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 15 – Going Home

Harry blinked. Did he just hear that? He could not have been more surprised if Snape had announced to be best friends with Lupin. Had the git really just beckoned them away? No taking of points? No insults? Curious. Harry shifted. What was going on in the greasy head of his? He blinked when Ron pulled him towards the train, now and then throwing a cautious glance backwards. Only when the redhead thought them a safe distance away from the scowling Potions Master he bend his head down to Harry's ear.

"Is it just me," he whispered unaware of a Potions Master's accute hearing, "or was he waiting for us to show up."

"Yep," Harry snorted, certain to be heard by more people than his friend. "His big nose is everywhere – always lurking in the darkest corners. Pity, he seems to lack an own life." Harry pried his robe free from the girls clasping hands and winked at her. She looked wide eyed up to him but did not say anything, though, she glanced anxiously back. Her curls jumped wildly with the slightest movement of her head. Harry smiled reassuringly. He needed not to look for what she was watching out.

"No worry, little one. A barking dog doesn't bite." The girl blinked with a doubtful expression on her face, clearly fidgeting to get back her darling doll. Sighing, Harry pointed to the train.

"Do you think that you can you find your compartment on your own, then Ron and I will look if we see your Ginia somewhere in the passageway."

"Yes." With an eager nod the girl rushed forward, nearly running over Ron and pulling Harry, whose hand she seemed not to want to release anytime soon, with her.

"Not so fast, little dove, we don't want to fall down the stairs, do we?" Harry shook his head, his breathing becoming ragged.

"Now, little dove," Harry turned to the girl when his heart was beating normally again, "run to your compartment and look if she's still there, but don't be sad when not. Probably they have taken her already with the luggage." But the girl was already gone with a bright, hopeful smile, running like a dervish through the empty wagon.

Harry was relieved to see her going on her own, as he would need a bit more time to enter the train again. Harry began to feel like an old man only half a step away from death. Every move hurt and black dots danced in front of his eyes when he climbed the stairs to the wagon. In the train itself the magic seemed to reach only a lower level, as Harry found it suddenly easier to maintain the control – not much, but a relief, nevertheless.

Harry blinked away the dizziness and waited impatiently for the ill feeling to pass. He felt close to vomiting all over his friend, but as always Ron was totally ignorant. Harry examined him with a reserved look, hoping he did not look particularly green around the nose.

Then he took a deep breath and looked closer at the train, which was surrounded with layers of protective magic and other spells Harry did not know – but some were probably cast to keep the train moving. Perhaps those spells were what locked out some of the wild magic of this land's particular nature. The train was enchanted with incredible accuracy, and just enough for Harry to stay on his feet. Harry wished he could accomplish something like that. It required a lot of control and a keen knowledge of one's own breaking point.

"I can't remember her brother being that… lively and emotional." Ron prattled on and shook his head, clearly taken by surprise.

"He's not eleven, is he?" Harry risked a look out of the window, as they went down the passageway. "And he isn't going to live in a place where he had never been before, all on his own." Harry glanced out of the next window he passed. His eyes narrowed as he watched the motionless Potions Master, who stood on the empty station with his arms crossed. Harry smiled grimly. He had known the man was there. Soundlessly, Harry followed his friend. Ron carelessly opened and closed doors to different compartments, not even looking if a toy was laying on the seats.

"Yeah," he conceded. "But I really hope she's not going to be sorted into Gryffindor."

"You would have your hands full, I can say." Grinning, Harry yawned and glanced out again, out of the corner of his eye watching Ron eyeing him with a pondering glance.

"She seemed to like you." The youngest Weasley-son sounded almost happily bored, but Harry caught on instantly.

"Oh, no!" Harry shook his head vehemently. "I don't think so, Ron! You're the one, who got all the chocolate frogs, remember?" Still looking out of the window, his eyes widened before narrowing to slits.

Should that melonhead of DADA teacher not guard the other carriages? What was he still doing here – and talking with Snape? At least the colorful fool was talking – Snape steadfastly ignored him as he had done for the whole day, if one turned a blind eye on the insult marathon at King's Cross. His face clear of emotions but inquiring, Harry blew a straying strand of hair out of his face and concentrated, with a dark, assessing look of his own, on the Potions Master.

