So they say, when you need to take a serious decision, in order not to make a mistake, you need to think carefully before you do something, decide something. It is better to think about it seven times so that you can cut it off once. After all, it happens in life that a person sometimes does not think about the consequences in life, thinks lightly, and then these mistakes have to be corrected, to think again and again, in order to correct, you have to make more work.
Here is another popular wisdom from the same opera. That's right, you need to think over your actions well, if these are serious steps.
Spontaneity is good when an emergency situation))
This applies to actions that require attention and caution (by and large, having no practice), but not any. After all, as we know
With proper practice or confidence in the positive outcome of the action, it is not necessary to strain your head.
The same proposed in the question does not apply to cases when it is necessary to act urgently, when any delay is critical (a banal example is saving lives).
In general, as usual: a fairy tale is a lie, but it is necessary to act according to circumstances.
Hair does not make you a star
Ben says that women often come to him with a request to make her hair like any famous person. And often it turns out that this is not about the length of the hair, but about how they look.
remember, that do hair like a star, it only makes sense if your hair has a lot in common. We are talking about density, straight or curly hair. Consider also that celebrities can afford to regularly visit a stylist who will monitor the appearance of their hair.
If you think carefully
The fog melted and crawled under the gusts of the December wind. The sky, slowly clearing, was filled with a faint blue. Over the Hogwarts engaged in the dawn.
Harry Potter sat on the window-sill of the tall, narrow window of the Gryffindor Tower, watching the sun's rays feeling uncertainly on the stonework of the walls. His face was sullen.
Actually, it could not be otherwise. For the past few hours, his thoughts were spinning exclusively around yesterday’s Potion class. And the upcoming individual meeting with the teacher of this subject did not add to Harry a good mood.
Snape, after being informed of the need to train Potter for another two years before the last of Hogwarts ended, became enraged. And then, apparently, he set himself a goal: to rid the world of a young magician. And it is desirable that Potter did it on his own. Snape's past mockery now seemed almost like an arrangement, and sarcasm was simply not very understandable humor. And why did it seem to me that it could not be worse than in the fifth year? I was clearly a pessimist. Even as they can - that was the position to take, leaving the prospect for the development of the situation.
There was no such insult that Snape wouldn’t put on Harry’s head in these two years. It seemed that every new achievement of the young man only inflamed his painful hatred more strongly. Neither the Death Eaters' attacks that began when Harry was in his sixth year, nor the casualties among students and teachers in this war reconciled him with Potter.
This is despite the fact that more than once they had to act at the same time, shoulder to shoulder.
However, Snape remained true to himself. In the presence of teachers, he ignored Harry with great contempt, and with students or (save Merlin) staying one-on-one with him, he insulted him so hard that his hands were itching to take out his wand and try what his successes would be in this application of Crucio. However, he never allowed himself to forget. After all, Snape was still his teacher, and he was a student, obliged to follow school rules. Moreover, the neglect of these rules could only give Snape an extra trump card. And today Harry was not quite sure on whose side Snape would not kill him if there was a tempting opportunity.
Since sharing these thoughts, returning with a new force after the death of Sirius, Harry was decidedly not with whom (neither Ron nor Hermione would listen to him, writing off his friend’s suspicions of a nervous shock, and Dumbledore trusted Snape somehow too unconditionally) Harry could only urge himself to vigilance and prudence.
And I must say, he did it. Successfully turned out all last year and almost half of this. But after yesterday's incident, Harry, realizing that he had broken off, could not help but admit that he could not see what the battle between Good and Evil would end in ... What was there - he could not even know what dishes would be served today for dinner in the Great Hall. Because today at noon he was to meet with Severus Snape, and after it ended, Harry could be in places that we don’t have any idea about. In any case, as long as they are alive.
Yes, he had no right to break. It was necessary to ignore another poisonous thorn of Snape's sarcasm. But in the end, until the day before yesterday, Harry had not been killed in direct combat. It was not possible to see how the green glow of the Third Unforgivable is reflected in the enemy's dead eyes, which acquire for a second the color of his own eyes. The day before yesterday, for the first time, Harry felt how much his fingers could shake, which were clutching his wand, even a few hours later.
He apparated to Hogsmeade after the next meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, where he discussed the plan and coordination of further hostilities. Due to the state of emergency, the ban on the use of magic by minors was lifted, and Harry was able to use his wand, equipment and other vital things without the risk of being delivered as an intruder to the Ministry of Magic.
At the end of the meeting, he, Dumbledore and McGonagall went to Hogsmeade, the closest location to Hogwarts, separately. Harry, as the youngest and not sufficiently experienced, went first. And at that moment, when he mentally congratulated himself on a successful return, Lucius Malfoy grew up behind him. Harry probably would not have had time to find out if it were not for the cry of Ron, who was very successful in Hogsmeade. Harry ducked, letting the first curse go over him, and at the same time turned around, facing the enemy face to face.
The first feeling to visit him was relief: Malfoy was alone. Without their Companions - they probably had not yet managed to pull themselves up, and this allowed them to gain a few seconds.
And Lucius was also without Dementor bodyguards on the sides. When these creatures entered into a fight, the bright magicians who did not possess iron restraint had no chance. After all, it is almost impossible to simultaneously create and hold a powerful corporal Patronus to scare away Dementors and exchange deadly spells.
