1. WOW! So many people got my challenge that I don't know where to start! So, just pick a bunch of accolades and color me proud :) Although... phrases like "things go splodey" - "bye bye Har Bear" -and "sounds like a preview to a fight match" - had me rolling with laughter. Man I love you guys :)
2. Glad you are all still liking my slightly twisted sense of humor. Just remember, this is fan FICTION - so if I have tweaked the laws of scientific probability to suit my purpose... please don't sue.
BeautifulOrubus - You sure you haven't stolen my outline? Yep, he will be introduced in the next chap or so.
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The snowy white owl flew gracefully through the doors of the Dining Hall and landed gently before Harry; offering a welcoming hoot before sticking out its leg. The little boy dropped his fork, forgetting about his breakfast momentarily as he stared between the owl before him and the parrot perched on his shoulder in bewilderment. He turned to the teacher sitting at his side. "I have an owl?"
"Correct," Professor Snape answered, reaching across the table to remove the letter tied to Hedwig's leg. "Her name is Hedwig." Harry looked awed by this information, tentatively reaching out his hand to touch the soft feathers on her head. Snape tapped the parchment with his wand, checking for curses, before unfurling the letter and swiftly reading the contents. He spoke absently. "Her name literally means 'battle' and 'fight.' You have a very loyal companion with her." A rolling of eyes was the only outward expression of the letter's contents.
"Hi Hedwig," Harry greeted softly. He giggled, enthralled, when the owl gave an indignant hoot towards the parrot on his shoulder before bending forward and stealing bacon off of his plate. Harry gave his teacher an anxious look, clearly uncertain whether or not he would get in trouble for the commotion.
"She's merely announcing her claim over you to the ridiculous bird on your shoulder." He smirked. "Perhaps you should allow your owl to battle with the parrot for a claim to dominancy."
"Severus!" Professor McGonagall snapped, clearly unimpressed as the parrot in question gave off a loud serious of anxious sounding squawks.
Eyebrows lifted disdainfully. "Merely a suggestion, I assure you." He winked at the little boy, satisfied when the nervous expression vanished from bright green eyes and he smiled back. Snape glared at the Scarlet Macaw clinging to Harry's shoulder. "Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley, for failing to conduct yourself with decorum during breakfast." The parrot grumbled quietly, snapping his wings mutinously. Harry giggled again - Snape narrowed his eyes. "A further five points for not knowing when to keep your mouth shut." The Scarlet Macaw's head drooped. Satisfied, Snape turned away.
"Who was Mr. Potter's letter from?" Professor McGonagall questioned.
"A blight on the face of humanity."
Filius Flitwick grinned, well accustomed to the Potions Master's sense of… humor. "How is Remus?" he enthused.
"Who's Remus?" Harry questioned. Hedwig gave Ron a dirty look. The parrot nervously jumped from Harry's shoulder to the back of the Headmaster's chair. Harry didn't notice. He looked at Snape inquiringly, continuing to pet his now cooing owl
"Alive," Snape answered Flitwick. He turned to Harry. "Your babysitter."
Harry's shoulders drooped. "Like Mrs. Figg?" He made a face. "Does he like cats, too?" he asked glumly.
Professor Snape didn't even try to prevent the smirk from crossing his face. "Not likely," he deadpanned. He turned to the Headmaster, answering the unspoken question as to why an Order member would be mailing missives that could be easily intercepted. "Apparently, the arrogant whelp agreed to write a placating letter of sorts; indicating he had successfully managed not to get himself killed during the first week of school." He shrugged, unconcernedly cutting Harry's pancakes into small bites. "The mutt was concerned."
"Mutt?" Harry perked up. "Does he have a dog?"
Snape snorted. "I'm sure he did," he muttered under his breath. He ignored Harry's question, giving the boy a pointed look until he obediently picked up his fork and resumed eating. Turning to the Gryffindor table, he jerked his head slightly. Not a moment later Hermione arrived; picking up Harry and sliding into his seat before resettling the little boy on her lap. He tossed her the note. "Respond to this letter and I will assign Gryffindor two points." Hermione accepted the letter, puzzled, but smiled once she recognized the signature.
"Yes, sir."
