Here ya go, Chapter three. Or is it chapter one, since the frist chapter was more of a prologue? Anyway, he's more. :) I made a quick edit to chapter 2 (I'm going to go with the way FF.N labels them and forget about my own count for now) because I noticed a couple of errors; the most important being is refered to harry as a 'thirteen year old boy.' He's fourteen, as this is set just after fourth year. I think it's because I was talking to my niece, who is thirteen, when I edited that part... but you don't really care. (winks)
If anyone spots something like that, let me know so I can fix it. I try, but I don't have a beta for this story.
Oh, and Thanks to all of you who reviewed! You are far too kind. I hope this meets your expectations.
Tonydimeraslover You are so nice! This chapter is going to move kinda slow, but I didn't feel right cutting it out. I'm probably going all the way through fifth year, I have material written that far. Chiara Craford Good Advice! Thanks. And don't worry, I've already written far to much of this story to give up because of negative feedback (or lack of feedback, as the case may be.) Annie Evans & bookworm121 As requested, more story and more on the way. (grin)
Thanks to t.a.g.0 for his/her corrections to this chapter
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Snape stormed into the Hospital Wing, throwing the doors wide in his annoyance. Dark eyes searched the room quickly and saw only empty beds. In frustration, the man called out for Madam Pomfrey.
The old mediwitch strode easily out of her office.
"What can I do for you, Severus?"
"Where's Potter?" he said quickly.
She smirked. "He's right there."
Sure enough, the boy was curled up on the bed, practically right in front of him. The boy was curled into a ball, his knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs and his face buried in between.
Potter was not weeping. He simply sat. After a moment's hesitation, Snape stepped forward.
"Potter, I need you to lay down. I have to examine the magic surrounding you to find out how badly the spells have collapsed."
The boy looked up and blinked, his bright green eyes wide.
"Professor?"
Unsure what to do with a subdued and apparently confused Harry Potter, Snape simply pretended the boy was normal. He sneered.
"Yes, that is my title and profession. Now lay down."
The boy nodded slowly and stretched out on the clean white sheets. A muttered word started the spell and soon Snape was focused on the swiftly failing threads that surrounded the boy.
The work was really quite remarkable. Layer upon layer of concealment and protection were being shed like a snake skin. Peeling away in patches and strips only to reveal...
A second layer?
Snape was startled out of his examination. He straightened and stepped back.
Harry frowned. "What's wrong, Professor?"
"More layers..." Snape muttered.
Now Harry was concerned. Would he be in trouble if Snape went insane while examining him? There was definitely something wrong with the man, Harry just hoped it was permanent.
"Professor? Are you finished?"
The man focused slightly, still muttering under his breath, a look of deep concentration on his face. "What? Oh, yes, I'm finished. Thank you, you may go now..."
With that, Snape strode away leaving a very confused Harry Potter behind. The boy looked up to Madam Pomfrey for an explanation.
She tutted at the both of them. "Don't worry about Professor Snape, dear. He's always like that when he finds a new puzzle. Severus has always been a scholar."
Harry knew he shouldn't have been surprised. He'd been in the professor's office. He'd seen the framed certificates on the wall. Even McGonagall didn't have as many.
"I never knew that," Harry admitted.
Pomfrey tutted again as she fussed over Harry's blankets. The boy stared at the infirmary doors for some time. As the mediwitch turned to leave, Harry said, "Madam Pomfrey, You've been here a long time, haven't you?"
She smiled gently. "Yes, dear. I've been here long enough to see the student's whose bones I mended grow up and become teachers. Why do you ask?"
"I was just wondering... I mean, I've noticed... About Professor Snape..." Harry stopped and took a deep breath, then started over. "What I mean to say is, can you tell me anything about Professor Snape? I mean, he want's everyone to think he's a mean git, and he is, sort of, but, I mean, he can't always have been that way, can he?"
The mediwitch smiled and sat on the side of the bed, something Harry, in all his time in the infirmary had never seen her do. She fussed with the edge of the blankets as she spoke.
"Severus is a very private person and I will not break his trust, however, I will tell you this, he has never had an easy time of things. I never did find out what happened to him when he wasn't here, but you remind me of him in a lot of ways, especially the condition you're in when you get here in September."
Harry flushed and looked away, only to realize she might take that as not wanting to talk anymore. He looked back forcefully. "I think I understand, please continue."
"Well, once he got here, his health improved a great deal, but he was in here every other week, it seemed. Mostly I was reversing the effects of various curses and 'pranks.'" She sighed. "If it weren't that I never speak ill of the dead..."
As if suddenly remembering who she was speaking to, the mediwitch clamped one hand over her mouth, fear and regret in her eyes. "I"m sorry dear. I don't know what I was thinking..."
