NOTE: This is a very long chapter as promised! There is A LOT in this chapter, so enjoy. Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the wonderful feedback. jumps up and down! You don't know how happy you made me.
*****
CHAPTER VII: Halloween: T.R.O.L.L.
*****
"Troll in the dungeon!"
The Great Hall fell silent and everyone stared in growing terror and disbelief at Professor Quirrell, Hogwart's resident defender.
"Just thought you ought to know," he said and fainted dead away.
Screams filled the room as the students stood and began panicking. Harry sat calmly at his seat while around him others became hysterical. He wondered distantly why he wasn't more surprised. But it was Halloween; it figured if anything were to happen it would be on this night.
He'd been expecting something to happen since he'd received his Hogwarts letter. With something akin to relief, Harry looked up at the high table. He watched as Snape made a dash for a side exit. Dumbledore, Harry noticed, watched the Potion Master go before rising to his feet and calling first for silence and then for the prefects to lead the children to their common rooms.
"Gryffindors, follow me," Percy called out authoritatively. The House moved forward hurriedly, some of the students audibly whimpering.
Harry stopped next to the collapsed Professor Quirrell, unexpectedly chilled. He stared down at the turbaned head intently. Something wasn't right. Yes, the Headmaster and the teachers were heading down to the dungeons to take care of the situation, but what about Professor Snape? And the troll itself? Trolls didn't just wander into Hogwarts. The castle wouldn't allow it, it was rather particular that way.
"Harry?"
And weren't there alarms, wards, Professor Quirrell himself their resident defender . . . ?
"Harry, come on!"
Ron was tugging on his arm. Harry couldn't tear his eyes away from the prone teacher. Professor Vector's feet came into view and with Professor Sinstra's help they lifted the unconscious professor upright and began to revive him.
"Move boy. Get along now," Vector ordered curtly.
"Harry, we don't want to be left behind!"
The green eyed boy's head snapped up and he stared at Ron's hazel eyes. "Where's Hermione? Is she back?" The girl had been hiding in the bathroom all afternoon according to rumor, crying.
"Harry--"
"Have you seen her?" Harry demanded even as he looked around at the fast emptying Great Hall.
"She didn't come down for dinner," Ron said wretchedly.
Harry nodded and started to run not towards the Gryffindor common room but the girl's bathroom.
"Harry, are you mad? What about the troll?" Ron called following the shorter boy.
"Go back with the others, Ron," Harry said not slowing down as he rounded the corner.
"No way," Ron said firmly, hurrying to keep up. "S'my fault," he said guiltily. "Weeping girls hiding in bathrooms during feasts. I'm sorry, I'll never say nasty things again, not even to Ginny," the redhead promised under his breath. He nearly plowed into Harry when the boy stopped suddenly.
"What? What is it?"
"I don't think the troll's in the dungeon anymore," Harry said quietly.
The shadow that crawled along the wall spoke of a huge lumbering creature, much much bigger than Hagrid who was the largest person Harry had ever seen. It was entering the girl's bathroom
"Come on," Harry said. Ron drew his wand and noting the action, Harry flicked his wrist and drew his own.
Pelting down the corridor they rushed into the bathroom just in time to see Hermione come out of a stall, wiping tears from her face.
"Hermione! Duck!" Ron yelled.
The bushy haired girl looked up and screamed, throwing herself to the side as the massive club came crashing down where she had stood. She scrambled around and under the sinks on the other side of the bathroom.
"Expelliamus!" Harry cast, hoping to disarm the troll before Hermione was hurt. To Harry's horror, nothing happened. He watched helpless as the weapon crashed down barely missing a terrified Hermione huddled under the sinks. Shards of porcelain went flying and Ron and Harry both ducked.
"Help!" Hermione called.
Harry snarled, cursing so virulently that he drew both Ron and Hermione's shocked eyes. Reholstering his wand in disgust, Harry raised his hand, palm out, and pushed.
The troll went flying and hit the far wall with a thud that shook the foundations of the room.
"Get Hermione out of here!" Harry ordered.
Ron, who dodging pieces of masonry that fell from the now crumbling ceiling, grabbed Hermione's arm to pull her up. He raised his wand, casting the first thing that came to his mind.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Ron said the words over and over again to keep pieces of the ceiling from crashing down on their heads.
Focusing, now that he knew that Hermione was safe, Harry watched with grim satisfaction as chains burst into existence, wrapping like snakes around the troll. The club was plucked from the beast's hand and began to whack its owner with steady thumps by an invisible hand.
The troll groaned, went limp and the chains tightened. Reaching the doorway to the bathroom both Gryffindors turned to watch as the monster, like a mighty tree, crashed to the floor barely missing crushing the small figure of one Harry Potter.
As the dust settled, quiet filled the bathroom. Harry lowered his arm and sighed in relief. He turned his attention to his two year mates.
"Are you all right?" he asked in concern noting their shocked and pale faces. "Hermione?"
"You-- you--" she sputtered, completely at a loss for words.
"Bloody hell," Ron whispered staring about the room where dozens of pieces of masonry and most of the ceiling hung suspended in midair, moments away from collapsing on their heads. He let go of the now steadier Hermione and moved to stand before the fallen troll, poking it gingerly with his toe.
"Mr. Weasley! Mr. Potter! Miss Granger!" Professor McGonagall scolded, completely out of breath. "Just what do you think you are doing?"
