Sorry this is late, but this chapter took forever. I know that this story is hard to follow, and I know that I have my fair share in spelling mistakes, but bear with me. I'm a hard school worker, and with being sick the past week, I had a load of homework on my shoulders. But thanks again for the reviews, it's quite appreciated.

Chapter 16: Komm mit mir

Harry rocketed up on his new broomstick. The Snitch was flying up, completely vertical and the two Seekers, Harry Potter of Slytherin, and Oliver Wood of Gryffindor were right behind it.

It was a cold December afternoon and, despite how utterly cold it was, everyone was still excited about the last game before Christmas break.

Harry's glasses dug into his skin and tears filled his eyes from the cold air. The wind in his ears deafened the cries from his fellow Slytherins and the two Seekers soon became two specks in the sky. The air, Harry could tell, was getting thin, but not too thin to where he couldn't breath. It only became colder the higher they got, and if it weren't for the second layer of clothing that he wore underneath his Quidditch uniform, he would've frozen his arse off, he swore.

Focus, Harry. Focus! The raven-haired boy mentally slapped himself. The Snitch was so close, yet too far…too far to reach. This was a chance to prove to himself that he did have a chance in life regardless of whatever the Dursley's have ever told him throughout his childhood. This was where he belonged…to fly freely above everything…and everyone. He belongs as the Heir von Slytherin. He belonged to rule…and a new piece of his puzzled life fit into place.

The hate for the Durley's never subsided, but only grew stronger. Every lie they ever told, every bit of attention they got that he didn't, every word they spoke to him, and every breath that they took was just another reason to hate them...to despise them.

The Snitch had soon fallen fast and moments later he was descending finding the Quidditch Pitch directly in front of him. There were so many thrills in this that it excited his every nerve and completely degraded every fascination that wasn't Quidditch. It brought a rush into him…a chill soaring through his spine. Not much different on his first night in the Slytherin common room…where all but he received the Mark. He had been meaning to ask about that for several months now, but it wasn't that hard for it to escape his mind, especially with school work and Quidditch to keep his mind busy…. And speaking of Quidditch…

Furiously the wind pounded against his face, and with the Snitch not far from his reach, he pulled himself down across the broom, closing the small space, and sped only slightly, but enough. He carefully reached out and grabbed the Snitch. Its wings slowing…and that when he realized he was to close to the ground to even have time to pull up…

Green eyes slowly opened, and the first thing for them to acknowledge, other than it was the middle of the night, was a hazy shadow that scurried away…or that's what he could have sworn he saw, but nothing was out of the ordinary.

He soon remembered how he had gotten there. He wasn't able to pull up with his broom, but he was able to slow down enough to soften the fall. They had won…and he wondered how long he had been there unconscious to the world.

Harry fumbled around for his glasses, finding them on the bedside table. He put them on and found, to his delight, little 'Get Well Soon' gifts from all of his friends. There were flowers from most of the girls, and unusual wizarding candies and cards from others.

But, suddenly, from the corner of his eye, there it was again…the shadow. And strangely, though it was nothing more than a large blob running across the wall, there was a vague sense of familiarity. Similar to when touching a familiar aura.

But, it was only an instant that he saw it, no matter that it was the second time. Though, he had an urge to check it out for himself.

He waited a moment for no particular reason. Perhaps waiting for something to happen…but if he was, it never happened. He grabbed his wand and waited again. Could he get out of bed? Had any of his bones been broken? And if they had, were they healed enough. And as soon as Harry started pulling his left leg out from underneath the sheets, he received his answer to that last question. But, perhaps he could still walk on it.

And thankfully, he could, no matter how agonizing the pain was. With his wand in check in his right hand, he slowly made it to the infirmary entrance. As he got closer he heard a small thud and he held his breath, frightened, though he would never admit that. And not long after, he heard a small, sickening, throaty cry…or was that a squeaky door opening?

Maybe it was better to go to the bed. But he threw that idea away for his curiosity soon got the best of him. And whether, in the end, curiosity kills the cat or not…he's going to figure out what's out there.

He reached the doorway and slowly peered outside the door. There was nothing. Nothing unusual at least…what was he talking about though…this is Hogwarts. Everything is unusual.

But the owner of that shadow had to be somewhere. Perhaps he could catch it down the hall. It was pure random guessing that Harry chose the right corridor…something he liked to call intuition, but everyone knows better.

He reached the end of the corridor and slowly took a peek. He saw nothing…but Filch. That was it. All of that stupid curiosity over a sadistic bastard caretaker. And damn it…his leg was really killing him.

Harry rolled his eyes and turned around heading back to the infirmary. He was half way there when he noticed Mrs. Norris across the hall staring right at him. Shite! If one saw him…so did the other. If Harry learned anything while he was at Hogwarts, it was that Filch and Mrs. Norris were telepathically connected.

He limped as fast as he could to his bed. The pain in his leg was excruciating and he soon came to realize that no curiosity was worth such. And suddenly he felt an ice-cold hand cover his mouth.

Harry would have screamed if he could, but the hand that was so firmly pressed against his mouth muffled his cries. He thought it was Filch at first but the familiar voice wasn't the old crack's voice.

"Long time, no see, Harry." The familiar cold voice rang through his ear and in his mind…who was it? Shoulder length, black, tousled hair fell over Harry's shoulder and ran against his cheek almost sensuously.

Sirius…Sirius Black! Harry wanted to run and scream to anyone that would listen. Even to Filch.

"What's the matter? Don't have anything to say to your poor godfather?"

End of Chapter 16