The Dementors probably enjoyed the same pleasure from the war as the Muggles from the parties.
The conclusion of the Death Eaters in Azkaban after Harry's fifth year did not, of course, drag on - they almost openly left him with their guards. Now, for the first time in its entire history, the prison was abandoned, and its walls did not inspire horror to anyone.
Malfoy openly became the head of the Death Eaters. The biggest mystery for Harry was the reason why Draco Malfoy continued to study at Hogwarts.
So, Harry managed to evaluate his chances. Small - despite the fact that Malfoy Sr. was always considered a strong sorcerer, who did not dare to openly challenge only, perhaps, Dumbledore. It is unlikely that he considered Harry Potter as a serious opponent. And Harry, for his part, would have preferred to see Bellatrix Lestrange in his place. Not because it would be easier to deal with her - he simply had a special account for this woman. For Sirius.
But neither choose nor retreat was not necessary.
Boy, - smiled coldly Malfoy, - like you on time. Well, Harry, got caught. That's all. Yes?
Go to hell, ”Potter threw through his teeth in response, feeling the spell of a shield grow up around them — a shield through which help wouldn’t reach him. But she won't get through to Malfoy either.
He stood in position and raised his wand in a classic gesture of challenge.
If Malfoy was surprised, he did not show it. He attacked. Lightning fast.
Harry himself couldn’t remember now how he tried to duel. But he perfectly remembered the final - although he was sure that he would not have the first murder in his nightmarish dreams.
He also remembered that he had caught a glimpse: everyone who came to the scene of the incident — Dumbledore, McGonagall, Lupine, Ron — kept the sticks at the ready, frozen in tension, ready to rush forward as soon as the shield's spell subsided.
And there was Snape standing there (and where did he just come from?), Demonstratively folding his arms across his chest and squinting impassively. It seems he did not even take out his wand.
And when Harry killed Malfoy, and then collapsed backward, everyone rushed to him except Snape. He simply turned and walked away with a light walk - like a big black bird.
At night, lying in bed and examining the coal-black shadows in the corners of the room, Harry seriously considered the possibility that Snape was at the scene of the fight for a reason - he probably apparated after Malfoy when they were going to some regular meeting of Death Eaters. And Potter painfully wanted to expose the traitor.
Well, I wouldn't have to do it at the cost of my own life ... and why is it so difficult for him to hold back when it comes to Snape? Their hatred was today quite mutual and, perhaps, equal in strength. No reasonable arguments have already acted.
And yet he had to remain silent.
The next day, in the next lesson in Potions, the lessons continued, despite the joint decision of teachers and students, despite wartime (or rather, contrary to him), Snape did not fail again to expose Harry to an idiot and utter incompetence.
His victory in the most difficult duel, in which it was impossible to intervene due to too fast exchange of spells and shield spells, Snape called a misunderstanding, which, in his opinion, only confirms the well-known rule. The rule is this: Mr. Potter, a seventeen-year seventh year student at Hogwarts, is not suitable for any activity that requires minimal caution and concentration of thought. Therefore, all his successes are due solely to recklessness and dashing leaps, and each time can be his last.
To this, Harry, having risen, answered who exactly he was, Harry Potter, considers Professor Severus Snape - both a teacher and a fighter of the Order of the Phoenix. He spoke at least a minute.
Snape turned white after the final word of the felt tirade, although he never had a bright complexion. In his eyes, not the usual derogatory lights flashed, but the promise of a quick and evil death.
"You will pay for your words, Mr. Potter," he promised in a half-whisper. From this half-whisper in the whole class, goosebumps spread over the skin. But not from Harry. He had nothing to lose. “Whenever you please, sir,” he said abruptly, “at least if you have the courage to go one on one, one Death Eater among us will be less.”
Since there was nothing to add to this, Potter silently gathered his things and walked out of the classroom in total silence — Snape seemed to be speechless because of rabies, only his nostrils were wide open on his bloodless face.
Hearing nothing from the blood rumbling in his ears, Harry slowly climbed into the Gryffindor bedroom. Trembling with nervous excitement, he did not find the strength to sit down, and stood by the window, leaning his shoulder against the wall. His gaze stared unseeingly into the distance. No, he had not yet regretted what Snape had said. Angry words continued to sound in his head. Harry gasped a couple of times.
After the end of the lesson the room knocked timidly. Harry didn't respond. Then the door opened slightly, and the pale Hermione slipped into it. She silently handed Harry a parchment sealed with the Slytherin seal.
Harry opened the note. She was extremely concise: "Tomorrow in my office. 12:00."
Snape's handwriting was smooth and sharp, as usual, ink droplets indicating that he was in a hurry or pressed the pen too hard, did not turn on parchment. He wrote it with a cool head.
He was not worried.
It's time to get scared.
If Snape wants to kill him, then Harry gave him a brilliant opportunity half an hour ago.
He glanced at the motionless Hermione, waiting for comments, but the girl showed a completely uncharacteristic silence. She turned away without a word and, with her head down, walked out. The door closed.
Surprisingly, despite the fact that he only slept until six o'clock in the morning, Harry slept well.
