Dear Draco,
Your mother sends her fondest wishes. I am pleased to hear you are getting on well, and contrary to your opinion, am very surprised to hear of Harry Potter's sorting. Severus' reaction, however, comes as no shock. I am afraid he had a rather unpleasant experience with James Potter and a few of his friends, namely Sirius Black. He has never revealed what happened, but for Severus to hold such a strong grudge over two generations, I presume it was disastrous.
Find enclosed some plain quills. I did tell your mother that Durmstrang were far more relaxed in their rules than Hogwarts, but she would insist on having you close to home. She has also enclosed some fine Belgian chocolates, lest the diligent House Elves let you starve.
You really must be more careful about the way you regard my dearest friends. Some people might take offence at your descriptions of Crabbe and Goyle. In secret ink, however, I totally agree. I am also happy to hear that Potter seems to be an intelligent boy; a carbon copy of his father would be intolerable.
You said nothing of your Defence against the Dark Arts lessons. Which unfortunate soul has been drafted in this year? Again, another benefit of Durmstrang would have been the extensive duelling practice. However, who am I to argue with my wife?
I await your response as soon as possible. Give Harry my best wishes; a friend of yours is a friend of the Malfoy family.
Your father,
Lucius Malfoy.
Draco folded up the letter, deciding to reply later. Harry had just come in, looking dishevelled.
"What happened to you?"
"Was revising" yawned Harry. "For potions."
"WHAT? We have a test?"
Draco scrambled up, knocking his father's owl flying, and began to scrabble for his potions text. Harry laughed.
"No, no test. I just want to do well in potions. It's a fascinating subject; the way ingredients mix together."
Draco grunted and rolled back into bed. He had been considering telling Harry what he had seen and heard between Snape and Quirrel last night, but on second thoughts he didn't know if he should. Maybe he would leave it. And anyway, they had Defence first thing. He could keep an eye on Quirrel from there.
Draco got dressed, not even noticing the pallor of Harry's face as he watched the blond boy strip. Harry jerked himself out of his reverie just as Draco tugged his arm.
"Come on, lets get some breakfast."
Harry nodded numbly and followed him down the stairs. God, Vernon was right. He was a freak. Draco had no scars or bruises, nobody did. Not everyone had this done. Harry was so bad, so naughty, to have deserved this. What would they all say?
*****************************************************
The Slytherins filed into the Defence classroom with the Hufflepuffs, and Draco quickly grabbed a seat at the front. As usual, Harry sat next to him, and Crabbe and Goyle chose seats where they could protect Draco if needed.
Quirrel came out and Harry immediately tensed. Draco turned, alert to Harry's discomfort. And then Quirrel turned to face Harry, and stared at him for a very long moment, and Harry looked back. A flash of light, green light, a scream. Shouting. Green light. His scar burned suddenly, but he restrained his hand from clapping it.
'Draco' he scribbled on a scrap of paper. 'You know you said Voldemort killed my parents? How?'
'A curse. Avada Kedavra.'
'What is it like?'
'I don't know. . .a flash of green light, I think'.
Harry swallowed, and looked at Quirrel, who was now talking to a Hufflepuff girl.
'Draco, I think Quirrel's hiding something.'
'Why'
'My scar hurts. I just saw a flash of green light in my head when he looked at me.'
Draco swallowed, and gripped Harry's wrist.
"Sir" he called out, piteously. "I don't feel very well."
Quirrel walked over.
"Oh d-dear. Do you feel faint?"
"yes. . .can I go to the infirmary?"
"Of c-course. Potter, if you would escort him?"
Smiling inwardly at Draco's display, Harry made a big show of helping Draco to his feet and they staggered to the door. When they were round the corridor he let go, and Draco walked quickly.
"Where are we going?"
"To Severus."
"No!" exclaimed Harry. "We can't! He'll never believe me!"
"Well where are we going to go then?"
Harry suddenly clutched his head.
"He's coming. Draco, get Dumbledore, get anyone. Quick!"
