Title: Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

Author: Japhu

Pairing: HPSS

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it.

Summary: For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)

Category: action/adventure/angst

Feedback: highly appreciated

Chapter 8 - Somewhat Peculiar

When the boy did not bother to say anything, Snape just stared at him indifferently for a moment, before turning away to watch the small gathering of stupidly crowing children that stood nearest to them in the crowded street they had just entered.

Neither of them wanted to talk to the other, so they hastened down Diagon Alley with strained nerves; Snape took long strides, muttering all the while, and Harry trudged along in thoughtful silence. He heaved a deep sigh when they passed Madam Maulkin's. Harry would have liked to get some new robes to hide his rags. Watching the colorful robes displayed in the shop window, he looked up abruptly when a thought grazed his mind.

Carefully considering, he gazed at Snape. "You still haven't told me the color, sir," Harry inclined in exerting politeness, "of the robes of these wizards. What color do they have, if you're still sure, they're not golden?" A light mocking undertone accompanied his question.

"When you are as blind as a mole you should consider buying new glasses, Potter," Snape suggested coldly. "They were not golden. Not everyone has to display that foolish madness for Gryffindor the way you are." Snape seemed surprisingly… polite, despite that the man looked at Harry's cruddy red jumper in obvious contempt. Harry bit his lips and refrained from answering, for he could not have said anything worthwhile, that did not make the bastard angry. Silently they went on, trying not to acknowledge the other's presence at all, but Harry needed to know.

"Sir?"

"What makes you believe, I will tell you?" Snape's robe billowed when he increased his speed. Harry held all emotion back from his voice.

"Why wouldn't you, sir?"

"Don't you have your nose already in enough things that are of no importance to you?" Snape said, but answered to his own and the boy's surprise, nevertheless. "It's some shade of red. Crimson to be precise." Harry furrowed his brow.

Red was it? Crimson? How was that possible? To him it looked like golden, as if they were bathed in gold unicorn blood. It glittered continuously, as if drops of liquid poured down their robes. It looked breathtaking. What a pity that they had to be the bad guys. What would cause a phenomenon like that? Could it be his magic interfering with his sight? Hopefully not, for his eyes were the only thing Harry could trust to show the truth, until now at least. Maybe it was something these wizards caused themselves. But Snape had not seen the golden robes. Harry bit his lip pensively. Maybe the golden… red robed friends of Tom were his problem, after all, Harry pondered. Just another puzzle unloaded at his feet.

Harry felt a low grumble in his stomach. Now that the excitement was over, the hunger was back with much more forcefulness. Also Harry did not get more awake the more time passed. His exhaustion made itself palpable. The steady buzz of magic, which slammed continuously at his shields, did the rest. Harry felt overloaded with impressions, filled to the brink and over it with magic he seemed to suck up continuously through… whatever; it made him really tired.

Askew Harry glanced across where Snape strode ahead, his whole posture imposing and rigid. The man radiated danger to anyone, who dared to cross his path. What a git. Harry would rather beat himself to a bloody pulp than take a run to keep up with that cauldron crap. Surely the bastard was able to slow down if he wanted Harry to stay with him. Maybe he could just go a little bit slower, looking at the shop windows and stall a bit. He trusted Snape to go on without looking, for surely every student had to be that terrified of him and just run wherever he led. Perhaps he was lucky and Snape would not realize that he had disappeard until he passed the barrier on King's Cross station. It would serve the cranky slob well. Well, time to see how Snape could live with the fact that not everyone was terrified to stop independent thoughts only because he was sticking up his big, ugly nose.

Harry sniggered softly when he followed him down the road. He was careful to stay in darker parts of the street and steadily enlarged the distance between them, until the crowd of people bared the sight to the lean, dark shadow.

Great spying work, Harry thought with a shake of the head. That man had one task only and he lost it, because he was too much occupied with himself. Harry snorted. Who was the one now too busy fancying himself? Getting away was almost too easy. Harry waited a minute further and uninterestedly stared at a window. Harry got out of the flow of people with a wide look around only when his stomach growled again and Snape still did not come to accuse him of being a careless imbecile.

Before he could think of eating anything, Harry needed a quiet corner to enlarge his trunk. Suppressing a yawn, he reached into his pocket and fished for his trunk amidst some oddments he had collected over the summer. It were just some things to remind him of what he had left. A small stone Vernon had thrown at him; a button from Dudley's pants, which Harry had summoned to his hand when Dudley had been talking to his love's new interest. It had been hilarious. There were a few other things, too. All of them held a memory, which had helped to endure his relatives. Grumbling, Harry pulled out all of these things since his trunk had decided to hide itself among them.