That the man was practically bound to him by body and soul did not help much to puzzle the bastardout. However, Harry could feel annoyance and fury and something like wry amusement through the mark. Of course, the emotions could easily come from anyone of the Death Eaters bound to him. Harry had no experience in handling this magical… gift. Come to that was that the man's aura, which Harry could see blazing, was just as helpful. In the color of an overripe eggplant, with a few tiny specks of red, black was the dominating color. Harry did not know what he should think about that. He had not seen anyone with an aura as dark as Snape's. It was not that black was a bad color, it was just unusual as most people's magic varied between yellow and red.

Harry blinked and closed his eyes for a moment. The headache grew rapidly worse. He should not think so much. Honestly, Harry just wanted to curl himself up in a dark corner to get a moment of peace and to indulge in his pain and exhaustion – and to find a way to survive the castle's magic.

With obvious relief Harry smiled tiredly when the girl came back surprisingly quick, hugging a small, auburn-haired doll like a life line, a grateful smile on her face when she looked at him.

It took a load off his mind to get this one problem out of the world, and at least one person was happy. Harry took a wary step down the stairs a second time. His look wandered to where the carriage was waiting. Hermione strode impatiently up and down, and the Thestrals restlessly threw their heads into the air. He stopped abruptly in the middle of a step and felt the blood rush to his head. He knew what had left him disturbed about the Thestrals.

The Thestrals looked indeed as normal as they had done when Harry had last seen them at the end of his fifth year – a time when he had not been able to see magic, a time when the grass still had been green not glowing in warm yellow light, when the stones were of a simple grey and not of continuously changing colors. As the Thestrals stood there, they didn not have a magical aura. They were dead to the world of magic, really dead, because everything was filled with this buzzing energy, everything was glowing with magic – except them.

"Harry?" Transfixed Harry stared to the dark, skeletal creatures. It could not be possible, could it? His forehead wrinkled in thought. Did some magic exist that was hidden from his eyes? Could it be invisible? Really transparent?

Only since he had watched Cedric die, Harry was able to see the Thestrals, so maybe the winged horses held it the same way with their magic? How many would he have to watch dying? Five? A dozen? A hundred? Perhaps it was something else that kept the magic hidden? Or was there any? Harry shook his head. Of course there was. The Thestrals were magical beasts, and even if not – there had to be at least the energy of life force. Even when a necromancer called a corpse back to life there had to be something to keep it moving. Thought after thought hastened through in Harry's mind, his concentration totally focused on the new riddle.

If Harry had paid more attention to his friend, he would have seen Ron swallowing apprehensively when the dark imposing figure of Snape descended upon them – his appearance only slightly less formidable because one crazily clothed DADA teacher followed him an inch away with a mad twinkle in his eye and despite the low grumble that emitted gutturally out of the dark robed, menacingly forward striding wizard – or maybe it was because of it.

With a keen sense of foreboding Severus Snape had been waiting outside of the train. Even if he did not take Potter's summer story into account, something definitely did not add up with the boy; and the Potions Master and spy was not one to let pass a riddle if it knocked at his door. Yet, it was not just the boys attitude that had changed, there was more going on. Severus was sure that sooner or later he would get to the bottom of the mystery Potter surrounded himself with. He would get the others to see that their wretched figurehead of the war was nothing but a stupid, irresponsible whelp.

During the train ride it had been surprisingly quiet around the boy. Severus would have thought Potter to go out and tell the story of his adventures with all the flowery details. He smirked. The little Slytherin menace clearly had bestowed a visit to the brat. And the haste with which his retreat had played out seemed to indicate that the Potter-whelp had once again come out of their encounter atop.

Severus fully supported his Slytherin students in their… freetime activities. He had nothing against a few well aimed pranks… well, attacks even – of course only as long as they did not end lethal for any of the participating parties. He could understand an orderly retreat when such an attack failed – nothing over one's own survival – but young Malfoy did not show the rudiment of cunning the House was known for, and with which he prided himself with.

