I hope this letter finds you well. Just to assure you that yes, I am all right. I'm sorry for not being able to write much over the summer. Things have been busy. How is your fifth year going? Study for those O.W.Ls, don't blow them off like I did. Harry, please stay on school grounds this year. More than school rules are at stake, and be careful in Hogsmeade. Remus says "hi" and begs you to take care of our map. Don't use Hedwig to fly back, find the owl that came.
Love,
Sirius
Harry set the yellowed parchment down in his lap and stared out the window to the lake, shimmering beneath the pale sun. He bit his lip, then jumped from the bed and wandered around the room until he found some parchment and a quill. It was a self-inking one, which eased his mind a bit about staining the white sheets. He sat down next to the bedside stand, spread the parchment flat on it, and scratched out:
"Dear Sirius,
I'm fine. It's good to hear from you. Hogwarts is fine, too. Don't worry, I'll be careful. Tell Lupin hello and that I'm using the map well."
Harry hesitated.
"Sirius, I think you should know. We have a new DADA teacher. She knows you. She found this letter before Dumbledore got it back and gave it to me."
His writing was becoming unsteady.
"I heard her threaten to hunt you down and kill you. I don't think she knew you are innocent until Dumbledore told her. I don't think she knows a lot of things."
He scribbled this last line rather angrily.
"She says her name is Professor Harrison, but the map says she's Carmen Rysk. Do you know her? Please be careful. Ron and Hermione say hi."
Harry's hand wavered. He desperately wanted to tell Sirius about his scar and the way Snape had felt the intense pain through the Dark Mark as well. But such news would only cause Sirius worry at the very least; at the very most (and most probable), it would send his godfather running back to Hogwarts, and not out of concern for Snape.
And damned if he gets into trouble because of me.
"See you soon, I hope.
Love,
Harry"
Well. That was that. Harry gently shook the parchment to help the ink dry before folding it up and tucking it securely into his robes. He slid Sirius's letter back into its envelope and hid that away, as well. After replacing the quill he quietly opened the door and stuck his head out into the main part of the ward. Madam Pomfrey was no where to be seen. Harry dashed back to the bedside table, grabbed the last slab of Chocolate, and snuck out of the hospital wing.
The hallways were empty. The next class must have already rung. Faced with the prospect of going to Dark Arts, Harry was almost grateful for the delay of going down to the dungeons to pick up his books and check for homework. According to Ginny Weasley, the fourth year class didn't have Potions on Fridays for some strange reason. Perhaps Snape would be in the adjoining dungeon and he could slip in and out without being noticed...
"...and I've never agreed with your abrasive attitude toward the students, but physically attacking one...! Severus, this is the last straw..."
Harry pulled up short in the doorway at the sight that greeted him in the cold room: Madam Pomfrey was standing before Snape's desk, hands on her hips, glaring down at Snape throughout her tirade. If looks could kill, the Potions master would have been a pile of smoking ashes.
Snape was sitting at his desk, being unusually quiet and not even looking at the enraged nurse. His forehead was in his hand. Harry saw that Snape's face had completely drained of color. He was writing with a quill that kept moving faster and faster and his hand was shaking; he seemed to be in a state of shock, of trying to make the world disappear.
For the first time ever, Harry felt a pang of pity for Snape. Betraying Voldemort was not an easy nor wise thing to do. And as nasty and cold-hearted as Snape was, Harry was sure the man was frightened to death. The Dark Lord was risen, and everyone knew what the Dark Lord did to disloyal followers...
"Albus will hear about this; he's been entirely too lenient with you...!"
"Madam Pomfrey."
"Oh!" Pomfrey started and turned around. Snape looked up sharply at the sound of Harry's voice.
"It's all right," said Harry quietly. "He--Professor Snape didn't mean to. It was an accident. They're healed, anyway." As far as Madam Pomfrey knew, the burns were the only things that had ailed Harry, and he planned to keep it that way. "I came to get my books," he finished softly into the silence, walking over to a desk on the far side of the rom and gathering his materials. "Was there any homework, sir?"
Snape was staring at him inscrutably. "No, Potter. No homework."