Silently rising from his bed, he again went to the loophole window of the Gryffindor Tower and, sitting down on the cold window-sill, stared at nothing. From the state of deep thought, his voice brought Ron:
“Harry, it's ten o'clock.” You ... you won't go for breakfast?
The young man slowly turned his head and looked around the room. Indeed, it was already empty, all the beds were made, there were no stacks of books on the bedside tables either. Are they today, without a single word, have you smoked away from here in the morning? Or am I deaf?
No, not because he wanted to hurt Ron - just in that state of inner concentration, in which he was, the food would not get into his mouth. A friend seemed to understand him and quietly walked out, closing the door - just like Hermione yesterday.
Harry remained seated on the windowsill, studying the December sky and tapping his nails thoughtfully on the glass.
If he was going to, in violation of all - albeit badly battered by the war - school rules for a duel with his teacher, who also didn’t understand how he was going to get out in front of the headmaster, he should have weighed everything for the last time.
It was necessary to try to understand how it all happened that way. Understand yourself. And understand your opponent. This Potter has long learned. If you do not understand what goals the enemy pursues, it is useless to try to replay him. Brute force? - Harry just didn't have it. His main weapons were agility, agility and cunning. It remained to imagine the train of thought of the person with whom the duel is waiting for him today. Although it is possible to understand here logically? And why I doubt it. * Because you have to start with yourself, right, Harry? * Shut up, do me a favor.
So. Snape had a million and one reasons to hate Harry Potter.
First, for whose son he is.
Secondly, because he is so similar to the one whose son he is.
Thirdly, because Snape had to save the school’s son’s life more than once or twice. And I wanted, probably, to collapse with the neck. Because Potter Jr. was distinguished by hereditary recklessness and outstanding courage, which Snape reasonably thought was bold.
Summing up. The combination of these facts gave Snape confidence in the right to open a military campaign against Harry from the first day he entered Hogwarts. Which he did not fail to do.
Probably, in Snape's way, such revenge made sense. Especially considering that Lupine and Sirius were forced to accept the need for legilimency classes. A good gift to two of the four surviving Marauders. "I will pay off your boy the same way you paid me for your bouts of boredom and bad mood."
During all his student years, the marauders poisoned Snape, insulted his pride - it is not surprising that after so many years his revenge fell on a man whom he could reach.
Until yesterday, these reasons were somewhat speculative in Harry’s eyes (if they didn’t seem frankly nonsense), but, unfortunately, the ill-fated yesterday in some way confirmed their right to life.
I saw the most shameful, most secret memories of Snape in the Outskirts of Memory. I remember very well how I managed to pierce his defense with the spell of Legilimens and see there an ugly, lonely, notorious teenager.
It was I who made Snape relive the humiliation that was buried at heart. This, perhaps, was the first reason for hatred that he gave me personally. Yesterday was the second. But Snape is not one of those who forgives.
There is no blame for me, I told myself year after year. He has nothing to hate me for.
Today this argument is no longer relevant.
Harry was aware that he had crossed the boundaries of what was permitted - his yesterday’s accusatory speech addressed to Snape contained several hints of what he saw.
It was after a slip of the word about "the pedagogical talents of a man who, during his school years, was shaken upside down by his own classmates," Snape turned pale with a terrible, deadly pallor. And Harry realized that Snape would never forgive him for that. Actually, it may still be right.
Because one thing is to humiliate the father in the son, and the other is to get confidence in the justice of their actions.
About how many insults had for six and a half years, the share of Harry, the young man completely unexpectedly forgotten. Perhaps because the voice of a suddenly awakened conscience told him now that he had gone too far. He hit this man’s almost only vulnerable spot, and if it were not for Snape’s will power, Harry was sure he would have been killed on the spot.
Instead, he was able to leave the class without hearing a single word in the back.
He remembered Dumbledore's words regarding Snape's behavior: there are wounds that never scar. Such a wound was Professor Potions’s hatred for the elder Potter, passionate hatred that had taken root from his youth. Only her faint shadow fell on Harry.
Was it really out of fear of Dumbledore that Snape saved my life more than once with such an attitude?
Somewhere in the depths of the halls of the castle the wall clock echoed eleven. Harry shivered shiveringly. He had one hour before the meeting with Snape, and this internal voice was strongly recommended to call the last one an hour.
So, Mr. Potter. With the attitude of Snape, we are not without mental overstrain, yet we figured it out. It remains to sort out your own feelings, so as not to give in case of anything (what? - yes, anything) to hit the patient.
Wow. From this unexpected thought, Harry straightened up. Where is he, curious to find out the sore spots in the case when it comes to Snape? How much he remembered himself at Hogwarts, this man was his constant punishment. (* Nothing, I'm sure it is completely reciprocal. *)
What was there to talk about besides the deepest hostility and continuous suspicions?
And the worst of it was in situations where Snape was right. And he is right - unless, of course, leaving his fixed idea that Harry externally and internally is a copy of James - turned out to be constantly. But the death of Sirius, Harry still could not forgive him. He knew that he might not be right, but he could not forgive him. Because he remembered wonderfully how much Snape longed to feed Black's soul to the Dementors — once, in the third year, two or three lives back.
