Anything you recognize from Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling
Chapter Fourteen
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Harry literally stormed toward the two laughing Slytherins. His emerald eyes were flashing furiously, almost as if they were on fire. In his fury he had involuntarily summoned a tornado that whirled around him, though it didn't harm him. The wind began to blow and the sky got darker. "You," Harry said through gritted teeth to Pucey and Bletchley. "Never learn, do you? Pick on someone your own size!"
Harry turned and pulled out his wand to summon Lan back to solid ground when Pucey knocked the wand out of his hand. "Leave it," Pucey sneered. "Hufflepuffs are weak and cowardly. They're a waste of space."
"Lan isn't weak or cowardly," Harry snapped back. "You are."
The crowd of students watching were listening and watching the conversation as Ron and Jason struggled to get Lan out of the water. Harry bent down to pick up his wand when he realized what a bad mistake that was. "Argh!"
Pain exploded in his back as he fell to the ground on all fours, breathing harshly. Bletchley had kicked him a good one on his back. If he had hit him on his spine ... Harry shuddered. He would be dead by now. He vaguely heard Pucey murmur something. Sudden pain blossomed on the left side of his head. His hand flew up and grasped the side of his head.
Harry felt something sticky on his hand and he drew back, inhaling sharply. Blood. He was bleeding. With a growl, he tapped his head with his wand and the bleeding stopped. Harry eyed Pucey in disgust. "Is that how you fight?" he spat. "Attacking when your opponent's back is turned? That's just plain cowardly."
"No. Not cowardly," Pucey sneered back. "It's smart." He twirled his wand and out shot a beam of red light, heading toward Harry. Harry blocked it, but he was a mere first year and stumbled back. He was growing tired, from the loss of blood and also exhaustion as his tornado around him died down. If he didn't hurry, he would faint. And that would be horrifying.
Harry gritted his teeth and saw out of the corner of his eye, Lan beginning to sag deeper into the water from exhaustion. Jason and Ron were too far away to rescue her. Harry growled. Then he did something that was both foolish and brave. He set a strengthening charm on him. Then he transformed into a peregrine falcon.
He let out a harsh screech as he soared up high. The breeze felt good. For a moment he forgot completely why he was in his Animagus Form, but then looked down and saw Lan sinking into the water. "Lan! Friend!" he screeched. He folded in his wings slightly and spiraled with incredible speed. He flared his wings, grabbed Lan by the shoulders and dragged her toward solid ground.
His wing beats began to slow as he grew tired. "Save Lan. Save Lan," he muttered to himself. Finally, he reached solid ground and thought, 'Harry. I am Harry Potter.'
Then Harry found himself back in his human form, trembling and drenched with both water and sweat. Beside him, Lan was a deathly pale white and was breathing harshly. Harry crawled over to her and felt her pulse. It was still beating, but weakly. Water must have gotten into her lungs. He was about to pull out his wand and cast a spell on her when a Ravenclaw Prefect stopped him. "Don't," Juliana Weebs said quietly. She pulled out her own wand. "You'll drain yourself. You're already exhausted enough as it is." She tapped Lan's chest with her wand.
Five seconds passed, then another five. Then, Lan spluttered. She was coughing and gagging. She finished retching and blinked blearily. "Hurts. My chest hurts," she croaked.
Weebs pressed her back down. "Hush," she said softly. "It's all right. You'll be fine. I've already sent a fellow Prefect to go get Headmaster Dumbledore."
Harry looked up to see the Headmaster listening carefully to three fourth year students from Gryffindor. Professor Dumbledore looked up, and their eyes met. Harry quickly looked away. Only then did he realize how exhausted he felt.
He wiped the sweat from his brow and fought the nausea and dizziness away. Weebs glanced at him. "Madam Pomfrey will be furious," she commented. Harry groaned, already dreading the Medi-witch's wrath.
"Never in my life!" Madam Pomfrey was raging as she hustled to get Harry some potions. "You are visiting the Hospital Wing far too much, Mr. Potter." She handed him two vials. "Here. Drink, then sleep." Harry made a face, but did as she told him.
He fell back against the pillow, exhausted. He felt exactly like he had after the troll incident. He smiled to himself as he drifted off to sleep, the image of the singed troll in his mind.
