"Sorry, Aunt Petunia."

Chapter 7: Dinner Arrangements

Two hours and a hearty meal later, Harry and Professor Snape returned to Hogwarts.

Harry tried his best to conceal his pockets which were filled to the brim with different types of pastries the goblins had offered them.

Apparently, goblins were great at both banking and baking.

Logically, he knew that there was no real reason why he would have needed to take any of it along.

But the other, more basic, part of Harry reasoned that he could never be sure when he’d be forced to miss a meal.

The way in which Professor Snape was pointedly avoiding looking anywhere near his pockets told him that the man could at least partially understand Harry’s need to be prepared.

Harry was prepared to bolt immediately after stepping over the threshold of the castle, however, a bony hand clutching his shoulder prevented him from doing so.

“One more thing before we part ways, Mister Potter.”

“Yes, Professor?”

“In private, if you will.”

Harry had a very bad feeling about that, but still, he followed the man obediently. It wouldn’t do to argue with a teacher.

They went towards the dungeons; Harry’s best guess was that they were going to Professor Snape’s office.

His hands felt way too clammy, but he didn’t dare wipe them in case Professor Snape noticed.

Finally, they reached the Potions classroom, passed it, and instead stopped in front of the doors next to it.

Professor Snape pointed his wand at the handle, murmuring something that Harry couldn’t hear. The door swung open easily, revealing a room covered in shelves, each of them filled with specimens.

Motioning at Harry to enter, he followed behind, closing the door with another wave of his wand.

“That was a silencing and anti-eavesdropping spell,” Professor Snape said, putting his wand away. “The door will still open for you.”

That did make him feel better, though Harry hadn’t even noticed at first that he’d been worried about it.

“What did you want to talk about, sir?”

“Sit down,” the man went around his desk, kneeling next to a set of drawers, “and place the contents of your pockets on the desk, if you would.”

Harry’s stomach sank. So much for understanding.

Emptying his pockets, he briefly considered concealing some of the pastries, but eventually he decided against it. Professor Snape would probably notice, and who knew how he would react?

The man in question stood up, turning to face both Harry and the desk, two boxes clutched in his arms.

Setting them next to the pile of pastries, he took the top one - Harry was pretty sure it was empty - and started waving his wand around it, mumbling something incomprehensible.

“Here,” he said a moment later, setting the box down, and, with a single swish of his wand, transferred all of the pastries into it.

Harry observed the process mournfully, regretting not eating some more of them. He was really looking forward to trying those newt-shaped cookies.

When Professor Snape handed him the box, he just stared at him in confusion.

“Sir?”

“The charms will keep whatever you put inside fresh for a month,” the man said, putting away his wand and sitting down. “Although I do not recommend testing the maximum longevity.”