Betaed! By Blind_Alchemist sama. XD Any other mistakes are mine.
Enjoy!
Professor Albus Percival-Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was in a huge dilemma at the moment. His beloved lemon drops wouldn't help him this time, even though he had tried eating five of them at the same time. His life still more sour than the lemon drops currently dissolving in his mouth.
His visit to Gringotts with Harry and Serverus had turned into quite a disaster. Not only had his attempts at manipulation become known, the amount of Galleons he'd used to fund the Order of Phoenix also were expected to dry up within the next two years. He couldn't stop Harry from becoming "Lord Potter." The only good thing about the whole business was that Serverus had now become the boy's protector, which made everything easier. A bit, anyway. He was aware that Serverus had already begun to question his sanity. But so far he could still control the Potions Master, as well as Hogwarts in general.
It was all for the greater good. He expected people wouldn't be able to understand, as they were all childish compared to him. He had seen so much of life, more than they had, even when one combined all their experiences together. He had seen how the last war had destroyed everything—including Gerald Ginderwald, the man he'd loved, who'd ultimately betrayed him and the entire Wizarding world. And here he stood again; the only shield between the ignorant Wizarding people along with the Muggles, gainst extremists like Tom Riddle.
It wasn't as though he wanted to be the leader of the Light, or Headmaster, or the Head of MCW, or the Supreme Mugwump. The positions were all rather meaningless. If he could choose, he'd only want Ariana and his brother Aberforth back. To live together, to be one of the ignorant Wizarding families who resided in one of the remote corners of Wales. With Gerald of course as his partner, happily living together as ignorant people.
No, he had chosen to oppose his lover, to bring back the peace and goodness that should constitute the norm of the Wizarding world. Did he end up regretting everything? Yes. Would he change anything if he could? No. He had done what he should have done, and the peace of the last 11 years, subsequent to the existence of Tom Riddle, who had become Voldemort, was all thanks to him. He had chosen to be a leader, and now he needed to continue on, despite knowing that this was not a straight, painless path. He bore his own sins. He knew he was sacrificing an innocent child to save the rest of the world. But then, what was one soul compared to the masses? And to be fair, it was all already written down by Fate itself. The prophecy had said so. It wasn't he, Dumbledore, who had chosen Harry Potter as the sacrificial lamb. Everything he was doing was for the greater good, and Harry was just a single sacrifice required for the whole Wizarding society.
But when he witnessed how the boy had clutched at the will and had cried his heart out in silence, Dumbledore, for the first time in eleven years, questioned himself and his deeds.
What had he done?
The child looked… absolutely broken. Utterly miserable. His silent crying showed how he was used to bearing everything in silence. To know that nobody cared about him, to know that what he felt only mattered to himself. To know that no one would understand or care. He didn't share those tears; he silently bowed and clutched the will to his chest with his fragile thin hands. Those tears… were painfully honest. And to think he was only eleven…
What had he done?
He was sacrificing the child for the masses; but those masses knew happiness. They knew what it felt like to share, to be happy, to have a family. And this child, chosen by the prophecy, cried in silence because he had no one who would care. He was already bearing the burden of being an orphan, the harsh reality of life, and he still was destined to die? Just for people who wouldn't appreciate his sacrifice?
Dumbledore couldn't justify his own actions to himself. Yes, he had sacrificed a lot for the masses himself, but at least he was acknowledged as their beloved leader. He was appreciated. The child, on the other hand… Dumbledore sighed. Dumbledore still remembered how the child had told him what his life was like—he was repeatedly bullied, received by no one, he had been kidnapped and ignored and forgotten—by the people he was going to protect and be sacrificed for.
It wasn't fair, not at all.
What had he done?
He had sent the child to the Muggle-relatives' house due to the blood protection status. He knew the Muggles weren't the kindest Muggles that existed, as his deputy headmaster had told him. He knew that he was leaving Harry Potter in a household that would shape his childhood, maybe with a bit harshness and neglect. But he'd never realized the extent of their abuse... the child whom he saw in St. Mungo's was broken, physically and mentally. For a child to love the idea of death, to want death…
What had he done?
