His love for Potions I ✔

Chapter 16: The godfather

At breakfast on Saturday the first weekend of term, Harry received a note.

Mister Potter,

Your essay is unacceptable. Visit my office at 10 this morning to discuss it.

Snape

Hermione, when Harry offered it to her, moaned.

"Professor Snape's tutoring you again."

"He's going to tear it into little tiny pieces and soak them in acid. And laugh," Harry pointed out.

"Educationally," Hermione wailed.

"Are you alright, 'Mione?" Ron asked. "You've been a little...."

"Private critique," she said, and tried to drown herself in her teacup.

"Don't worry," Harry hastened to say. "He's probably just going to, I don't know... . Do you think it could be him deciding I'm worth tutoring."

Ron patted him on the back.

"He still hates you."

"Right," Harry wilted, eyeing the note balefully. Ron wasn't wrong, after all. Not as far as Harry knew.

"You don't think he's mad about the dress, do you?" Neville asked.

Harry thought Professor Snape would be mad about the dress for approximately the next decade, but it didn't seem like a good idea to say so.

#

Professor Snape's office was a little more cheery, with the fire lit. Not very cheery, but a little. Professor Snape was sitting at his desk, two glasses and two bottles on the desk next to him. Professor Snape looked up at him, and held out a roll of parchment. Harry took it, and unrolled it. It was his essay, drenched in green ink, tiny corrections filling up every spare inch. Harry's eye twitched.

"You will read that after we finish here, so that you may be able to tell your classmates it is what we discussed. I will have your word this goes no further than you, no matter how you may trust your little friends."

"...sir?"

"Your word, Mister Potter, if it has any worth."

Harry jerked his chin up.

"I promise not to talk to anyone about this, unless it's going to get someone hurt."

"Only you, Mister Potter," Snape said tiredly. "Only you."

Harry thought that sounded pretty fair, all things considered.

"Sit."

He sat.

"How much do you know about Sirius Black?"

"Well, he's a murderer. A follower of, um, Voldemort," Snape's eyes narrowed at the name. "He killed a lot of people, and now he wants to kill me. And there's something people aren't telling me."

"Correct. They are not telling you, because they think you are the sort of boy who runs off to steal Philosopher's Stones, confront trolls, and fight basilisks."