A flare of pain, unexpected, caused the professor's muscles to twitch. He stood abruptly, giving Dumbledore a meaningful look, before turning to Harry. "I will be away from the castle for the morning." He winced as the burning sensation heightened. "Remember to stay in the castle today." Harry nodded, looking confused. Snape hesitated, gently placing a hand over messy hair before turning and striding away.
"Where's he going, Mione?"
She sighed. "Someplace we do not want to follow." Hermione smiled at the little boy in her arms, kissing his forehead lightly. "Finish your breakfast, Har Bear. Your snakes want to play this morning before they gather your surprises from Hogsmead."
Harry frowned, hopping down from her lap, looking for his snakes amongst the throng of students. "I thought I had to see Madame Pomphrey?"
"You do," Hermione confirmed absently, mentally constructing the best way to explain to Remus Lupin that Harry was temporarily indisposed at the moment. "But the potions upset your tummy, so we decided last night that you should go during your nap time to make it easier."
Harry pouted, holding up his arms and cuddling close to Draco as the blonde picked him up. "I don't need a nap," he complained.
"Regardless," Draco said smoothly, eyes on the doors Professor Snape had so recently departed from, "you will end up taking one at some point today." He reached up and rubbed the unhappy little boys neck. "As a Slytherin," he continued, "it is your job to recognize situations beyond your control. If you cannot control the situation, control the circumstances."
Blaise smiled into Harry's confused face. "In other words – if you are going to end up falling asleep, be the one that decides when and where." He shrugged, laughing. "Course, by our actions, we're taking that control away from you, but we're not the enemy."
"Besides Harry," Greg piped up happily, leading the way to the Slytherin common room. "We're going to teach you Wizards Chess!"
"What's that?"
Pansy snorted. "A shameless excuse to be violent and loud, under the guise of playing a game that challenges your mind."
"It's really fun." Vince smiled happily, rubbing his hands together in excitement.
Surprisingly, it was. Although not keen over the notion of anyone getting hurt, once Harry associated the game with the story Hermione had told him before bed last week, he was enthralled. He sat safely on Draco's lap, laughing and clapping and making little boy sound effects and exaggerated groans as the players knocked each other out. The chess pieces lapped up the attention, cheering loudly and dancing in place as they annihilated the opposing pieces. By the time Draco, Blaise, and Vince had each won a game, Harry had graduated to theatrically acting out the deaths of the pieces and collapsing on the floor with each blow. Pansy and Greg laughed at his antics while Hermione patiently smiled and bit her lip as repeated high pitched cries of - "Oh wow… Mione, did you see that! I mean, did you see that!...Get him Draco! Knock him down! Woo hoo… oh man, watch me, Mione; he was like 'woah' and 'urg' and crashed down and twitched!" – filled the air. Lunch was a welcomed distraction.
True to prediction, after lunch Harry's little eyes were drooping and he made no protest when Hermione scooped him up. He sleepily bid goodbye to his snakes, promised Draco he would be good, and tightened his grip on Hermione's hair as they entered the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomphrey got the duo situated on a bed, and carefully administered another diagnostic scan on his eyes and another nutrients potion. Harry fell asleep almost immediately afterwards, Hermione sitting vigil by his bed while she penned out a cautious reply to Professor Lupin. She had just finished when a brightly colored bird flew in and sat sadly on the edge of Harry's bed.
Hermione sighed. "Yes, yes I know it is a tad inconvenient being turned into a parrot. Still, that is no reason for you to mope about." The bird offered a string of musical notes. She rolled her eyes. "I can't understand you like Harry does," she began, "but if you would like to make yourself useful then take this letter to the Owlrey and ask Hedwig to send it along to Professor Lupin." Ron squawked, turning his back to the girl. Hermione sighed, impatiently checking her watch. Harry had been asleep for twenty minutes. If he stuck to routine, that meant she had another forty-six minutes before he woke up. Plenty of time to get to the Owlrey and back. "Fine," she huffed. "Watch Harry for a minute; if he wakes up then tell him I'll be right back. I'm just going to go straight to the Owlrey and mail this to Moony and come right back." Ron nodded, turning back to face Harry. Hermione leaned over, kissing Harry gently on his forehead, before straightening and casting one last anxious glance at the office where the healer was writing reports. She shrugged; after six years she'd had no reason not to trust the healer. "Watch him," she ordered Ron once more, before turning and hurrying away.
