A/N

Hello readers,

next chapter's on:-) Please let me know what you think!

As always: I own none of the characters or the world, unfortunately, just the plot is mine.

Enjoy reading!


Harry woke in the crack of the morning. The first shafts of sunlight fell into the room and made the bright walls shine. The young Gryffindor turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling above him. He felt comfortable in the large bed between the soft pillows. Judging from the birds' twittering and the silence in the house, it was quite early. Harry continued staring at the ceiling and enjoyed the sudden feeling of safety which flooded over him. He didn't know how long he had laid there when he heard the door to Snape's bedroom open and close. The steps could be heard along the gallery and down the stairs.

Suddenly the memories of last evening shot through Harry's mind and he shivered. He couldn't entirely remember what happened after Snape asked him to fetch his broom. Harry had seen Snape's arm raise and abruptly a memory of uncle Vernon had crossed his mind:

The meaty hand of Harry's uncle connected with his cheek and threw him to the floor.

Harry had tried to cover his head from further blows and cower away. The next thing he remembered clearly, was crying into the soft fabric of Snape's clothes and clinging onto the man for dear life. The potions master had sat absolutely still, he had slowly stroke Harry's hair while holding him tight with a strong arm.

Shame welled up in Harry's chest as he remembered that. How could something like that happen? Snape was certainly furious with him. Why should the potions professor accept such a weak behavior? The Dursleys never approved his tears or weeping, so why for Merlin's sake, would Snape do so? Surely the man didn't like Harry's outburst. Maybe he should have just handed over his broom and left it at that.

Sighing Harry drew back the green curtains around his bed and swung his legs over the edge. That was the moment when he realized his clothes were no longer the oversized hand-me-downs from Dudley but soft pajamas. Oh, no! Snape must've brought him to his room last night and transfigured the clothes. No! Harry didn't remember falling asleep next to Snape. But the man hadn't woken him. Harry didn't remember the man talking much, too.

Shaking his head the young Gryffindor got up and went to the small en-suite to get washed and dressed.

When he was finished he noticed a clock hanging above the door to the gallery. It was half past eight. Being late for breakfast after last night, on the first day at Snape's. It couldn't get worse, could it? Harry bit back the tears which suddenly filled his eyes. After all, he had eaten dinner yesterday. At the Dursleys, he wouldn't have gotten breakfast, anyway. So it wasn't that bad here. And maybe Snape didn't even want Harry to have breakfast after yesterday?

Harry grabbed his broom and opened the door. He slowly walked down the stairs and continued towards the dining room. Standing in the passage to the room Harry saw Snape sitting at the table and reading the Daily Prophet.

The boy took a deep breath and stepped into the dining room. The professor didn't show whether he heard him or not. Hesitantly, Harry approached the table and laid his broom on the clean surface. Then he stepped back again and folded his hands behind his back to stop them from trembling. His breathing was shaky and he felt a big lump in his throat.

Silence filled the room and Snape still pretended to not hear the boy. Harry stepped from one foot to the other and became more and more nervous. After what felt like an eternity, the professor slowly lowered his newspaper and looked at Harry, then at the firebolt lying on the table and back to the boy. Harry immediately dropped his head and bit his lower lip.

Snape hadn't looked very angry or annoyed. If Harry thought about it, the man's features were a perfectly unemotional mask. The Gryffindor felt Snape's gaze on him and moved uneasily.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter." The potions master finally broke the tense silence.

"Good morning, Professor." Harry answered meekly not looking up from the floor. Silence. Professor Snape studied the boy closely. He stood in front of the table, shifting his weight in unease. The broom laying between them on the table.

"Thank you for handing over your broom, Mr. Potter. You will get it back as soon as the wards are improved." The statement was spoken without any judgment, emotion or sneer.

"Yes, Sir." Harry said. He wanted to get out of Snape's company as soon as possible, so he asked quietly: "Can I go to the library, Professor?" Then Harry remembered Snape's rule about making eye-contact while talking and quickly glanced at Snape from under his fringe.

The black eyes stared back at him, not revealing any sort of motion.

"May you got to the library, Mr. Potter. And yes, you may." the potions master said in the same neutral tone as before.