Harry hurried to reassure her. "Please, don't stop. No one ever tells me anything because they don't want to upset me, then I hear about it in the Prophet or something. Just tell me whatever it was you were going to say."
She slowly removed her hand and nodded. "Well, your Father was a bit of a prankster when he was in school, he and... He and Sirius Black." She hissed the name, then looked around fearfully, as if expecting him to jump out of the shadows. Harry nodded his encouragement.
"Well, the Weasley twins remind me a lot of that pair, only Fred and George are, well, much milder. No, I think the word I'm looking for is innocent."
Harry snorted and the mediwitch laughed. "Oh I know it's a ridiculous notion, that pair being innocent but compared to your father and his friends they are."
She bit her lip and Harry nodded again. "Please don't stop, I... I don't know him, or my mother. It's nice to hear even the not-so-nice things. It makes them real."
"Alright, but you must promise me you will never tell Professor Snape that I told you any of this, alright?"
Harry nodded. "I promise."
"Very well. Your Father and his friends pulled some of the most amazing pranks that this school has ever seen, but they also pulled some of the cruelest. They were especially horrible to Severus. They would curse him or humiliate him at every opportunity. Oh don't get me wrong, for the most part they were good upstanding people. They knew right from wrong and all that, but they seemed to forget those little details where Severus was concerned.
"As they got older, though, Professor Snape gave as good as he got and I'll be darned if your father didn't get blamed for half the tricks Severus pulled."
She sighed wistfully. "Still, it wasn't enough. James Potter was popular, rich, and handsome. And no matter what else happened, Severus Snape would never be anything close to what he was. The worst part was that James constantly rubbed his nose in it."
Madam Pomfrey stood suddenly. "Well, I shouldn't sit here chatting all day. There is work to be done." She tucked the blankets around Harry even tighter and sighed. "Now don't you take my rambles to heart. I'm afraid I have a bit of a blind spot for my Severus. All people are a bit stupid when they are young and your father grew out of it just the same as everyone else does."
"That doesn't bother me so much," Harry told her. "It's just, everyone always says how much I'm like my father..."
Pomfrey sat down again and brushed some imaginary lint off the boy's collar. "Child, I've never seen anyone less like James in my entire life. You look a bit like James," she frowned, "Though you even seem to be growing out of that, now that I think about it. No, the person you remind me most of is Lily."
She cocked her head to the side with a mischievous grin. "You know, you also remind me just a bit of Severus."
Harry did a very good imitation of a fish. "What?"
"You heard me, both of you would be absolutely appalled to learn you were just like your fathers, and without even trying both of you became your own people."
With that comment, she strode away to her office, leaving a speechless Harry Potter with much to think about.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Dumbledore found Professor Snape midway between his office and the infirmary and, after a brief discussion, both returned to the hospital wing. Harry was still digesting his conversation with Madam Pomfrey and was very surprised to see the subject of his thoughts walk in.
"Hello Professor," said Harry without specifying who he was greeting.
"How are you feeling, Harry?" asked Dumbledore.
Harry shrugged. "I feel fine. I'm a bit confused and my forehead hurts a bit, but that's all."
Snape was thrown off by the comfortable, easy answer the boy gave them and forgot, for a moment, that he hated Potter. For just a moment, he only saw a frightened, injured fourteen year old.
"Very good, that will make things much easier. I wondered if you could tell me what happened at your aunt and uncles house last night?"
Harry nodded slowly. "I was just finishing up the dishes after dinner and Aunt Petunia was having tea. It was a weird night because Uncle Vernon didn't come home for dinner and Petunia was worried about him."
"When Uncle Vernon did come home, he smelled like alcohol, said he'd lost a major client and it was my fault. He swung at me and I dodged, I tried to leave the room but he all of a sudden I felt a pain in my scar and I fell over and I think I screamed, it hurt a lot. Uncle Vernon picked me up and threw me on the floor, I think. I was a bit confused. Anyway, I fell and I think I blacked out for a second because the next thing I knew, Aunt Petunia was standing between me and Uncle Vernon. She said something to him about going to a hotel and sleeping it off. Said he knew better than to drink... but he was so very angry..."
Harry looked up. "I've never seen Uncle Vernon try to hit anyone but..." Harry paused, but figured he had better tell the whole truth. "I've never seen him try to hit anyone but me before. I don't think Aunt Petunia expected it, either, because she didn't even try to move. He hit her with the frying pan off the drain board, then threw her into the wall. I think she hit a hard part because I heard her skull crack against it. Then I felt a searing pain through my scar and blacked out. I woke up here."
With a frown, Harry asked, "Is Aunt Petunia gonna be alright?"
Professor Dumbledore looked at him gravely. "No, Harry. I'm very sorry to have to tell you this, but you're aunt died just after we arrived."
