Chapter 13 A New Guardian

A/N *Quotes from the book set off*

When Harry woke up, he was disoriented. He couldn't remember falling asleep. He wasn't sure where he was. Everything was blurry. He shook off the last remnants of sleep as he slowly sat up, looking around to try to determine where he was. He was sleeping on someone's leather sofa.

"I need to teach you the Summoning charm," Snape said wryly from somewhere behind him.

Harry looked up and behind him and saw that the man was handing him his glasses. He gratefully reached out for them and put them on. The world instantly became clearer, and he could see that he was in a small but cozy apartment. The colors were all browns and grays, and the furnishings were well-used but not exactly worn. Everything about the room was functional but comfortable. Harry liked it instantly.

"Thank you, Sir."

Snape nodded. He gestured for Harry to get up and led him down a short hallway to a washroom. There he had a change of clothes and toiletries ready. Harry wondered how long Snape had had them there. He might have just asked for them, or maybe he was already taking this guardianship seriously.

"After you are done washing up and dressing, you can have breakfast," Snape told him. "I have already eaten. You looked like you needed sleep."

At this curious bit of consideration, Harry nodded and closed the door after the man when Snape walked off. He was trying to remember all of what had happened the night before. Ron must have gone back to the tower. Harry was not sure how to feel about the fact that Snape had offered to take responsibility for him. He wasn't sure he had a choice, though. No one else was going to.

After he took a shower and slowly got dressed in soft gray trousers and a green jumper that almost exactly matched the shade of his eyes, Harry walked back out to the little kitchenette. There was a table big enough for two. Snape was sitting with a cup of tea on the end closest to the small kitchen with a plate of eggs, potatoes, bacon, and toast under a warming charm on the other side. He handed Harry a jar of marmalade when he sat down.

"I know most boys love to fill their mornings with sweet things, but I am not overly fond of sugar," Snape informed him conversationally. "I do take marmalade with my toast. I suppose it is my one vice in that matter."

Acknowledging the joke with a small smirk, Harry began to spread the fruit generously over his buttered toast. He was hungry after sleeping so long, and neither of them said much as they sat at the table. It was a comfortable quiet, though. Harry found he quite liked it. He had never just sat at a table with someone while he quietly ate. Harry had never eaten at the table with the Dursleys, and Gryffindor's House table was anything but quiet. The time he had spent with the Weasley family had been awkward for him, even though he liked them. He had never been quite sure where he fit.

"What's the Summoning charm do?" Harry asked as he was finishing his breakfast.

Snape raised his eyebrows at Harry, "What do you think it does? What does it mean to summon something?"

"You bring something to you?" Harry guessed.

"Are you asking me or telling me?" Snape demanded.

"Well, Flitwick didn't teach it to us yet!" Harry insisted indignantly.

"Professor Flitwick will teach it to you in your fourth year," Snape responded mildly, eying Harry over his near-empty teacup.

Giving Snape an exasperated look worthy of that response, Harry folded his arms. He continued to stare at Snape pointedly. As he did, Snape gave a subtle laugh and tapped the table, making both Harry's breakfast and his tea disappear.

"I mentioned it to you because you wear glasses," Snape said. "I think that it would be useful for you to be able to summon them if you lose them since you cannot see without them and will not be able to find them. Not having your glasses could put you at a significant disadvantage."

"I guess I will be at a significant disadvantage for three more years then, Sir," Harry said evenly.

"Surely not, Mr. Potter. I do not think there is any harm in teaching you the spell. Although it is advanced, you are a bright wizard. You have shown that you can fight trolls and play Quidditch. What's a small charm?" Snape mused.

Since Harry knew he was being teased, he did not respond. He felt that he saw a new side of Snape. If this was what having a guardian was like, he thought it would be a very good thing. No one had ever looked out for him until Snape came along, and when they had been at odds, it had been miserable for Harry.

"When can I learn it?" Harry demanded.

"Well, I suppose I can teach it to you now," Snape mused. "We will not use your glasses at first."

Snape waved his hand and conjured a feather. He walked back into the parlor area and set it on the table in front of the sofa. Then he walked back to Harry, who stood up and faced the table curiously. He was excited to learn a new and advanced spell.

