so when he offered Harry had waved him off. Harry had received a note during dinner with directions to Snape's office. Reaching it, Harry was fascinated to see that the portrait guarding it was of a young man sitting on a basilisk; after checking it out, he eventually asked the portrait to inform the professor he was here.

"You may enter," the portrait said, opening the door for Harry.

Deciding to take a chance, Harry quietly slipped into Parseltongue, "Thank you." The portrait started and stared at Harry intently as he passed.

Entering the office, Harry looked around in mild curiosity. He had never been inside it in his previous life, not even for his disastrous Occlumency lessons, and was enjoying the look into his professor's life.

"Surprised at the lack of coffins and blood?" came Snape's drawling voice. There was a slight challenge in there that Harry picked up on; though what he was challenging, Harry didn't know.

Harry turned to the sound and smiled slightly. "No sir, everybody knows that you keep the coffins and blood in your personal rooms. It's the chains and whips you keep here," Harry risked joking.

Snape seemed to freeze before his mouth twitched slightly. "And I thought I had hid that so well," he drawled.

Harry smiled and, after a beat of silence, said, "Thank you, sir, for making my ointment."