How Harry wanted revenge on him then! In the depths of his soul, he himself did not believe that Snape was betraying the Order of the Phoenix - but this made it possible to find a way out to disgust at a man with dark dark eyes and the quietest walk in Hogwarts.
And he liked to keep Snape freaking out all the time — the more he liked when Dumbledore wasn't always ready to intervene nearby.
Because he hoped that one day Snape would not have enough self-control and he would succumb to provocation. The duel did not instill fear in him, no matter who the opponent was - probably, the shock experienced in the fourth year eliminated fear. Harry every day knew that at any moment he could face a choice: kill or be killed. This constant, unreliable readiness prematurely aged his eyes, laid a thin but deep wrinkle between his eyebrows - and helped to cope with Malfoy.
Well, you can probably say that the provocation finally succeeded, what difference, in what way. You can be counted for all the years when, in the shadow of the night Hogwarts corridors, he saw the figure of this man, forcing him to shudder nervously and to wrap himself more tightly in his invisibility cloak. Get even for all the insults and humiliation, when I wanted to fall in place under the piercing gaze, feeling like a flobber-worm, which is now being thrown into a cauldron with a gurgling potion.
Harry sighed heavily. Anyway, this hour really promised to be the last in his stay in the walls of the castle. Even if they and Snape did not kill each other, they would immediately immediately exclude him - Snape will be the first to take care of this. If not already taken care of.
Harry immediately imagined how the potion maker was approaching Dumbledore’s office with a flying step, baring the password to the gargoyle, carelessly throwing heavy hair off his face ... at this point the young man’s imagination suddenly stopped. And then the last episode scrolled again, as if in slow motion - Snape, throwing a narrow aristocratic hand to his face, solid long fingers hiding in his hair, cold lips compressed into the usual contemptuous line ...
Harry froze, as if he saw a ghost. The imagined image caused a strange feeling - his breath suddenly stopped, as if from a blow in the gut, bitterness rose to his throat. And then he saw with stunning clarity how Snape turned to him and with his other hand he was holding the scar, removing his bang from his forehead just as he had just removed a strand of hair from his face.
A faint but obscene hiss broke from Potter’s lips. This is not in any gate climbed! Sit on the seventh course on the window sill to think about what weaknesses your opponent has, what spells to use to influence these weak points, to reflect on the nature of your own hate - and bring its nature in a couple of hours! And what nature looms ...
Not. Not. Not. It just can't be. How, by the way, does Ginny fit into this concept, which I myself put to bed two months ago? What if I had imagined Snape touching my forehead, I would ...
Harry flew off the window sill, hastily strolled around the room from corner to corner. I have seen Snape more than once. And he always caused me only a feeling of disgust. It will not change - it cannot change - such things do not change in a few minutes.
* And if he really touched you? * Yes, he touched! For so many years - he didn’t shake me by the scruff! Why do I suddenly now think about it, because of what I am psycho?
Harry stopped short in the middle of the stride. It seemed to him that he understood, and this understanding made him drag himself to the bed, fall on her and stare at the ceiling. He didn't imagine Snape's gaze. Not his poisonous voice. Not even a domineering turn of the shoulders.
He saw in front of him his thin nerve wrists with unmistakable clever fingers. These hands, even clenched in fists, never testified to Snape's hatred of Harry Potter. They seemed to belong to another person. Just like a stranger, the Gryffindor seemed to see his most hated professor for the first time.
And during my duel with Lucius ... where did he come from there? I remember how he stood, hiding his palms in the sleeves of his arms crossed. Is it because he crossed them that he was afraid not to cope with himself and rush forward?
No, that way you can think of anything. Dumbledore was there, McGonagall, would they intervene if anything ... and then - so that Snape would be afraid for me?
And when he saw that Lucius was killed and nothing threatens me anymore, he left so swiftly that no one probably had time to see his face. I wish I knew what was in it.
So listen, Potter. You're crazy. You do not heed the reason - and by the way, I am your reason - but I hope you will believe the curse that breaks down in half an hour from Snape's lips and wand. Just try somehow to avoid Avada, do not meet her at least as a sign of location!
Agreed Glory to Merlin. Only the conclusions from the wondrous dialogue with oneself turned out very much ... not the ones I would like. It turned out that Harry purposely provoked Snape, seeking to attract his attention, and at the same time did not even realize his interest.
And if Snape had once guessed that Harry’s face had flared up, he would have made this for his student the discovery of an extremely unusual America. Doubt no longer had to - Potter was not used to lying to himself. The way his whole being reacted to the image of Snape, looking at Harry without the usual anger in his gaze touching him, confirmed his interest in the potioner better than any words. And this interest was not only intellectual property.
What to do now?
This (one of, undoubtedly, the key for the thinking of humanity) Harry did not have time to think out the question. The muggle alarm clock squealed at the head of his bed, indicating that it was a quarter to noon on the dial.
I had to go.
For so many years several times in a week I had to go down to the dungeons - but, in my opinion, it was never possible to do this so quickly. In any case, an extra couple of minutes would not hurt.
To summarize So, I became interested in Professor of Potions, a man more than whom Voldemort probably hates me. And apparently, it did not happen yesterday. Why did this happen? Well, probably because I like to overcome difficulties.
