Title: Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

Author: Japhu

Beta Reader: Chameleon

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 17 – Sorting Thoughts

The black pair of eyes narrowed suspiciously when the Potter-boy left the Entrance Hall with unsteady steps. The youth was avoiding coming into contact with the castle's wall at all costs. The Potions Master's ability to see and recognize consciously worked magic, in the moment of spellcasting, had helped in a lot of dire situations. However, what he had seen just moments ago, he did not know. For just an instant it had seemed as if Potter had been surrounded by magic, but he knew the boy's magical signature. He had seen him cast spells during the last years.

The hidden man was a hundred percent certain Potter had not aimed a spell at someone. Perhaps, the self-absorbed brat had been a target? Although, there had not appeared to be anyone who could have cast a spell on the wrenched child, until the DADA teacher's progeny had trudged along. It had seemed painful for a moment, until the whelp had taken his hand off the wall he had stumbled against. Testing, the Potions Master put the palm of his hand against the cool stone while stepping out of the shadows. Nothing. Everything was as it should be; and the pink headed idiot still stood staring. The boy flinched back, when he became aware of him.

"Professor." Solemnity and surprise lay in the boy's voice. For some reason, the little Bradarowicz had been so absorbed in his thoughts; he had not heard the Potions Master stopping right next to him. Even though the man had not tried to sneak up on the child, not really, he would have fun with him later when the riddle around Potter was solved.

"Why are you standing here and staring holes into the air?" He bit out acidly. "Don't you have somewhere to be or shall I take points from your house to help you get going?" The boy bit his lip and blinked, then he just inclined his head, grinned stupidly and marched leisurely to the side entrance were he would be waiting until the first years were sorted. Severus Snape watched him avidly. He did not like the boy anymore than he liked the father. The father made the bile rise in his throat. For some reason the boy seemed worse, though, he could not have said why. He just wanted to smash their faces into the nearest wall. He scowled darkly. Only when the pink headed boy was gone did he move on. After all, the boy had not done anything that would have called his talents at work; though, his ability was not infallible, by any means. Only in the exact moment of spellcasting he was able to see the powers at work. Most spells take not even seconds to cast properly. It is rare and requires a lot of power to work spells, who's chanting takes minutes; like the one he had witnessed the crimson robed wizards doing.

Potter had a link to them too. Always, that whelp was somehow in the midst of trouble brewing, and never did he tell. In this trait, the Potter-boy was just too much like his father to think about the consequences of his doings. It gave him to think. What was the boy plotting now? Things were going on here that were anything but normal. It was not just the Potter-whelp who somehow seemed to have ended up in the midst of everything – again; and now had decided to play games with everyone. According to Dumbledore, all their lives depended on this irresponsible child. It was a disaster. With that thought, the Potions Master set into motion, striding ahead forcefully. He chose the shortest route to the head table. Snape arrived just in time to see the Potter boy dropping down heavily onto the bench between his two sidekicks, who looked suspiciously relieved at seeing him. Wretched brat!

Stupid git! After a fast glance upon his friends, Harry looked over to the head table were the dark figure of his Potions Master slid onto his place, throwing a suspicious look right back at him. It did not matter to Harry if Snape believed him or not, as long as anybody else was convinced he was telling the truth. Only Dumbledore would believe anything Snape had to say about Harry Potter. With Dumbledore, Harry would have to deal separately, nevertheless, because the old man did not buy anything he would tell without reading his mind to corroborate the truth.

Harry suppressed the more bitter thoughts and let his shoulders drop unconsciously. He received a few curious looks from friends and foes alike. But, he had learnt not to give much on others' opinions. Well, at least the Gryffindors seemed to have come to an understanding according to him. Whatever they had decided on, it was alright with him. Harry was not going to go around and ask what had been written in the papers about him during the last holidays and whether someone else's mother was convinced that he would lead them to doom.

"Sorry, I'm late." With difficulty Harry drew up a really friendly Gryffindor's face, smiled pleasantly around and blinked reassuringly at his friends' imploring looks. Nothing above a good mask to hide behind.

"You're not late." Seamus piped in after an uncomfortable moment of silence. "Ron and Hermione were late. You're later."

"Very funny, Seamus." Half-heartedly Harry grinned back, but took his dorm mate's words for the welcome they were. He ignored the searching looks of his friends and the glances the teachers threw at him, whenever they thought he would not notice. As far as he could see, most of them seemed really concerned for him. They should not be. It did not make things easier for him and he had to consider how to handle Dumbledore. Surely, the headmaster would invite him to lemon drops and tea soon. Everything else would have to solve itself in time.