Realizing that they were blocking the professor's view of the troll, Harry glanced once at the chains willing them to disappear. They evaporated like mist at his silent request. He turned his attention back to their Head of House who was now joined by Professor Snape and the now revived Professor Quirrell just in time to hear Hermione take the blame and Professor McGonagall take and award points, "For sheer dumb luck."
The Transfiguration professor motioned the trio away as she and the Potion Master moved forward to tend to the troll and the destroyed bathroom. Hermione hurried out towards the corridor and the safety of Gryffindor tower. Ron was eager to follow.
Harry moved forward, happy to get away from the troll before Professor Snape, no doubt, would begin asking more detailed questions of how exactly the bathroom had been ruined, why there was floating debris everywhere, and how the three of them had faced down the monster.
He felt the chill down his spine as he passed through the door, and almost against his will he turned his eyes to meet those of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor who was giggling nervously.
"Come on, Harry!" Ron hissed grabbing his harm, shaking him out of his revive.
Allowing himself to be dragged away, they made their way into the empty common room. Faint sounds from up the spiral staircase leading to the dorms was the only noise. Percy had sent everyone to bed, forgoing the Halloween celebration.
Harry made no move towards the dorms. Rubbing his arms to banish the cold that seemed to grip him, the black haired boy gravitated towards the still burning fire, distant has he ponder the surreal evening.
Unspoken Ron and Hermione took seats on the couch across from him.
For many long minutes no one spoke. Harry stared at the flames avoiding Ron and Hermione's eyes that he could feel on him acutely. The silence would be broken, questions would follow and there was so much that Harry didn't like to speak about, and so much more that he couldn't speak about without endangering others.
It was so much easier with Sirius and Remus. Not that Harry was ever, ever, ever going to tell them about the troll. Incidents like that tended to make Padfoot a little . . . uptight. If Snape being upset with Harry provoked a Howler, Harry didn't want to think what this would do to his godfather. No need to tell anyone just yet. It fell into the category of things Not To Be Spoke Of like the details of his years with the Dursley's and what exactly Harry had done on the Quidditch pitch at the other Hogwarts all those years ago when he'd first held His wand in his hand.
"You used wandless magic," Ron said quietly. "You didn't even use the incantations."
Harry met Ron's eyes briefly and then shrank away from the awe and the fear in his friend's gaze.
He hated people thinking he was . . . odd.
(not a freak, Sirius said, he promised, he was not a freak)
"That's a very, very rare gift," Hermione said quietly. "Unless it's random magic in times of extreme stress. And usually I would say facing down a troll would constitute extreme stress. But this," she continued on slowly breaking off a typical textbook retelling much to both boy's surprise "This was controlled, complex . . . multiple charms working in concert with advanced transfiguration and conjuring. After. You. Couldn't. Cast. With. Your. Wand."
Harry winced. He tucked one arm tight across his chest, wishing he could hide. With his right hand he drew his wand, fingers brushing against the holly. "I've . . . never used a wand before really. I'm . . ." Harry searched for words to explain. "I'm modifying my wand to . . . handle the way I usually do magic."
"May I?" Hermione asked, reaching out to touch the wand. She grasped it tight and let out a pained cry; her whole body beginning to shake as she fought to hold on. Harry half stood, ready to pry it out of her fingers, not daring to use magic as the wand interacted with the witch.
"What's it doing? Drop it!" Ron yelped, knocking it out of her hand.
Harry opened his hand and the wand, instead of falling to the floor, floated into his grasp.
Hermione looked just as shaken as when the troll was trying to kill her.
"Are you all right?" Harry asked anxiously as he took his seat.
She nodded. "It felt like fire, but not the same as real fire. It felt . . . alive."
Ron stared from her unmarred hand to Harry's wand. "You've already . . . modified it a lot," Ron said carefully. "It doesn't really look like other wands."
Harry stared at the slightly luminescent quality to the holly and shrugged.
"I've heard of some wizards who after having their wand long enough, it won't work well, mess up spells, backfire for other people. No one else will ever be able to hold that wand let alone use it," Ron continued.
Except Him, Harry thought very very quietly to himself. He slid his wand away up his sleeve.
"I'm just glad no one got hurt. It's over now," Hermione said in a reassuring voice. "The professors will take care of it, and nothing like this will happen again."
Harry looked away.
But not quick enough.
"Something is going on," Ron said sharply.
"It's late," Harry said, trying to distract them, getting to his feet.
But the youngest Weasley boy would not be shaken off, not after what he'd seen tonight. "Tell us. Are we . . . are we still in danger?" Ron demanded reaching out and grabbing the shorter boy's wrist.
"Still?" Hermione echoed in surprised, looking back and forth between Ron and Harry, not liking what she saw, not at all. She took a deep breath. "You should go to Professor Dumbledore if you think--"
"Why?" Harry countered calmly, pulling his wrist free.
"Why?" she repeated as if he was crazy. "To get help! If you think there's danger here . . ."
"The troll is gone," Harry reminded her. But not the danger. It was like a weight pressing against his chest, crushing him. There was something, something . . .
"It's more than the ruddy troll. You wouldn't be looking like-like . . . that if it was just a troll! Something is going on here," Ron interjected.
"Even if there is something larger going on, we're just first years, we shouldn't get involved," Hermione scolded. "We could have died tonight, or worse gotten expelled!"