Draco fled just as Quirrel came around the corner.
"Lost Malfoy, have you Potter?" he said, his voice devoid of any stutter. Harry shivered, the burning in his scar now almost unbearable. Quirrel drew his wand, and opened his mouth.
"Expelliarmus!" cried Harry, and to his amazement the wand flew out of Quirrel's hand. He caught it, and gasped as he felt a wave of energy flow through him. Quirrel staggered slightly and raised his hands to his head. And a hissing voice escaped his turban.
"Harry Potter. Meddlesome, infuriating child."
The voice paused, and the continued, sibilant.
"Pathetic. Unable to even stand up to some muggles. Drop the wands."
Harry froze. How the hell did this thing know?
"I am Lord Voldemort, Harry. I have the power to read minds. I know what you are thinking."
Harry gulped. This was not good. God, why the hell had he come here? He was so pathetic. Anyone else would have killed Voldemort by now, but Harry was just gaping like a goldfish.
"Get him" snarled Voldemort, and Quirrel dived forwards and grasped Harry's neck. A cloud of panic blossomed out of Harry's throat, and he gasped for breath. His chest ached, and he tried to pull away. . .
And did. Quirrel crouched down, looking at his burnt hands.
"He is protected, my lord!"
Another wave of pain shot through Harry's head, and he crumpled to the ground, hating himself for being so weak. He grasped Quirrel's head firmly, and felt the flesh burning, heard the screams. Was this how Vernon felt? Or did he like it? And then he was falling, as another load of pain crashed through his skull, and everything was going black.
*********************************************
Dumbledore looked gravely at the boy in front of him. Harry was so small and slender it was amazing he was still alive. He looked incredibly delicate, his scar standing out lividly from his face and his dark lashes fall over his face. He looked young and innocent, but he was an enigma. For a start, why had he been sorted into Slytherin? Why had he befriended Draco Malfoy of all people?
When the blond haired Slytherin had run up to his office and told him that Voldemort was in the school and trying to kill Harry Potter, he had been totally gobsmacked. Well, it wasn't the sort of thing you heard every day. The wards would have to be strengthened, but he wanted to wait for Harry to wake up first. And he should inform Severus as well.
And he couldn't understand why Quirrel had been unable to touch Harry. There was no protection, magical or physical, that harry could have. The only thing that he could think of was that Voldemort had embedded a part of himself in Harry with the Avada Kedavra curse, and therefore Voldemort in Quirrel's body was unable to harm Voldemort in Harry's body. But it was a tenuous link. He had received a letter from Ollivander as soon as Harry had purchased the wand with the identical core to Voldemort's, and he had wondered how Harry was going to be the same or differ from Tom Riddle.
Harry then woke up, green eyes flicking around suspiciously before settling on Dumbledore.
"Hello sir" he said guardedly.
Dumbledore nodded at him.
"How are you feeling, Harry?"
"Fine thank you sir. Did you get Quirrel?"
"He's dead. And as Voldemort's spirit; well, who can tell? He has probably gone to inhabit some other creature."
"I'm sorry" said Harry softly. "I should have killed him."
Dumbledore turned sharply around to him.
"Harry, don't talk like that! You couldn't have killed him; he is one of the most powerful wizards to stay alive. You did tremendously well to stay alive. There is nothing to be sorry or ashamed of."
Harry didn't believe him. Of course it was Harry's fault.
(Unreliable. . .useless. . .good-for-nothing. . .)
And now he was a murderer. He had killed a man. He shook his head slightly. Didn't want to think about it.
"So, if you feel alright, I suppose you should be going to dinner, no? You must be hungry."
Harry nodded, trying to make his smile genuine, and Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.
He didn't trust the headmaster.
********************************************
Instead of the Great Hall, Harry went to the Slytherin common room where Draco came rushing forwards before composing himself.
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah" said Harry off-handedly. "Thanks for getting Dumbledore."
"No problem. Do you want to get some dinner?"
