Harry Potter One Shots

The War

All rights belong to the author, VictoryStarr

Snape seized Harry by the arm and yanked him into his office, slamming the heavy wooden door behind them. He shoved him into a student desk chair and Harry winced as his elbow hit the corner.

He was dripping wet; from the droplets forming at the ends of his hair, down to the blood stained socks, soggy in his shoes.

Snape loomed over him, seething. "What was that, Potter?"

"It was an accident!" Harry insisted, his heart pounding rapidly.

"No, it was not!" Snape's every word was like a hammer coming down on the head of a nail. "Foolish, yes, but when you injure someone in a duel that is no accident."

Sectumsempra – for enemies

The scribbled words appeared in Harry's mind and he felt a terrible sense of guilt overwhelm him. Yes, he had meant to cause Malfoy harm. But he hadn't intended to... he didn't want the other boy...

Harry hung his head. "I didn't know what it would do," he said softly.

"What was that?" Snape leaned closer, so that Harry could smell the man's breath.

"I said, I didn't know what the spell would do," repeated Harry more loudly, turning his face away.

Snape exhaled and took a step back. "I underestimated you. You are a bigger fool than I ever realized."

Harry's temper rose up again and he clenched his fist around the handle of his wand, but Snape only laughed a cold, contemptuous laugh.

"Go ahead. Use some of your dark magic skills and curse me. You're simply dying to. I can tell by the way your hand is twitching. Go on." The man raised his empty hands in a surrendering gesture. "Do it."

Harry's wand arm shook as he fought for control. Oh, how he hated Snape. He hated him for making his life miserable. He hated him for goading Sirius into leaving Grimmauld Place. He hated him for standing there now with open hands, taunting him to do something Snape knew Harry never would.

Releasing a shuddering breath, Harry let his wand drop to the stone floor and he sat back down at the desk.

He couldn't recall ever standing up.

Snape smirked. "I knew you couldn't do it. Jinxes and hexes are all good fun, but when it comes to dark magic and causing real harm, you don't have the nerve. And just think, our fate lies in your hands," he sneered. "Harry Potter. The blessed Chosen One."

"I didn't ask for that!" Harry slammed his fist into the desk, ignoring the pain that went through his knuckles. "That stupid name! I didn't ask for any of this! I don't want it!"

"No one asked you what you wanted!" Snape turned on his heels and strode over to his desk. He came back with a blank sheet of parchment and a quill, slapping them down in front of Harry. "We are in a war, and like it or not, everyone has a part to play. Write the Headmaster's name down."

Harry blinked. "What? Why?"

"Write it."

Harry did.

"Now describe him," said Snape, crossing his arms over his chest. "What is the Headmaster's role in this war? Write it down."

Well, that was easy. Harry scribbled down the word Leader.

Snape leaned over his shoulder. "Correct. Professor Dumbledore is undoubtedly the leader of this insanity. But all great leaders share one common shortcoming. What is that?"