Disclaimer: Characters and world belong to J.K Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended.

Welcome to the Dungeons

…

Chapter Seven

…

Harry sat down between Theo and Draco in the Great Hall early Friday morning, loading up his plate with eggs, sausages, toast, and half a peach in some sugary syrup. Tinned peaches, Harry figured – just without the tin. Something that his Aunt Petunia loved to eat every morning. He was finally finished with his daily nutrient potion supplements from Professor Snape; something that his Head of House informed him the night prior. He felt better than he had ever felt before, his ribs were no longer obvious when he removed his shirt. His elbows and knees less knobbly than before.

It was a good thing too, Harry realised. Quidditch season began the next day – Slytherin versus Gryffindor. He was already nervous and he still had a day to go. He still had a double potions class to get through before he could worry about quidditch. He refused to let it distract him – not with Professor Snape's insistence of quizzing Harry at the beginning of every single potions class. After the first class, Harry had learned to prepare well ahead of what was being taught by the potions professor, and after the first class Harry had been able to answer every single question Snape threw at him.

"Ready for double potions?" Theo muttered to him as he bit into a sausage.

Harry nodded. "Yeah…I've read ahead quite far and taken notes on everything. I should be alright, I think." He took a bite of toast, shrugging. "It's all I can do really. Just prepare as much as I can so I don't get caught out from the questions Professor Snape asks me every class."

Theo shook his head in disbelief. "I don't understand why he has it out for you. It's a bit ridiculous really." He paused, grinning. "At least you're learning loads in the class, reading that far ahead."

Harry chuckled. "I suppose that's one way of looking at it."

Movement at the head table caught his attention. Turning his head slightly to look he spotted the Headmaster take a seat. He was clothed in the most extravagant wizarding robes that Harry had ever seen. Multi-coloured and larger than life, with a matching hat.

Harry frowned. "Are the headmaster's robes normal in the magical world?" he asked both boys. "I didn't see anything quite like that during my visit to Diagon Alley, but perhaps I missed it."

Draco snorted. "Not normal at all, Harry," he informed his friend. "Usually they are a simple black, or some other dark colour."

"It's a law within the magical world," Theo told him. "Wizards and witches having to wear robes that are simple, or dark, plain if you will, for when they travel through the muggle world. It's needed so they don't draw attention from muggles."

"The fear is that if they drew attention from certain muggles, our world would be found out eventually, much like what happened hundreds of years ago during the witch hunts," Hermione said as she sat down across from the group of boys. "The fear is that if the magical world was found out, muggles would hunt magical folk down. The law aims to prevent that from happening, I assume," she looked to Theo for confirmation.

Theo nodded. "Exactly. Blending in rather than standing out."

Harry hummed to himself. It made sense to him. Muggles could be dangerous, if they were anything like his aunt and uncle. He frowned. Magical people could be dangerous as well. You-Know-Who proved that. He needed to be careful not to over-generalise…he didn't want to be like his aunt and uncle. Their hate for anything and anyone different from them. The two of them referring to him as freak rather than by his name. He refused to be anything like them. He wanted to be better than that. Needed to be better than that.

A sharp, burning sensation cut into his forehead. Harry dropped his fork onto his plate, his ears ringing from the clattering. His two hands clutched his forehead, trying to bring relief. Trying to protect. It felt as though someone had held a scorching fireplace poker to his forehead. To his scar.

He could hear murmuring nearby, but was unable to make out what anyone was saying. A hand on his shoulder, muttering in his ear. Harry hissed. It hurt so much. So much more than it had the first time it flared up in defence class. His eyes were clamped shut, preventing tears from streaking down his face.

The sensation suddenly disappeared, quicker than it had arrived. He could make out Hermione whispering to him, leaning across the table. Watching him, telling him it would be alright. Draco's hand was squeezing his shoulder, trying to bring comfort to his friend.

Harry relaxed. He let out a breath. "I'm alright," he said, his voice shaky. He removed his hands from his forehead and placed them back on the table in front of him. His palms were sweaty. He turned slightly to take in Draco next to him, his hand still resting on Harry's shoulder.

"Thank you," Harry said to the blond.

Draco gave him a nod as he removed his hand from his friend's shoulder. "Was it always that bad?"

Harry shook his head. "No…I've never felt it that bad before. It was awful. I couldn't hear anything either. Just pain…burning in my scar."

