Author's Note: Wow, look at this. An update. I must be alive after all. Enjoy everyone. Thanks goes out to the fabulous beta, MimiTaylor. Thanks, hon!
Dear Remus,
I don't know whether to be upset or happy about what was done to me. I don't startle any more. I jump, but it's the same way all eleven year olds jump. I still don't like to be touched (I doubt I'll ever get over that), but it doesn't bother me; well, it bothers me, but I can act as though it doesn't bother me. Even my nightmares have turned into vague bad dreams, instead of the torturous events they were before. I can sleep through the entire night. That alone makes being kidnapped by centaurs worth it. Please don't tell them I said that! That whole "what's best for the herd" mentality they have is intimidating.
I have to ask...what was that group you were with? Werewolves, I know. But why were you all together? Take care of yourself, Remus.
Harry
Dear Harry,
The group was the Cooperative. It's an experimental group, based upon the idea of the advancement of werewolf rights and interest. It works to educate those without educational opportunities and find flexible employment for the unemployed. Does that answer your question? If not, just ask and I'll explain.
I'm glad you're doing better. Please let me know if you need to talk...or anything at all. I'm here for you, no matter if you're eleven or twenty. I'm currently working as a Latin tutor, so my time is fairly flexible. I don't know how long I'll be able to refrain from boxing the ears of my current student...he's quite dense and does not study. I don't know why Smeltings bothers...he will never be able to pass his exam this year. I may have to put a spell on him. Perhaps hoping for a miracle would be better?
I know you've already been through school once, but how is it going? Any problems? Are you learning anything new? Let me know. You make sure to take care of yourself, even with house elf help.
Remus
P.S. – I won't tell the centaurs. – R.
Dear Remus,
It's amazing how much I missed in school the first time around. Then again, I did have a crazy man trying to kill me. I have discovered most professors just want their students to learn. Any student expressing interest is encouraged and even pushed to greater heights. Well, except Quirrell. I avoid him as much as possible. Just biding my time there.
I've shown "talent" at Potions. I haven't told Snape I've already worked with a Potions Master. He might die of shock, and then kill me for making him lose his composure. I think he actually cares about me. He's confronted me about my relatives and taken an interest in my well-being, even to go as far as nagging (yes, nagging!) me about my eating habits. Honestly, I have a house elf dedicated to providing balanced, nutritious meals. I'm okay with the eating thing.
Snape is giving me private lessons. Don't tell anyone. He's still protective of me and it's become worse since I was kidnapped by the herd. He claims he only cares because I can make potions. Well, I think he actually cares about me, but is hiding behind the potions excuse. What do you think?
Harry
Dear Harry,
I always knew there was a softer side to Snape. I fear you have discovered his greatest secret. Underneath the Potions Master does exist a man with emotions. I'm very happy that he has "taken an interest" in you. Everyone needs someone to work with. You can't fool me. I can tell you enjoy the time you spend with him. He obviously challenges you. Just avoid blowing yourself up. It'd be quite a waste after everything you've gone through.
I remember you mentioning a confrontation with Quirrell. Must you? Can't you just pass on the knowledge of the possession to someone else? A teacher? Your Head of House? Please consider alternatives before confronting him yourself. Take care of yourself.
Remus
P.S. - I know you don't like sweets these days, but every boy at Hogwarts will have a Chocolate Frog card collection...no reason for you not to have one as well. Enjoy them, Harry. You deserve a bit of childhood. R.
Harry folded the letter back into its envelope and inspected the box Remus had sent him. There were six Chocolate Frogs in the box. Harry picked up the first one, broke the seal, and caught the Frog with ease as it leapt from its box. He bit off its head and smirked a bit as Terry gave him a shocked look. "You're eating sweets!"
"So I am." Harry agreed as he slid the Chocolate Frog card into his satchel.
Snape was not in a happy mood this morning. Oh, no. First, he woke up late. Then Peeves had made his way into the plumbing and blocked the hot water flow just before Snape rinsed his hair. After that, he found that he had misplaced his notes for his classes and Potter's afternoon lesson. The coffee at breakfast needed a warming charm, which turned it slightly bitter. Now the mystery that was Potter was practically taunting him. House points would be in trouble today.
Potter himself was unaware of Snape's scrutiny. The boy had changed since his kidnapping, but not in the way Snape had expected. Psychology (a sadly neglected science in the magical world, in Snape's opinion) told him that most children would become withdrawn, yet clingy to their protectors after such an experience of kidnapping. Nightmares and boundary testing often followed as the child attempted to regain some solid footing in his life. He had braced himself for the radical changes and had prepared to offer himself up as confidant to the boy. Potter was not cooperating.
Potter had changed, but in the opposite direction. He had become relaxed, instead of tense, cheerful, instead of withdrawn. The boy slept deeper and without dreams to wake him. Yes, Potter's behavior was an enigma to Snape and Snape certainly enjoyed puzzles. But not like this. This had no logic to it. Evidence and study had told Snape what to expect, but none of it was turning out the way he predicted.