"Yeah, ok. At least I don't have a detention tonight."
Draco looked uneasy.
"Well. . .when you missed potions. . .Severus set you another one. In the dungeons. I'm sorry - I tried to talk him out of it."
Harry shrugged
"Hey, that's ok. And I suppose I have loads of work for today?"
"No, Dumbledore excused you, saying you were fighting Voldemort in the 2nd floor corridor. McGonagall nearly fainted!"
Draco smirked at the memory, and Harry couldn't stop himself laughing. Instantly he stopped, remember what happened when he laughed at home. Draco didn't notice, and the two boys went down to dinner together.
***************************************
6.58pm found Harry Potter in front of the Potions Room. He had knocked, but Snape hadn't let him in, so he was waiting until 7.00pm. Sure enough, at that time the door swung open, and Snape met him with a smirk.
"Your detention is to scrub the floor of this classroom, and polish all the tables and chairs. Then you can categorise all the potions in my laboratory, I will show you where it is when you've cleaned this room."
Snape had been expecting a gasp or horrified look at least, and was surprised when Harry merely dropped to his knees and began work. Blinking at the boy's obedience, he went back to his marking in silence before deciding Harry looked far too happy. In that he wasn't complaining, or whinging, or glaring. Just scrubbing.
"You're just like your father, Potter." He sneered. "He could never be bothered to do any work."
Christ, thought Harry. If this was the best Snape could do, these detentions would be ok.
"Such a layabout. And nasty with it. Do you know your father nearly killed me, Potter? Like father, like son. You'll never amount to anything."
Harry stiffened, subconsciously expecting the blows that accompanied those words usually, and Snape pressed his advantage.
"He was always pandered to. Perfect Potter. He got away with whatever he liked, never punished. He had such a charmed life."
"I've finished the floor, sir." Said Harry with no inflection, and Snape glared, livid that his biting insults were having no effect.
"Well do it again. It still looks dirty."
Even by his levels, he knew that was horribly unfair, but Harry didn't complain, just got his head down and began washing again. Severus began to get suspicious. Nobody could be this obedient.
"And you failed to kill Voldemort. You seem to bring bad luck with you, Potter."
Now that had struck home. Harry froze momentarily, and had to take a few deep breaths.
"And killing a man within your first week at Hogwarts as well. . .quite impressive."
Harry's scrubbing was more violent now, but sill he said nothing. Snape had run out of insults, and settled for simply looking smugly over Potter's shoulder.
"That will do" he said grudgingly, completely unwilling to admit that the floor was cleaner than the house elves could ever have done. "Come, you have to organise my cupboard still. You'd better hurry if you want to be finished by morning."
He led Harry into the dark cupboard, pointed to the cupboard, and left. Harry looked in horror at the thousands of dusty bottles, and then turned to ask Snape what order they should be put in. Snape was gone.
It took him 3 hours to organise the potions alphabetically.
After he had finished, Snape came back in and looked around. His voice was deadly quiet.
"Why, exactly, have you put these in alphabetical order? Not content with wasting your own night, you now decide to waste mine as well?"
His voice had grown steadily louder, and Harry recoiled. The dark cupboard, the angry man. . .it was all too close.
(The roof is not clean, boy! I told you to clean it! Why have you given us this rabbit food for dinner? I wanted meat. Go and cook some. Not content with wasting your time, you now waste ours?)
"Potter!"
Harry jerked back to reality.
"Sorry sir" he mumbled, suddenly aware of how tired he was. "Shall I organise them by ingredient?"
"Yes" said Snape brusquely, and left.
By the time Harry had finished, it was 6.00am. Snape was nowhere to be seen, and Harry was grateful for that. The exertions of his past few days had caught up with him, and he was just about to collapse. He pulled at the door to get out. . .and nothing happened. When he tugged a little harder he could feel a pull indicating a magic lock. Wondering how his life could get any worse, he slithered down the wall and pulled his knees to his chest.
"I hate myself" he mumbled.