He looked over to the head table and spotted Professor Snape watching him closely. The hook-nosed professor broke eye contact with Harry and began watching Professor Quirrell carefully. The defence professor was chatting with the headmaster, Harry watched as he adjusted his turban carefully on his head while looking at Harry. He gave Harry a small, nervous smile and a jerky wave of his hand, greeting his student before returning his attention back to the headmaster.

"Strange," Draco said as he helped himself to another glass of pumpkin juice.

"Very," Hermione said from across the table. She too was watching Professor Quirrell, frowning as she did so.

The small group of Slytherin first years soon finished breakfast and made their way back down to the dungeons to grab the needed supplies for a double potions class.

Harry sat down at a work bench near the front of the room, pulling out his potions textbook, quill, ink well, and a piece of parchment, before dropping his school bag on the floor next to his chair. Hermione slid into her seat next to him.

"Ready?" she asked him as she straightened out her writing supplies in front of her.

"Yep…as I'll ever be," Harry said.

The group of students waited quietly in the room. The first year Gryffindors had eventually joined them. The room was full, but Professor Snape had yet to show up. Harry took a look at his old watch that he had taken as his own after his cousin had gotten bored of it, noting that the class should have begun minutes ago. Snape was never late. Ever.

There was a quiet murmuring throughout the classroom. The other students had also noticed the time. Harry shared a questioning look with Hermione before the door burst open and their potions professor barged in, his cloak billowing behind him.

"Apologies for my tardiness, I was speaking with the Headmaster," Professor Snape drawled to the students as he made his way to the front of the classroom. "Today we will be working on the antidote to common poisons." He waved his wand and the steps appeared on the blackboard at the front of the room. "Pay attention to the directions on the blackboard, noting the differences between the directions there and the ones in your textbook. Most notably are the differences in your ingredients." He looked to Harry, "Potter…what are the differences? No looking at your open textbook." The professor stepped in front of Harry and Hermione's workbench, waiting for Harry to reply.

Harry squinted at the blackboard, the words were blurry, difficult to read. "Um…honeywater, mint springs, mandrake…and," he squinted more, leaning forward to see clearer, "…and lavender, Sir."

Snape gave a subtle nod of his head in acknowledgement of Harry's correct answer. "Good. Everyone, get the proper ingredients and begin your potions. It will take you the majority of class time to do so. Begin."

The students began to rise from their seats to grab the ingredients they needed for their antidotes.

"Potter," the professor called to Harry quietly. Harry turned to look at his Head of House. "I suggest you get new glasses over Winter Break. The blackboard shouldn't be blurry from where you and Miss Granger are sitting."

Harry frowned, words were always blurry from a distance. He hadn't realised it was anything out of the ordinary. "Yes sir," he said to Professor Snape before he made his way to the storeroom to help Hermione gather their potions ingredients.

…

…

Harry sat quietly at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. He had a plate full of breakfast in front of him, as per Marcus Flint's insistence, but couldn't bring himself to eat any of it. He was going to be sick.

Quidditch. Why did he agree to play on the quidditch team? He had never played on a sports team before. Ever. Always too small or too strange to be picked for the team. He was just a small boy with glasses that he could barely see out of – he wasn't an athlete.

Movement to his left. Marcus Flint sat down next to him. "Potter…you are going to need to eat that. You need your strength for the game. It can last for hours – no breaks."

Harry sighed. His stomach was churning threateningly. "I don't…I don't think I can Marcus. I think I'm going to be sick."

Marcus nodded in understanding. "You're nervous. That's normal – it's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I don't even understand why I was picked for quidditch. Honestly. I have never been on any muggle sports teams. Ever." He paused, frowning. "What if it's a mistake?"

He looked to the team captain. He was grinning.

"It's no mistake, Harry." He patted him on his back as he stood back up from the bench. "Your father was a chaser for the Gryffindor team when he was here. It's in your blood, whether you realise it or not."

Harry's mouth popped open in surprise. "Really?"

Marcus nodded. "Yes. He has trophies here. Quidditch Championship trophies – that sort of thing." Another grin. "Just try to eat something. Toast or some eggs. Something to tie you over until after the match. We will head out as a team in a few minutes to get ready and then head to the quidditch pitch."