"As with most spells, the most important part is intent," Snape told Harry firmly. "You need to picture the object you want to summon in your mind clearly. You will not always be able to see it. Sometimes it might not be anywhere near you. You can summon almost anything, even living things. However, as with most magic, what a wizard can summon depends on two things primarily. What do you think they are?"

"How powerful the wizard is?" Harry asked.

"Yes, that is one aspect. A more powerful witch or wizard can summon bigger objects, summon objects more easily, or summon living beings," Snape lectured. "What else?"

"Intent," Harry answered after thinking for a minute. "If you can picture it really well or concentrate better?"

"That is correct," Snape said. "It is easiest when you are within the line of sight of the object. We will start with that first." He paused and eyed Harry carefully. "Remember, this is an advanced spell for you. Do not get discouraged if you cannot get it the first time. Control and precision are important. You need to focus."

Harry nodded.

"The incantation is Accio," Snape said clearly. "Accio feather."

The feather flew into his hand.

"Of course, many wizards become so used to the spell that they use it nonverbally, without saying the incantation or the object out loud. You need to be a powerful wizard and have practice. It will come with age as your magic matures."

Snape waved his hand, and the feather disappeared and reappeared on the table. Harry concentrated and tried to focus his eyes and mind on the feather. He was nervous, though, and wondered what Snape would think of him if he didn't get it right. Snape seemed to think he could do it even though it was a fourth-year spell. Harry wanted to make Snape proud of him.

"Accio feather," Harry shouted, raising his wand toward the feather and holding out his other hand to grab it.

Nothing happened.

"That's alright," Snape told him gently. "Just try again. This time, say it a bit more forcefully. Concentrate on the feather in your mind's eye as well as looking at it. Imagine the feather in your hand. Want it in your hand."

"Accio feather. Accio FEATHER! ACCIO FEATHER!"

Nothing was happening. Harry was trying with all his might, and the feather remained on the table. Harry could feel his control slipping. His mind became a blank.

"Calm down," Snape snapped. "You are getting yourself worked up. What did I tell you?"

With a sniff, Harry took a deep breath. He tried to imagine the feather in his hand. He pictured himself alone in the room, with no Snape. There was also no feather. He looked down dejectedly.

"Harry, nothing comes easily. Magic does not always come easily. Tell me, what do you feel when you say the incantation?" Snape said.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, completely confused.

"Do you feel your magic coming into your wand? Do you feel it moving through you?"

Harry considered this. He reached down inside himself, as he had before when Snape had tried to calm down his magical tantrums. All Harry felt right now was frustration. He focused on the little bubble of frustration, unraveling it. It was white-hot and fizzy. He soothed it and let it flow gently through him, milder and readier.

"Accio feather," Harry said confidently, feeling the flow of magic through his wand as he did so.

The feather flew into his waiting hand.

"Very good, Harry," Snape mused. "What did you do differently that time?"

Although he asked the question, Harry knew that Snape was already aware of the answer. He could not help but smile. Magic was going to be so much easier now and so much more fun.

"I pictured the feather in my hand. I knew it would be there. Are there any more spells you can teach me, Sir?" Harry asked eagerly.

"One at a time, Mr. Potter," Snape told him with what sounded suspiciously like a chuckle. "I do believe you have earned a reward, though."

With a wave of Snape's hand, a chocolate frog appeared on the table. Snape raised his eyebrows and looked at Harry. Despite his disbelief that the man was giving him candy, Harry knew just what to do. It would be no problem this time.

"Accio chocolate frog!"

The rest of the winter break passed quickly. Harry spent time with Snape and Ron, and even both of them together. He enjoyed learning how to play Wizard's Chess and found that watching Snape play Ron was one of the best parts of his vacation.

When the term started, Hermione was disappointed that Harry and Ron hadn't cracked the Nicholas Flamel case wide open. Still, when she found out why, she was ecstatic. Hermione understood why Harry didn't have free reign of the castle, now that he had a guardian. She was more accepting than Ron had been of who the guardian was.

"You are so lucky," Hermione repeated for the dozenth time. "Your guardian is a professor!"

"Hermione," Ron shook his head, "I don't know why you think that is a good thing."

"Honestly, Ron, don't be selfish. Everyone deserves a parent," Hermione scoffed at him.

"He could have moved in with me!" Ron insisted.

