Scares and Ugly Truths: Part Two

Some things never change with the passage of time, especially the sensation of being in trouble when standing in front of the Headmaster's desk. It was even worse when you knew that you had done something that would be seen as wrong.

Dumbledore seemed to know this as he left them standing, a twinkle of mischief lighting his eyes. Ron was secretly relieved to see that; there was a big difference between just being in trouble and being hated for what you had done.

"Please, don't stay standing on my account," Dumbledore said finally.

They sat in the chairs in front of his desk, declining the offer of lemon drops. For just a moment, Ron could imagine that they were back in school and were being called up for some prank played on the Slytherins. It was a comforting sensation and Ron allowed himself to be caught up in it, seeking a sense of stability in the simplicity of childhood dramas.

The illusion was brief as Professor Binns floated into the office, carrying the Book of Trials. Immediately, the current in the air changed, becoming heavy and dense. Ron and Hermione shifted in their chairs, their postures becoming defensive.

"Professor Binns," Dumbledore greeted, "please take a seat and enlighten our guests about the results of your research."

In atypical style, Binns did what he was told and got straight to the point. It was a little unnerving for Ron who could remember classes where the man had seemed to ramble on forever.

"As I said yesterday the Book of Trials seemed familiar," Binns said. "It actually plays a key part at multiple points in wizard history but has been forgotten by many in mainstream wizard society due to the current upheaval and instability created by You-Know-Who and the struggle to survive unnoticed during the two muggle world wars. As we all know there has always been a huge risk in interaction between muggle and wizard worlds. Distrust and persecution have often erupted against wizards with tragic results for both sides due to unfounded prejudice."

"The Book of Trials," Binns continued, "was apparently developed to ensure that the wizards who wished to publicly use magic in muggle society were capable of such an enormous responsibility. Not only was their muggle knowledge tested, so were their abilities concerning observation, endurance, patience and wisdom. Each of the trials were also designed on a pass or die basis which prevented anyone trying the Trials on a whim."

"Professor," Ron interrupted, "I'm sure this is fascinating, but how do we stop the trials so we can get Harry back?"

It seemed strange to say that Professor Binns looked faint as he was a ghost but he did seem to achieve a degree of paleness beyond his usual see-through white. "Once started the trials cannot be interrupted. They are designed to self destruct if magically tampered with, killing whoever is in it. I'm afraid Professor Snape and Mr. Potter are very much on their own."

The following silence was near absolute, for the first time Ron could clearly hear the ticking of Dumbledore's ancient clock which he had thought dead all the times when he had been a student waiting for his reprimand.

"Thank you," Dumbledore said softly, the words also a dismissal for Binns. The professor nodded and left, leaving the Book of Trials on Dumbledore's desk.

"Professor Dumbledore," Hermione asked quietly, "Professor Binns said that the Trials were a pass or die basis. How many have actually passed all of them?"

"Surviving ancient writings have only recorded three," Dumbledore said gravely, "one of whom which was Merlin."

Three out of a possible hundreds or thousands. Those were not good odds. Ron vigorously rubbed his face with his hands, trying to dispel the nightmare quality that the day had turned into.

"If they succeed," Dumbledore continued, "They will be returned to us. If they fail, the binding of the book will turn black until the Trials are ready for another wizard."

All eyes fell to the book, which was still a pale brown with its dark blue text across the front.

"There is still hope," Dumbledore said quietly. "They are both survivors."

Ron and Hermione nodded automatically but had a little more difficulty in having such faith. Being survivors did not mean that one always survived. Both Snape and Harry had died at Voldemort's hands. It was conceivable that they could succumb to the Trials as well.

"There is something else that we need to discuss," Dumbledore said. "Something that I think none of us fully realized in yesterday's chaos."

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances, knowing immediately that the 'us' that Dumbledore spoke of did not include them.