Harry flexed his hands under the table to get the tingle of magic to dissipate or move on or whatever. He would not like to have to ask Hermione to feed him, because he could not feel his fingers anymore. It was still the castle's doing, and Harry could not imagine what the purpose was. It was a scary thought. To think that the castle had watched everything he had done throughout the years without him knowing. Did any of the others know that the castle was… there, in much more than the word itself implied? Did Dumbledore know? Snape? Sitting at his place and waiting for the first years to be sorted, Harry browsed through his head to verify the information he had gathered up to this point.

At first, Voldemort tried to better him – again. His magic had changed into something he had trouble controlling, most of the time. Tom got somehow trapped in his mind. Red or golden robed men were suddenly popping out everywhere who, for some reason, Tom seemed to believe were helping him. Well, the way they had come on him in Diagon Alley heightened the impression that they obviously were not assisting Harry to get rid of his head guest. Harry had tuned out everyone completely and continued his processing.

Voldemort was nearer to death then ever before. However, Harry hesitated to do the last step, the final one, the one which would free the world of the Dark Lord entirely and forever. Harry did not know if he could make it work. He knew what sacrifice was necessary. He was not sure whether or not he could do it. When he looked up to his animatedly whispering friends, he briefly asked himself if he would ever be ready to do it, whether or not he could be at all… Despite all of the last year's events, Sirius' death and that damn prophecy, Harry clung to his life – just like everyone else surrounding him.

Gloomily, Harry turned his attention back to the sorting. Although he had missed the beginning, there were still quite a few new students to be sorted. One of them – hiding at the far end – wore, under his dark Hogwarts robes, the bright orange boots their possible DADA teacher showed openly. Harry scoffed inwardly. Obviously, the boy would be sorted into Gryffindor, for one had to be exceptionally brave to dare himself into public with an outfit like that. A loud voice broke through his thought pattern.

Harry turned questioningly to Seamus who was shrilly informing them that now his cousins were to be sorted. Whoo! Harry tried to look excited and followed the pointed finger to the front. One sandy haired girl, with bright blue eyes, stood excitedly between the students. She was clapping her hands like mad while another first year's head vanished under the Sorting Hat. They looked like twins. However, if one believed Seamus, who should know what he was talking about, Oonagh was twelve already. She should have been at Hogwarts last year. She had gotten seriously ill, and therefore, had to wait a year; whereas, Para was rightfully a first year. Harry tried to look sympathetic, when a crestfallen Seamus let drop his shoulders after the hat announced them both members of Hufflepuff.

Harry immersed himself in watching the first years. They were small and so full of hope. It pained him to know that he had been just like them, before everything had gone to hell. Surprisingly, there were a lot of new students. There was not much more space at the tables and only half of them were already sorted. Either their parents did not believe any of the stories, which surely had made their way through the summer's papers, or they wanted their children to be safe. But it was not safe at Hogwarts! Harry's eyes gleamed when he reminded himself of a not well known fact. For now, everyone was safe from Tom, at the very least. Hogwarts was strong, so maybe they really were safer here than anywhere else. But the castle had not done anything to help in the past, why should it now? Why had it not helped?

Harry tried to send the thought to the castle. It did not answer. He was not certain if it even could. The magic just tingled a little bit more, as if it was… amused at his question. What was this castle?

"What?" Harry grunted in surprise when someone poked him in the ribs.

"You looked a bit distant, Harry." Hermione was the one to supply the answer, though, Ron had been poking him.

"Just thinking."

"'Bout what, mate? You didn't hear anything I said." Ron should have known better than to ask him a question like that, so Harry just grinned and scratched his head.

"Voldemort." He said and took special delight seeing everyone in hearing range flinch. "I was just asking myself, whether or not he likes lollipops." Harry had never had a lollipop until this summer. Bets were high that in his childhood, Tommy Riddle had not had them either. Just another similarity they shared, if a small one. Ron stared open-mouthed and Hermione furrowed her brows thoughtfully. Everyone else was looking at him as if he had finally snapped.

"Sorry, guys." Harry looked around chuckling. "But you should see your faces." It was not that funny, but Harry laughed a bit longer, nevertheless. When he was laughing, he would not have to talk. After he seemingly calmed down, Harry took a deep breath. "By the way, what did you want?" Harry noticed a lot of Gryffindors looking expectantly to her. Ron and Hermione glanced at each other. Finally, it was Hermione who seemed to have drawn the short stick and would have to do the talking.

"Well." She tried to look as if the others had urged her to ask him. Harry could see that Hermione wanted to know just as strong. "A lot of us where wondering whether you were planning to continue the DA." Harry thought fast and decided even faster.

"No," he said. "I won't." He shook his head and ignored the incredulous looks he received. "Let's just see what this new DADA teacher has to teach. As Hermione said earlier," Harry looked at her grinning, "he might know what he is doing." Even if this Brado-guy did not know, Harry would not further the DA. He did not need or want so many people looking over his shoulder. They truly did not need to fight against Voldemort any longer, even if they did not know it yet.