Your mother sends her fondest wishes. I am pleased to hear you are getting on well, and contrary to your opinion, am very surprised to hear of Harry Potter's sorting. Severus' reaction, however, comes as no shock. I am afraid he had a rather unpleasant experience with James Potter and a few of his friends, namely Sirius Black. He has never revealed what happened, but for Severus to hold such a strong grudge over two generations, I presume it was disastrous.
Find enclosed some plain quills. I did tell your mother that Durmstrang were far more relaxed in their rules than Hogwarts, but she would insist on having you close to home. She has also enclosed some fine Belgian chocolates, lest the diligent House Elves let you starve.
You really must be more careful about the way you regard my dearest friends. Some people might take offence at your descriptions of Crabbe and Goyle. In secret ink, however, I totally agree. I am also happy to hear that Potter seems to be an intelligent boy; a carbon copy of his father would be intolerable.
You said nothing of your Defence against the Dark Arts lessons. Which unfortunate soul has been drafted in this year? Again, another benefit of Durmstrang would have been the extensive duelling practice. However, who am I to argue with my wife?
I await your response as soon as possible. Give Harry my best wishes; a friend of yours is a friend of the Malfoy family.
Your father,
Lucius Malfoy.
Draco folded up the letter, deciding to reply later. Harry had just come in, looking dishevelled.
"What happened to you?"
"Was revising" yawned Harry. "For potions."
"WHAT? We have a test?"
Draco scrambled up, knocking his father's owl flying, and began to scrabble for his potions text. Harry laughed.
"No, no test. I just want to do well in potions. It's a fascinating subject; the way ingredients mix together."
Draco grunted and rolled back into bed. He had been considering telling Harry what he had seen and heard between Snape and Quirrel last night, but on second thoughts he didn't know if he should. Maybe he would leave it. And anyway, they had Defence first thing. He could keep an eye on Quirrel from there.
Draco got dressed, not even noticing the pallor of Harry's face as he watched the blond boy strip. Harry jerked himself out of his reverie just as Draco tugged his arm.
"Come on, lets get some breakfast."
Harry nodded numbly and followed him down the stairs. God, Vernon was right. He was a freak. Draco had no scars or bruises, nobody did. Not everyone had this done. Harry was so bad, so naughty, to have deserved this. What would they all say?
*****************************************************
The Slytherins filed into the Defence classroom with the Hufflepuffs, and Draco quickly grabbed a seat at the front. As usual, Harry sat next to him, and Crabbe and Goyle chose seats where they could protect Draco if needed.
Quirrel came out and Harry immediately tensed. Draco turned, alert to Harry's discomfort. And then Quirrel turned to face Harry, and stared at him for a very long moment, and Harry looked back. A flash of light, green light, a scream. Shouting. Green light. His scar burned suddenly, but he restrained his hand from clapping it.
'Draco' he scribbled on a scrap of paper. 'You know you said Voldemort killed my parents? How?'
'A curse. Avada Kedavra.'
'What is it like?'
'I don't know. . .a flash of green light, I think'.
Harry swallowed, and looked at Quirrel, who was now talking to a Hufflepuff girl.
'Draco, I think Quirrel's hiding something.'
'Why'
'My scar hurts. I just saw a flash of green light in my head when he looked at me.'
Draco swallowed, and gripped Harry's wrist.
"Sir" he called out, piteously. "I don't feel very well."
Quirrel walked over.
"Oh d-dear. Do you feel faint?"
"yes. . .can I go to the infirmary?"
"Of c-course. Potter, if you would escort him?"
Smiling inwardly at Draco's display, Harry made a big show of helping Draco to his feet and they staggered to the door. When they were round the corridor he let go, and Draco walked quickly.
"Where are we going?"
"To Severus."
"No!" exclaimed Harry. "We can't! He'll never believe me!"
"Well where are we going to go then?"
Harry suddenly clutched his head.
"He's coming. Draco, get Dumbledore, get anyone. Quick!"