It was a shame for one of his Slytherins to behave that thoughtless and cowardly, every time riding high on emotions like a Gryffindor without thought to consider the consequences – or even the viability of the attack – beforehand. The worst was, that, as much encounters as he had had with Potter over the years, young Malfoy was apparently unable to learn anything, and it would break the boy's neck if nothing drastic happened really soon to open his eyes. Totally surrounded by yes-men, and everybody running to fulfill his every whim, young Malfoy thought himself to be special, worthier than other people and thus found himself confirmed in his arrogant and careless attitude. In this respect young Malfoy was as spoiled as Potter, but the Slytherin had manners drummed into him by a strict advocate of Wizarding aristocracy, and at least he had heard of things like decorum.

Potter's offspring had the almighty headmaster of Hogwarts, and one only needed to look at the clothes the old man preferred to know that nothing good could come out of that. Oh, Severus liked the old man more than anyone else – that did not say much of course, as he did not really like anyone; but when one mentioned Potter in the headmaster's hearing range the lemon drop addict only became crazier.

With a disgusted sneer the Potions Master went on observing, his wide strides directed to the Gryffindor boys – one oblivious, the other staring intently. Only this time they had reversed roles. Something seemed to occupy all of Potter's concentration, for the boy – otherwise the first one to notice his approach – was staring at… the carriage? Severus quickly followed the intense look and furrowed his brows, blind to anything peculiar the idiot boy seemed to have found worth fretting over.

When the train had stopped Severus had been fast to get the students out of the wagons he had to guard. This way there was left enough time to keep an eye on the stupid child while the last students were rushing to the carriages. Naturally, the ingrate had made them wait for him. Wondering were the boy had lingered, Severus had grown impatient. He had been on the verge to haul the boy out himself and was taken by surprise when he watched the Potter-brat nearly falling over his own feet the moment he had warily stepped down the stairs and onto the station – a waxen expression on his face that clearly could not be healthy.

Had young Malfoy finally scored once in his life or did that idiot Gryffindor not know restraint and had stuffed himself with to much sweets? Admittedly, he would not be the only student doing so, quite a few visited the toilet in a rush every year, but Potter should have more sense of appearance. Possibly it was the latter, otherwise the gossip would have reached them already. Scowling, the Potions Master would have liked to reprimand the boy for his lazy attitude, perhaps taking a few points under way; but the headmaster had blocked that bridge before he had even thought about crossing it.

"Leave the boy in peace, Severus," he had said with that cheerful, mad twinkle in his eyes. "I want to talk to him first without you having fired his temper up." Leglimens he was, Severus had held himself back with astounding restraint, surprising even himself. He had contented himself to try and catch some stray thought that could help solving riddle that ignorant Potter-boy posed. However, he had to admit to have slackened the rein of his order a bit when he had found the impossible child nosing around the forbidden parts of Diagon Alley. He had bitten his tongue to not say anything… hurtful, nevertheless. Severus sneered. Only Albus could get him to do something like that… and for Potter, nonetheless.

Severus watched the idiot Gryffindor when he stood like frozen on the last step. The first year at his side looked frightened up to the boy, obviously already lulled into believing that Potter was the high and mighty saviour. Severus scowled. He could not care less, whether the pitiful Hufflepuff of a child had found its toy or not; but Albus would have his head should something happen to his precious boy.

The dark, opaque gaze fixed on the too small figure of the Potter-boy, Severus could not stop thinking about him. Until now that ingrate child had been surprisingly self-contained – with words and thoughts alike. Maybe the air was worn a bit thin were Potter usually looked down from his pedestal. Had the boy finally stepped down long enough to think about the consequences of his doings? Severus sneered. The idiot Gryffindor was probably only trying to make his story sound important before he went selling it to his sidekicks. Gryffindors were not prone to hold secrets for longer than it took them to get enough breath to talk.

Then there was the little fact that Potter had not worked one spell during the day, not even to fight off young Malfoy. Potter had to be the only Hogwarts' student – save some clueless first years – who had not used the time during the train ride to experiment a bit with his magic. Strictly speaking, Potter had been right. It was forbidden for students, but this matter had not held the boy back at other times, and no one cared about it anyway.

It was the first time after weeks when the students got a grip on their wands. Of course they would use them. Parents and ministry knew as well as the teachers and Albus. It had been like this when Severus himself had been a… well, less wise – ever since students rode with the train. That was one of the reasons for the lots of magic woven into the train. Potter, though, had refrained from using magic. Had these Muggles left him that high in the clouds that he did not think of a simple Accio to summon the toy? Severus gritted his teeth.