"He really might." Was all she could say in defence, and she crossed her arms. Shrugging apologetically, Hermione blinked when all eyes turned to her. Harry kept silent. It was just as well that Dumbledore took the attention off of him when he stood after the last first year had been sorted.

"Ah, yes. Before Professor McGonagall takes our Sorting Hat back to its place, I want to introduce to you another fine young man." Looking into the dark corner, the headmaster winked the boy forward. "He is – obviously," his eyes twinkled, "not a first year. However, I would like you to welcome Junas Bradarowicz into your midst, nevertheless."

Harry propped his head up with his hands, his elbows resting on the table. He ignored the further speech about working together and learning to trust and to rely on people completely. With his hands over his ears, it was interesting to see what other things crept into awareness when one could not hear a thing except the low buzz that was the castle's magic.

Harry wondered what would happen. Would the castle do what it had done before so that he could feel everyone? He could not even tell the difference between the magical auras of the students next to him. Although he knew what Hermione's and Ron's aura would look like when they were alone, now all of the magic in the hall seemed to make one large stew of everything. However, somehow Harry still did not feel like falling apart. It was difficult to hold the control, but not overly so.

Harry watched the process of the last sorting with narrowed eyes. Dumbledore seemed to love to hear his own voice. Had it been this boring the years before? Harry could not remember. He just took his hand down, as the Sorting Hat started its work to sort the last student.

"Did you see his boots!" Dean and Seamus were not the only ones who let their attention drift to the boy's clothes.

"At least now he's wearing school robes." Ron shuddered and Harry knew what his friend was thinking. "You should have seen him in his own."

Before anyone could say something else, the hat announced the House with its disgustingly cheerful voice. Even the applause from their own table was subdued, when Junas Bradarowicz made his way down to the Gryffindor table. The new fifth year Gryffindor did not laugh or yell. He just walked calmly down to his place, his eyes firmly on the part of the table were Harry and his friends were sitting. Harry found that he did not like the look that boy threw at him, not in the least bit. It reminded him of Snape when he inspected him, as if existing in itself was a fault Harry needed to remedy right away. Gits! All of them! Dumbledore was talking again. Harry groaned. Surprisingly, he was not the only one, as Ron was not looking too happy at the moment.

"Can't he just let us eat already?" Nobody answered that question save a few rolling eyes. Ron was Ron.

Harry put his chin in his hand and looked at the headmaster with as much expression as a stone. He yawned tiredly and let the words wash over him like rain. Nothing would be said Harry did not know already. Although, some of his friends might differ with his opinion, as their eyes were glued to the front to get a good look at dear Delores' replacement. Pity the woman was not coming back anytime soon. A dangerous glint in his eyes flared up. This year Harry would have had his fun with her. He bit his lip to keep his mask firmly in place. How much things would be different if that hag had never come to Hogwarts. The magic in him flared up. Harry shook his head and straightened himself. He would not think about the past. He would see to the future; nothing more, nothing less.

With a sigh, Harry turned back to the head table. Trelawney was back and would be teaching together with Firenze, according to Dumbledore. Harry wondered how that would happen when both had as much respect for the other's work as Tom had for Muggles. This subject would be interesting for certain – in this aspect, at least. Harry had not seen his OWLs, but whatever he had scored; he would not take Divination anymore, be it with the stargazing centaur or with a foreteller of gloom. Neither of them was of much help to him. Harry blinked when after a long speech it was finally time for the DADA teacher to make himself known. Instead of looking to the front where a peacock ruffled his feathers, Harry looked into the faces of his classmates and could not help himself. He burst out laughing in a completely silent hall.

"Is something the matter, my boy?" Blue eyes found him between his friends and lightened up. Harry grimaced, but grinned, nevertheless.

"No, sir. Nothing." He smiled beatifically and ignored the few sniggers coming from Dean and Seamus.

"Are you sure, my boy?" The bright blue eyes sparkled at the same time when Harry's eyes narrowed. For god's sake, he had a name! However, if peacock wanted to play dirty, two could do it. It was a Gryffindor thing to do, was it not? If the idiot wanted him to answer in front of the school, Harry would do him the favour.

"I just thought that I really like your robes, Professor." A low sniggering made its way through the student population.

"Ah yes, I know." The sniggers grew louder. "I thank you very much." He smiled down at Harry indulgently and turned back to the students at large. The man smiled frighteningly similar to one Gilderoy Lockhart that Harry was not eager to meet again.

"As headmaster Dumbledore already said, my name is Jashonek Bradarowicz. But you may call me Professor Brado or Nik if you prefer." Blinking, Brado turned to a stern looking head of Gryffindor House who was clearing her throat meaningfully. "Of course only if we are not in class," he relented with a slight nod to her.

Merlin! Why was it always the DADA teachers, who made his Hogwarts' years a ridge walk between life and death? Harry put his head in his hands. He would count the days until he found himself jumping out of the astronomy tower.