Harry brought his attention back to the table and began nibbling on his eggs. They tasted like ash.

"You'll be fine Harry," Hermione called to him from the other side of the table. "Like Marcus said: it's in your blood." She gave him a small grin as she went to work on her breakfast.

"We'll be cheering for you Harry," Pansy said to him with a grin. "We even made a banner for the match." She and Daphne chuckled at Harry's shocked expression.

A few minutes passed before Marcus and the other team members stood up from the table.

It was time.

Draco and Theo both slapped Harry on the back. "Good luck Harry."

Harry rose from his spot at the table and made his way over to the team.

Marcus nodded at his team as they all gathered. "We will walk to the common room. Get changed into our gear, and head out to the pitch – the locker rooms specifically – for a last minute meeting before the match begins."

The group left the Great Hall together and made their way down to the dungeons.

…

…

Harry sat between Slytherin chaser Adrian Pucey and keeper Miles Bletchley on the hard, wood bench in the team changing room. Marcus was pacing back and forth in front of them.

"Our gameplay today is to score as many points as possible. We also must protect Potter." He looked to Harry and game him a sly grin. "Harry – I'm going to ask you to wait to grab the snitch until we're up by a decent number of points…maybe fifty. That being said – if the Gryffindor seeker spots it before then, go after it even if we aren't up by fifty."

Harry gave him a curt nod.

"Bole." A large bloke looked up at Marcus. "It's your job to protect Potter. At all costs. Follow him everywhere." Bole nodded in understanding.

"Who's the Gryffindor seeker?" Bletchley asked.

"Kenneth Towler – a third year," Marcus informed the team. "Wood is obviously still keeper. Johnson, Bell and Spinnet are chasers. The Weasley twins are beaters." He looked to his team. "They have a good team…but we have a better one. Potter's place on our team is still relatively unknown – or should be at least. Wood the other day was trying to get me to let slip who it was. He might know now, with our team walk out of the Great Hall, but he's had no time to prepare. He doesn't know how well Harry flies. That will work in our favour."

"Lastly, goggles on at all times – it's cloudy and cold. And is starting to rain." Marcus looked at his team once more. "Understood?"

"Understood!" The team collectively responded.

Harry tugged his goggles out of his jersey pocket. He frowned, he had never worn these before.

A whistle shrilled in the distance.

"It's time." Marcus grunted. He stepped closer to Harry and adjusted his goggles. "Good?" he asked him quietly.

"Perfect," Harry exclaimed. He reached over to grab his broom. He was ready.

The Slytherin team made their way out of the locker room, following their captain onto the pitch. The Gryffindor team made their way onto the pitch from the opposite side. They too were ready for the rain. The teams gathered in the centre of the pitch. Madam Hooch waiting for them.

"Captains shake hands!" She yelled above the roar of the crowd.

Wood and Flint stepped closer and shook each other's hand.

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," Madam Hooch said once the team captains finished their handshake. She was glaring at Flint as she said it. Harry frowned, he wondered what that was about.

"Mount your brooms, please!" Madam Hooch yelled out once again.

Harry threw a leg over his Nimbus Two Thousand. His hands tight on the neck of his broom. The wind was beginning to pick up. The rain becoming more pronounced.

Madam Hooch reached down and released the snitch first. It flew around both Harry and Kenneth Towler, giving them both a look before taking off. The bludgers were released next, whooshing out of the case they were strapped in. Madam Hooch held the Quaffle in her hands before blowing her whistle hard and throwing the quaffle high into the air.

The game had begun.

Harry flew high above the quidditch pitch, just like Flint had told him during practise, and watched the game proceed. He paid attention to the Gryffindor seeker, noting that he was following Harry closely. He flew back and forth along the pitch, watching as Gryffindor scored the first goal.

"TEN TO ZERO FOR GRYFFINDOR!" the voice over the loud speaker rang out. The crowd cheered. Professors clapped.

Harry wiped at his goggles, it was somewhat difficult to see through the rain. He sped back and forth along the pitch, high above the action. Towler following suit.

A bludger zoomed towards Harry, he leaned back to avoid its hit.

Bole appeared next to him and wacked the bludger towards the Gryffindor keeper. "Sorry about that Harry!" he called out as he backed off, alert to the goings on in the game.

Flint used the distraction of the bludger coming Wood's way to score a goal for Slytherin.

