In Somnis Veritas

17

Things did not get better for Harry over that first week of the new term, and the next two potions classes he attended were much like the first.

He had, thus far, managed to avoid anything more than passing the time of day with the potions master, although it was becoming increasingly difficult to deflect the questions from his concerned friends.

That Monday, he had woken up extra early in a bid to ensure he was the only student in the Great Hall for breakfast. He didn't much feel like talking to Ron about the Quidditch match they'd lost to Hufflepuff at the weekend, and he couldn't face any more of the worried glances Hermione insisted on throwing his way constantly.

Fortunately, his plan worked, and he found himself to be the only student at the Gryffindor table.

Unfortunately, not long after he had taken his seat, he realised that Professor Snape was amongst the handful of teachers already at the top table.

Put off, Harry pushed his food around his plate for ten minutes or so, hoping for a suitable moment to slip away.

It didn't come.

At least, not before he found the dour professor standing right behind him.

"Mr Potter, is there a problem with the food?" he asked silkily.

"Huh?" Harry asked, still trying to recover from the shock.

"As intelligent as ever, I see. This is the third morning in a row that you have chosen to eat less than an adequate amount of food for a boy of your age, and I would like to know if there is a problem with what is being served," Snape told him.

"'M'just not hungry," Harry mumbled, turning his back on the potions master.

If he had hoped his response would get rid of Snape, he was to be sorely disappointed.

Instead, the professor leaned in closer, lowering his voice.

"Given that you are clearly going through some form of troubling time at the moment, I shall overlook your poor attitude and lack of respect on this occasion. I will not, however, allow you to starve yourself," he said, in a voice so calm yet so dangerous that Harry felt a chill run down his spine. "I expect you to eat at least half of the food on your plate before you leave the table."

"You can't make me," Harry told him, feeling anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

"I assure you, Mr Potter, that if I were so inclined, I could simply spell that food into your stomach this moment," Snape told him. "However, as you are not 5 years old, I will give you one more chance to see reason."

Finally reaching boiling point, Harry slammed down his fork.

"What do you care?!" he snapped, turning to look at Snape again. "You don't! So why should I?!"

"I would not be standing here if I did not," the professor told him.

"That's a bloody lie!" Harry cried, pushing the wooden bench back with some force and standing up, sending his wand rolling onto the floor. "You don't care, and you can't make me eat! You're not my family, you don't get to tell me what to do!"

With that, he scrambled out from the table, picking his wand up as he went.

"Detention Potter, 7 o'clock tomorrow evening, my office!" Snape told him.

"Can't wait!" Harry called over his shoulder as he made for the door, wondering if he was brave or just plain stupid.

As he reached the entrance to the Great Hall, he met Ron and Hermione, on their way in for breakfast.