When he was merely a few feet away Potter acknowledged him with a stupid blink of his eyes, looking dazed for a moment and confused.

"Can't be bothered to hurry, can you, Potter? Thinking that the headmaster will postpone the feast until you deem them worthy of your presence, boy?" Severus sneered contemptuously. His expression was guarded when he felt his way to the boy's mind, using his Leglimency skill ever so cautiously. Even during the last year Potter had been fast to notice even the slightest probing of another's mind – well, as long as it had not been the Dark Lord.

The Weasley-boy growled in anger, and Severus noted with some surprise that the temper ridden redhead was only half a head smaller then he. His glacial expression turned to the other balefully staring boy, who was, to his relief, still nothing more than a wren among hawks. Severus would hate to loose the advantage of staring down the whelp. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. The boy did not seem to hold a conscious barrier around his mind as he had managed to erect from time to time during the last few sessions.

"That will be twenty points from Gryffindor for your impertinence to think that everyone has to dance to your piping." Severus was highly aware of the looks he received. Potter's sidekick seemed only an inch from getting a detention. That temper would get him into trouble at one time.

"The school year hasn't even begun, yet!" the Weasley's boy revolted, defending his silent friend with all his heart.

"Full of meanings today, Mr. Weasley, aren't we?" Severus smirked. "But you actually had a thought worth to let others know." He turned to the still silently watching ebony-haired boy. "I think we'll have to stack the minus points up until Gryffindor is ready to go in to the negative after the feast, won't we, Potter?"

"But my dear friend!" A new voice interrupted before Harry could even think of an answer that fitted the question. "Don't be so hard on them." The new teacher admonished. "I'm sure they had good reasons. Isn't that the case, my boys?" Severus had been well aware that the bumbling idiot of teacher tried creeping up to him. As if that shuffling fool could surprise anyone with his noisy approach. His eyes narrowed.

Severus had watched him watching Potter, as the boy had climbed the train with some difficulties. It did not go well with him that the newest fool's spawn of Dumbledore was observing the boy with a disquieting, intense gaze that made hair in his neck stand on end and his body grow rigid with tension. In that look was nothing innocent or curious. Severus would have liked to tell Albus what he thought of him hiring that twisted wizard, but when he thought about it, he had already done so more than once during the countless staff meetings in summer. With a satisfied smirk Severus remembered one particular encounter. Not everything had gone to Albus' delight. Once even the headmaster had seemed ready to throw that clown out of the window. Severus would rub that fact in whenever he met up with the old man.

"What are you staring at, Bradarowicz?" The way he spoke Severus definitely thought the name to be the biggest insult one could bestow that man with. He turned to the fool with a calm voice, which for perceptive people held a dangerous undertone. "Don't you have to do something?"

"What, dear colleague, could that be?" The man had the gall to smile at him.

"Go and guard the carriages – the front – I'll make sure these dunderheads don't get lost." Severus would not take a no for answer. His gaze promised dire consequences.

"But Seve—" At the Potions Master's rigid posture the wizard cleared his throat. "They are already too far,… Professor Snape," he whined. The last words sounded as if he had swallowed a glass of sour milk.

"Have you not heard of the possibility to apparate to your preferred whereabouts, Bradarowicz?" he asked without a hint of what was going on behind the powdered forehead, his eyebrow arched inquisitively. "I'd suggest you do that now." He growled when the man started a voluble excuse, and interrupted him with a gesture. One time soon Severus would lock that man up in a dungeon and have a serious word with him. The new addition to staff made his blood boil even more than… well, at least just as Potter. He stopped his peculiar thought pattern and turned his attention to the present.

Potter's mind was marked off perfectly. No nook, no opening, nothing to make a start to invade the boy's thoughts. Evidently the boy had de facto learnt something and, whatever it was he was doing, it worked. The boy should not have been able to achieve a feat like that during his vacation.

"Have you gotten enough attention already, Potter?" Severus sneered, angry at himself for not being able to find a fault in the boys shields. For a moment the boy seemed confused to what he was refering, but then something seemed to click and his eyes narrowed.