Not even ten minutes later, Harry twitched. Ron cocked his head and watched the boy closely. Harry moaned lightly in his sleep, tossing over until he was lying on his back. One little hand moved to rub the empty sheets beside him, searching for something or someone, his other hand pressing lightly against his stomach. Green eyes fluttered open, widening in alarm at not seeing Hermione or his snakes before noticing the bird perched on the edge of the bed. "Hi Ron," he mumbled sleepily, blearily wiping his eyes. "Where's my Mione?" The Scarlet Macaw trilled a response. Harry nodded, accepting the fact that his Mione would be back in a few minutes. He sat up and began absently petting the bird while he waited.
Madame Pomphrey came out of her office, smiling brightly at the little boy. "Awake already, Harry? Good for you!" She shooed the bird further away, coming to sit on the end of the bed. "Now, I just need to give you one last diagnostic scan to determine whether or not you need any more potions."
"Why?" Harry asked nervously, inching towards the edge of the bed.
"Well dear," she began kindly, "when you first came to us you were only 38 inches tall and 30 pounds. Far too skinny for your age!"
"I'm little," Harry said warily, inching just a little further away. "I don't need as much food as Dudley. He's a growing boy."
The healer looked sad. "Harry," she said gently, "you're a growing boy too." She shook her head, trying to displace her sudden melancholy as she pinned another smile on her face. "Now, we've gotten you up to 40 inches and after this morning 40 pounds. A tremendous achievement," she praised. "We have needed to keep you here so long each time to make sure your body doesn't reject the treatments."
Harry forgot to be scared for a minute, reaching out to pet Ron as the bird settled on his knee. "But if the potions help me, why would my body not like them?"
"It's not that your body wouldn't like them," Madame Pomphrey explained carefully. "It's just that two inches and ten pounds in seven days could potentially put strain on your innerds." She poked Harry playfully in his stomach, fighting the urge to cry as he involuntarily flinched at her movement. She knew she needed to be in control of her emotions before completing scans or administering potions of any sort. "Whoops!" she exclaimed. "I forgot my wand in the office." She reached over and patted his knee, fighting to keep from breaking down in tears on the spot when Harry inched closer to the other edge of the bed. "I'll be right back," she choked out.
Harry watched her go. He didn't want the lady to touch him. She wasn't like his snakes or his Mione. She was rough the other day when she touched his face; rough like Dudley or Uncle Vernon sometimes. He turned to Ron, big green eyes brimming with tears. "I want my snakes," he whimpered.
Ron looked between the closed office door and the little boy trembling on the bed. He butted his head against Harry's hand, trilling reassuringly. He straightened his head proudly. He had promised Harry he wouldn't do anything to hurt him. If Harry wanted his snakes, then Ron would get him his snakes. He offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile (if it were possible for birds to smile) and flew out the door.
He was clumsy in the air; lacking the natural grace and balance that most birds appeared instinctively blessed with. Swallowing his apprehension, ignoring the fluttering of his heart, he flew down the hall; intent upon his task. He located Hermione first, waylaid on her return journey by Professor Sprout. Ron flew close, landing on her shoulder and urgently tugging her hair. "Ron, stop," she said irritably, continuing her discussion. Ron pecked her hand; hard; fluttering a few feet towards the front door and then back to her side. Hermione scowled at him, checking her watch. "Harry won't be awake for another twenty minutes. I will be right there," she said firmly.
The Scarlet Macaw tried once more. Flying in close and desperately smacking the girl in the head with his wing. Harry was scared… he needed to do something. Ron glanced back one more. Hermione had taken a few steps towards the front doors – still deep in conversation with the Herbology professor. Without a second thought Ron turned and flew as fast as he could towards Hogsmead. He needed to find Harry's snakes.
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"This color would be gorgeous on Harry!"
Draco looked over to where Pansy was critically examining robes. He had to admit, the black and emerald robe she was holding would look incredibly with Harry's eyes. He wondered absently if he could talk Potter into wearing green more often once he returned to sixteen. He shifted slightly, blushing, at the thought of a teenaged Potter wearing a Slytherin uniform. "Hmm, yes," Blaise's amused voice whispered in his ear. "I too frequently find myself blushing over articles of clothing." Draco glared, disgusted with himself to find the pink in his cheeks intensifying.