Striding confidently towards the targeted corner, Harry looked down on his hand. Safety pin, paperclip, button, stone and a little plastic figurine, a hair net from aunt Petunia and a thorn of a rose's stalk. Harry furrowed his brows. Where was his damned trunk and Hedwig's cage. He would be damned if he had lost it under way. It held his album and his invisibility cloak. With growing irritation Harry searched through the other pockets. He heaved a sigh of relief when he finally found it in the back pocket of his trousers. Holding it securely in his hand, Harry stopped were he was going to look at it…

…and promptly felt himself collide with someone bigger and more steady than he, for Harry found himself on the ground again. He groaned when his bottom hit the stones and silently swore. It would leave a nice bruise to show around, and his trunk was gone. Of course it had to be he, whom everything happened to.

Taking it for granted that Snape had finally noticed his straying, Harry glanced up in expectation to meet angry black eyes and found himself staring wide eyed into worried light blue ones, which held a twinkle similar to the headmaster's, but otherwise seemed cold and distant as if weighing Harry on a scale, which unit of measure Harry could not possibly fathom. The look send a shiver along Harry's spine when he gathered himself up from the ground, searching all the while for his lost trunk and his only possessions. Harry stiffened his weak legs and somehow managed to keep his apologetic smile, while he took a careful step backward.

"I'm really sorry, sir." Harry said in a low, emotionless voice. He tried to suppress all the information his magic gave him, instinctively shutting his magic down to an average level to show as few of his strength as possible.

"Oh no, my boy." the man said with a wide, pleasant grin. "It was completely my fault." His voice was surprisingly gentle and calm, but deeper emotions were rare. "I was busy watching everything. It's amazing here, you know." Despite that the man's whole face lightened up incredibly, his eyes remained measuring, searching.

"Yes, sir." Harry grumbled and attempted to look unsuspicious. Something was not right with that man. He could feel his magic's ringing alarm bell even in that exerted state it was. Caution. It was creepy and Harry thanked his fates that he was only a few steps away from the crowd. Slowly but surely Harry had enough of strange wizards, whose magic was turning somersaults. However, that man's magic appeared subdued, as if he had shut down some levels to appear as normal as one could in that ridiculous outfit of his.

The bright blue robe was covered with stars, moons and odd wavy lines in countless colors. It glittered and glimmered in the sun light like some crazy buzzing insects flying circles; and it looked worse than Dumbledore and Lockhart together. Now the only thing lacking was that the man started throwing curses at him as the red robed ones had done after just a quick glance at him.

Then again, Tom remained astoundingly reticent. Harry listened in to himself, but could not catch anything. Most likely Tom was busy licking his wounds while he wallowed in self pity and furthered revenge at the same time. Harry grinned. Tom would not be able to do anything for a while. His magic must be as low as Harry's – if not more so. Harry felt drained to dust and he became more tired by the minute. It already was exhausting to simply keep his eyes open.

"My boy?" The wizard took Harry at the shoulders and ignored the slight stiffening of muscles and the boy's hard look. "Is everything alright with you?"

"Yes," Harry bit out and took, wide awake from moment to moment, another few steps back. "Thank you, sir." Harry sure as hell planned to get out of here as fast as possible. He should search for his trunk, but he really did not like that man watching him. Harry would come back only when he was sure that this cuckoo going peacock had left for good.

Glancing to the ground to appear searching, Harry steadily got more distance between them. He tried to make his retreat not too obvious. Harry had not had to worry, though. Animatedly talking, the fool of a wizard followed him.

Harry just wanted to turn and run when he felt a weigh pressing down on his shoulder. Fingers dug painfully in his flesh – again, and this time Harry whirled around with a gasp. Merlin! Why was it that everyone thought to have to touch him? It was maddening. Was he sending out some sign of 'Please hug me'? Harry heaved an audible sigh. He was not sure if he should be relieved about some responsible adult presence to keep that crazy one back or if he felt irritated that Snape had found him already and that his stomach would have to wait a very big bit longer before it got fed.

"Potter." Snape's voice sounded awfully restrained.

"Sir." Harry acknowledged with clenched fists, but stayed where he was. Snape did not seem to like the idea of Harry straying again. Had Harry looked behind him, he would have seen that the restrain in the man's voice was reserved for the other wizard, who seemed oddly out of place with the Potions Master's nightblack appearance. The wizard did not seem to be disturbed by the new addition to their group. In fact, his eyes lightened considerably when he heard the name.

"Oh!" he called out ominiously, as if that fact alone explained everything. "Harry Potter." Harry's eyes spit fire, but he refrained from saying anything at all when the wizard looked him up and down imploringly. Harry could almost see Snape rolling his eyes, as he snorted disapprovingly when the wizard stormed forward – overly enthusiastic – to grip both of Harry's hands.

"I so hoped to see you, my boy, before the school starts," the man babbled on and on while Harry pulled his hands back, cringing into Snape, for he was the only one to get that man to calm down.

"Get a grip on yourself, Bradarowicz!" Snape bellowed and shoved Harry behind his back and out of the wizard's reach.

"What?" Harry stuttered wide eyed. "You know each other?"

"Oh, but surely we do," crowed the man energetically at the same time when Snape grumbled something that sounded almost like: "Unfortunately, yes." Harry blinked. Did they know each other from a Death Eater meeting? It would explain his reaction to the man's magic.