Dumbledore continued, "The teachers and I were so caught up in the novelty that you had dared to attempt to bond Harry and Severus that none of us considered the obvious. Harry and Severus did not willing agree to this bond, did they?"

Damn. Ron had hoped that they could have gone a few more days before that little piece of knowledge was revealed. At a loss for words, he turned to Hermione.

She sighed, a heaving sound that did nothing to relieve the pressure that was pressing down upon her. "No. We couldn't risk them objecting. Harry might have believed us, but we doubted that Professor Snape would give it a second thought before hexing us. We stole a parrot and I transfigured her into a young girl so she would be able to get close enough to both of them. I used her as a medium to cast the bonding rites. It's doubtful they realized what was happening to them."

Dumbledore closed his eyes and sat unmoving in his chair, absorbing the impact of this new information. When he finally opened his eyes, they were deep with sorrow and focused inward, as if Dumbledore was the only one in the office. "I feared as much. I regret ... I regret many things but mostly what life has forced those two to endure."

Ron and Hermione sat in silence, aware of the weight of years.

Harry shook his head, trying to force the grin from his face. "Seriously though, where were you?"

"I thought you were pulling my leg," Snape admitted. "And when I realized you weren't, well ... you weren't stuck that long."

Harry's eyes narrowed. There was a mischievous glint in Snape's eyes. Snape pulling a prank. That just wasn't possible! Was it? After all, the man had waged a single person war against the Marauders during his school years.

"You!" Harry accused.

That set Snape off again. Grinning, Harry watched Snape laugh and decided that he really liked this side of his Potions professor.

The narrow tunnel proved to be a challenge all by itself. Knowing that the Trials intended for them to go through it, Harry and Snape resigned themselves to widening it. They tried everything they could get their hands on; sticks and rocks of various types but the tunnel walls often proved harder than their makeshift tools.

Harry bit back a cry of pain as another rock shattered in his hands, pinching a fingernail. The tips of his fingers were black and blue. He was already positive that he was going to lose the cracked thumbnail on his right hand.

After a week of chipping away at the walls, they had only gotten a few feet farther beyond where Harry had first gotten stuck. At the rate they were going it was going to take another week to reach the other side. Maybe that was the point.

Frustrated, Harry squirmed out of the tunnel and tossed the shattered rock against the nearest tree. Claire, who had been dozing in one of the lower branches, squawked at him angrily and few off after an indignant ruffle of feathers.

"Feel better?" Snape asked dryly. He was seated by the fire, roasting a rabbit on a spit for dinner.

"No!" Harry snapped. He folded his arms, suppressing a wince as his fingers throbbed.

Snape merely arched an eyebrow at him.

"Don't look at me like that. This is taking forever!"

"Yes, it is," Snape agreed calmly. He pointed to the dirt next to him. "Sit."

Harry huffed and dropped down beside him, his temper dissipating. He wasn't one to often indulge in such behavior and it never lasted long when he did. Snape said nothing more but slowly turned the spit, ensuring that the rabbit was cooked on all sides.

Harry watched him, slowly becoming mesmerized by the movement of Snape's hands. Snape had graceful hands, steady and sure even though they were now as bruised as Harry's. His fingers were long, but strong and callused, accustomed to work. When Snape would pick something up and examine it, Harry would often find himself unable to do anything but stare.

Realizing he was doing it again, Harry quickly looked for something to distract himself. He was not going to explain to Snape why he was staring at his hands as he honestly wasn't sure why.

At least, that's what he told himself.

He grabbed Snape's bag and pulled it into his lap, planning on pulling out his potion's book. He opened the bag and was immediately confronted by the Gathering Ring, which had somehow ended up on the top of the bag.

Harry stared at it. It was still a vibrant green and red, the strength of the spells undiminished with the passage of time. Spells. Harry frowned. If the Trials had removed the spells on Claire, why hadn't the spells on the Gathering Ring been removed as well?