Ron rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Harry. "Maybe we shouldn't get involved. But you're going to," the redhead said pointedly.
Harry worried the edge of his sleeve, but would not answer. Even if he wanted to explain, there were no words. . .
"Let us help."
Surprised at his dorm mate's offer, Harry blinked and met the youngest Weasley boy's gaze.
"You looked shocked," Ron laughed. "We're Gryffindors. We're always ready for a good death defying adventure. We stick together, that's what being in a House means."
Harry waved a hand and the fire died to embers plunging the common room into darkness, but not covering up the sudden surprised intake of breath from both Ron and Hermione at the sight of more wandless magic. "It's very hard to defy death," the black haired boy whispered, trying to make them understand. "Sometimes it isn't your life you risk loosing."
Harry then turned towards the stairs, navigating flawlessly around the furniture. He may not have good night vision as a bird of prey, but as a human boy he'd had a lot of practice.
Hermione murmured lumos behind him and she and Ron followed.
"Is that a yes? Can we help?" Ron asked throwing an arm around the shorter boy's shoulder.
Harry, surprised by the contact stiffened for a moment. If the Weasley boy noticed he didn't mind. The Boy Who Lived tilted his head silently to the side regarding first one and then the other who now flanked him.
"It will be dangerous."
"We're Gryffindors, the three of us can do anything!" Ron countered cheerfully as they headed up the stairs as if that was answer enough.
"As long as we don't break any rules," Hermione insisted calmly.
Harry stifled a chuckle at Ron's rolled eyes. The three of them might have changed after the troll, might have bound together tight through shared adversity, but some things never changed.
*****
"So?" Ron asked leaning over breakfast.
Harry, confused, looked up from his porridge and his book Quidditch Through the Ages.
"So have you figured out how the troll got in? Or what it means? Or if there's really danger? Or why?"
Hermione put aside her review work, now interested in the boys' conversation. Seeing their attention on him Harry poked his food for a moment, thinking of the best way to respond and exactly how much to tell them of his vague dreamlike suspicions.
"A distraction," he said at last in a low voice. "The troll was let in as a distraction."
"Someone let that thing in as a distraction? Distraction for what?"
"All the teachers were in the dungeon, students in the common room leaving the rest of the castle unwatched," Hermione said with excitement. "Someone could have gone somewhere totally unnoticed.
"They must've failed at . . . whatever. I haven't hear of anyone dead or-or anything stolen," Ron countered.
"Like the Professors will tell the students if something valuable or dangerous is missing," Hermione scoffed. Her eyes lit up imagining the possibilities. "Maybe a rare book is missing from the restricted section and no one knows it's missing yet." Hermione breathed.
"Or maybe something from Professor Dumbledore's office," Ron said getting in on the game. "I heard from Fred and George that his office is full of really weird things. Apperate in and then apperate out!" He said, banging his fist on the table after working it out.
Hermione shook her head. "Hogwarts is the safest place in England. Haven't you read Hogwarts, A History? You can't apperate in, you can't even sneak in. There are some incredibly strong wards set by the founders into the very stones of this place."
"Then how did the troll get in?" Ron asked, turning back to Harry who had be listening silently.
"I told you. It was let in," Harry said, attention fixed on his porridge bowl.
"So . . . someone already inside the castle could have used the troll as a distraction," Ron said slowly. "Like . . . like a student or-or a teacher. Like Snape," he added under his breath as he noticed the robed figure come sweeping down the aisle between the tables right towards where Harry was sitting.
"What," the Professor demanded coming to a stop behind the boy "Are you reading Mr. Potter?"
Harry tried to answer without blushing; he could still barely meet the Professor's eyes after the Howler incident. The professor knew this and was using against the boy with absolute ruthlessness. Unable to find words, Harry showed the professor the cover instead.
Potion stained fingers snatched it from him. "Library books are not to be taken from the library Mr. Potter. Five points from Gryffindor."
"But Professor-" Harry began finding his voice. That was his father's old book he'd brought from home. It was Harry's favorite book, the margins were filled with Marauder's notes.
"Do you want to make it ten Mr. Potter?" Snape sneered at him.
"No sir," Harry said quietly as he watched the Potion Master leave with his book under his arm.
"I bet it's Snape," Ron muttered as soon as the man was out of earshot. "Nasty git. That wasn't even a library book!"
"No," Harry countered quietly, remembering Dumbledore watching the Potion Master leave the table while the student's panicked. "It's not Professor Snape."
"Well then who?" Hermione asked surprised. Snape was the most likely candidate. "What did they hope to accomplish with a troll? What do they want?"
"I don't know what exactly," Harry admitted slowly. "But it's at Hogwarts." Harry fixed them with a steely stare. "Whatever it is, it must be powerful, dangerous. Whoever is seeking it is even more powerful and dangerous to let a troll in and to avoid the Headmaster catching them. Either that or desperate."
"But how are we going to figure out what it is? Or who? It's not like anyone will tell us," Hermione said with frustration.
"Is it that important?" Ron said pointedly wiping his mouth with a napkin and gathering up his bag as it as approaching time for class. "We've just got to make sure it's protected against. . . against whoever."
"Ron I think that all the professors have taken every precaution to protect . . . it. They're not stupid. We're just students. First years."
"Well, they needed our help with the troll and their protections didn't work with him," Ron muttered as the three of them stood.