Harry nodded numbly. "I figured as much, that's what happened to this, isn't it?" He raised one hand the small bandage on his forehead.
Snape frowned. "What do you know about that?"
"Not much. I just know I got this scar when Voldemort tried to kill me and my mum died to save me. It hurts when Voldemort is nearby or he's feeling very, very angry. It's never bled before and Madam Pomfrey said it was bleeding. I figured it had to do with my Aunt." He looked up to Dumbldore. "That's why I was staying with my Aunt, right? Because she was my mum's sister? That's why my scar started bleeding again, isn't it. Because she died trying to protect me."
Snape was too shocked to be insulting. "Yes, that is over simplified, but factual. There is one, minor error, however. Your existing scar did not bleed, you have a fresh wound on your forehead."
Harry sighed dramatically. Feeling silly, he said, "let me guess, this one is shaped like a duck, right?"
Hearing a dignified sort of snort, Harry looked past the Headmaster to see Professor McGonagall walking towards them. He was startled to realize that the transfiguration instructor was holding back a giggle.
"Hardly, though I am glad you are still able to make jokes, Mr. Potter."
Harry smiled slightly. "I think I'm actually still in shock about my Aunt, Professor McGonagall."
She nodded kindly. "That is understandable. I should tell you, I just finished speaking with the muggle authorities, your uncle is being charged with murder. Several memories had to be modified to keep you out of things, but your uncle will face the muggle courts and justice will be served."
"What's going to happen to Dudley?"
"Your cousin," McGonagall frowned at the memory, "was offered the chance to stay with you for the summer, assuming we figure out where you are going to stay, but he declined. He is now with the muggle child protection services."
"Good, maybe he'll get some counseling with them. Without Uncle Vernon he could turn out to be a half-way decent person." Harry looked towards his Headmaster. "But all this isn't why you came, is it?"
"No, Harry, it is not," said Dumbldore. "You see, you were right about the blood protections and your aunt. Your mother wove several layers of protection spells around you when you were an infant. Those spells, combined with her sacrifice, were what saved you from Voldemort as an infant. I reworked some of those protections to work with the wards I built around Privet Drive and attached them to your Aunt. With her death, in the same manner as your mother's I might add, the spells your mother created are failing, breaking down."
"Alright, this is going to sound dense, but, what has this got to do with me?"
The Headmaster smiled knowingly. "That, is actually a very wise question. These spells have actually been breaking down since Voldemort's re-birth, they are simply doing so more quickly than before. The pain you described to me, right after Voldemort returned, was the effect of your mother's spells being forcibly re-arranged. Between the changes that happened that night and the tears caused by your aunt's death, these spells are going to fail spectacularly at some point in the near future.
"What this has to do with you, dear boy, is that these protections are tied to your life-force. Their failing will affect your health, your strength, and possibly your very life. You will have to be monitored daily, if not more often, to make sure you remain healthy."
"So what is the problem?" Harry asked, confused.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "I don't believe there is one. I've taken the liberty of retrieving your things from your aunt's house, and yes, I found everything. You'll be released from the infirmary later this afternoon. Until we have a better idea what is happing with you, magically speaking, you will stay here and Professor Snape will look after you."
Harry exclaimed "What?" at the same time Professor Snape said, "Headmaster?"
After glaring at each other, Harry and Snape seemed to come to a silent understanding for Harry leaned back and shifted his glare to the headmaster while Snape spoke.
"Headmaster, I really don't think that is wise. Perhaps yourself or Professor McGonagall would be a better choice. I'm no good with children..."
Harry nodded, "As strange as it may seem, I have to agree with Professor Snape, Sir."
Snape seemed unsure, for just a moment, who he most wanted to glare at. He then realized the boy had agreed with him and shifted his gaze to the Headmaster, for all the good it did.
"Severus, Harry, as much as I would love for the two of you to put aside this silly argument, all I'm asking for at this time... is a truce." Dumbledore shifted his gaze between the two while McGonagall marveled at the nearly identical expressions of annoyance and refusal.
"Harry, Professor Snape is currently the most knowledgeable person on the planet about the protection spells your mother used..."
Ever the scholar and unable to resist being able to correct his mentor, Snape broke in to say: "They are not all Protection spells, Headmaster. That's what I've been telling you all this time and, I believe I've found a completely intact layer underneath the frayed..."
Dumbledore smiled benignly at the younger man who swiftly stopped speaking, realizing that this was not the time.
"And Severus, Harry hardly needs a minder. He merely needs someone available in case something should happen."
The dark man's glare returned fu ll force but Dumbledore just smiled pleadingly. Eventually, Snape realized he was wasting his time and said, "Alright, I will watch the boy."