"No sir," Potter bit out, not even trying to sound respectful. "I think I need a bit more. May we go on to the feast?" His eyes flashed with suppressed emotions. "I'm hopeful that I'll get enough attention to last me for the evening, sir." With that Harry turned around and left the Potions Master standing – for a second time this day, albeit now with much less fervor and more thoughts about where to put his feet. Deeply impressed, Ron stared at his friend and suppressed a grin. His eyes carried the amusement for everyone to see, though. He hurried to follow Harry's lead to let the wingless bat remain at the station.

"Is he angry?" a quiet voice asked cautiously, and Ron looked down to the forgotten first year.

"Yeah." The redhead announced passionately with heartfelt satisfaction when Harry stayed silent, but he took pity on the girl as her look became quite fearful and she looked back every few steps to see if he followed. Ron hesitated only an instant before he gave her one of the last, dearly loved chocolate frogs out of his pocket. He gazed longingly at it, his glance doubtfully directed to the quietly following girl. She took the chocolate wide eyed and smiling, but Ron was unsure if the child appreciated his sacrifice.

Harry's lips twitched. He could practically feel Snape's distaste when Ron gave her that squished chocolate frog. The silently seething man was still watching them. Harry could feel the eyes piercing the back of his head while they were busy taking care of the girl, a Muggleborn probably, because she was way too curious for someone raised in a Wizarding family.

"Enjoy." Ron said with a regretful grin before turning to his friend, who seemed to act a bit funny today. Ron looked worried for an instant. Maybe the Dursleys had egged on him more than Harry let on? His mind eased when he spotted Hermione ahead. She would know what to do. Ron followed another train of thoughts.

"He could have helped," he muttered with a low grumble erupting from his stomach. "Now we'll probably miss the feast, because of a… doll." Ron glanced down to the girl and grimaced.

"Yep." Harry blinked until the blackness crept back from his field of vision. "He could have summoned the doll. That would have been the fastest."

"Or we could have." Ron thought aloud.

"Of course, if we had thought of it. I'm still somewhat in the Muggle world with my spirits." Harry patted the redhead on the back. "What's your excuse?" Ron mumbled something incoherently and Harry smiled indulgently.

"Either way," Harry shrugged, "Snape was waiting for us. He would have taken more points than we could possibly win during the year had he seen us using magic."

"I'm glad that he isn't our head of house." Ron shuddered. "He would surely use every excuse he could get to expel us better soon than late." Harry heaved a sigh when they finally reached the carriage. His voice had a slight tremor in it when he turned to the girl.

"Hop in." Harry coughed and helped her to get into the shaky construction, the Thestrals already sidling about. Harry did not look back once to see what the Potions Master was doing. Harry relaxed when he heard the faint pop that indicated the apparition, but already he could sense the Potions Master far away, and they were approaching steadily. He could feel it in the magic and through the mark's bond that suddenly grew fainter when Snape apparated to the gates of Hogwarts as soon as the carriage set into motion. Harry snorted. Snape would stand in just another dark corner to watch them until they had made their way into the protection wards of the ancient castle.

Their short journey with the carriage passed in a blur for Harry. He leant back and tried to find a rhythm that made breathing and magic work together. Remotely he listened to Ron telling stories to the little girl about Snape being a vampire bat to which he turned back every night to suck blood from unsuspecting students that were out after curfew.

Harry ignored Hermione's nagging about their delay with the ease of someone who did something like that on a regular basis. He was too busy keeping his consciousness. When a small hand pulled at his sleeve Harry had not even enough strength to yawn. He had to steady himself at the carriage's wall while being pulled forward from an awestruck first year, who got her fist look at the castle.

"You take her, Hermione. I'm too tired to run now." Harry handed the girl, whose head was dangerously bend so that she could even see the highest tower of Hogwarts castle, over to his friend. Distressed, Hermione looked as if she did not want to leave him for an instant, before she simply nodded and urged him to hurry, nevertheless. She took the girl's hand tightly into her own and shoved her unceremoniously to Ron, who made a race with her to the great hall upon Hermione's shoeing noises. She followed on their feet, not wanting to loose points at the first day of school.

Harry heaved a sigh of relief when they were gone and went in a much moe slowly through the gates, and the moment he stepped on to the ground of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry he found himself tiredly smiling the first genuine smile in a long time. Harry's eyes brightened noticeably. His whole face seemed to radiate happiness. Finally, Harry thought, he was finally home. He entered Hogwarts Castle with steps as light as a feather.