And another thing to worry about was the return of the magical artefact. Nobody was aware, but the Invisibility Cloak was one of the three famed Deathly Hallows. Only his Elder Wand and the Resurrection Rings could match its value. He couldn't surrender the Elder Wand. If anybody knew about its true worth, it would become dangerous. But he had a contract to fulfil. He could always offer instead a part of his magical core, but then again, he wasn't sure how much he should offer. Moreover, because of the magical contract, his core wouldn't be able to grow back, unlike what had happened with the Mirror of Erised. He couldn't afford losing his power-who, then, would protect the people from the Dark Lord?
Dumbledore was pretty sure the boy had the Stone… but he had no proof, and now that he knew the extent of what he'd done, he couldn't bring himself to force the child to give it up. If the child had it, it was his prerogative. He deserved it. Harry Potter surely deserved more than what he currently had.
And maybe he should surrender the Elder Wand as well… Maybe. Yes, he would arm the child with some weapons, hoping that in the end, maybe Harry would conjure the power to change his own destiny, and kill Tom.
Maybe.
Dare he gamble with Fate?
It was just his luck when he realized that the person he had possessed was Gilderoy Lockhart, idiot extraordinaire. Annana attacked the first person she had seen in Hogsmeade that day, which turned out to be Lockhart, who had been returning from Hogwarts after his interview with Dumbledore. Voldemort had only realized this when he had probed the man's memory and had found that he would be the next semester's new DADA teacher.
Just his luck. He had wanted the job for so long. He had lost his chance to teach when he'd left Quirell's body, but now he'd secured another chance. And this way, he would be close to Harry. He could watch the child from a close distance. He'd honestly missed the boy.
No, he didn't miss the boy. Harry was just a good… minion.
Voldemort had also discovered, in the idiot's memory, that he was a famous author of biographic books that chronicled stolen memories. He saw how Gilderoy Lockhart had Obliviated each and every single main character in the books, metaphorically replacing himself into their shoes and writing about the adventure. He'd received good money and publicity from doing all this. Voldemort felt pure disgust towards the man; oh, how the Wizarding world had fallen, with so many idiots like Gilderoy Lockhart and the current Minister, Cornelius Fudge, in it.
The Stone had given him the Elixir of Life, which he religiously drank every morning. His magical core returned to him slowly, and currently he was able to perform as well as a normal wizard. Gilderoy Lockhart had a mediocre magical core at best, and Voldemort easily absorbed it all into his power. He missed Harry's magic. The difference between Harry's and Lockhart's magic was like the sensual difference between that of sewage water and the best wine. But he settled for second best for now, since he wanted the boy in perfect health, and not damaged in any way. Now he just needed to wait until his full power was returned, and he could leave the idiot's body.
He had changed his plans. He would not resort to force and violence now. He used to control people with his strong charisma when he was still sane, but eventually he'd resorted to control using fear, due to his obsession regarding defying death. As his power had increased, his paranoia about death ultimately defeated him, and Voldemort chose to mutilate his own soul into a Horcrux. In a way, Harry was very similar to him. They both had this obsessive fascination about an identical subject, death. But the purposes for their fixations couldn't be more different. Whereas Harry was obsessed with the notion of death because he wanted to die, Voldemort was obsessed with the notion of death because he never wanted to die.
He realized that fear had gained him nothing. He needed to re-establish his charisma, and the easiest way to do so was to combine his powers into his first Horcrux, the diary. After returning to his full charismatic self, he would come and control the Ministry of Magic from the background, playing the puppeteer. He would not resort to violence anymore. The Wizarding World was comprised of a population of idiots who followed blindly whatever their Minister said. It was easier to plan behind the scenes. Thus, he needed to get his old connections back.
His first stop was Lucius Malfoy. The man was a verifiable master in politics and manipulation. Voldemort came and sensed the fear that returned to the man, but because he needed full cooperation and not unreliable fear-controlled submission, he was ready to offer an equal collaboration with the man, instead of a master-slave relationship. Lucius also had his first Horcrux.