This argument always made Harry feel uncomfortable. He liked the Weasley family, but he felt like they already had enough kids. Harry enjoyed the quiet evenings with Snape. The man might be strict and unbending, but he was kinder to Harry than any other adult had ever been. Harry also knew that his new guardian cared about him in a way that no one else ever had.

Hermione gave Ron a look that clearly told him to drop it. Fortunately, he did. This conversation happened less frequently now, and Harry was grateful for that. He was happy with the status quo, and he wished Ron would just be happy for him. Harry had never told either of his new friends about his home life before Hogwarts and was sure they would be better off never knowing. Ever perceptive, Hermione had picked up on the clues in what little he had said. She knew that he was far better off with Snape.

Harry took out the chocolate frog he had won from learning the Summoning charm. He was pretty sure it was one of the reasons Hermione was so jealous that Snape was his guardian. She had been over the moon when Harry told her about it and promptly insisted that he teach it to her. He tried not to be just as jealous when she got it on her second try. Hermione was always very focused, after all.

"Hey, look, guys," Harry held out the card that came with the frog. "I knew I had heard the name before! Listen to this:

*'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel'!"*

Hermione then became very excited and pulled out a thick book that she somehow called light reading. She proceeded to read from it about the Philosopher's Stone, which could make the drinker immortal. Harry's mind was spinning. This was what the three-headed dog was guarding. This was what the break-in at Gringott's had been for.

"Why would anyone keep something so dangerous in a school?" Harry demanded.

"Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard in the world. He's here, so it's here," Hermione insisted. "He's protecting it."

"But we're here too!" Ron said, fear dawning on his freckled face.

Harry could not help but be distracted by the stone and who might be after it. He found classes on magic less attractive by comparison. Defense Against the Dark Arts was one of his most boring classes, despite the title. Professor Quirrell gave him the creeps, and he doubted the man could survive a curse, let alone cast one. Harry found himself absentmindedly wondering if Quirrell would have the smarts or guts to go after the stone. He definitely seemed slimy enough.

Although he had briefly considered going to Snape to ask him about the dog, the break-in, or the stone, he had quickly dismissed the idea. The professor was beyond overprotective when it came to Harry's safety. He could only imagine what Snape would say if he brought up his musings on the Philosopher's Stone. It would probably not go over well.

In fact, Snape was so overprotective that he was insisting on refereeing Harry's next Quidditch match. The guardianship was not well known, fortunately. If it was, Harry was sure he would be teased by all of the students mercilessly for being babied. As it was, he was having a hard time not speaking up when his teammates insisted that Snape would not be fair at the match since Slytherin and Gryffindor were rivals. Harry knew why Snape was refereeing, but he wasn't going to spread around the reason why. They could think what they wanted to. Snape wasn't going to favor Hufflepuff.

Snape did not want Harry to walk to the dungeons unchaperoned, so he ended up spending a lot of time in Snape's office. Sometimes he would go from there to Snape's quarters. If anyone thought the two of them were spending a lot of time together, they probably just thought Harry was in detention. Snape continued to ride Harry mercilessly in class. He was no longer cruel, but he was no less exacting.

"Do you call that diced, Potter?" Snape demanded one day in potions class.

He came up behind Harry so quickly and spoke so loudly and sternly that Harry nearly dropped the knife. Snape proceeded to berate his technique for what seemed to go on forever and then vanished the dandelion roots he had been cutting and made him get more and repeat the process. He almost did not finish the potion. Then, Snape had him come that evening after dinner for a refresher course in the difference between dicing, slicing, chopping, and mincing. Harry had to admit it was helpful, but he wished Snape had been quieter about it.

To make matters worse, Harry could have sworn that Snape was stalking him. He thought maybe the man was trying to catch him in some misbehavior. Hermione told him that he was paranoid. Snape did always seem to be where Harry was, though. He didn't always acknowledge him either. This annoyed Harry. He never asked Snape about it, though. He didn't want to seem needy. He was careful to keep his mind blank when the man was near. Sometimes it did not seem fair that Snape could read his mind, and he could not do the same.

Even though Snape was refereeing, Hermione and Ron decided that they would be Harry's backup during the Quidditch match and use the Leglocker curse on anyone who was out to get Harry. He didn't try to discourage the idea, even though he was pretty sure Snape would disapprove of it. The truth was, he was still nervous about the match.

