Imperfect People

"So, Potter, you must think your father was an amusing man, don't you?" Snape said viciously, shaking Harry hard enough that his glasses were about to slide off his nose.

"I—I didn't—" Harry struggled with all his strength to break free from Snape's grip, but for some reason, Snape was astonishingly strong, rendering all of Harry's efforts futile.

Snape shoved Harry away with all his strength.

Harry crashed heavily onto the floor of the Underground Classroom.

"You are not to tell anyone what you saw!" Snape roared.

"I won't." Harry got to his feet, keeping as far away from Snape as possible. "I won't, of course I—"

"Get out! Get out, get out! I never want to see you in this office again!" Snape roared.

As Harry rushed for the door, a jar full of dead cockroaches exploded over his head.

He yanked the door open and tore down the corridor, only stopping after putting three floors between himself and Snape.

Breathing hard, Harry leaned against the wall and slowly slid down onto the castle's cold, hard stone floor, mechanically rubbing his bruised arm over and over.

He had no desire to return to Gryffindor Tower so early, nor did he want to tell anyone what he had just seen—not Ron, Hermione, or Tierra.

Harry felt so frightened and miserable, not because Snape had shouted at him or thrown a jar at him, but because he knew what it felt like to be humiliated in front of a circle of spectators. He knew exactly how Snape must have felt when his father mocked him. From what he had just seen and heard, his father truly had been arrogant and conceited, exactly the kind of arrogant and conceited person Snape had always described.

"So, just as you wished."

At that moment,