"That, Potter," Snape gritted out, seeing the question plainly written in his face, "is your new Defense teacher." It sounded like he had his mouth full of extra sour lemon drops.

"That--." Harry could barely stop himself to say 'thing' and had to clear his throat, unable to do anything but staring openmouthed.

"Oh, yes." Bradarowicz's smile widened considerably and Harry unconsciously grimaced at the display of… utmost stupidity. "I'm really looking forward teaching you." the guy went further as if Harry was the only student he would teach anything.

"By the way, my name is Bradarowicz. Jashonek Bradarowicz." His smile took on something slimy when he bent down conspiratorially. "You of course," the shrill robed wizard offered brightly, "may call me Professor Brado or Nik if you like." Harry did not know it, but the look he threw at Snape was almost a pleading one. It could not possibly get any worse or more ridiculous.

"Teaching defense?" Harry still was in shock. That psychotic peacock actually was their new DADA teacher? Did Dumbledore even look at the people before he hired them for a job? Harry gaped at the crossing of Lockhart and Dumbledore and Umbridge and saw out of the corner of his eye Snape's left eyebrow rising incredulously. Both men looked at him, their expressions blank as if they were not sure to have heard correctly. Harry blinked. Hopefully he had not voiced his thoughts, though, taking the way the adults were looking at him into account, it seemed a possibility. Harry swore and looked down. He was minced when they ever got back to school. He could forget getting good grades in Defense before the year had even started. Harry heaved a sigh when he felt fatigue return with vehemence. Inwardly Harry closed that drawer. This guy could hardly be worse than than that Umbridge cow. Harry squirmed. He still felt… – Brabado's?…Brabidi's? – eyes on him whenever he looked away.

Distrustful as Snape was he too had recognized it, for his arms were crossed in front of his chest and he glared the wizard down as if he was part of some curiosity show. Snape shoved the boy roughly away, positioning himself right between him and the still openly staring man.

"Go on, Potter. We don't have all day to get to King's Cross." Dazed Harry took a few steps before he remembered something important.

"My trunk, sir!" Harry cried out. Snape looked down at him exasperated.

"What now, Potter?" Every word dripped out like venom.

"I lost it when Bronto… he," Harry had lost the crazy name of the crazy babbling man already, "run into me."

"And you can't take it why?"

"It's shrunken." Harry sighed sourly and chose to ignore Snape's expression. The git's cold stare told what he thought about Harry's questionable state of mind.

"And how, Potter, did you accomplish that?" Snape asked in a voice that could cut steel.

"I didn't accomplish anything, Professor." Harry brightly smiled, respect dripping off his words, and thought fast. "I hauled it along until a witch saw me struggling with it. She helped me out." His smile widened. "She was really nice, the witch, she really was." It remained questionable, whether the Potions Master believed him or simply had enough of changing trivialities with Harry Potter. Whatever the reason, Harry was alright with it, and if not for the fact that his new DADA teacher could not take his eyes off him, be it because of awe, admiration, hate or whatever, Harry would have been almost satisfied to quietly go along with Snape.

Yawning, Harry watched Snape summoning his trunk with a simple spell and wanted to hit himself for his idiocy. He could have done that wandlessly and nobody would have been any wiser. Harry chanced a glance toward his DADA teacher. Should that peacock really see magic – Harry believed so – than it was possibly well done to actually forget the summoning charm. He snorted, thinking of something else. With that great an extent of control he had over his magic he would probably have summoned every single lone trunk in Diagon Alley. Harry would be better off living like a Muggle for the time being.

Harry solemnly thought back the short time he had watched the wizard. He was sure that the man had tried to hide his magic's level to appear less dangerous and strange than he really was. It led to number one in Harry's consideration. One must at first count on people able to see magical energy to try hiding it; which led to number two. To hide one's magic one had to be able to recognize magic, that much Harry had already learned from experience, which led to number three. The man had to be, at least, similar to the Red Robes. Perhaps they actually knew each other. But what game was he playing at, staring like a love sick Mad-Eye Moody, smiling like Dumbledore on a lemon high, and talking like that dunce named Lockhart? He totally made a fool of himself and he did not even seem to notice. Could it get any more ridiculous? There was not anything less believable than the story that guy tried to fed them.

Harry pondered, whether Brenderi, Bradawi or whatever his name was, posed to be a dangerous fool or rather a foolish danger. He could not let the man near him. Harry would not risk jeopardizing his plan, even if he seemed to be a bit prejudiced against the DADA teacher. So what if? His past experiences certainly gave reasons to mistrust anyone coming in as strange as that. Harry had thought him peculiar even before he knew him to be the new addition to Hogwarts' staff. He would have to keep both eyes open when the grinning fool was near.

Blinking tiredly, Harry forced his eyes open and followed the Potions Master on the safe side – away from the Branowici guy. He stumbled once and again on wobbly legs and kept no thought for his empty stomach.