I just consciously looked at him for the first time with different eyes. He is strong-willed, strong and intelligent. (And, okay, I agree - he is not a spy.) He risked himself for me so many times anyway. Although there was absolutely nothing for him to love me for, he didn’t give himself the desire to tear my head off. Probably would not have succumbed if I had not offended him at the moment when he once again thought about what kind of miracle saved me a certain time from a rather inglorious death.
I actually got into the hands of Malfoy. It was necessary to immediately apparate back, as Flitvik taught, and I rushed into battle. Actually, Snape was right - I won only by the reckless onslaught, the effect of surprise.
You again tried to warn me, sir - and how did I answer you?
But I am ready to admit my wrong. Of course, your relationship with me will not change it and the fight will not prevent, well, okay.
I know what I have to tell you now, professor. But almost for the first time, I am afraid that I will not have enough courage for this, and you will have time to incinerate me with a look.
Harry lingered for a second before the massive door of the Snape's study, inhaled deeper, like a swimmer before the swim, and then knocked and, in order not to lose determination, immediately pulled the doorknob.
Snape stood beside his desk with his back to the one who had entered. He seemed not to hear Harry knock. But when the young man opened his mouth to cough, the professor suddenly turned around. The expression on his face was exactly as Potter imagined him: frozen in cold determination, closed, impenetrable. Eyebrows converged over the bridge of the nose in one straight line, from under them unkindly gleaming eyes. And it was unlikely that he was going to waste time talking.
Harry exhaled softly, hoping with all his heart that the expression of his excitement would go unnoticed. Of course, this did not happen. Snape measured the Gryffindor with an extremely unpleasant gaze and, after a long pause, spoke:
- Mr. Potter. I sincerely hope that this is my last meeting with you in this life. I guess you flatter yourself with the same hope. If you still deign to come, let's start. He stepped away from the table, which blocked his back, giving Harry the opportunity to glance around the tabletop space. And he did not like the thing that presented himself to the glance of the young man.
The table, usually littered with parchments on one side with regular test papers, and on the other hand, carefully laid out ingredients for potions, was absolutely empty except for a single item in the center of the table. Harry remembered this subject perfectly well: you won’t really forget the Plops in Dumbledore’s memory, especially when you look into it only in extreme circumstances every time! (True, the last time the extreme began was when Harry got out of there - after the most bad Snape's memory. His feelings even now made him shiver.) I wonder why Snape brought him here? Obviously not to share with the high points of his biography with Harry.
In addition to the cup, over which, as always, there was a steady silvery glow, there was not a mote on the black polished wood. In the grip of some kind of apprehension, Potter slowly took his eyes off the table and swept them around the room. The cabinet was thoroughly tidied. No, thoroughly - not quite the right word. He was sterilely clean and empty. Here it was possible to operate. Nothing indicated the presence of the owner, nothing said that these walls have a permanent owner. This is how the ZOTS room looked before each summer vacation - after the shift of the next teacher. Snape going on holiday? In the middle of the school year? During the war? Or is this ... summing up? Then you are Khan, Potter. Azkaban, of course, does not function, but who knows, Snape, threatens Harry and emigrates somewhere in Zimbabwe, away from Dumbledore, from there will be a subversive activity against Voldemort. And here they decide that the missing is missing, maybe even the testament will be revealed ...
But these considerations did not excite Harry as much as they should have. He was not even particularly surprised by the thought of how easily he had abandoned the stereotype about Snape’s duplicity. Finish it in such a way — finish the most important thing: to have time to convey to him what he thought of in the last five hours. It would be worth it to hurry up - under Crucio it would be much more difficult to do it - but the mouth categorically refused to open. Fortunately, Snape himself broke the silenced silence:
“So, Potter.” Assuring you of the fact that I was the least responsible for the report on my activities, I decided to give you the opportunity to make sure with your own eyes that you would die paying the price for a recklessly false insult. And you die, I guarantee you that.
Before you, Potter, Omut of memory - no doubt, you recognized it, because your observations, drawn from this source, are distinguished by a memorable ... richness of colors. Snape's voice cracked with anger, and he glared at Harry. He silently lowered his head, accepting a reproach. Of course, he referred to information from the Memories of Memory no more than yesterday in his accusatory speech.
“Well, Professor Dumbledore gave me permission to acquaint you with the information I consider necessary to convey to you.” He, in turn, is ready to witness its authenticity. The only thing that the director does not know is why you will be shown a recording of my memory of going to the bright side. Then, what I'm going to do is something that Lucius Malfoy failed to do: challenge you to a duel and kill you. - Snape's hands clenched into fists, and he with visible effort opened them. - What the director will do to me later, you, Potter, will no longer touch. Because I hope you will not be with us.
Harry sighed heavily. The perspective described by Snape, of course, did not please, but in other circumstances would have touched him more seriously.The Potions Professor apparently seemed so fed up with Harry Potter that he was ready to reckon with him at any cost - even at the cost of his life. Iron composure suddenly ended. Well, Harry thought, and the metal is tired. But it was probably time to turn on his speech abilities, until Snape decided that he was numb from fear. The professor, meanwhile, invited the boy to Omut with a wide mocking gesture:
- Welcome to your last digging session in my memory. Please do not get bored - there will be no scenes with your father. “And seeing that Potter is standing still, Snape added,“ or are you afraid to admit mistakes, Mr. Hope-Magical-World? ”
Harry stood upright and stepped forward. But not to the table, but to Snape himself, resolutely looking into his face. The moment has come: now or never. He has to do it. For the sake of himself ... and for Snape, although he, of course, will not rejoice.