When he had seen, using Legilimency, that Lucius had misplaced his Horcrux with Harry Potter, Voldemort was beyond angry. He'd destroyed Malfoy's manor's guest room, and then had calmed down after he'd tortured Lucius into unconsciousness after several rounds of the Cruciatus curse. He did regain his common sense, but by then it was too late. So instead he played things by ear and had ordered Lucius (whom he'd Enervated back to consciousness) to prepare for his return into the political world.
But he would still use this once-in-a-year chance of becoming a professor in Hogwarts. He could stay by Harry, get back his Horcrux and prepare for his entrance into the political world. Now the main thing to do was to regain the diary from the boy. And make the boy loosen up for him.
Their first class wasn't exactly how Voldemort pictured it would be. He knew Harry was strong enough to sense him inside Lockhart's body. Harry had directly seen through his strong Glamour spell, the spell that was so complicated and impenetrable that even McGonagall had failed to sense anything. He saw how Harry's expression had become frozen and then turn into one of fear. Honestly it had hurt a bit, to see the child looking at him in apprehension. He'd spent the entire class watching the child. Harry looked physically better, if only a bit, from the last time he'd seen him in Lucius' memory. Voldemort was ready to embrace the child and make the fear go away. But then that idiot boy—Blaise Zabini—took Harry away from him. Unforgiveable.
But Harry's reaction was understandable, albeit a bit weird. Voldemort needed to do something about that fear to make the child receive him again. And being a teacher, he knew he had the power to be alone with the child. And he would abuse his power, to make Harry's trust come back to him. After all, he could give Harry as many detentions as he liked.
It had to be just his bad luck.
The day had started normally enough, like any other—breakfast with Blaise, and with Hedwig perched on his shoulder, eating bacon from his plate. They had two hours of DADA that morning. Blaise looked strangely worried, and he told Harry to watch himself in front of Lockhart. Blaise explained that he'd seen Professor Lockhart watching Harry like a hawk every single time they were having meals in the Great Hall during the last week.
Suddenly, said professor passed through the Hall, and he was smiling at them.
"Why, Mr. Zabini, Mr. Potter. Do you think I cannot be trusted?"
Blaise paled. Harry bit his lips, knowing that this wouldn't end up well. The professor smiled at them, but the smile made their skin crawl.
"Maybe you need to spend more time with me in order to get to know me a little better, hmm? Mr. Potter, detention with me tonight at eight. Be punctual. Mr. Zabini, you can come to me this afternoon, around four. Please be punctual as well."
Both boys gulped down and nodded.
Meanwhile, Snape watched the interaction from his place at the teachers' table.
The two-hour class of DADA that morning was a bit of a mental strain. Harry had somehow misplaced his textbook. He gained another quipping comment from his professor on how Harry was clumsy and lazy enough to have forgotten to prepare the textbook from the night before. Blaise tried to defend his friend, but Professor Lockhart seemed determined to add another detention to Harry's schedule. So Harry was booked for another detention with the Professor for the next day.
After that, Harry failed to correctly answer one of the questions the professor was asking the whole class, so the professor assigned another detention for Harry. Harry couldn't believe it. Three detentions in a row. Three detentions in a week. Blaise was growling in anger and some of the other students also seemed to find it quite unfair. But Harry smiled and calmed them down. He was sure that he could survive these detentions from the professor. And it was not as though the professor didn't have any valid reason to punish him for being incompetent.
Blaise had to complete his detention first, and he went to Lockhart's office while trembling in trepidation. But by the time he had returned to the common room to get Harry so that they could both go to dinner, his mood was elevated, and Blaise was actually kind of praising the professor. Apparently the professor had given him a single tutorial time on Defence covering useful lie detector methods (such as by using Veritaserum, or by a complicated spell, or by simply being observant), and Blaise found it quite interesting. Yet when he realized that Harry was up next for detention, he warned his dear friend to be careful.