Draco fled just as Quirrel came around the corner.
"Lost Malfoy, have you Potter?" he said, his voice devoid of any stutter. Harry shivered, the burning in his scar now almost unbearable. Quirrel drew his wand, and opened his mouth.
"Expelliarmus!" cried Harry, and to his amazement the wand flew out of Quirrel's hand. He caught it, and gasped as he felt a wave of energy flow through him. Quirrel staggered slightly and raised his hands to his head. And a hissing voice escaped his turban.
"Harry Potter. Meddlesome, infuriating child."
The voice paused, and the continued, sibilant.
"Pathetic. Unable to even stand up to some muggles. Drop the wands."
Harry froze. How the hell did this thing know?
"I am Lord Voldemort, Harry. I have the power to read minds. I know what you are thinking."
Harry gulped. This was not good. God, why the hell had he come here? He was so pathetic. Anyone else would have killed Voldemort by now, but Harry was just gaping like a goldfish.
"Get him" snarled Voldemort, and Quirrel dived forwards and grasped Harry's neck. A cloud of panic blossomed out of Harry's throat, and he gasped for breath. His chest ached, and he tried to pull away. . .
And did. Quirrel crouched down, looking at his burnt hands.
"He is protected, my lord!"
Another wave of pain shot through Harry's head, and he crumpled to the ground, hating himself for being so weak. He grasped Quirrel's head firmly, and felt the flesh burning, heard the screams. Was this how Vernon felt? Or did he like it? And then he was falling, as another load of pain crashed through his skull, and everything was going black.
*********************************************
Dumbledore looked gravely at the boy in front of him. Harry was so small and slender it was amazing he was still alive. He looked incredibly delicate, his scar standing out lividly from his face and his dark lashes fall over his face. He looked young and innocent, but he was an enigma. For a start, why had he been sorted into Slytherin? Why had he befriended Draco Malfoy of all people?
When the blond haired Slytherin had run up to his office and told him that Voldemort was in the school and trying to kill Harry Potter, he had been totally gobsmacked. Well, it wasn't the sort of thing you heard every day. The wards would have to be strengthened, but he wanted to wait for Harry to wake up first. And he should inform Severus as well.
And he couldn't understand why Quirrel had been unable to touch Harry. There was no protection, magical or physical, that harry could have. The only thing that he could think of was that Voldemort had embedded a part of himself in Harry with the Avada Kedavra curse, and therefore Voldemort in Quirrel's body was unable to harm Voldemort in Harry's body. But it was a tenuous link. He had received a letter from Ollivander as soon as Harry had purchased the wand with the identical core to Voldemort's, and he had wondered how Harry was going to be the same or differ from Tom Riddle.
Harry then woke up, green eyes flicking around suspiciously before settling on Dumbledore.
"Hello sir" he said guardedly.
Dumbledore nodded at him.
"How are you feeling, Harry?"
"Fine thank you sir. Did you get Quirrel?"
"He's dead. And as Voldemort's spirit; well, who can tell? He has probably gone to inhabit some other creature."
"I'm sorry" said Harry softly. "I should have killed him."
Dumbledore turned sharply around to him.
"Harry, don't talk like that! You couldn't have killed him; he is one of the most powerful wizards to stay alive. You did tremendously well to stay alive. There is nothing to be sorry or ashamed of."
Harry didn't believe him. Of course it was Harry's fault.
(Unreliable. . .useless. . .good-for-nothing. . .)
And now he was a murderer. He had killed a man. He shook his head slightly. Didn't want to think about it.
"So, if you feel alright, I suppose you should be going to dinner, no? You must be hungry."
Harry nodded, trying to make his smile genuine, and Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.
He didn't trust the headmaster.
********************************************
Instead of the Great Hall, Harry went to the Slytherin common room where Draco came rushing forwards before composing himself.
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah" said Harry off-handedly. "Thanks for getting Dumbledore."
"No problem. Do you want to get some dinner?"