“Sir, thank you for finally deciding to clear my doubts.” Thank you for deciding to talk to me first. Let me just say two words. Also, you can say goodbye. - He got a lot of air in his chest and, feeling that his heart was pounding somewhere in his throat, he said, looking Snape straight in the eyes:
- I admit that I was wrong. I admit that my suspicions were groundless and had no real basis. You have the right to demand satisfaction from me for the insult. And - since I admit that the fault lies entirely with me, I will not look into Omut ... and I will not defend myself either. I don't even have sticks with me. You can kill me, professor, I will not resist.
Having said all this in one breath, Harry felt that now he would just fall on the stone floor of the Slytherin dungeon. Because it would be the best thing he could do under the look that Snape looked at him. Harry even had a feeling of déjà vu: the scene seemed to repeat from yesterday's Potions class. Snape was completely white with rage and only breathed convulsively - the husky sound of his breathing was the only one that broke the deep silence of the office. Probably, if the Potions master had less exposure, he would have hit Potter standing in front of him - however, Harry thought shrewdly, this could well have happened. Finally, Snape gained the ability to articulate himself:
“What a generosity,” he said in a voice that vibrated with indignation. - You caused me another public insult, apparently expecting it to get away with you, like all previous ones. When this did not happen, you, Potter, decided to play the nobility and demonstrate repentance and submission to fate. How dare you betray your cowardice for courage !? You can kill me, professor, ”he mocked very much. “Yes, of course, so that then your mournful shadow will appear to the director with the next story about the evil Potions master who killed the unfortunate unarmed child!” It was not enough for you for almost seven years to spoil my life, you set out to deprive me of a chance for a peaceful death after I finally get rid of you! You will immediately take your wand and defend yourself, Potter! Die not like a complete coward, at least! - a feverish blush appeared on Snape's cheeks, it was, by and large, the first time Harry heard Snape raise his voice. He even flinched a couple of times, but when his interlocutor paused for a second to get some air, Harry repeated exactly the same:
“I will not defend myself, sir.”
For his own safety - it was better for him not to do it. But Harry now did not look the professor in the face, and therefore could not see what expression appeared on him. He could not take his eyes off Snape's hands: from his palms, convulsively clutching one another, and fingers, with the strength intertwined in the lock at chest level. As if in slow motion, he was watching how these hands opened, and from somewhere far away heard Snape's suddenly changed voice. A voice said:
- Oh, you will not? Fine. I think, for the sake of such a case, it is permissible to change the disgust that I feel about you, Potter. If your skin is impervious to insult with a word, check how you react to an insult with action. “And his left hand disappeared from Harry for a second, soaring for a heavy slap.”
However, it was not for nothing that Harry was a Quidditch catcher.
Although the war made its demands on students, forcing two to five years old, Quidditch remained for two years. Only now they were playing not for the school cup and not for additional points, but in order to return briefly to the previous happy time. Well, to train the reaction.
The matches were still going to all Hogwarts, and from the outside it seemed that at least here in the stadium, everything remained the same. But only at first glance. No one even tried to imitate the jolly groovy manner of commentator Lee Jordan-Lee, who was killed last June with George Weasley while attempting to enter one of the Death Eaters headquarters. Over the field there were no more cheerful cries of fans, no matter who scored a goal. And the successful evasion of the Blaigers was met with fierce applause, since the dexterity coached here could help dodge the cast spell.
Or from a slap.
Snape acted very quickly - an untrained person, perhaps, would not have noticed his movement and woke up on the floor. But Harry was accustomed to the fact that in order to save life in a critical situation, it is necessary to at least one breath ahead of the enemy. With an elusive movement he leaned back and threw his right elbow forward, interrupting the swing. And when Snape's hand hit his arm, Harry quickly grabbed the Snape wrist.
* The effect of surprise, speak? Okay, let there be a surprise effect. *
He expected to hear a scream, an expletive word, or at least hissing through his teeth — the injury should have been very sensitive. But I did not hear a sound for a seemingly infinitely long second. Harry quickly looked at Snape: his well-defined mouth was tightly compressed. And the next moment, Snape violently pulled his hand to himself. Again, under normal circumstances, such a breakthrough could have left Potter himself with a dislocation of the forearm, but the young man was not born yesterday and was about what his self-defense was fraught with.
Therefore, the hand of the potion maker Harry kept. Moreover, he grabbed back, clinging to the now thin, but amazingly strong wrist with both palms. Below them, a strange pulse beat.
Slowly, applying the same effort, as if struggling with a branch of the Drakuchey Willow, Harry forced Snape — inch by inch — to turn his hand palm up. She immediately clenched her fist - such that her nails went deep into the skin, promising to leave deep marks there.
Potter sighed heavily and tried to open his fingers, why - he himself could not really explain. But the occupation turned out to be useless: the fragile phalanxes were as if cast from steel. And just leaving a fruitless venture, Harry realized that he had not yet heard a single word.