"On accident. The Professors were headed to the dungeon to take care of it."
Harry walked at little behind them listening to the two of them work through the problem, arguing back and forth. As they exited the Great Hall Harry stared up towards the staircases and thought of the three headed dog on the Third Floor and the trap door it guarded.
It looked like a pet Hagrid would have.
Harry resolved to go see the Gamekeeper this afternoon before Quidditch practice and ask him about it as soon as he got his book back from Professor Snape.
******
Later that evening, having been unable to visit Hagrid due to Oliver's fanatical need to practice for the match tomorrow, Harry was making a detour to Snape's office, broom still in hand to pick up his book.
The door was slightly ajar and voices came from inside. Harry carefully tapped on the door but they didn't hear him. Harry told himself firmly he would not be frightened of Snape; he was a Gryffindor and though Snape didn't like him the man probably didn't go so far as to want him dead.
He pushed to door open and peered inside
Snape and Filch were inside. The caretaker was bandaging the professor's bloody and mangled leg.
"Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "Three heads! Only Hagrid would have such a monstrous creature as a pet. Nicolas Flamel can't even take care of his own inventions . . ."
So Snape had gone to the Third Floor during the Halloween. He'd known it was a distraction as well. He'd been protecting something made by a man named Nicolas Flamel.
Knowing this was not a good time Harry tried to shut the door quietly.
"POTTER!"
The Potion Master's furious yell petrified Harry on the spot. The man whirled around, wand drawn from the folds of his cloak.
Harry managed to stumbled back whispering, "I-I just wanted to get my book back . . ."
The taller man advanced. This was worse than potions class with Snape hovering behind him just like Aunt Petunia, waiting, watching for him to fail. This was Uncle Vernon advancing inexorably . . .
"GET OUT! OUT!"
Gasping for breath, Harry sprinted away from the professor, wishing with every step he could outrun the memories that nipped at his heels.
*****
The day of the Quidditch match dawned brilliant and the whole school was in an excited uproar. Harry had somehow remained the Gryffindor team's secret weapon despite having a broom as a first year. For once Malfoy's malicious rumors about how a spoilt Boy Who Live got a special dispensation to get around the "no broomstick" rule had actually helped.
Harry wondered if Draco would be very upset if Harry sent him a politely worded thank you letter after the game.
He entered the Great Hall in his school robes and smelled the scent of sausages frying filling the air. Harry backed out straight into Fred and George.
"And where are you going?" asked Fred as he and his brother lifted Harry by the arms back over the threshold into the Great Hall.
"Breakfast before the game," George insisted. Both boys were already in their Quidditch uniforms. Harry's had arrived yesterday but had been much too large and had to be given out for alterations. "You need to keep your strength up."
Nauseated, Harry took his seat but refused to fill his plate. The sausages sat on a platter like pudgy fat fingers. They reminded him of Uncle Vernon's hands curled up tight.
"Aren't you going to eat anything?" Hermione asked solicitously.
Harry shook his head.
Ron laughed. "Too nervous, huh? Charlie used to say he couldn't eat a bite before a game."
Professor McGonagall entered the hall and stopped by the table. "Potter, the uniform is ready. Best go get changed now and then have breakfast," she said firmly. "I expect to be most pleasantly surprised by this year's team," she said in a louder voice catching the attention of the other red and gold clad figures at the table.
"You will be ma'am," Wood said firmly.
She nodded and headed up to the main table. Harry wondered worriedly just how much she had bet on the game and if she would make good on her threat of punishment if he didn't manage to catch the snitch.
But at least win or loose, he'd have a proper fitting uniform like the rest of the team. Happy for any excuse to escape breakfast Harry hurried back to the Gryffindor tower to change.
*****
Hermione stood at the foot of the stairwell leading up to the first year boy's dormitory and called for Harry and Ron to hurry up. She found the game largely ridiculous, especially given the sheer fanaticism the boys had over the sport to the exclusion of all else including studies. But she was proud that Harry had made seeker after Malfoy's bullying behavior during the flying lesson.
Upstairs Ron bounced around excitedly. "Where's your broom?"
"In my trunk," Harry said as he undid his tie and pulled off his buttoned shirt.
Ron propped up the lid and reverently picked up the Nimbus 2000.
Harry took off his wand holster and wand, tucking them under his pillow like Sirius always did. He came over and smiled at his friend's fascination. "It's really fast," he said. "You can borrow it to go flying if you want." Harry offered as he tugged on his trousers and then his boots.
"Really?" Ron said with awe.
"Sure." Harry nodded. "I'll ask Sirius for my Cirrus 7 so we can play 2 man on the weekends."
"But you have practice already on those days," Ron said.
Harry shrugged and caught Hedwig's knowing look from where she sat perched sleepily on his bedside table. "Practice is good, but I love to fly. Snitch or no snitch, flying is the best. Never even played with the snitch before coming here," he confided shyly.
Ron looked up, but whatever he was going to say to Harry was lost as he stared in shock at the faint scars that were unnoticeable, unless you were close, scattered across Harry's still summer tanned skin.
Harry grabbed his uniform sweater and slid it over his head. Ron's eyes caught on the sharp deep mark on Harry's throat and the rippled, horribly burned skin under Harry's left arm. Ron had seen burns on his brother Charlie from his dragon work, and he was surprised Harry could even use his arm with those fragmented rings of blister scorched skin stretching and pulling as he moved.