The teens were moving about the town quickly, not comfortable with the thought of being too far away from Harry. They knew Harry was uncomfortable about going to see the Healer this morning, and thought he was sad over missing the trip off the school grounds. Guilt was a strong motivator for inciting purchases. They already had more quills, multi-colored ink jars, bags of books and activities, and four full bags of candies and sweets from Honeydukes. Pansy had wanted to swing by the clothing store for a few individual purchases for Harry to call his own. Five minutes later, Draco was shaking his head as they stepped into the fractured sunlight. Harry practically had his own wardrobe now.
Vince checked the time. "It's been thirty-five minutes, Draco. Did you still want to get back to the castle?"
Draco nodded, referencing his own watch. "Yes," he replied, quickening his step slightly. "I want to be there when Harry wakes up. That way it's not so obvious he was alone. I don't want him to get scared." He frowned, thinking. "The potions make his stomach hurt. Did I tell Hermione he likes to have his neck rubbed?"
Pansy rolled her eyes, slipping her hand through Draco's arm. "Calm down, darling. Harry will be fine with Hermione. She takes care of him just as often as you do." She smiled kindly at her friend. "What are you going to do when Harry turns sixteen and doesn't need you to take care of him anymore."
"I'll still be there for him." Draco said defensively. "Even if he won't talk to me." Draco rubbed a hand over his chest, slightly surprised at how much the thought of a grown up Potter disliking him hurt. He frowned. "Talking about nonsensical items and prancing about is not always the definition of a friend."
Blaise slung his arm around Draco's shoulders sympathetically. "I worry about it too," he confided. Draco gave him an enquiring look. "Whether Harry and Hermione will stick around after they have the opportunity to go reclaim their normal life."
Draco looked down, watching his feet squish in the slushy street. "What if he doesn't give me a chance?" he asked softly. He looked up, gray eyes stormy as they latched onto Pansy. "It's not just about surviving Christmas anymore; is it?"
She squeezed his arm lightly. "Honey, I don't think that's all it ever really was about."
"Harry won't leave us," Greg said confidently. "He's our friend now. He said so."
"Yeah," Vince agreed. "He'll always be our friend now."
"Yes he will." The Slytherins turned, startled, to the trio of Gryffindors walking slightly behind and to the left of them. Neville Longbottom slapped a hand over his mouth, looking horrified that he had initiated contact with his primary tormentors.
Dean Thomas took a deep breath, managing to meet Draco's eye… even if his voice shook slightly. "Harry's a good guy. If he says you're his friend, then no matter how much you mess up he'll still like you." Vince and Greg looked pleased, slapping Draco on the back enthusiastically.
"No offense," Draco said smoothly, "but somehow fighting over Chocolate Frog cards appears to pale in comparison to… I don't know… openly provoking someone over their lack of family."
Seamus Finnegan took a deep breath. "Last year I basically called him a liar and a murderer." He flushed, looking away from the startled and incredulous looks from the Slytherins. He fidgeted, shifting his bags uncomfortably from hand to hand. "I made it hell for him to even stay in his own dorm room. Then with all the nightmares and stuff with You-Know-Who…" he trailed off briefly before squaring his shoulders and raising his chin. "Harry forgave me," he declared boldly. "If he can forgive me, he can forgive you."
Pansy shook her head at the other students. "You realize that by telling us all this you are shattering our preconceived perceptions of Gryffindors, right?"
Draco smiled slightly, ignoring the tentative conversation forming over Quidditch and Football as hope began blooming in his heart. Would Harry give him a chance? His friends didn't seem too alarmed at the prospect of remaining friends with the Slytherins – Well, except for Neville, of course. But Draco often speculated the boy was frightened of his own shadow. Could they already know Harry liked him; liked him like Hermione thought he did? His musings ended when Ron dropped onto his shoulder and viciously pulled his hair. "Weasley!" he shouted angrily.
Neville cracked up. "You have a parrot named after Ron?" The boy giggled. "Is it really talkative or something?" Vince laughed at that comment; startling Neville and making him jump lightly.
Ron flew off Draco's shoulder, squawking fiercely, before flying back to the blonde. Dean Thomas snorted with laughter. "Good Lord. Is this some kind of warped 'Timmy's in the well' scenario?"
Blaise blinked. "Who's Timmy and why on earth would he be in a well?"