The night before, Harry was sitting at the little table in Snape's quarters in front of a delicious-looking plate of shepherd's pie he had barely touched. His stomach was roiling, and he could scarcely look at Snape. He didn't want to admit he was nervous. It made him feel like a baby.

"It's okay to feel nervous, Harry," Snape finally said into the silence between them.

Harry looked up at his guardian miserably.

"I have a feeling that this is not about the game," Snape continued.

"No, Sir. At least not really," Harry admitted. "I just keep remembering last time with my broom."

Snape nodded, "We have taken many precautions, Harry, since last time. I have surrounded your new broom with protections, and your locker is warded. No one can replace it like last time. I also taught you how to tell if someone has tried to tamper with your locker or your broom. Have you felt such a thing?"

"No," Harry admitted, shaking his head.

"Nonetheless, it is natural for you to be nervous anyway. I want you to focus on visualizing yourself as safe and successful. You are safe. Also, as you know, I will be the referee. I will be much closer. If someone attempts to curse you because he or she cannot get to the broom, I will be there to stop it," Snape assured him.

With these words washing over him, Harry began to feel better. There was something about the simple confidence with which Snape said them that made them seem right. He would be safe. Snape would be there. There was nothing that could go wrong this time.

"Just to be prudent, get the Snitch as quickly as possible," Snape said with a smirk. "Do it without risking your neck this time."

"I take it you won't be rooting for Hufflepuff, Sir?" Harry teased.

"Well, Mr. Potter, who is my ward?"

The next day, Harry felt a little nervous when he looked out on the field and realized Dumbledore was there watching the game. Then he considered that the headmaster was probably there was extra protection more than as a spectator. Snape looked fierce, and Harry felt like nothing could touch him. He barely even heard Malfoy teasing him. He knew that he would be fine.

It was probably one of the shortest games in Hogwarts history.

Less than five minutes into the game, Harry spotted the Snitch. He dove for it, right past his guardian, and got it right near the ground for the second time. He knew that Snape would have something to say about that later. His guardian definitely looked a little unnerved and annoyed. Harry gave him a sheepish look and then turned and held the Snitch triumphantly in the air. Gryffindor won, and he was safe.

Harry turned when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He was afraid for a minute that it was going to be Snape bawling him out. The man was ahead of him, though, looking livid. The hand belonged to Dumbledore, congratulating him. Harry grinned.

As he started to celebrate with his classmates, Harry began to feel a little guilty about the reckless manner in which he had caught the Snitch. He decided to find his guardian and apologize. Looking around, Snape was nowhere to be seen. Then he thought he spotted him at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He thought that was odd. Harry quickly grabbed his broom and followed.

Instead of dismounting at the edge of the forest, Harry decided to fly in quietly because he was so far behind. As he was slinking in to try to find where Snape had gone to, part of him was starting to realize that this was the last thing the man would approve of. A larger part was not listening to that part. It was just too attractive. Harry could not imagine why Snape would leave the Quidditch match to go off into the forest. He hoped it would not be that he was that angry at Harry.

Just as he was about to turn around, Harry heard voices. He gently landed in a nearby tree and realized that Snape was arguing with Quirrell. He caught a snatch of the words 'Philosopher's Stone.' He was so surprised he almost fell out of the tree.

*"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," said Snape, taking a step toward him.

"I-I don't know what you —"

"You know perfectly well what I mean."*

Harry was entirely baffled by the conversation. He could not help but wonder why Snape was involved even if Quirrell was the one after the stone. Harry was not surprised by that information. He knew Snape did not trust Quirrell since he had scolded Harry so harshly for being alone with him in Diagon Alley. Harry was startled by the hoot of an owl above him and almost fell out of his tree.

* He steadied himself in time to hear Snape say, "— your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting."

"B-but I d-d-don't —"

"Very well," Snape cut in. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie."*

Watching Snape stalk off, Harry wondered that as well. He looked down and saw that Quirrell looked even more pale and timid than usual. Snape did tend to affect people, and the tone of voice he had been using had been forceful and frightening. Harry hoped Snape never found out that he had been listening in.