Harry nodded sharply in agreement, then turned to his most hated teacher. He extended his hand toward the older man. With a sheepish grin he said:
"Truce? At least, until school starts or we come up with a better solution?"
Snape did not smile, but his scowl faded into a neutral expression.
"In the interests of expediency and my sanity, truce." Their hands touched for the briefest moment, then both let go, startled when the dry air of the infirmary allowed a spark of static at the contact.
Dumbledore just twinkled merrily.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
After spending an exhausted night in an uncomfortable hospital bed, Harry was given a private room just off the infirmary; as Gryffindor tower was currently empty. He was to report to Professor Snape twice daily for an examination of the protection spells, but otherwise his time was his. Harry could hardly remember every having this much free time to himself before. Even on the weekends he had homework, Quidditch, and Ron and Hermione to fill his time. Snape only needed a few moments to finish whatever it was he did.
The first thing he did that morning was to carefully remove the thin bandage taped to his forehead. Madam Pomfrey had said she would not be able to heal the new scar and Harry could not help but wonder about it. She'd said it was just like the old one.
He stood patiently in front of the mirror to peel off the tape, then, without having looked up, he disposed of the bandage. Almost reluctantly, he raised his eyes up to his reflection.
His dark hair was still slightly gummy from the tape and remained pushed back from his face. There, just above his eye, was the now strangely altered mark.
The old lightning bolt was there, any inflamation the from the night before long gone. However, crossing the scar at a severe angle, was a single thin, red, line. Harry scowled then and rubbed at his forehead.
As a child he'd loved that mark. It made him special and different. When he'd come to school, he learned to despise it for the same reasons. It seemed this odd dichotomy was not going to end any time soon. Voldemort had created the mark, but so had his mother, by protecting him. Vernon and Petunia had done the same thing.
Voldemort hated and feared him. Vernon hated and feared him. His mother had loved him more than life itself. But what of Petunia?
It was all too much for Harry to take in at the moment. He quickly showered and washed his hair, flattening it over the strangely twisted mark. At breakfast, a meal he shared only with Professor Snape and Dumbldore, no mention was made of the mark.
With all the teachers, even Filch, gone for the summer, Harry had free rein over the castle. He already knew there were more things to find in this wonderful place than could ever be found in a mere seven years of school. The Marauders Map was evidence of that. Even Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs hadn't managed to find all the castle's secrets. He already knew the Chamber of Secrets wasn't on there and there was a disappearing cabinet on the sixth floor that never made it to the map as well.
The trouble was, exploring the castle was rather tiresome when one did it alone. Harry found himself longing for his friends after only a few hours the first day. By the second day, he was working intently on his remaining homework. By the end of the third day, his routine had become outright boring.
This was how Harry found himself lingering after one of his examinations. Reluctant to go back to his homework, tired of being alone, and having not been sent away, Harry got up from the wide table he'd been instructed to lay on and settled in one of the empty desks to watch his teacher.
Snape was doing very little, but to a very bored fourteen-year-old, he was absolutely fascinating. The man sat at his desk, mostly still, scribbling furiously on a sheet of parchment. Occasionally, he'd reference a large, dusty text, then go back to scribbling. He seemed to be having a hard time with whatever he was doing because he paused every few words, as if searching for the correct answer.
After nearly ten minutes of watching his teacher work, Harry finally gave up and left the room. Snape did not even notice the boy had stayed.
Immediately after the evening examination, Harry ate dinner, then wandered the corridors for a time before going to bed. The next day, however, he took a book with him to the dungeons. Snape had him lay on the wide table, as usual, then incanted a softly spoken spell. For several long minutes, the man seemed to be looking right through Harry, the he cancelled the spell and walked away.
Once again, Harry climbed down off the table and settled in one of the many empty desks. Snape was using one of the smaller classrooms for his studies this summer. For a time Harry alternated between reading and watching Snape over the pages but after a while became so engrossed in the story that he began ignoring the teacher altogether.
He was well engrossed in the story when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. A very familiar swish of black robes. Glancing up, Harry saw Snape standing over him with a mildly amused expression on his face.
"What are you doing, Potter?"
Harry lowered the thick volume. "I was reading, sir."
"Aren't boys supposed to like running out of doors and wreaking havoc throughout the school? What are you doing here?"
Harry just shrugged and softly repeated a line he'd heard George Weasley use, "It seemed like a good idea at the time."
Snape was not amused, but neither did he start screaming, so Harry counted this as a reasonable thing to say in this situation.
"Be that as it may, Potter, I would suggest you do whatever you are doing elsewhere," Snape growled at him.
Harry nodded, looking slightly disappointed, and quickly left the room. It wasn't until much later, while enjoying a slow walk through a quiet castle, that Snape realized the boy had probably sought out his company out of loneliness.