"Thank you, Sir. " Harry answered, turned around and fled from the dining room. He ran up the stairs to retrieve his homework and hurried back down into the library. As He sat at a desk staring at the parchment in front of him, Harry began thinking again.

Snape hadn't looked angry or something like that. Maybe it was just the calm before the storm? Sometimes Uncle Vernon seemed to not notice a mistake of Harry's only to punish him even worse when Harry felt safe. Sighing, Harry opened his transfiguration book and read the assignment from Professor McGonagall. 'Write a three-foot essay about the difficulties and risks of the transfiguration of a large animal into a small one and explain the spellwork!'.

Harry remembered a lesson shortly before the second task when Ron had tried to transfigure a bunny into a toad. The small body of the toad had had large ears and a bushy tail. From time to time it got bigger and bigger and Professor McGonagall had been forced to revert the spell to prevent the poor animal from exploding. Harry's attempt hadn't been much better. His toad had large teeth and paws. It hadn't moved at all until it puked all over the desk.

'The difficulties in transfiguring a large animal into a smaller one could end rather severe. Done incorrectly, the spell causes the smaller animal to burst, which is not really the intention of the spell.' Harry wrote. He stared at the parchment and rolled his eyes. That was surely not what Professor McGonagall wanted to hear. Harry ripped the parchment in two and threw it to the ground. Why should he brood over such a stupid spell at all? As if that would have helped him at the graveyard! How should it be useful? Transfiguring Wormtail into a toad to anticipate Voldemort's resurrection? Did the spell even work on humans?

'Maybe that is something you are supposed to discuss in the essay?' a small voice came forward in Harry's mind. The Gryffindor huffed and slumped back down into the seat. Annoyed he flipped through the pages of the book but found nothing that appeared to help.

Yesterday Snape had told Harry he could use the books in the library as long as they moved or opened without difficulties. But how was he supposed to find anything in the huge room? There were books everywhere! Harry got up and slowly walked along the shelves.

There was a big section about potions, predictable. As well as the part about Defence Against The Dark Arts. This might be quite interesting and Harry decided to pick a book from there later. As he continued walking by the shelves, Harry noticed a section about wandless magic. Wandless magic. That sounded even more interesting than DADA!

Hermione had told him about that just before the first task. But none of them knew how to do it so she dropped the topic again. Maybe Harry could ask Snape at lunch if there was a book for beginners? The teen went on and finally found a section about transfiguration. It was rather small compared to the other subjects Harry had seen so far. The titles on the books referred to advanced magic. Not spells as simple as transfiguring animals. The books there dealt with changing very big things partially and transfiguring humans into objects. Nothing Harry could use for his essay though.

The young Gryffindor turned to go back to his desk when a small shelf in the back of the room attracted his attention. He went over and read the titles. These books were about the Dark Arts itself! Raising dark creatures, basilisks, acromantulas and more.

Harry traced his fingers over the backs of the books and suddenly he was thrown backward. He landed on his bum and looked up very confused. He saw nothing extraordinary. The books still stood on the case boards and the library was as quiet as before. Slowly he picked himself up from the ground and took a few steps in the direction where the blow had come from. Nothing happened. Relieved Harry shrugged to himself and carefully tried to pull out a book about dark offensive curses. It didn't move instantly but it didn't need much force to get the book out. As Harry opened the book a sharp pain shot up his right arm and exploded in his chest making Harry scream. He dropped the book and panted for air.

Looking down his arm, the boy noticed bruises building on his hand. Slowly Harry grasped the hem of his jumper with his left hand. He made a face when he saw that there were black bubbles on his forearm like the skin had been burned and bruised at the same time. When Harry tried to move he felt dizzy and struggled to stay on his feet. A terrible pressure on his ribs and shoulders caused Harry to stumble backward. He tried to call for help but no word left his throat. Black dots appeared before his eyes and he fell to the ground. All the attempts of staying conscious failed an Harry drifted off into darkness.


Severus stood at the workstation in his lab. He brewed Pepper-up Potion, a healing potion, and a nutrient potion at the same time. While stirring the first cauldron he added another ingredient to the healing potion. Severus had decided to confront Dumbledore with the events of last evening. The headmaster owed him an explanation. How could the old fool place the boy with those... muggles! And on top of it, never notice the damage they inflicted on the boy.

