Disclaimer: I do not own HP. I repeat, I do NOT own HP. But, of course, you lot know this, right? If not, whack yourself repeatedly in the head with a blunt object until you do.

Serpens Erus Temptatio

"Serpent Lord's Temptation"

Chapter 7 – Where I Am

"Good morning, Mischa," said Flitwick to the dark-haired young woman as she walked past him towards her seat at the Head Table.

"What's good about it?" snarled Mischa, not even pausing. Flitwick blinked and moved to follow her down the table. As soon as she was seated, he spoke.

"What is wrong, my dear?"

Mischa shook her head and replied, "Professor, I don't want to talk about it. I really don't."

Flitwick gave her a disapproving look then nodded and returned to his seat. A second later McGonagall replaced him, sitting down in her chair. Mischa had deliberately sat next to the Headmistress to get away from Harry.

And he noticed it when he came in. His face fell a little then he completely ignored her.

McGonagall noticed this and peered curiously at Mischa.

"Is there some trouble between you and Harry?"

Mischa looked at the older woman for a moment, then muttered something in her native tongue before leaning towards her.

"May I ask why Harry is afraid to get into a relationship?"

McGonagall blinked.

"You mean…you never heard?"

"Heard what?"

"In the last battle in the war against Voldemort there were several students that died. Only three were buried on the grounds. Neville Longbottom, Ronald Weasley, and Virginia Weasley."

"I remember hearing the second name," said Mischa. "He was Voldemort's second in the battle. The one that broke the wards."

"Yes," said McGonagall. "He called himself Aubrey then. Harry fought him, all the way to the end. And he killed him. But at a cost…"

"What?"

McGonagall looked sadly at the young woman and replied, "Virginia Weasley – Ginny – his first love was killed by Aubrey, her own brother. She died in Harry's arms."

"Oh Merlin," breathed Mischa. "That's why he doesn't want to get close to anyone?"

"Yes, my dear. Yes, indeed."

Mischa spared a glance towards Harry. He turned his head slightly towards her and their eyes met for a moment before he turned away. Mischa felt like a ball of lead had hit her stomach. No wonder he had pushed her away…

McGonagall frowned at her suddenly and said, "Why do you ask?"

"I…" began Mischa only to be cut off.

"You've fallen in love with him, haven't you?"

Mischa's burning cheeks betrayed her and she ducked her head. McGonagall smiled and nodded, seemingly to herself. She then reached out and lifted the younger woman's chin.

"There's nothing wrong with it, my dear. There are many who love him – myself included. But I tell you now, if you wish to breach the walls he has put up against a woman's love, it will be a hard trip." She smiled slightly and continued, "I suspect he believes that if he falls in love again, she shall be taken away form him once more."

"But…that's not so!" said Mischa. "There is no threat of that happening again."

"To Harry there is always the threat of something happening. Remember that as well, my dear."

"I will," promised Mischa, glancing in Harry's direction again.

So it would take some time to break through his defenses, would it? The question was: was he worth it? Was he worth the trouble?

Mischa smiled as some far corner of her mind answered.

Yes, he is.

"Professor Potter!"

"Professor Potter, help!"

Harry blinked and turned his direction from the ceiling. He'd been walking towards his classroom, daydreaming and had not noticed what was going on ahead of him in the corridor.

"Professor Potter!" yelled a fourth year Hufflepuff, running up to him.

"What is going on?" asked Harry.

"Its two Slytherin's, sir. They just jumped each other in the hall!"

Harry scowled and gently moved the fourth year aside. He stalked towards the group surrounding the two combatants and snapped, "Is this a battle ground or a school? Clear off, all of you!"

Students scattered in every direction, giving Harry a good look at the two combatants. Both of whom had frozen at the sound of his voice.

One of them was lying limply on the ground, right leg kicking feebly. The other was crouched over them, arm cocked back to throw another punch. Harry could distinctly smell blood.

"Misssster Housssse," he hissed with an imperious narrowing of his eyes. He was aware of the fact that he was channeling a bit of Professor Snape's menacing voice and Voldemort's terror-creating eyes together at once.

The boy crouched atop the other figure looked at him in sudden fear.

"Pro-professor Potter!"

"I'm glad you know my name, Mister House," purred Harry. "Now, will you please get off whoever it is underneath you?"

"Yes, sir," said House and moved.

"Tristen?" exclaimed Harry as he saw his godson lying there, one eye already turned purple and his nose crooked slightly to the left. The boy also had a split lip for his trouble.

"'Lo, Uncle," muttered Tristen, feebly sitting up. "How are you?"

Harry scowled and crossed his arms over his chest, looking from one boy to the other.

"Waiting for an explanation," he rumbled. "Who would care to explain?"

"Sir!" cried House. "Snape jumped me! I had to fight back!"

At that, Harry's scowl deepened. He took a long step forward and grabbed House's chin, turning the second year's face from one side to the other. "You seem to be intact," he growled finally. "Tell me another one, Mister House."

"Uncle…" began Tristen. "Uncle, it was nothing…"

"Tristen Amadeus Oberon Snape, do not tell me that is nothing." Harry waved a hand at the boy's bruised face and continued, "These are not nothing. Now what happened? Or shall I have to use the only vial of Veritaserum your father gave me on the both of you?"

"That's illegal!" cried House, earning a dark scowl from Harry.

"Not so long as no one knows of the incident. Now…which of you will tell me what happened? And I want the truth of the matter."

House glared at Tristen, who stared defiantly back. The dark-haired boy pushed himself up slowly, gaining his feet unsteadily.

"He was teasing Fiona Apple – she's a Gryffindor – and I told him to stop. When he didn't, I told him that if he didn't stop, someone would stop him. He turned around and asked who would stop him. I said 'me' and he laughed." Tristen scowled at House as he added, "Right before he slugged me."

"That's not true!" yelled House.

"Mister House," said Harry, "my godson if one of the most truthful people I know. But since there seems to be some contention, I will speak to Miss Apple."

"Is that it?"

"No, that is not it. For fighting in the corridors I shall take away fifteen points each from Slytherin House."

"But there was no magic!" exclaimed House.

Tristen scowled and snapped, "Just shut up, Nathan. We're in enough trouble as is."

"Fuck off, Snape!"

"Language, Mister House!" hissed Harry. He frowned at the two boy's and said, "I am tempted to make both of you serve detention with me but I won't. But…if I catch the two of you fighting again, I will not only see you have detention with me, I shall see you both cleaning every bathroom in Hogwarts. Including the Prefect's and Moaning Myrtle's. Without magic. Are we understood?"

"Yes, professor," mumbled both boys, looking respectively downcast.

"Good," said Harry. "Mister House, go on to your class. If your professor finds your tardiness irksome, do explain what happened. Mister Snape, report to the hospital wing."

"Yes, sir," muttered House, grabbing his bag and taking off down the corridor. Tristen picked up his own with a wince and started to head towards the hospital wing when his godfather's hand fell on his shoulder. The first year blinked and looked up at him.

"Uncle Harry?"

Harry smiled and said, "That was very noble of you, Tristen, but please…try not to get into more trouble than needed. I cannot save you every time."

"I know," said Tristen. "And if I ever meet a situation that's too troublesome, I'll be sure to call you."

"Now you're just being smart."

"I know. Bye, Uncle."

"Bye, Tris," said Harry, turning to watch his godson walk down the corridor, noting a slight limp in the boy's step. As he watched him, he sensed someone watching him and looked around. Green eyes locked with cornflower blue and Mischa smiled gently at him.

Harry nodded to her and turned to head to his class. He couldn't talk to her after last night.

Not yet.