He looked up to ask Snape then abruptly paused. Things had been going so well. Snape hadn't been very happy about the Ring and the last thing he wanted to do was get him tense again. Harry hesitated, one finger gently tracing the smooth edge of the Ring.

It wasn't like there was anything they could do about it.

No, there was no need to bring this to Snape's attention. Harry carefully moved the Ring to the bottom of the bag and retrieved his potions book.

Some things were just best left alone.

Harry awoke to cursing.

"Damn it, Harry! Wake up!"

Jerking upright, Harry quickly grabbed his glasses and slipped them on, peering into the darkness. The fire had burned down to a few flames and the density of the trees allowed little in the way of starlight. Harry quickly tossed some small limbs and leaves onto the fire, building it to a useable light.

Snape was frantically backing away from something. Harry's jaw dropped. There was a little snake coiling then striking at Snape's feet, complaining loudly. "Steps on me. I'll shows you!"

A very familiar little snake.

"Harry! Call it off!" Snape ordered, barely avoiding another strike.

Laughing, Harry managed to slip into parseltongue. "Hello again."

The snake jerked to a stop and tilted it's head upwards, tongue flicking out to taste the air. Snape took the opportunity to escape to a safe distance. "Remembers you," it said.

"And I remember you. There's no need to bite him."

"Your mate stepped on me!"

Harry blinked, then blushed furiously. "He's not my mate!"

Snape saw the blush. "Harry?" he asked. Harry ignored him.

"He's not? But stills with you, musts be," the snake insisted with the authority of one who knew better and wasn't going to back down. "Smells not same, not blood kin."

Opening his mouth to protest, Harry abruptly decided to change tactics. "Okay, he's mine. Will you please quit trying to bite him?"

The snake thought for a minute then seemed to deflate. "Fines. But teaches him to watches feet."

"Deal," Harry said, relieved. The snake might have been little, but he had noticed the triangular shape of its head, indicating it was venomous.

Deciding that the conversation was at an end, the snake began to slither off.

Harry got an idea. "Wait. Could you help us?"

The snake paused then curved around to face them, giving them its attention.

"We've been trying to get through that tunnel to the other side but we don't fit. Do you know another way?"

The snake pondered that for a second. "Why leaves?"

Harry, who knew that an explanation about Hogwarts, Voldemort and the fate of the world would be beyond the snake's understanding, went with something simpler. "We need more food, there's not enough to feed both of us."

The snake readily accepted that, looking from Harry to Snape. "Yesss, very big. Needs much to eat."

"Yeah."

"No more ways out, must digs with claws!"

Harry sighed, then carefully sat down in front of the snake. He held up his hand and wiggled his fingers. "No claws."

"Oh," the snake said. Harry was sure that if it had had eyelids, the snake would have blinked blankly at him, not understanding why a hunter with hands didn't have claws.

"We'll figure it out," Harry said, disappointed. The snake hissed a soft sorry and slithered off into the darkness without another word.

Snape quietly approached him and Harry looked up, watching as the older man crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow. "Care to translate?"

Harry hoped he kept his face from showing his sudden panic. Translate all of it? Ah, no. Absolutely no. There was no power on earth that would make him tell Snape that the snake thought they were mates. Voldemort would love muggles first.

"He said that the tunnel is the only way out and we just have to keep chipping our way through. He's also sorry we don't have claws for digging."

Snape studied his face. "What else?"

Uh, oh. Time for a little misdirection. "He said you need to watch where you walk." Harry grinned. "What would the Gryffindors think of that? The Head of Slytherin nearly bitten by a snake?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I?"

They fell to bickering and Harry was thankful that his misdirection worked.

Hmmm, maybe I should have named this chapter Denial.

Replies:

Tonks is cool- Exactly! I've always had this idea, that as much as the trials were about testing a wizard in several areas, they were also tests designed to give the wizard a chance to learn and grow where they needed to. It's a voyage of self discovery as much as it is a test of abilities and knowledge.