Harry only nodded silently in agreement, concentrating more on writing inside the diary (it had asked Harry to call him "Tom") and apologizing to it because he wouldn't be able to write much for the next three nights. Tom wasn't very happy with this news.
What exactly did you do to make him so determined to give you that many detentions, Harry? That is three detentions in a row!
Harry apologized again, writing in the book, as the dinner hour slipped by. In the end, Tom forgave him, but not before throwing a tantrum for another half an hour. When Harry was at long last ready to close the diary and eat, there was almost nothing left on the table. He didn't mind, though. Harry only ate a bit of salad and the last piece of grilled fish. Blaise frowned at Harry's habit of sacrificing eating for other, less important activities. Pansy Parkinson commented on his small appetite and it started a discussion on how eating habits ultimately determined one's height.
"You eat like a bird, Potter. Don't blame others when you turn out to be the shortest fifth-year Slytherin in three years."
Harry blushed and managed to stuff up another potato in his mouth. Blaise smirked and Pansy grinned. Draco, however, added salt to the wound.
"But I don't think eating would help—look at him, he is as petite as Daphne's little sister. Maybe you were born with the wrong gender, Potter?"
"Yup, he'd be so cute if he were a girl. So tiny," Theodore Nott added in snicker.
Harry blushed furiously, and between his mouthfuls, he managed to retort back, "I am not a girl!"
"Yah," Blaise smirked. "You only stand as tall as my chin."
Harry puffed his cheeks, but it made him choke from the potato. Everybody around him laughed hard while Blaise helped the poor boy by patting Harry's back. Then the conversation turned to Quidditch, and Harry was reminded that he had his first practice the day he had his last detention.
Frowning, Harry decided to tell Marcus Flint. The news was taken quite badly by the Quidditch captain, but the other second year students mentioned how unfair the detention was, so at least they gathered that it wasn't Harry's fault. Flinch gritted his teeth and promised he would ask Professor Snape to take over the conflicting detention so that Harry could go practice with them.
Harry left Tom's diary inside the Slytherin dorm and went to Professor Lockhart's personal quarters. His mind was filled with the verbal warnings from Blaise, and surprisingly, from all his other classmates. They had expressed their concern about him because they had seen how unfair the professor was being. Three detentions in a row just due to trivial mistakes? Furthermore, it wasn't as though Lockhart were another Snape. The perplexing thing was, Lockhart had only targeted Harry. And there wasn't a single point from Slytherin that had been taken down. So clearly the professor was aiming for another goal, which maybe was personal one-on-one time with Harry.
Theodore Nott had even offered to put a Tracking Charm on Harry so that they would know if Lockhart decided to suddenly kidnap Harry. Harry waved them away, blushing and thinking that they were just thinking too much and letting their imaginations run wild. He was answered by looks of exasperation from his mates, who were all sighing and commenting on how 'gullible' Harry was.
"You'd never know the meaning of the term attraction even when it comes to you up the arse," Pansy in particular had commented, whereupon the boys had flushed and shushed her.
"Come in."
Harry stepped inside the room. It reminded him of the Slytherin common room, with all the silver and green colours and some serpent-themed decorative displays. The professor was seated on one of the plush sofa chairs, and he gestured towards Harry to sit on a three seated sofa that was next to his own sofa.
"The colour of the sofa compliments your eyes," Professor Lockhart smiled gently. Harry swallowed hard; all the warnings from his mates suddenly filled his head. The professor's smile felt more carnal than what it superficially showed.
"I… I am sorry, Professor."
"Do you know what exactly you are sorry for, child?"
Harry looked up and found the professor's eyes staring at him intensely. The colour of the man's eyes changed, from blue to reddish, with black slits for pupils. A feeling of familiarity filled his chest. Harry knew those eyes. He couldn't recall from where, but he knew. He could sense and feel the aura of the man's magic. It was darker than what he had expected, and for Harry to be able to sense the aura that strongly, the man had to be as powerful as Dumbledore.