Dean laughed outright at that. "There's a Muggle program called Lassie. It's about a dog," he tilted his head, grinning, "Well, I guess a Weasley will do." He shook his head. "Anyway, this dog, Lassie, alerts the family when Timmy, the little boy in his care, gets hurt." Dean frowned. "Or something along those lines." He shrugged. "It's really cheesy. Someone always gets hurt and Lassie always saves the day." He snorted, rolling his eyes in remembrance of his mother's favorite show.
Draco froze. He looked at the anxious parrot. "Harry?" he whispered, feeling sick when the Scarlet Macaw started trilling. Without thought he shoved the packages he was carrying into Vince's arms and took off running. He could hear pounding feet following him closely, but didn't dare break stride or look back. He knew he should have stayed at the castle today! What was wrong with his Harry?
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"But Professor Snape said no," he whispered.
Harry was sitting carefully on the edge of his bed, trembling, trying to fight the urge to run away. Madame Pomphrey had finished checking his eyes, and had cast a diagnostic spell to check the level of absorption for the nutrient spells. After pronouncing herself satisfied with the results of the tests, she had produced a familiar orange looking vial. "Harry," she sighed. "I assure you that I have taken very good care of you for the last five years. This potion will help you." Mutely, he shook his head no again.
"Harry, you're awake!" Hermione's bright voice carried as she entered the Hospital Wing. In a flash Harry was off the bed and clinging. She patted his back, kissing his forehead comfortingly as she felt his heartbeat thudding painfully fast under her palm. "Baby, I'm sorry. I thought I would get back before you woke up."
"My tummy hurts," he whimpered, burrowing his face into her neck.
"We're almost done, dear," Madame Pomphrey spoke soothingly; not wanting to cause the boy any additional discomfort. She gestured for Hermione to bring Harry back to the bed. "Miss Granger, would you be so kind as to grab me the chart on my desk?"
"But Mione…" Harry began anxiously.
"It's ok, Har Bear," she smiled reassuringly at the little boy, reaching out to rub his back. Hermione frowned, genuinely puzzled as she turned back to the healer. "What else do you have to do? Just document your notes?"
The healer nodded. "That and give Harry a Purifying Draught. Professor Snape is concerned about the level of chemicals in little Harry's bloodstream. The draught contains a basic oxidizer that will help clean out his little body."
Hermione nodded, satisfied with that explanation. It was just yesterday Professor Snape had been expressing concern over the chemical level in Harry's body. "Listen to Madame Pomphrey," she said; patting his back one last time. "I'll be back in just a sec."
Harry watched Hermione walk towards the office, a feeling of helplessness mixing with the fear already strong inside him. "But Professor Snape said no," he choked out. His green eyes were swimming, two tears sliding unchecked down his face.
Madame Pomphrey sighed. "Harry I don't want to hurt you," she said. "Just take this potion and you can be done." Harry closed his mouth tightly, shaking his head. She had had enough. "Harry," she said sternly, drawing up to her full height and frowning down at the boy. Harry froze; green eyes going impossibly large. "I have had just about enough of your attitude! You will take this potion right now and that will be the end of it!" She held the potion bottle out to him. Harry, trembling and terrified, didn't even think of disobeying. He didn't know how this lady would punish him for refusing again, but he didn't think it would at all be like detention with Professor Snape.
Hermione was humming as she reached for the clipboard on the desk of the office. She heard Madame Pomphrey's voice floating through the door, and scowled over the woman's audacity. How dare she yell at her baby! "One last potion, Har Bear," she mumbled, relieved to able to take him away from the Hospital Wing soon. Maybe she could teach Harry how to break into the kitchens and surprise him with ice-cream. Hermione smiled at the though of Harry breaking school rules at any age. She froze suddenly, one hand outstretched, as the potion the healer was administering to Harry floated into her head. Oxidizers were good… they helped with chemicals… Professor Snape was worried over the level of Glycerine in Harry's system. Glycerine. Harry had Glycerine in his system. Hermione gasped, tripping over the edge of the desk and knocking over a stack of papers as she whirled around. Reactive hazards. "HARRY NO!" she screamed, flinging open the door.
The healer jumped, startled, at Hermione's shriek. Harry had the vial at his lips, tears on his face, half the bottle already drunk. Hermione raced across the room, knocking the vial from his grasp, ignoring the sounds of shattering glass and Madame Pomphrey yelling. "Harry," she said frantically, hands pressing against his suddenly warm flesh. "Baby, did you drink that?" Her voice rose hysterically when Harry let out a groan of pain. "Har Bear?"