Whispers followed Harry after the three days of rest Madam Pomfrey had ordered as he walked toward the dungeons for his Apprenticeship Potions class. He knocked on the door and heard Snape's voice. "Enter."
Harry opened the door and slowly stepped inside before closing it gently. He didn't like the dungeons. It made him feel strange, compared to his own bright and colourful quarters. Snape was bending over a bubbling cauldron and barely glanced up when Harry entered. "Take your usual place, Potter. Today we'll be doing something a bit different."
Dreading what he would have to do, he sat down at his usual desk where a cauldron was set up. Snape lingered at his own cauldron for about five more minutes before stepping over to Harry. The dark, almost black eyes drilled holes into Harry and he tried hard not to squirm, wondering what was wrong. Had he gotten in trouble? Sure, he had dueled against Slytherins and had risked his life, but he doubted Snape cared about him dying. He would probably celebrate with his House.
"Mr. Potter," Snape said softly. "Quite a day you had, didn't you? About three days ago?"
"Yes, sir," Harry said automatically. He had been drilled into calling those with authority 'sir' by Uncle Vernon, but sometimes he forgot when Snape taunted him or he became mad at the Potions Master.
"Yes, indeed." Snape was still glowering at him and Harry shrunk back a bit, biting his bottom lip. "Mr. Potter, I have a busy schedule."
"Yes, sir," Harry replied, though this time his voice wavered a bit in confusion.
"These days, the pile of essays I need to mark, written by some dunderheads, obviously, have grown large and higher in the stack."
"Yes, sir."
Snape was eyeing Harry in a way he didn't like. The Professor slowly walked around the desk, seeming to ponder something. "I need a specific ingredient for one of the potions I am brewing." Snape gestured to the boiling cauldron. Harry glanced at it. An acid green liquid was bubbling. "And yet I still need to mark the essays by Thursday."
"Sir?" Harry asked, a bit puzzled by where this was going.
Snape sneered at him. "Potter, I need you to cut up these squids, extract the ink into these vials and put the cut up squid into this bowl. You must peel the skin off. And mind you, wear something over your clothes, or else you'll be drenched with ink. Potter, I expect this to be done quickly and neatly. Understand me?"
"Yes, sir," Harry replied, shuffling to get to work.
Snape curled his lip before stalking toward his desk, robes billowing.
(SNAPE'S POV)
Severus Snape was not the most kindest teacher in the school. He was the 'evil bat of the dungeons', the one all students feared, the 'evil teacher' of Hogwarts. But inside, he was soft. But that softness came from one, and only one person.
Lily Evans Potter.
Oh, Lily, how I miss you so much, Snape thought wistfully as he scribbled a large 'D' onto a Hufflepuff's essay. If only you were still here ... He had resented James Potter, the arrogant and spoiled brat. The popular one. The one that had everything Snape had wanted. And he hated hated James Potter even more after Lily chose him and ignored Snape.
Snape's eyes drifted toward where Harry Potter, son of James Potter, was working, struggling to peel off the skin without cutting off his own finger with the silver knife. Snape wanted to hate Harry Potter. He truly did want to. But he couldn't. The boy ... he had one thing in common with Lily that made Snape soften.
Her eyes.
The beautiful, emerald green eyes that sparkled with wonder and curiosity, the green eyes that were filled with kindness and determination. Snape did not hate Harry Potter. No, definitely did not. But he wanted to. He was a copy of his father ... You hate him, a voice in his head nagged. He's just like his father. He's lazy, arrogant ...
Snape turned his attention back to the pile of essays and scowled deeply as he marked an 'O' on Draco Malfoy's essay, then a 'P' on Harry Potter's. That brought him back to think of the boy. The young boy working in front of him.
Snape had not actually given the boy the hard task he was doing right now because he was so busy. In fact, he could put off marking the essays until next week, but had given the Potter boy the job. Because it was a punishment. A punishment for dueling with others, for being reckless and putting his life in danger.
You don't care about him, the voice reminded again.
I do, Snape retorted. But only because he's Lily's.
Snape glanced at Harry Potter once more. His eyes were filled with concentration as he extracted the ink. Then he turned his eyes back to the parchment in front of him. He did this for Lily. And only Lily.
Harry Potter glanced up and Snape froze when their eyes met. Five seconds passed, then Snape said in a soft and deadly voice, pushing out all emotion, "Get back to work Potter."
"Yes, sir."
End of Chapter Fourteen
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