Harry bit his lower lip, thinking frantically of why he was there. "Because… Because I don't trust you, professor. And I forgot my textbook today, as well as to be unable to answer the question during class, professor."
The professor smiled again; this time, his fingers came onto Harry's cheek and trailed it softly down to Harry's jaw.
"Right. How do you think I should give you detention tonight, Harry?"
Harry looked away. He tried to find anything that might be suitable for his detention. Professor Snape always had a lot of unwashed cauldrons; it was easy in his case to nominate "cleaning cauldrons" as a proper punishment. But inside the room, there was nothing that seemed to help him in this regard. The office was proper and prim, not a speckle of dust was anywhere, and honestly, Harry couldn't find any faults that he could mend.
"I… I am not sure, sir."
"Why don't we make it our special time, then? We can build the trust you appear to lack for me. Instead of punishing you, I can see that it is better to give you something else… a lesson, for example. Can you tell me what you find as an interesting subject?"
The professor was definitely sitting too close for his comfort. Harry felt his back starting to sweat. He had never felt more awkward and uncomfortable. He didn't know how to answer.
"It's… up to you, sir."
"This is not about me, child. It's about your education." The man smiled. His fingers trailed softly back onto Harry's cheek. "What are you thinking about now?"
Harry bit his lips. "You… you feel familiar, sir."
"Really?" There was a hint of satisfaction in the man's voice, but Harry couldn't understand why. And then suddenly the man stood up, leaving the sofa and making a beeline for a book on one of the shelves. "How about if we read this together?"
Harry nodded, and they spent the whole two hours reading from the book. The professor actually sat beside him, and while Harry read the passages out loud, the professor's hand circled possessively around Harry's waist. The book was about traditional Defence rituals, including the use of talismans and magical artefacts. It was surprisingly quite interesting, and Harry was steadily getting more deeply and deeply absorbed into the subject matter, until he completely forgot to read the passages it out loud.
Time passed and Harry was so immersed in reading the book that he didn't notice somebody going around him. A shadow cast over him, and he suddenly felt a kiss on his forehead. Harry snapped his head up and turned, finding the professor smiling at him.
"Sorry, child. It's time to get back. You can continue reading this tomorrow."
Harry blushed furiously. He was so embarrassed. He was supposed to read the book out loud as a punishment, and he had enjoyed himself too much instead. And a quick Tempus spell showed that it was almost time for curfew. Harry nodded, hurriedly stood up from the sofa, and returned the book to Professor Lockhart's lap.
"Tha..Thank you, sir."
"You are welcome, child. Now, run along; it is almost time for curfew."
Harry nodded, bowed a little and went away. His heart in his chest was beating fast. The ordeal had been so embarrassing and yet strangely calming as well. He'd felt just as he had in the library—alone and safe, with nobody around to disturb him—and he'd enjoyed the book immensely. He had even forgotten about the professor's presence in the room! And… the professor had kissed his forehead! Harry's cheeks were burning—it was really embarrassing!
When he turned around the next corner, he accidentally bumped into someone. Harry was pushed back and he fell on the floor. Blame his weightless body that the impact pushed him back that hard.
"Are you alright?"
An outstretched hand was offered. Harry took it and found himself staring at Ron Weasley's face. Both boys were frozen for a moment, and the red-headed boy retracted his offered hand as though Harry's hand were on fire.
"What… What's a slimy Slytherin doing here? It's almost time for curfew!"
"…What about yourself?" Harry retorted.
"I am searching for my wayward rat Scabbers! How about you? You must be doing something illegal, you slimy Slytherin!"
"No, I am not!" Harry yelled back.
"Then what? Oh…. the detention?"
Harry looked away. As much and as hard as he had trained himself to smile at everyone, Ron Weasley had been such a jerk to him that he couldn't even force a phony smile. And then the memory of the embarrassing detention made his face flush. Harry looked away and pulled himself up, pretending to ignore the boy. He walked past Weasley swiftly. This didn't go over well with the other boy, and Harry felt his arm being caught in Weasley's stronger grip.