"SLYTHERIN SCORE! THEY'VE TIED IT UP…TEN – TEN!" the voice over the loudspeaker called out to the crowd.

The minutes ticked by, Harry on alert for the snitch. It was cold. Freezing. He just wanted the game to end. Slytherin were able to score two more times, leading Gryffindor thirty to twenty when a glint caught Harry's eye from the other side of the pitch. The Gryffindor seeker spotted it as well and was off like lightning. Harry close behind and quickly gaining.

"BOTH SEEKERS HAVE SPOTTED THE SNITCH!" the voice over the loudspeaker rang out.

Harry dropped into a dive, following the snitch down. Towler right next to him. Them both reaching out, trying to grasp the snitch. It was just out of reach. Mocking the two of them as it approached the ground. Closer and closer.

Towler pulled up a good ten feet before the ground. Harry pushed further and pulled up as soon as he grasped the tiny ball. His feet dragging along the ground. His arm held high in the air.

The crowd roared.

"POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! SLYTHERIN WIN ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY TO TWENTY!"

He grinned as he slowed down. Hand still high in the air. A wide grin on his face. His teammates racing towards him, yelling and laughing as they met him in the middle of the pitch.

"We won! We won!" Voices rang out.

Harry was hugged and slapped across the back. Surrounded by a sea of green and silver. The spectators were beginning to enter onto the pitch. Hermione and the other first year Slytherins rushing towards the team. Banners and flags billowing behind them.

Harry watched, breathless as Hermione pushed her way through the crowd, her eyes not leaving Harry's. Finally she reached him and pulled him into a tight hug.

"You did it Harry!" She yelled over the noise. Her face covered in green and silver face paint.

Draco and Theo were next, hugging Harry and laughing at the win.

"That was awesome flying, Harry," Draco laughed. "No wonder you made the team."

Harry's face hurt from his smiling. He had never felt this way before. This happy.

Theo leaned over to speak to Draco. "Your mum's just off to the side. Someone is with her."

Both Draco and Harry turned to look.

Off to the side of the pitch stood a regal looking woman and a young man. Long, jet black hair and pale eyes. Leaning heavily on a cane. The ghost of a smile on his face.

Sirius. His godfather.

Harry broke away from the group and made his way towards them. A tickling familiarity running through his head as he looked at his godfather. He knew him. Remembered him. A long forgotten memory of a man trying to feed Harry baby food. A big black dog play wrestling with him on the living room floor. Laughter. His laughter ringing out as the dog licked his face.

A man's voice off in the distance. "Padfoot…that's disgusting." More laughter.

Harry stopped just in front of his godfather, looking up at him with a curious expression on his face.

"Padfoot?" He asked quietly, already knowing the answer.

Sirius made a noise. Something between a laugh and a cry and gave Harry a nod of his head.

"Hello Harry," he croaked out. His voice struggling to get the words out. Tight with emotion.

"I remember," Harry said quietly. "I remember you."

Sirius grinned at Harry. His hands twitching, unsure what they should do. He looked like he wanted to hold Harry in his arms, but not knowing his place. Not knowing how Harry would receive such an action. He readjusted his grip on his cane, clearing his throat. "That was some flying Harry. You're a natural." He grinned. "Did you want to go somewhere to talk, Harry?" he asked him carefully.

Harry nodded. He wanted to know everything he could about this man. Remembering what Professors McGonagall and Snape said to him a month ago. This man was his guardian. He was responsible for Harry. For looking after Harry. "I'd like that a lot," he told him.

"Ah," An old voice rang out behind Harry. "I see the two of you have found each other."

Harry turned to look at Albus Dumbledore standing behind him. Hermione and the other Slytherin students standing just behind the Headmaster.

"That's right," Sirius ground out. Harry could hear the strain in his voice. His godfather was weary of the Headmaster.

"Well, forgive me if I am overstepping, but you are welcome to use my office to catch up with each other. It is quiet and we will be able to talk about some things in private." The Headmaster grinned at Harry, his blue eyes twinkling. "That was excellent flying Mr. Potter. Congratulations on your win."

"Thanks." Harry said dryly. He was uncomfortable around the man. Unsure what he wanted with him.

"Is the Headmaster's office alright, Harry?" Sirius drew his attention back to him.

Harry nodded. "Lead the way."