The scar on Harry's neck told a story the whole wizarding world knew. If it wasn't for the lightning bolt on his forehead, that was the second most recognizable mark of Harry Potter's notoriety. Peter Pettigrew, traitor and Death Eater, had slit Harry Potter's throat here at Hogwarts when he was only six years old letting the boy bleed to death.
And Harry had Lived.
But the burn . . .
"We're going to be late! Oliver's calling for you!" Hermione yelled form down the stairs.
"Coming!" Harry yelled back as he grabbed his robe, slipped it on and laced up the front. Shocked out of his thoughts Ron helped Harry with his wrist guards and gloves and then handed the other boy his broom.
Harry watched Ron's expression carefully. "D-does it look all right?" he asked nervously.
Ron blinked and stared at the shortest boy of their year, dressed in scarlet and gold. The youngest Weasley boy had no doubt that when lined up with the rest of the Gryffindor team it would look like Harry was a child playing a grown ups game.
That was until Harry flattened the Slytherin's on the pitch, Ron thought happily.
"You look great. Let's go before Oliver has a fit," he said and the two boys made their way down to the common room.
*****
Harry dodged another Bludger. He hadn't meant to sink low into game play, but the sight of the snitch was too much to pass up. And if Marcus Flint hadn't blocked him, he would have caught it too.
Trying to keep one eye out fir the elusive flash of gold, another for Bludgers, Slytherins and other deadly flying objects, it came as quite a shock when his Nimbus got in on the game of Trying To Kill Harry Potter.
The broom gave a sudden lurch. Harry grasped the handle, white knuckled. What was that?
But it wasn't over.
The broom was trying to buck him off.
He couldn't turn the broom, and he couldn't call for help, too focused on trying to stay on as he was taken higher and higher.
Harry distantly heard the cheers as Slytherin scored.
It took only moments to realize that this was completely out of his control. But Harry wasn't paying attention to that. A familiar sensation of controlled fear filled him, that feeling that creeps behind your eyes when facing an opponent. The carefully controlled rush of danger, readying as you tense for attack. He reached out with his magic, to steady himself, to get the broom back under control--
and came smack up against a wall of power.
Harry was so shocked he nearly let go. Taking advantage the broom gave a violent jerk and twist and Harry found himself hanging by one hand from the Nimbus as the thing fought to shake him free.
Jerking back and forth like a puppet Harry stared down at the players and the stands far below. Someone down there, someone was responsible for the wall that blocked him.
Someone wanted him to fall to his death, the first year Quidditch player having a fatal accident.
But Harry had wings if need be, and even if he didn't, death wouldn't stop him from figuring out who was trying to ruin his first Quidditch match! He narrowed his eyes and stared through his glasses, trying to make out something, anything, a familiar shape of an outstretched wand. No, no, not from the students. The teachers, the professors and staff, one of them, one of them . . .
He strained. Everything was shaking about, his whole body shaking. He absently noticed the Weasley twins try and reach him, but the broom seemed to sense their coming and avoided their efforts by flying higher and higher, to where the air was very thin and very cold.
But he didn't care about that. Someone down there was trying to kill him. Green eyes wide, sightless, he stared down, reaching, feeling, who, who . . . you can't hide, I'll seek you out, where, where, a moment more, a moment more--
And then there was something else, another presence--
And suddenly his broom was his again and the wall of magic was gone, evaporated without a trace. Harry hooked one leg over the handle and swung himself up in the air and then dove, vertical towards the ground.
The crowd, enthralled by the spectacle gasped, watching in shock as the tiny red blur seemed to wave his arm, clap his hand on his mouth and then . . .
Harry landed with a thump on all fours on the pitch green. Coughing once the golden snitch popped out his mouth and into his hand.
He looked up and raised the winged ball. "I've got the snitch!"
*****
The portrait of the Fat Lady swung open barely a foot, but it was enough.
Harry Potter escaped the Gryffindor Tower.
Closing the door quickly behind him, he couldn't repress a sigh of relief. The importune party in the Gryffindor common room for their first Quidditch victory of the season was a loud, raucous affair. All the adulation, the slaps on the back . . . Harry shook his head. He was uncomfortable around all the attention.
When he'd first gone out with the rest of the team on the pitch there had been stunned silence and then catcalls from the Slytherins. They stopped, however, the second Harry became airborne.
Anyone with eyes could see Harry Potter was born to fly. And as for playing Quidditch . . .
He rubbed his mouth ruefully. Not the best way to catch the snitch, but Gryffindor had won.
Turning around and tucking his school cloak around him he came face to robe with Albus Dumbledore.
He pulled back a step and stared up and met the smiling face of his mentor. "Is the party over so soon Harry?" Professor Dumbledore asked.
Harry looked back at the portrait covering the hole to his House. "No I . . . I just wanted to send a letter home. How are you Professor?"
"Quite well. Congratulations on your victory."
The green eyed boy ducked his head shyly. "Thank you. I think it was more of an accident really," he admitted quietly.
"Sometimes the most astonishing things happen completely by accident," the old man said in amusement, before turning more serious. "I am sorry I was not at the game. I heard it was quite a moment when you nearly fell."
Harry shrugged and the two of them began walking down towards the main stairwell.