"Wait! You can't just ignore me like that!"
Harry turned to him, wondering what it was all about. His cheeks were blushing still, but this time not from embarrassment. Harry really felt bothered by the boy; Ron Weasley was his main bully, and he didn't want to be around the boy for longer than a few seconds. He'd had enough of the Duddleys of the world.
"What?" Harry asked softly. "What do you want?"
Weasley blushed a bit, and then suddenly he spoke up again. "Your face is really red. What happened? Did the fall hurt you that much? Was the detention that bad?"
Harry jerked his arm back, turning away. It wasn't any of the red head's concern. It was almost time for curfew. He needed to go back to his common room. So Harry left the red headed boy in the corridor and ran to the dungeon where the Slytherin dorm was.
His mates were all over him. They asked for every single detail on how the detention went. Harry blushed hard when he remembered the stupid and embarrassing thing he had done—and he told them the truth, that he was immersed in reading until he had lost track of time.
Draco, Pansy, and Theo looked sceptical, especially after they had seen the blush on Harry's face. Blaise, on the other hand, looked very worried. But all of them released Harry in the end, letting the small boy slip into his pyjamas and go to bed. It was a bit of a strange day, but not a bad one, Harry reasoned to himself.
And because he went straight to sleep, he forgot to bid "goodnight" to Tom.
Two detentions with the boy had made Voldemort forget about all the problems in the world. He honestly viewed all the other Hogwarts students purely as potential slaves or as ignorant fools, but every single moment of torture in trying to teach all the stupid imbeciles during classes was washed away with the two hours of pure blissful privacy shared between him and Harry.
Harry was blushing adorably when he came the next night—Voldemort wasn't sure why the boy was so shy. They had done nothing but read together. And when Harry became absorbed in the text, the boy stopped caring about his surroundings and was mentally transported into his own world. This was something that Voldemort approved of, because the boy needed it. The boy needed both the distraction from his everyday life, and the knowledge. He could see that Harry had been doing some studying when they weren't together—he was curious of what, but he suspected something concerning death since it was Harry's ultimate passion—and the boy presently showed increased interest in books and in gaining knowledge. Maybe now, Voldemort could convince the boy to read most of the books in the Slytherin library again.
So far he hadn't seen any proof that Harry had been using his Horcrux—the boy still behaved as though he were sane, and there was no residual signature of Tom Riddle's anywhere on the boy's core. But he knew that, even so, it wasn't a good indicator—Harry's magic was strong enough to override others'. He needed to make sure that the boy hadn't used the diary. Somehow, Voldemort would feel better if he knew for certain that Tom Riddle had never sunk his hook into Harry. Blame it on his possessiveness, but Harry was Voldemort's. No one could get Harry without killing him first.
Or maybe Harry had given the diary to somebody else? Given Harry's personality, he would always give what he had to others, despite his own deprivation. So Voldemort needed to design another mechanism to fish his first Horcrux out. And he knew a definite way to do that.
"Annana, come here."
The huge serpent entered the room through a big pipe in the ceilings. Voldemort smiled. He had managed to connect the Chamber of Secrets with his current personal quarters. The Basilisk had free access to his room, and would come whenever he asked.
Yessss, massster? the serpent hissed in satisfaction. I just had the best meal. A very juicy feline. I played with it before I devoured the delicious meat.
"Oh, really?" Voldemort smiled. "How about I give you another thing to play with?"
Annana hissed in happiness, but then her tongue sensed something else in the air.
Harry? Was the boy here, Tom?
"Yess. He was here."
I miss him. When can I meet Harry again? Soon?
"Soon." Voldemort smiled. Yes, soon. Very soon.
Serverus Snape was not so happy.
He didn't know that he was only one out of several unhappy people in the castle, but at the moment, he didn't care. All he cared about was Harry's well being. Upon hearing all the complaints and verbal support from his little Slytherin snakes, he realized there was something unhealthy behind Lockhart's sudden attention on Harry.