"Yeah, ok. At least I don't have a detention tonight."
Draco looked uneasy.
"Well. . .when you missed potions. . .Severus set you another one. In the dungeons. I'm sorry - I tried to talk him out of it."
Harry shrugged
"Hey, that's ok. And I suppose I have loads of work for today?"
"No, Dumbledore excused you, saying you were fighting Voldemort in the 2nd floor corridor. McGonagall nearly fainted!"
Draco smirked at the memory, and Harry couldn't stop himself laughing. Instantly he stopped, remember what happened when he laughed at home. Draco didn't notice, and the two boys went down to dinner together.
***************************************
6.58pm found Harry Potter in front of the Potions Room. He had knocked, but Snape hadn't let him in, so he was waiting until 7.00pm. Sure enough, at that time the door swung open, and Snape met him with a smirk.
"Your detention is to scrub the floor of this classroom, and polish all the tables and chairs. Then you can categorise all the potions in my laboratory, I will show you where it is when you've cleaned this room."
Snape had been expecting a gasp or horrified look at least, and was surprised when Harry merely dropped to his knees and began work. Blinking at the boy's obedience, he went back to his marking in silence before deciding Harry looked far too happy. In that he wasn't complaining, or whinging, or glaring. Just scrubbing.
"You're just like your father, Potter." He sneered. "He could never be bothered to do any work."
Christ, thought Harry. If this was the best Snape could do, these detentions would be ok.
"Such a layabout. And nasty with it. Do you know your father nearly killed me, Potter? Like father, like son. You'll never amount to anything."
Harry stiffened, subconsciously expecting the blows that accompanied those words usually, and Snape pressed his advantage.
"He was always pandered to. Perfect Potter. He got away with whatever he liked, never punished. He had such a charmed life."
"I've finished the floor, sir." Said Harry with no inflection, and Snape glared, livid that his biting insults were having no effect.
"Well do it again. It still looks dirty."
Even by his levels, he knew that was horribly unfair, but Harry didn't complain, just got his head down and began washing again. Severus began to get suspicious. Nobody could be this obedient.
"And you failed to kill Voldemort. You seem to bring bad luck with you, Potter."
Now that had struck home. Harry froze momentarily, and had to take a few deep breaths.
"And killing a man within your first week at Hogwarts as well. . .quite impressive."
Harry's scrubbing was more violent now, but sill he said nothing. Snape had run out of insults, and settled for simply looking smugly over Potter's shoulder.
"That will do" he said grudgingly, completely unwilling to admit that the floor was cleaner than the house elves could ever have done. "Come, you have to organise my cupboard still. You'd better hurry if you want to be finished by morning."
He led Harry into the dark cupboard, pointed to the cupboard, and left. Harry looked in horror at the thousands of dusty bottles, and then turned to ask Snape what order they should be put in. Snape was gone.
It took him 3 hours to organise the potions alphabetically.
After he had finished, Snape came back in and looked around. His voice was deadly quiet.
"Why, exactly, have you put these in alphabetical order? Not content with wasting your own night, you now decide to waste mine as well?"
His voice had grown steadily louder, and Harry recoiled. The dark cupboard, the angry man. . .it was all too close.
(The roof is not clean, boy! I told you to clean it! Why have you given us this rabbit food for dinner? I wanted meat. Go and cook some. Not content with wasting your time, you now waste ours?)
"Potter!"
Harry jerked back to reality.
"Sorry sir" he mumbled, suddenly aware of how tired he was. "Shall I organise them by ingredient?"
"Yes" said Snape brusquely, and left.
By the time Harry had finished, it was 6.00am. Snape was nowhere to be seen, and Harry was grateful for that. The exertions of his past few days had caught up with him, and he was just about to collapse. He pulled at the door to get out. . .and nothing happened. When he tugged a little harder he could feel a pull indicating a magic lock. Wondering how his life could get any worse, he slithered down the wall and pulled his knees to his chest.
"I hate myself" he mumbled.