He looked up again, wanting to read something on his pale, impenetrable face — at least his death sentence. But as soon as he moved, Snape jerked once more, practically freeing himself from his hold.
If I let him go, he will kill me. If I do not let him go, he will kill me anyway, as soon as he reaches the wand. The choice is not rich. It means that you can still fight, without any particular risk. Harry grunted, his lips parted. And then he gradually loosened his grip, still squeezing Snape's hand, now more carefully than not aggressively. For some reason, he really, really wanted to see which palm was hidden behind tightly clenched fingers. He had long wanted nothing so much, especially so illogical.
“Let me go,” came the sound from his ear. They were standing quite close, so that Potter could see the mantle on Snape's chest shuddering from breath. For reasons of precaution, he chose not to meet with the professor's gaze - not everyone has an immunity that is at the sight of Medusa Gorgon, and Harry doubted that he was among those lucky ones. But Snape's voice was so strange that boyish curiosity, not corroded even now, prompted him to look at what was going on in his face. As if there was anything seen before.
“Potter, let go,” repeated his voice over his ear without the usual contempt of intonation. Now it was only cold. And it was somehow encouraging. Harry twitched his chin to meet his death, if the hour had come, face to face, and for the first time noticed that Snape was only half a head taller than himself.
"When did we manage to catch up?" - it was thought before thoughts left mind. Indeed, for the first time in his life, Harry saw the eyes of Snape so close - and so little was frightened at the same time. Therefore, further actions were dictated by anything other than common sense. Harry gently raised his still weakly resisting hand and slowly put the professor's tightly clenched fist to his chest. Straight to the solar plexus — a place that Snape could not have known was the most vulnerable to any curse sent. Harry closed his fist and smiled.
Now it really has become quiet. Since breathing, it turns out, is also a sound source. For the first time in his life, Harry felt that the duel of views between him and Snape, which had lasted since his first year of potions in the first year, was interrupted because a temporary winner had appeared. How many people could boast about it? * Mr Potter. Our ... new ... celebrity. * Snape looked away.
- Do you actually think what you are doing? - he was curious deafly, not turning to Harry. From surprise (a question instead of a curse), Harry loosened his grip, and Snape finally took his hand away. Right now he really could forever freeze his annoying little boy with his eyes - if, of course, he looked at him. But he did not watch.
He turned and, rounding the table, sat down in a large swiveling chair, in which he used to check the controls. With his back to Potter, frozen in surprise. It seemed that in one second he forgot about the presence of Harry in his office and about his existence in nature in general.
Snape's shoulders lowered slowly.
For a while (several centuries), Harry silently stared at the back of his head. In a head the thoughts which have suddenly come out of anabiosis rushed with a huge speed. And the main one prompted the Gryffindor to move. Forget about the fact that he is the Boy Who Snape Didn’t Destroy, and give Snape a chance to correct this situation.
Harry walked around the table so that Snape could see him coming, and without haste, he sank down onto the stone floor near his feet. Snape's hands lay lifeless on his knees, his face locked in an alienated, closed expression. Harry, without taking his eyes off the face of the seated man, gently touched his long-suffering wrist, on which a bruise was already lilac, and laid his chin on his helplessly open palm.
Nothing has changed in Snape's face, except for a note of weary surprise. He looked like after a strong nervous shock: devastated, exhausted, deprived of all offensive energy.
Harry touched his lips to the soft, cold skin.
Snape finally responded to this action:
“Merlin, Potter, you are not killed.” What the hell do you still need here? Do not deign to get out of my office? You survived, you can bring this good news to your friends.
“Sir ... Can I stay?”
Well, then, that I don't want to leave here.
Then what was the first time you saw the despair under your mask.
Then you would rather kill me than confess that you hate not only and not so much because I am Harry James Potter.
Because I know why you hate me - because I hate you for the same reason.
Because I don’t want to lie to myself anymore and I don’t want you to lie to yourself.
And whatever I say now, sir, you are too exhausted by our psychological duel - or preparation for it. You were going to kill? Me - or myself?
I want to be here - I want you to admit it too.
Stifling a long sigh, Harry said softly:
- Sir. You can kill me later or right now. But I would be extremely grateful to you if you would allow me to negotiate.
- How, Potter. Have you not told me everything yet? There is still something as fateful as the recognition of your delusions?
“Yeah," Potter did not appreciate the irony. “In case you thought ... Well, it really wasn't a survival maneuver.” And no one knows that I am here - neither Ron nor Hermione is guarding your door to carry me to the hospital or to call the Director. I did not tell them where I was going or what we were going to do.
- "We", Potter? It means that you nevertheless pursued the goal of killing me - you could not strive for such a nice clarification of the relationship.
- Well, since yesterday my plans have changed. I had time to weigh everything and make ... the right conclusions.
- In the event that your scales are accurate. And what, it is curious to know, were these conclusions?
Harry rubbed his chin on a cold palm and squirmed, settling himself comfortably. What are the conclusions? Are you really interested? Well, for example, that from now on I will no longer depend on Ron and Hermione, tolerate their guardianship and pretend not to notice their midnight dates. It has long been sick of being their third superfluous. Of course, they will not be delighted with the news that I will inform them about you - but this will be their concern. Because I know not with my mind, but with my whole body: I will not have a shoulder more secure than yours, if I can convince you that you are with me ... worth making friends.
