THE MOST FAITHFUL

YOU ARE THE PRINCE

The following day, Slytherin's taunts had to be endured, not to mention the anger of his fellow Gryffindors, who were deeply angry that their Captain had allowed himself to be kicked out of the final match of the season. On Saturday morning, whatever Hermione might have said, Harry would have been happy to trade all the Felix Felicis in the world to get onto the Quidditch pitch with Ron, Ginny, and the others. It was almost unbearable to break away from the stream of students walking outside in the sun, all with rosettes and hats and scarves and banners, to descend the stone steps into the dungeon and walk until the distant sound of the crowd was as if blotted out, with the knowledge that no he would have been able to hear a single word of the comment or an applause, or a cry of disappointment from the spectators.

"Ah, Potter" said Snape, as Harry knocked on the door and entered the office, looking around for the boring work he was supposed to be doing. Unexpectedly there were no disgusting ingredients to clean up, no cobweb-covered boxes stacked on the table where Harry had sat in previous detentions.

"Sit" Snape ordered, pointing to the chair on the other side of the desk.

He slowly sat down, staring into the professor's dark eyes without saying a word.

"I guess you realize what you've done"

Harry nodded weakly.

"If I hadn't arrived in time, Mr. Malfoy would have bled to death while you stood there and watched" he continued, his voice low.

Harry nodded again "I didn't know what would happen with that spell, I didn't want... I didn't want to hurt Malfoy, not like this"

"Never try a spell if you don't know what effect it will have" he said dryly, vaguely reminding him of Hermione.

"Especially from unapproved books like potions texts with questionable notes."

Harry looked up sharply.

"Yes Potter, I know you have a potions book full of notes." Harry quickly lowered his eyes dejectedly. Snape had indeed wandered into memories seeing the prince's book.

He listlessly observed the parchments neatly filled out in front of the professor, the words slanted to the right were easily recognizable compared to those that filled the homework of various students.

It all began to make sense, the familiar writing, the words of Byron: He came to school with me, therefore also with your mother, and you know him too.

The truth hit him violently, so much so that he met Snape's eyes without being able to stop his mouth from falling open.

"What?" the professor asked, raising an eyebrow "Have you had a fulminant paresis?"

"It's you." he could only whisper with a dry mouth. "Sorry?"

"You are the Half-Blood Prince."

included Snape's face froze for several seconds before he sighed and looked down.

"Interesting how fate always brings you the most dangerous things" Snape whispered.

"You invented all those spells, you're a genius." Harry said with excessive enthusiasm.

Snape, on the other hand, returned to glaring at him «And you're an imbecile» he leaned forward in his chair. «It's one thing to follow different instructions to prepare a potion, it's another to use unexplained spells"

"I'm sorry" Harry said, tapping his fingers on the base of the chair. "I really didn't mean to, I'll never use it again. I can give you the book back."

For a moment he imagined that Snape would start shouting, insulting him again, of course he would want him back, it was his fault and Harry, in addition to hurting Malfoy, had taken credit for the professor's work.