"I expect you will be informing Sirius and Remus of what happened?" Dumbledore asked lightly.
Harry stilled for an imperceptible moment. "I don't exactly know what happened sir," he said cautiously.
"Not at all?" the Headmaster asked in surprise, gripping the banister as the staircase they were on began to move.
"I didn't see any wand," Harry murmured, thinking back. "There was no trace on my broom. It was very advanced."
"Powerful magic. Something few people could do," the man concluded.
"No student could," Harry said. The staircase stopped moving and they found themselves facing the forbidden third floor corridor.
The professor gave him a considering look. "Except you."
Harry stared down into the darkness of the hall. "Except me," he agreed quietly.
"An adult could however. Hmm . . . I'm not sure what I can do." Dumbledore stroked his beard absently. "I suppose you could stop playing--"
Harry tore his eyes away to look up at the headmaster in horror.
"But that would be rather cruel," he finished with humor. He patted Harry on the shoulder. "It seems . . . necessary, your participation in things. I hear Mr. Wood is most excited about your team this year. I will of course make it a point to be at your next match."
The stairs began to move again, taking them away from the restricted place. "Thank you sir. I don't think whoever it was will try the same trick twice though."
"Oh? And why not Harry? It nearly worked the last time. Without the quick thinking of a few individuals, serious consequences could have occurred."
Harry bit his lip and thought, trying to put his feeling into words. He wasn't the great strategizer Ron was. "If they were smart enough to not leave an obvious trace this time, they would know precautions would be taken next time. Plus it would increase their chances of getting caught if they did it again."
"True, true. Tell me Harry, where is the best place for someone to hide who does not want to be found out?"
Harry frowned, thinking. "The last place anyone would look?" he said at last. "No," he countered, backing up a bit. "A place where no one would look at all."
The staircase finally stopped and they stood at the main level. "No one would look at all," Dumbledore repeated carefully. "That certainly makes searching more difficult. Anywhere you are going to look will prove fruitless and any place you will never look, you will never look to find them. Most frustrating really. Regardless," he said sharply, returning to the point the boy had been trying to avoid most studiously, meeting Harry's eyes with amusement "Your guardians will be most worried to hear of your near accident."
Harry looked away, embarrassed. "I wouldn't have been hurt."
Dumbledore smiled. "Yes, you could have just grown wings and flown away. What a surprise that would have been."
For a long moment there was silence; Dumbledore stood, waiting, patient.
"Sirius worries," Harry at last, staring down the main hall.
"Yes, and I think he has good reason," the wizard said softly, reaching out and placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "He remembers what it was like to be a Gryffindor. Impetuousness. What the Slytherins call foolhardy. I believe . . . your godfather would be very upset with you taking risks, especially if you are walking into a situation unprepared."
Harry closed his eyes. "He'd take me home."
"And do you want to go home Harry?"
"Sometimes," Harry confessed. He opened his eyes and at last met his mentor's gaze. "But Hogwarts is very nice," he said hurriedly, not wanting to insult the headmaster. "It feels. . ."
"What?"
"Magic. Alive."
"Ah," He turned the boy in the direction of the owlry tower and they both began to walk again. "It tends to be both those things, and more. The tale of how the Founders created this place is a story unto itself," he said gesturing with his free hand at the stones, the ceiling, the tapestries, the walls "Have you covered that in History of Magic yet?"
"We're still on the goblin wars," Harry said trying not to sound too put out.
"Which one? I believe there are several."
Colored slightly, Harry tried to remember. "I-I'm not sure, sir."
"Perhaps a little less napping in that class Harry could help," the professor offered wryly.
Harry nodded. He would try, but . . . "Do you know the syllabus for first years?" he asked. "Do we cover anything other than goblins sir?"
"Let me see . . . I haven't seen Professor Binn's syllabus. He wrote his first ones before I became headmaster while he was still alive actually. I don't believe it's ever been revised." They came to a junction of halls and stopped. "This is where you and I must part Harry."
"Will you--will you be writing to Sirius about the game?" he asked anxiously.
Dumbledore stared down at the black haired boy for a long moment before answering. "I shall leave it up to you how much to tell your godfather. Though I would like you to remain at Hogwarts, you can learn so much here," he said quietly. "I found it such an enjoyable experience when I was your age," said, voice growing nostalgic. "Of course things were a bit different back then, but not so different really. The third floor was in use back then. Many more children used to attend, you see. We have so few students now. We had expanded wings on each of the houses I believe." He refocused sharply, suddenly, on the first year standing before him. "Though if you return home, I will of course be visiting. Your studies would continue; I believe that you are almost done with seventh year. I was hoping that we could continue on with expanding your defense knowledge to include some of the ancient rituals, perhaps even some of the more dangerous master level avatar work."
Harry looked away. "I must stay," he said faintly. "I must."
The Headmaster sighed. "Very well Harry. But take time to enjoy yourself; Quidditch, house parties, your year mates, even some . . small rivalry for spice. Though, midnight duels are rather extreme Harry," he scolded gently.
"Yes sir."
"Be careful in your wanderings, my boy. This castle will show you many things."
Harry nodded. "I will."
"And make sure you get back into that party of yours. I think your friends are missing you even as we speak. Have a good evening Harry."
"You too, Professor."
Harry watched as the headmaster turned a corner and then resumed walking the halls, running his hand over the familiar stones of the castle, ambling slowly over to the owlry. Padfoot would be so happy to hear that Gryffindor had won.