Assigning a detention just because the boy didn't bring his book to class! Five points deducted from Slytherin should have been enough. No, it sounded more like Lockhart had purposely singled out Harry for any minor infraction and had assigned detention to the boy. And the only rational explanation behind this detention assigning was that the blonde peacock wanted Harry's time. Truthfully, no sane teacher would ever sacrifice their precious free time solely to supervise a student's detention.
And tonight, Flint came into his office and personally requested for him to save Harry so that they could let him practice Quidditch. Snape decided it would be best if he settled everything now—show Lockhart who was boss, and warn him to stay away from Harry. And he could use the magical influence of Quidditich on Harry, to make the child exercise and become healthier, as well as make friends inside Slytherin.
He increased his pace towards the DADA professor's quarters, preparing his wand. He knew he could win any duel that might be instigated, but it would be best if they could resolve the matter in peace. He knocked on the door, but nobody came to open it. So instead he unlocked the door and entered, fully knowing he was breeching the other professor's privacy. As the Head of Slytherin House in Hogwarts, Snape had a bit of power over the tight security of the castle, and he was entrusted with the ability to unlock any door within the castle.
What he saw shocked him. The room itself felt like the embodiment of Slytherin's common room, with all the serpent motifs and silver-green theme. He found his object of interest in the middle of the room, silently reading a giant tome that was balanced on his thin thighs. But the sight that made Snape's blood boil out of control was the other adult in the room.
The blonde idiot was all over Harry—one hand rested on Harry's waist, and his face was so close to the boy's hair, Snape would bet he was inhaling Harry's scent—and he was smiling like a lecherous paedophile.
"HARRY!" Snape shouted loudly, shattering what seemed like a magical moment for Lockhart. Both the boy and the professor turned to see him, and Harry blushed furiously. His expression was all Snape needed to confirm his. He looked uncomfortable. That bastard Lockhart was forcing himself onto Harry!
"Come here!"
"Serverusss," Lockhart suddenly hissed, and Snape thought that the author-turned-professor's eyes appeared red for a moment. Snape saw how the blonde's arm slid tighter around Harry's waist. "Harry is having detention with me."
"I think that is enough, Gilderoy," Snape hissed back. "Three detentions in a row, over a forgotten textbook—it is not appropriate, Gilderoy. Your agenda is too obvious. I will take the matter off your hands—I can find a more suitable detention for Ha.. Potter. Potter! Come with me!"
The boy looked between his two professors, and in the end he decided to follow Snape. Snape was the better choice, since the man had done nothing but help him since the summer, whereas Harry, frankly, was still awkward around his DADA professor.
Snape nodded for a bit and took the child away.
He failed to notice the angry hissing coming from behind him when he closed the door behind him.
The Quidditch practice was an amusing experience for Harry. The boy was given the Snitch to catch, and he captured in within the first 5 minutes of practice. Flint assumed that Harry had been following the Snitch closely, so he ordered Harry to fly (which made Harry a source of amusement for the other members of the Quidditch team as well—the boy flew like he breathed) around, and then he secretly released the Snitch. It took Harry another 10 minutes to catch it.
The practice turned into a showcase of Harry's skills to the whole team—Flint, who was full of passion, couldn't contain his excitement as he released ten Snitches, ordering Harry to catch them all. Harry, following orders as usual, flew and caught all of them in about 30 minutes, which was incredible. The boy even caught the last Snitch with his teeth, when his hands were already full of other Snitches.
When the practice ended, he was ushered to the bathroom, whereupon they all happily accepted the smallest boy of their team as their new star Seeker. Then they returned to the dungeon, walking in a single group and cracking jokes amongst themselves (true, they were Slytherins, but they were allowed to be children when there were no other students around—they just need to maintain their hostile farce in front of other Houses, Gryffindor especially). It was then they found the graffiti spelled out in blood, and the sad-looking petrified dog hanging on the wall.
The Chamber of Secret has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware.
Beside the writing, Harry noticed that it was Fang, Hagrid's dog, who was hanging stiffly on the wall.
Someone screamed.
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