Since the team and his friends would wonder where he was, Harry decided to go back to Gryffindor Tower. Snape had not been in the best mood, and giving him time to cool off before explaining his foolish Quidditch moves seemed wise. Harry didn't really think about it when he played. He just moved on instinct.

The Gryffindor team approved, of course. None of them ever complained about Harry's risky playing. Harry noted that Professor McGonagall and Madam Hooch didn't seem to either. He supposed Snape saw things differently since he was Harry's guardian. Harry thought the professor was just overprotective. One thing to be said for the Dursleys was that while they might have been rubbish guardians, they never would have cared how riskily he behaved. With them, he was never punished for anything he had actually done. They had mostly tried to avoid noticing him unless they had to and then locked him in the cupboard for it.

Fortunately, Harry hadn't gotten involved in Ron and Neville's fight with Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. Ron had given Malfoy a black eye and gained a bloody nose for his trouble. Neville had fought both of Malfoy's goons at once and was still in the hospital wing. Harry was impressed with Neville's bravery but could not help but feel that Snape would also have a thing or two to say about brawling at a Quidditch match.

He was right. Harry had not been at the party more than an hour before a note appeared in front of him. The small roll of parchment meant only one thing. He sighed and said goodbye to his friends and headed for Snape's office, waiting to read it until he stepped outside of the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Oh, dear. You didn't get in trouble again, did you?"

Harry ignored the nosy portrait and walked to Snape's office a little more quickly when he read the note's tone. It seemed a little more terse than usual. He had known that his guardian would expect to see him, but he had thought that he would get some time to celebrate before the inquisition.

"I see you got my note."

Snape did not look up when Harry entered the office. The man was sitting at his desk hunched over a pile of parchment, as he so often was. They were most likely essays, but from the door, it was impossible to tell. Harry entered glumly and flopped down onto the chair on the opposite side of the teacher's desk where the student usually sat. It was wooden and straight-backed and not nearly as comfortable as the professor's. Harry had often felt that it was designed to discourage lingering or encourage discomfort.

"Yes, Sir," Harry replied neutrally.

"That was quite a performance you put on today," Snape said through almost clenched teeth, finally looking up and setting his quill in the holder.

Despite the fact that he wasn't eager for this topic, Harry preferred it to Snape, having found out he had followed him into the Forbidden Forest, especially on a broom. There had been a pit of dread forming in his stomach ever since at the very thought. Snape would murder him for sure. He would be used for Potions ingredients by students for years to come.

"It wasn't that risky," Harry responded without thinking. He could tell by the look on Snape's face that this was the wrong thing to say, so he immediately backpedaled a bit. "I mean … I am okay. I didn't get hurt."

"You did not get hurt, no," Snape stood up and leaned forward to place his palms on the desk in front of Harry. His face was inches away, and Harry could see his crooked yellow teeth through stringy black hair. "However, you are eleven years old and still barely at the weight that allows you to play. What would have happened if you had not been able to pull up in time?"

With a gulp, Harry sat back. He could not stand the look in Snape's eyes. He realized that it was not disdain but rather fear. He had worried the man again. He saw his days of playing Quidditch disappearing, but that wasn't the worst of it. Snape was doing so much for him. He hated to disappoint him.

"I'm sorry," Harry croaked.

He couldn't believe he was close to tears. Harry just wasn't used to these emotions. He wasn't used to having people who cared about him. He had wanted to win the game. His team was depending on him. His own life never held any value to him. He was now beginning to realize that it did have value—to someone else.

Whatever Snape might have been able to say or do next, when he looked into Harry's eyes, he changed his mind. He stood up quickly and walked over to the other side of the desk, and lifted Harry gently out of the chair so that he was standing. Without a word, he hugged him.

They remained there in that pose for a few minutes, neither saying a word. Slowly, Harry regained his sense of self. He felt strange. Although he no longer felt like he might cry at any minute, he was still overwhelmed with emotions.

Snape patted him on the back gently and then stepped away and conjured a tea service. He put it on the table in front of the leather couch in the corner of his office and gestured for Harry to go sit. Pouring them both a cup of tea, he handed one to Harry. They both sat there drinking it in silence. Harry wondered if this was what it was like to have a family.

"Please be more careful," Snape whispered.

"I will," Harry promised. He actually meant it this time.

Rowling, J.K.. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (p. 235,243). Pottermore Publishing. Kindle Edition.