He wouldn't be as happy to know that Harry's broom had been jinxed to throw him to his death.
But that was why Harry wasn't going to tell Padfoot about that little incident. And his godfather would never know because Professor Dumbledore wasn't going to tell him either.
He could stay at Hogwarts long enough to do what was necessary.
Harry nodded his greetings at the various portraits he saw, turning over and over in his mind the jinxing of his broom. He, of course, had not passed Ron and Hermione's suspicions on to the headmaster.
One did not accuse a staff member.
If someone had asked him yesterday if the Potion Master hated him enough to kill him, he would have said no. Made his life a living hell, yes. But now . . .
The man had been muttering, eyes firmly fixed on Harry as the broom tried to shake him off. He could have only been casting a spell, a curse most likely. Harry couldn't imagine Snape doing something . . . helpful. Not for his benefit.
It had been a long time since he'd felt that rush of battle calm that he'd felt on the pitch. Moor House was safety, warmth, home. Hogwarts for all its magic and power left Harry feeling expectant, anxious, sleepless.
First a troll, then his broom, now the conversation with the Headmaster, something was--
"Potter!"
Harry froze. He forced himself to turn around and meet Professor Snape's eyes. He tried not to tremble. It wasn't after curfew yet, he reminded himself. The Professor can't take points for being in the halls.
This however, Harry knew, wouldn't deter Snape if he had a reason.
And Professor Snape always had a reason when Harry was involved.
"My office, now," the other man hissed.
Following behind the swirling black cloak, he hurried to keep pace with the long legged professor. Harry reminded himself that despite the jinx, it was unlikely the Potion Master would kill him in his own office. Just in case, Harry vowed not to drink anything offered.
Warily he entered the office he'd only peeked in before. Harry stood in front of the dark wood desk that Snape leaned against, much in the manner a vulture did over craggy rocks staring at its meal.
Silence seemed to stretch to infinity.
Harry tried not to fidget.
"I don't think it's gotten into that head of yours, what with it filled with your own . . .publicity, Potter, but the halls of this establishment are not to be wandered about by students."
Harry gulped and stared at his toes. The professor hissed each word with such precision it felt like he was using each and every one as a very pointy weapon.
"Empty your pockets, Potter!" Snape barked suddenly.
Starting like a deer in headlights, Harry struggled to obey. He reached into his robe's deep pockets and drew out a quill, a handkerchief, a couple of scraps of parchment, a golf ball, an old note from Ron which Harry hoped the Potion Master wouldn't read . . .
"All of it! On the desk."
Harry dug into his trousers of his school uniform, blushing furiously, and began pulling out fuzzy Bertie Bott Beans, an old kunt, a couple of bent Chocolate Frog cards, some of Hedwig's feathers, a knotted rubber band, some fluff and string, more fuzz, even more fuzz, an unidentifiable piece of something . . .
Harry stared at the shameful collection on the desk. Hopefully none of it was on the forbidden items list, but Harry had a sinking feeling that Snape would find something to confiscate and take points from regardless.
Black eyes examined the pile of boyhood stuff before him. What Professor Snape could be expecting or looking for, Harry couldn't fathom. The professor poked at a few of the items ruefully with the tip of a quill as if expecting them to explode.
The teacher then raised his head and fixed on the boy standing before him. "What? The great Savior of the Wizarding World without his wand?" He scowled at Harry who shrank further from his gaze.
"Where is your wand Potter?"
With a flick of his wrist, Harry drew the holly and phoenix feather creation and presented it for the professor's examination. It glowed faintly in his hand, the sheer power in the object evident.
Harry risked a glance at the man and found his expression to be still, pensive, calculating. Professor Snape made absolutely no move to take or touch it. He waved his hand and Harry reholstered the wand.
"Your father," The Professor spat the word, the topic change shocking Harry stiff, "Was under the impression-- much like you --the mistaken impression, that he and his . . . friends had the right to wander about this school, poking about and meddling in affairs that Were. Not. Their. Business."
The Professor whirled around and snatched a familiar book from his shelf.
Quidditch Through the AgesHarry's eyes widened. This was about earlier, watching Filch patch the Professor's leg up.
"Arrogantly, he thought that his . . . assistance was needed where it was not. This type of reckless, idiotic behavior was normal for him and now you seem to feel that you also have the right to act as stupidly, endangering your fellow classmates much the way you endangered Longbottom during class."
Harry remembered, with a sick feeling in his stomach, Neville's pain filled expression that first day of Potions class and how Snape had told him it was his fault for not warning the boy about the porcupine quills.
"I find such arrogance . . . repulsive," Snape informed him, staring at him like he was repulsive. "Callous disregard for others even when . . . encouraged through other quarters," he said darkly flipping over one of the Chocolate Frog cards with his quill to reveal the face of Albus Dumbledore "cannot be borne."
Harry stared from the card up to the Professor.
With a bang, the Potion Master slammed the book down on his desk. "You will refrain from nosing about where you are not wanted, where you do not belong, and where most definitely your presence is unwarranted! You are nothing more than an eleven year old nuisance, much like the rest of your classmates-- ignorant, spoilt, and incompetent. While fame has puffed you up, thinking you are more capable than other mewling brats. Will. Get. Your. Classmates. Killed."
