A/N :
So, fun news: the person responsible for keeping my grammar in line is sick.
As a result, this chapter and the next two are only mostly civilized and may contain errors.
Translation: there will be mistakes.
Sorry about that, and thanks for bearing with me.
...
Ravenclaw Tower (Evening)
Barricading himself in his dorm room to get away from his ravenous housemates' insatiable curiosity and their demanding questions, his mind once again went over the day's rapid fire events. The scheming headmaster had set him up today with his little performance piece in the Great Hall, played him masterfully, and had forced him into publically revealing his animagus form to the student body and in reality, likely the whole of magical Britain as letters winged home.
He silently transitioned into the tiger, before curling up on his bed, his tail wrapped around him. His tiger form offered a refuge for him at the moment, a clarity of thought and purpose that cut away the bullshit; plus transitioning into that form often enough would allow him to reduce the overall time it took as he grew more and more comfortable with it. Hopefully, in time, he'd be able to transition as fast as his godfather could.
Turning his mind back to current events, the only reason he could come up with to explain all this was that the headmaster wanted to cover his ass from any political consequences; but that was an awfully weak pretext to out him like that. Was this retribution for refusing McGonagall as an escort?
But that didn't quite fit either as his magic enhanced mind started to work it out, searching for a better fitting motive to explain the elderly wizard's behaviour today. After a bit of intense thought he settled on the simple, yet most likely answer of a power play, or a better term for it would be 'power display,' to remind him of his place.
Ever since he had come to Hogwarts in his first year he had outmanoeuvred the older wizard in their silent battle of wits, with each meeting Harry coming off the victor. Of course, an objective analysis of the facts would put down these victories not entirely due to his burgeoning skill and acumen, but mostly because he had been both underestimated and poorly understood by the Headmaster. It was a lethal combination that even a master politician like Dumbledore with a century of experience couldn't overcome easily or quickly. That was an advantage he no longer had and it left him feeling acutely vulnerable; his armour was nearly gone.
For the first time he had lost handily in their private little cold war and the headmaster had ruthlessly exploited his victory, forcing him to publically reveal his animagus form and had thus lost the surprise of a potent ability, one that may have even saved his life in the future. Now his enemies would be prepared for it. That wound cut deep.
The game had changed and the Headmaster was now taking him seriously, rather than treating him like any other second year student who was no threat to the man nor capable of seeing through his games. The headmaster was now playing the political game with him, he noted with distinct amusement at the thought of the great Albus Dumbledore treating him like a worthy adversary. Along with amusement, though, there was also the anger boiling beneath the surface, as a part of him wanted to rip the old man apart with his jaws and shred him with his claws.
The real question now was how should he respond? Should he roll over and play dead? Should he submit to the old man's authority and pray his attention moves elsewhere? Or should he withdraw back into the shadows to lick his wounds? He thoughtfully lowered his feline head onto his front paws, while carefully considering his options. Or perhaps should he counterattack?
'Counter attack,' he quickly concluded. He was a predator now. He would be no one's prey. He was Lord Potter-Peverell. His course now decided, the question was how to make the old wizard bleed, in the proverbial sense. What did the old wizard value the most, but was exposed and vulnerable enough that he could easily attack the man through it? After all, he was smart enough to recognise that despite his recent successes and victories, he and Sirius were still new players on the political battlefield of Great Britain, with very limited influence. That would change, in time, but right now they needed to be realistic about their position and its limitations. Therefore the Headmaster could not be confronted directly or even politically, he was just too strong in that arena.
'Where to strike?' he thought, as he looked around his dorm room, before the answer suddenly came to him. 'Hogwarts,' he concluded with glee, as he decided to take a page out of Lucius Malfoy's own playbook, his feline jaw shifting into a cat like grin of pleasure as he started to plot his revenge. However, unlike the murderous pureblood lord, he wouldn't use an ancient and deadly basilisk to achieve his goals; he would use something far more subtle and wouldn't resort to violence. In many ways the truth could prove a far more potent weapon than violence.
He wanted to have the moral high ground after all...
...
( Professor Snape's Office )
"Severus, I would like to see you tomorrow night, it's important," the Headmaster stated seriously whilst standing in the doorway of his private office and connected quarters.
"Yes, Headmaster," he quickly agreed from his desk as he looked up from his paperwork. "Now will you tell me why you asked me to make that little scene over the 150 house points given? You know I lost face there with my students," he said, while playing the guilt trip card.
"I just thought it was for the best to remind Mr. Potter that I'm the one in charge around here," the aged wizard offered in explanation, with a smug grin on his face. "He's gotten awfully big for his boots of late; I thought it would be best to teach him a lesson in humility, one which Sirius can't protect him from."
He considered the older wizard's answer, but already knew that there was a lot more to it that remained unsaid. Rather than indulging the Headmaster's need to boast and gloat over his victory, he decided to take another route. "Understandable I suppose, he has been rather arrogant this year. Hopefully this lesson will be enough," Severus expressed levelly before adding thoughtfully. "You know he will seek retribution for this."
"I'm sure he'll try," Albus expressed with a confident grin. "I have to admit I'm rather curious to see how he goes about it. I wonder if he'll try to prank me? The suspense is rather exciting, don't you think?"
He valiantly resisted the strong urge to roll his eyes in disapproval at another batty scheme that he inevitably would continue to be caught up in, whether he liked it or not. "Is there anything else?" he enquired from his chair, suppressing a tired sigh.
"Oh, yes," the grandfatherly wizard's face lighting up like a muggle Christmas tree. "I just received a new sweet called a cherry drop," offering Severus a red sweet which he grudging accepted from the offered packet, the rich juicy cherry taste rolling over his tongue.
"Hmm... They're surprisingly good," Severus voiced in agreement, whilst he sucked on the cherry flavoured sweet. "Far better than your preferred lemon drops," he voiced offhandedly, as the headmaster suddenly gave him a sour look at speaking ill of his most favourite candy.
"I've ordered the house elves to buy some more, I would like you to add the regular combination of potions to them, just like you normally do with the lemon drops," the headmaster instructed.
"Of course, headmaster," he readily agreed whilst suppressing a bored sigh. "Is there anything else?"
"No, I'll see you tomorrow night, we have much to discuss," Albus expressed seriously, before ruining the look by having another sweet.
...
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