'After I brought Poppy the potions I go speak to the headmaster. The boy can stay here alone for a few hours.' Severus told himself. He had also thought about what to do with Harry. The boy needed reassurance and consistency. Pott...Harry had to learn that his actions had consequences. If Severus was going to care for the child over the summer, then he would make sure Harry understood this.

When Severus started cutting mandrake roots, an ear-piercing siren went off. The knife slipped and cut into his hand. The man grunted, took out his wand and murmured a quick healing spell. Then he strode towards the door and down the corridor to the library.

'I should adjust the volume of that alarm soon!' he thought. What could possibly be happened to alert him anyway? The Potions Master opened the door to leading to the library and instantly knew something was terribly wrong.

"Potter?" he called but nobody answered. Severus went further down the shelves and stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Potter lying on the floor, obviously unconscious. The Potions master cursed under his breath and dropped next to the boy. "Potter! - Harry!?" He reached out his hand to feel the youngster's pulse. When he pulled back the sleeve of the jumper he saw the blisters and bruising on Potter's forearm. "Damn it, Potter! What did I tell you about taking books that won't move!" Then Severus realized that the boy wasn't breathing. He whipped out his wand: "Enervate!" he yelled and a blueish stream of oxygen broke through Potters jumper and chest to reanimate the teen. Severus watched closely and after an excruciating couple of seconds the boy's chest rose and fell again. "Foolish child." the Potions master scolded. He stuffed away his wand and scooped the light boy in his arms. Then he stood and left the library, shutting the door wandlessly.


Severus collapsed into the chair he had conjured next to Pot...Harry's bed. The last two hours he had spent healing the boy. The book had caused a rather bad burning and bruising along Harry's arm and around the chest up to the shoulders. Some books in the library were very difficult to handle. The one Pot...Harry had managed to take needed to be levitated out of the shelf and onto a special tray before opening. Severus had purchased it at Borgin&Burke's along with the tray which enabled the curses. They couldn't be broken, therefore, it was necessary to weaken the curses with complex and ancient magic. Not even Dumbledore had been able to undo the curses...Merlin knew why that book had been warded so specially.

The boy was still unconscious and Severus hoped it would last longer. He wasn't prepared to talk to Pot...Harry, yet. After the Potions master had poured two vials of healing potion down the boy's throat he noticed that the young Gryffindor had difficulties to breathe properly. Severus had sat the boy up and smeared some bruise balm on the darkened flesh. When the bruising finally faded he saw the scars. They were all over Harry's back, some on his chest and a few on his sides. The ones on the back looked like they were inflicted by a sharp object which had cut deep into the skin.

Severus knew that kind of scars very well, he himself carried them on his back. They were not a reminder of the Dark Lord. No, they were much older. Tobias was a nice person – when he was sober. But most of Severus' childhood his father had a bad mood, then he drunk and things got worse. Since Severus' mother died, Tobias was drunk or in a bad mood 24/7.

Those scars on Potter's back came from a belt or a cane. Suddenly the flinching and perfect politeness made sense. The boy must've thought he would be hit if he did something wrong. Severus scolded himself for not seeing things over the years. But why should he? Minerva was the Gryffindor Head-of-house and was supposed to know when her lions had any kind of problems. Severus was only responsible for his snakes.

The Potions master was definitely not ready to talk to Potter. What should he say? Pity for the scars was not appropriate, they were caused a long time ago. But Severus knew that such injuries, while on the outside healed, could be open wounds on the inside. How should he behave towards the boy? The young Gryffindor certainly didn't tell anyone about his problems. So why, by Merlin's beard, should he tell Severus about them? Who wanted a greasy, cold Death Eater-bat to know one's secrets?

Severus ran his hand through his black hair and sighed. He should go and seal the dangerous sections of his library up. That way Potter couldn't even go near a dangerous book again. He would be constricted to some harmless books. Nothing like today could happen again. He should have done that last evening... Yes, that's what he'll do. Go to the library, let Potter sleep and later get something to eat for the boy. He had skipped breakfast and had just missed lunch. 'There is no point in starving him.' Severus told himself and rose from the chair. The moment he opened the door, he heard a groan from the boy.

'Oh, no...' Severus thought. But that didn't stop Potter from waking. Severus sighed deeply and closed the door again. He sat back in the chair and watched as the boy opened his eyes and became aware of his surroundings.