Harry nodded, not surprised--who'd want to grade homework after that ordeal?--and silently made his way back to the door.
"Well, Severus," he heard Madam Pomfrey murmur in a much subdued tone, "I suppose I owe you an apology..."
Harry glanced over his shoulder as he turned the knob. Snape was still staring at him intensely. On an impulse Harry half-smiled at his Potions teacher. Confusion and then renewed loathing flashed across Snape's face.
****
"...so it'd probably be a good idea to keep your wand somewhere--" Rysk looked at Harry as he walked in unobtrusively. The young witch nodded him to a seat. Harry again felt her grey eyes linger a bit longer than normal on him before he became aware of the whispers that had broken out among the class like a dozen hissing snakes in tall grass. He felt his cheeks flame as he made his way to Ron and Hermione.
"I know what happened last class," said Rysk coldly and with her usual disgust for the world in general. "Potter's alive and breathing, for those of you who happen to be blind. So shut up. And if that's how you try to whisper, I'd hate to hear you shout," she added scathingly as she turned back to the blackboard and continued to write.
"She just loves insulting our intelligence, doesn't she?" someone behind Harry muttered darkly.
"Keep your wand somewhere you can reach easily. Concealed, if you can manage it. And always keep it in the same place. If you draw your wand enough it'll become second nature sooner or later."
"All right there, Harry?" whispered Ron. Very, very quietly.
Harry nodded mutely, quickly laying out his ink and grabbing a quill to take notes. From the corner of his eye he saw Malfoy, near the front of the class, give him a nasty smirk. He must have left Crabbe in the hospital ward.
"Back here," Rysk indicated a spot just behind her hip, "with your robes choking you isn't a good idea." No danger of that for her, Harry noticed--her own robes were just barely clinging to her shoulders, laying open blue jeans and a plain white shirt for all to see. A thin leather belt also ran through the jeans, although for what Harry couldn't fathom--Rysk hardly needed it. "Let me demonstrate."
Half a minute passed and Professor 'Harrison' didn't move from her place on the desk. Then, suddenly, just as the class was beginning to shift uneasily, she lunged forward with terrifying speed at Malfoy, her hand flicking almost faster than the eye to find her wand. "Draw!"
Malfoy yelled in panic, jumping out of his seat and fumbling for his wand. Beside Ron, Hermione gasped. Malfoy froze as the tip of Rysk's wand came to rest on his forehead. Real fear flicked across the blonde boy's eyes.
Rysk stared down at Malfoy for a moment. "I thought so," she said coolly, pulling back and tucking her wand under her belt. Malfoy sagged and the entire class let out a collective breath.
Ring-a-ling, ring-a-ling, ring-a-ling.
'Harrison' turned as her silver bell flew back down to her desk. "Stop!" The surge of students toward the door came to a screeching halt. "I dismiss you. Not the bell. Sit down."
Chairs scraped and books thumped.
"I want you to work on drawing your wands over the weekend. When you come back, we'll work on some basics." Rysk's lip curled subtly. "If any of you can handle it, that is. Dismissed.
"Malfoy, you stay here!"
****
"Oh, man, Malfoy's in for it," said Harry as they walked down the halls, desperately trying to keep the conversation away from his earlier incident. He was all too aware of the glances being thrown his way.
"She's not that bad," replied Ron in a strange way. "Harry what--"
"Not bad?" said Harry quickly. "I thought you said she was a lunatic, Ron."
Ron shook his head, looking uncomfortable, and almost ran into some burly seventh year. Hermione spoke up. "Harry, what happened? Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. Just got a bit burnt," he answered briskly. "Ron, what happened--"
"Not just burnt," interrupted Hermione persistently. Too persistently. "You looked like your head head was splitting open!"
They rounded a corner. "I don't know what it was," Harry lied. He lowered his voice. "But I got the...the you-know back."
Ron and Hermione stopped short right on top of the staircase. "What?" they chorused.
"From Dumbledore." Harry did his best to grin happily.
"Where did he find it?" Ron demanded, eyes wide.
"I don't know. He didn't say."