"Mione, I feel funny," he whimpered, reaching for her.
The blast of heat made her scream. Hermione heard an echoing shriek as her body was lifted off the ground and shoved back by a solid blast of white smoke. She connected forcibly with the stone wall of the building, felt something shatter and twist in her leg. Through the haze of pain and white smoke she dimly saw purple flames concentrated together from the direction she had been thrown from. She heard a pained scream echo in her head. "Harry," she pleaded, reaching out. She felt her body slide to the floor, felt new pains blossom in her body, and gave in to the darkness dancing in the corner of her eye.
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Draco hit the gates of Hogwarts at the exact same time as Severus Snape. The teen paused at the sight of the man, gasping for breath. He was vaguely surprised to see Neville Longbottom at his side as well as Blaise. Huh, he thought vaguely. Who knew the boy could run that fast? Draco shook his head. Harry. He needed to find out about his Harry. "Professor, is it true?" he gasped out.
Snape stared at the boy in horror. "How on earth could you possibly know… When did you find out?"
Terror slammed into the blonde. "Just a few minutes ago," Draco panted, having lost track of the time. "How did it happen?"
"Draco," the professor put his hand on his arm comfortingly. "I promise to do everything in my power to keep you safe. Dumbledore will…"
"Keep me safe?" he interrupted, looking away from the man in front of him and towards Hogwarts in the distance. "Safe from what?"
His teacher frowned, confused. "From your father."
Draco froze, refocusing his attention. "My father?" he repeated blankly.
"Yes," Snape said slowly, casting a suspicious look at the school himself. "He is no longer in Azkaban."
His head was spinning. His father… Christmas… Harry… Harry. Draco shook his head. "I can't care about him right now. Something's wrong with Harry!"
"What?" Snape questioned sharply.
Draco barely heard him. He'd already resumed running back to the castle, caring even less now than before who precisely was running beside him. Hogwarts was a madhouse. Kids were spilling out the doors and onto the lawns, coughing harshly as thick white smoke poured out the open doors. For once Draco was glad to have the reputation as a vindictive bastard, as even frightened the students instinctively parted and let him pass. Teachers and scared and confused Prefects were flooding the halls, attempting to control the mob of students being forced outside. He felt only slightly guilty for kicking Mrs. Norris out of his way when the cat tried to bar him entrance to the third floor corridor. Draco froze when he reached the Hospital Wing.
Dumbledore and McGonagall were erecting containment barriers around a cheerfully burning purple flame. Madame Pomphrey was barely conscious, badly burned, and trying to speak cohesively to an Auror with bubblegum pink hair busy patching her up. A tall bald Auror was levitating an unconscious Hermione to another bed, while Professor Flitwick carefully worked on mending her broken leg. "Where's Harry?"
He wasn't aware he had spoken aloud until a tall redhead walked over and placed an arm around his shoulders. "Dumbledore said to be on the lookout for you," the man said casually.
"Where's Harry?"
"I'm Bill," the man continued on as though uninterrupted. "I'm afraid Harry is slightly indisposed at the moment."
"Indisposed?" Draco felt sick; he could feel his muscles starting to spasm. Bill gave him a concerned look, trying to steer him towards one of the beds. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"It means," Snape spoke up from behind, eyeing the room with a look so cold Draco wondered how the purple flame didn't freeze on the spot. "That some abysmally stupid individual gave Harry an oxidizing element."
"What does that mean?" Neville asked, nervously standing next to Draco; where Blaise had abandoned him to run to Hermione. "Is that bad?" He quaked under the force of the Potions Master's glare, unconsciously latching onto to Draco's arm for support. Snape smirked at the telling gesture.
"Yes, Mr. Longbottom," he responded silkily, trembling with barely suppressed fury. He gestured to the purple flames now contained behind a bubble of containment wards. "Unless, of course, you prefer Mr. Potter as a ball of fire."
Draco's head whipped around to stare across the room. He could just vaguely make out the shape of a sleeping figure in the heart of the flames. He turned towards the door as Pansy, Greg, Vince, Dean, and Seamus raced in. "Harry…" he began. "Harry's on fire." He fainted, unable to process what was going on.
Ron, having flown in as Draco spoke, let out a particularly loud wail and molted all over the floor.
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Dare I ask for thoughts???