Being in a distant thoughtfulness, Harry completely ignored that the habit of being alone - even next to friends - taught him to think out loud. And at least half of his considerations Snape heard. He snorted, but somehow not enough evil for the Snape, who all the time dating ruthlessly terrorized Harry Potter:
- to be friends. With you? Are you crazy, Potter? In your opinion, should I view your miraculously changed opinion of me as a gift of fate? How is the greatest blessing in my life?
“Not quite,” pushed Harry out of his dry throat. “Better as a second chance for a friendship that didn’t once ... And if you never wanted to be friends with them,” he added hastily, seeing how Snape’s eyes darken and her hunched back straightens, then just as an opportunity ... to recognize me.
- Once again I ask you: why ?!
“Then what ... I would like that, sir.” You know how thin the line between hate and ... That's it, I'm done. You can kill me.
“Potter,” Snape said in a whisper, carefully, without blinking, looking at the young man, “have you lost your mind?”
And Harry, responding to this look, silently nodded.
Snape slowly raised his hand and looked at his palm with interest.
Harry closed his eyes in anticipation of the strike.
And he felt cool fingers slowly sweeping the scar on his forehead, across the bridge of his nose, going down to his lips ... Harry gently touched them in response and opened his eyes.
“I am not friends with my students,” Snape told him in his usual tone. Every second his eyes lost a lively expression, becoming cold again, like pieces of obsidian. - You have nothing to do in my office.
- And if I still stay?
- You did not give me the right answer for this option.
“Okay,” said Harry, pummeling from the inside. There were no options: Snape, apparently, was determined to somehow react to him only if Potter was really revealed to him. In other words, it will show those most carefully concealed weak points, about which not only Snape is Ron and he should not know. And if now he makes an attempt to get out, the professor will consider his actions as another Potter trick. And Harry didn't want that at all.
He wanted to confess, taste the name of this person. Risk to pronounce it at least to himself. I wanted to convince myself of my sincerity - after all, no one had ever been more sincere with Severus Snape than Harry Potter, who was flashing right up to the roots of his hair, now flushed. Trust ... Of course, he was crazy. But in this case, the stay on the sinful earth will not drag on. And if, contrary to all the rules of life, he is right - then it will be much easier to kill Voldemort.
First, because before him you do not experience such overwhelming embarrassment.
And secondly - who else will have such a friend, with whom you will go not only to explore, but also to hell in the mouth? And Harry will. It will be ... Severus, if Snape does not beat him before.
After weighing all the pros and cons, Harry decided to take a chance. In the end, the risk is a noble cause. Though dangerous.
- I want to be near you, because I'm in love with you. Long been in love. And I know about your orientation: Omut memory ... - the young man stumbled for a second, but then nevertheless agreed, frantically exhaling in two steps:
“If you don’t drive me away from you, sir, I’ll do everything to atone for the resentment you had in my youth.” Because I am also responsible for them.
If I ... go mad (maybe), shame will serve me enough punishment, believe me. But if I'm just a little bit right ... if you - like me - just because ... I can't hate you ... I'll leave now.
The last word was almost inaudible. For some time in the office there was an unbroken deep silence of the dungeons. You had to get up and get out, but her legs refused to carry Harry past the silent Snape. To fall under the piercing gaze, he would not agree now even under the threat of immediate death. It is better to let him drill his bowed head. Harry painfully closed his eyes, feeling the hot cheeks - even tears came to his eyes.
However, it is impossible to sit up, cowering, until the end of life, and wait to become invisible. He made a mistake. * I warned you. * Yes, I warned you, but who in life was not mistaken? I wanted so much to be right ... I almost convinced myself that I was right ... From today, I’ll never be able to look into his eyes. He made himself ridiculous. All right, Potter, rise. God knows how much time has passed, my friends will start worrying again that they have kidnapped me - they are torturing me - they are about to be destroyed ... Why it seems to me that it will not be worse than now under torture. But Harry Potter cannot risk himself and be exchanged for the simple dangers of wartime. He will have to fight with world evil. As in the case of Malfoy - alone. No one will stand side by side: qualifications are not enough. Will stand on a safety net. This is your main upcoming battle, Potter.
No, not the main one. I just lost the main one.
Feeling hot tears coming to his eyes, Harry made an attempt to stand up. A hand on her ruffled crown held her in place.
“Stay, Potter.” I will ... show you the mistakes made in the previous work.
The facial expression of Professor Potions did not change a jot. His voice retained all the imperative intonations, and the tone - the usual irony. Only Harry for some reason thought that it became light in the Slytherin dungeons, as in the tower of astronomy, and the examination of errors in the control work became a fascinating occupation. It all depends on who points to them.
Potter raised his eyelashes, heavy from the unsightly salty moisture, and stared straight into the face of a man whom he wouldn’t have looked at even under Imperio a second ago. Snape looked down at him carefully and somehow differently than ever.
Of course, you can get used to the stunning contempt in seven years. Harry was used to. So now was in confusion, meeting with not destroying, but simply studying eyes.
Feeling a sob rising in his throat, Harry smiled with quivering lips and whispered only one word:
