The Unexpected

Harry Potter awoke with a start. His scar prickled annoyingly, his hair was plastered to his head with sweat and the lingering image of his Godfather falling gracefully through the veil still lingered upon opening his eyes.

Sitting up, Harry tried to steady his breathing. His chest hurt as his breath came in harsh waves and threatened hyperventilation unless he could control it. As he hugged his knees to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around him, the flow of tears increased. Silently, he mourned the loss of Sirius as he had every spare moment of the past two weeks spent at number four, Privet Drive.

Harry forced his tird body out of bed and began to pace his room on tiptoe, straining his ears for noises to alert him of the Dursleys awakening. Once or twice a pronounced snore interrupted his otherwise constant movement. He was only momentarily distracted however and his mind turned easily back to Sirius, to Cedric and reluctantly to Dumbledore. The fury he felt raised its ugly head again, and he realised bitterly that he would look similar to Dumbledore's dot on the Marauders Map as he continually walked back and forth across his room.

A gentle flutter brought his thoughts back to the room, and more importantly to Hedwig who stood perched on the desk in front of his window. Seeing the letters and a small package tied clumsily to her leg, Harry quickly crossed the room to her and loosened the ribbon holding his post in place. Hedwig hooted gratefully and hopped into her cage taking gulps of water before eyeing Harry hungrily.

After dropping owl treats into Hedwig's cage, Harry settled himself onto his bed and studied the envelopes and package. Letters from Ron and Hermione were commonplace this summer, and Harry presumed they did not want a repeat of the last when he had behaved so horribly. His stomach gave an unpleasant lurch when he thought of his treatment of Hermione and Ron, especially, but the defiant part of him stood up and almost screamed at him that he was right to have said what he said. The third envelope, and package, bore writing Harry did not really recognise but was strangely familiar. He put the unknown post to one side, and ripped open Hermione's letter first.

As usual, Hermione wrote about homework and OWL results, pausing only in her academic waffle to complain that Ron had arrived at number twelve, Grimmauld Place yesterday, the same day as her, and was even now trying to persuade him to let him copy the extra essay she had prepared for Snape.

'Ron's argument.' Hermione wrote, 'is that as Snape only asked for one essay, the extra eighteen inches I wrote are superfluous, and therefore I could give them to him and still get full marks myself.'

Harry grinned as he imagined Ron attempting to make Hermione give in and help him. It was the first time Harry had truly grinned in days and his cheeks complained at the unaccustomed use of muscle. Putting Hermione's letter to one side, he picked up Ron's and tried to make the almost crumpled parchment lie flat. He squinted as he deciphered Ron's untidy scrawl.

'Well mate, can't say that it's much fun here at the moment. Hermione's done an extra eighteen inches (!) for Snape, and she won't let me borrow it. I'm sure she thinks I've done nothing for the last two weeks!'

Harry grinned again. Ron probably had been doing something, but that something was more likely to have been sneaking out of The Burrow with his Cleansweep Eleven to practice Quidditch moves, or else helping Fred and George with Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes than doing schoolwork.

'Anyway, I reckon you should be here tomorrow. Snape said he'd be writing to you then gave me the thing which should be with Hedwig to send on with this letter.'

Snape had written to him? Harry went suddenly cold.

'So I'll see you soon mate.'

Harry shot a mistrustful look at the letter and the package lying discarded on his bed. Why would Snape be writing to him? Picking up the letter, he now realized why the handwriting looked so familiar. He had seen the capitalised 'D' for 'Drive' far too many times, deposited neatly in shimmering green ink at the top of his Potions essays.

Sighing heavily, Harry broke the green wax seal on the envelope and opened Snape's message. It did not surprise him that it was short, however what did shock him was the content.

'Mr. Potter;

It appears that, in our Headmaster's eyes, I may have underestimated your abilities. It is for this reason that I am grudgingly offering you a position in my Potions class at NEWT level.

The package attached contains a Portkey destined to bring you to me. There is a ward on the packaging however, so do not attempt to merely rip the parchment from it. A certain word will ensure your safety in opening it; naturally I cannot simply tell you what it is. The word is the same answer you had to give during one of the tasks in your fourth year. I only hope that your incredibly slow mind can remember it.

Professor Snape'

Harry stared at the parchment and read the letter twice more before leaning back on his pillows in shock. He had not expected a place in Snape's NEWT level Potions class, but a tiny part of him agreed that this was a good thing as it meant he had at least managed to scrape a pass at OWL.

He knew immediately the answer he had to give. The only answer he had had to give in the Triwizard Tournament two years ago was to the Sphinx. The thought of the riddle brought back the associated painful memories of that night, but he pushed them from his mind as he grasped the package and whispered, 'spider'.

At once, the little parchment-wrapped box glowed green and the parchment unsealed itself. Another note, still shorter than the first, fell out.

'You do surprise me Potter. At five in the morning this will transport you to me. We can go from there.'

Harry could almost hear the sarcasm dripping from Snape as he re-read the note. So Snape thought he was surprised now? Two weeks of almost nothing but constant reading to keep his mind occupied had furthered Harry's understanding of Snape's pet subject, and he had found a new respect for the fine art of perfect brewing.

Checking his watch, Harry felt a jolt of shock. It was already three in the morning. Smirking slightly he thought of Snape's look of disappointment when he turned up, bang on time, for whatever it was the Potions Master had in store.