The book thudded against his chest and Harry grasped it with both hands to keep it from falling on the floor.
"Gather up your rubbish and then get out!" Snape spat.
Hurriedly, grabbing the assorted pile haphazardly strewn across the desk, Harry stumbled out of the office hearing the door slam close behind him. Sinking to his knees, with shaking fingers he began to sort through his pile of belongings.
He held the picture of Albus Dumbledore in his hand. The portrait smiled merrily at him. Harry turned the card over and read the familiar back.
"Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, 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, Nicholas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling."
There was his answer. Nicholas Flamel was famous for alchemy and was friends with the Headmaster. For a wild moment he wondered if Snape was helping him, pointing him in the right direction. But the Professor's words sounded like part threat, part insult, part warning. He certainly didn't want Harry involved in . . . whatever was going on, that much was clear. Harry flipped the card back over and stared at Dumbledore's face.
What was Professor Snape trying to tell him, really?
Dumbledore would not send him into danger. He was different from the Dumbledore of the other reality, Sirius and Remus had been very firm at pointing that out.
But what about Ron and Hermione? They had wanted to help, but . . .
Harry didn't want to think of them being hurt because of him. Because of what he had to do.
The Headmaster knew that Harry had seen the three headed dog, he wasn't stupid. He wanted Harry to stay at Hogwarts, or perhaps he wanted Harry home, Harry couldn't tell, maybe both? But he wasn't going to write to Padfoot. Perhaps he wanted Harry involved?
Professor Snape obviously didn't.
But why?
Tucking away his odds and ends, balling up the rubbish to throw away, Harry decided to press on to visit Hedwig and send a letter to Padfoot and Moony about his Quidditch win. He was sure one of them, probably Padfoot what with his wide and esoteric reading habits, knew what Nicolas Flamel had created that was so valuable and dangerous that someone was after it.
Whatever he did or didn't find out, he wasn't going to share it with his friends.
Harry didn't want to be responsible for anyone else getting hurt again.
*****
tbc
So what did you think? There was Snape and Dumbledore for you. There were some more hints about the elusive sausages. Hermione, Ron, and Harry have reached and understanding. There was wandless magic, trolls, plenty of Quidditch, conversations in conversations, and riddles within riddles. Review and let me know what you liked!
Recommendation for the day: "The Family Tree" by Grey Pencil. (can be found on my fav story list). I hunted forever for new fic and stumbled on it by accident. This writer is a genius. I only wish I wrote this well. Harry is brought to live with the Dursley's at age 6, taken away from his wizarding aunt and uncle and cousin to live with muggles for reasons you must read and discover for yourself. Perhaps if I had to rank all my dearly loved stories this would have to contain the MOST masterful take on the Dursley's treatment of Harry and Harry's response to that treatment. It is even better, dare I say it?, that "Never Alone, Never Again," which is brilliant in and of itself. This story is not overly dramatic (which can lead to loosing all emotion and caring for a character.) We have Harry, a wonderfully cunning, but not necessarily good Draco, a three dimensional Neville, Snape at his best, Hagrid being Hagrid complete with pink umbrella and of course the DURSLEYS. This story is fantastic. I cannot recommend it enough. It is WIP but the writer when prompted by reviews will drop Real Life to offer up a chapter. So go, read, REVIEW! (I've already begged a chapter and a half and gotten in!)
Gallandro- I got an email from neutral, real life had been busy for her. I'm not sure when she'll get back to Clawtracks. You and I can only hope!
TeeDee- Not much Sirius in this chapter. More in next, though the later chapters will shift and have a heavier focus on Hogwarts as things come to a head. But don't worry. Plenty of Padfoot and Moony at the end!
rayvern- thanks for the correction. I'll have to go back and fix that. Yes, I agree, Hermione can be very very clever, though my fav part of that scene was after she makes that comment how all three boys just stop, turn, and stare.
Darcel- thanks for the invite. I'm enjoying the group muchly.
athenakitty- There will be more Howlers, though not to whom you expect. As you can tell from this chapter, Harry is smart to know that telling Padfoot that Snape might have jinxed his broom is unwise. More of the jobhunt is mentioned in the next chapter.
Wishweaver- YOU reviewed my poor offering of a story! WOW! I'm honored! I love your fic! I love your take on Harry. It is writers like you I hope to emulate! I can't believe you are reading my story. Wow! ;) Thank you so much for your kind words. Yes Sirius's blood pressure is on the rise and Harry is keeping things from him. Imagine if he told! Thanks for reviewing!
Riddikulus- yes Moony is stuck babysitting Sirius while Harry is away at work, I mean school. snicker snicker Harry does know a lot about magic, though Draco is no slouch either as you'll see in the dueling club in second year. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Liara- Wow another Remus fan. I love him in book three. I'm glad you like my portrayal of him here.
Barbara- your email was wonderful! Thank you! Thank you! Have you guessed about the sausages yet?
Von- I'm hurrying to finish. It is all on my hard drive. At least first year. I'm just doing final edits and posting Yes the rivalries are twisting. Isn't it amazing what a stronger foundation in the wizarding world has wrought? I'm afraid I don't have an update mailing list. I do tend to try and update on Fri/Sat and Mon if I can since I know people work over the summer/have school. At least I do! This week due to work it got pushed to Tuesday, but I am updating. And I have skill? THANK YOU! You've made my day!