THERE GOES THAT BLASTED OWL! Snape scowled at the snowy owl descending towards Potter. That was just another layer to the puzzle that was Potter. Somewhere, somehow, Potter had found a pen friend. Snape had spent some time watching/stalking Potter, and the boy had made three separate trips to the owlery in the last week. Moreover, this pen friend was not anyone with whom Snape was familiar. Worse, Potter had yet to tell Snape about it. It's as though Potter has found...hmm, what to call it? A confidant. Snape was surprised to feel a bit put out. What had changed that allowed Potter comfort from someone else? Hmm...it is time to increase my presence in Potter's life. For his safety. Snape returned his attention to the subject of his thoughts and nearly allowed his jaw to drop in surprise. IS POTTER EATING CHOCOLATE FOR BREAKFAST?!
The halls of Hogwarts were silent as night drifted through the windows and covered everything in slumber. Whispers of snoring from portraits and suits of armor gave an atmosphere of lethargy. Starlight filtered through the glass and added a touch of glitter to an otherwise dark night. Everyone should have been asleep at this point of the night, where night was starting to end and day was about to begin. Everyone except Harry Potter.
Harry Potter was having fun. Not just any fun, but "I'm spying on someone and he is completely unaware" fun. He crept down the hall after Ron Weasely. Harry's invisibility cloak was doing an excellent job of hiding him from view, and his training provided stealth and silence. All in all, it was fun!
Ron Weasley was a different matter. Harry had to wonder how involved Professor McGonagall was in her students' lives. She obviously hadn't noticed anything amiss with one of her first years. Ron was pale, unable to sleep, off his food (truly a miracle) and lacked any level of concentration. Harry had spent the last two weeks watching Ron Weasley at various times and could come to only one conclusion after watching Ron leave Gryffindor tower in the middle of the night. Something was going on.
Harry could only stare when Ron turned down the Defense hallway. What is he doing down there? Harry followed as close as he could without giving himself away. He needed to know what Quirrell was up to before acting on it. Remus had mentioned taking this to another person. A teacher, even Dumbledore. Harry couldn't. He didn't want the attention he was sure he would receive should he try. He could imagine the scene. Hello, Professor. Listen, I think Quirrell is possessed by the former Dark Lord Voldemort and that they are up to something, possibly stealing the Philosopher's Stone. Care to do anything about that? How do I know? Good question! That's a question I can't really answer, but all the same, why don't we go take care of that little case of possession?
Harry broke himself out of his thoughts and turned his attention back to Ron. He watched as the redhead raised a hand and flattened it against the door. Harry heard a click and the door opened wide. Harry ran forward on silent feet and slid into the office just as the door shut. He gave a quick breath and backed into a corner so that he could observe without being noticed.
"Welcome again, young Weasely." Harry's skin literally crawled at the voice he heard. It wasn't Quirrell. This was Voldemort rasping from the back of Quirrell's head. You can do this, Potter. He can't hurt you in his condition. Harry braced himself and pushed away all of his thoughts. He needed to be in the here and now. The past was the past.
Quirrell's hand reached out and patted Ron on the head. Harry shivered as he recalled Voldemort doing the same thing to him. Ew. "Come here, child." Quirrell's wand appeared, and he muttered a spell Harry had never heard before. A glow started to surround Ron and Quirrell/Voldemort uncorked a small vial of silvery liquid. Unicorn's blood. Quirrell/Voldemort poured the blood into a goblet before turning to Ron. He raised his wand and drew it down through the misty golden glow that surrounded Ron. A small piece left the rest and Quirrell/Voldemort guided it to the goblet. He stirred with the tip of his wand and drank off whatever it was he had created. Quirrell/Voldemort gave a compulsive shudder and sighed in deep satisfaction. "Well done, Mr. Weasley." Ron only nodded vacantly.
That's confirmation of the Imperious Curse and obviously some kind of ritual. Is he stealing Ron's life? His magic? Harry reminded himself that he didn't know half of what Voldemort knew and started berating himself for not taking up Voldemort on his offers of the books. He could have learned something. Past is past, Potter!
Harry inched back as Ron turned and opened the door. Harry didn't notice Quirrell/Voldemort staring at the door as Harry slipped out behind Ron and followed him back to Gryffindor tower. Once Ron was safely inside the dorm, Harry said a quick invisibility spell and folded his cloak up and stuffed it into the small bag he carried. The cloak was great when speed wasn't necessary, but now he wanted to go kill a basilisk before Voldemort got any ideas about using it.
Harry cleaned Gryffindor's sword with his handkerchief before allowing it to return to Dumbledore's care. "Thank you for bringing this to me, Fawkes." Harry told the phoenix after he slid the sword into the scabbard. "We make a pretty good team, don't we?" Fawkes trilled and rubbed his head on the side of Harry's head. "Yes, silly bird. I know I'm yours. No other phoenix will ever try to claim me." Harry said with a laugh as Fawkes continued to lavish phoenix-affection in the form of chirping and caresses. "You should go back to the office before Dumbledore misses you."
Fawkes trilled and blinked his eyes at Harry. He wiggled his tail feathers and Harry understood. "Oh, going to see me back in bed, are you?" Harry asked. Fawkes chirped and then started pecking at Harry's hair. "Give it up, Fawkes. Only house elf magic and Narcissa Malfoy can make it lay flat." Fawkes produced a funny noise that sounded like a growl before returning to his mission of fixing Harry's hair. Harry grasped Fawkes' tail feathers and felt the world slip around him as Fawkes transported him to Ravenclaw dormitory.
"Is this a hint, bird?" Harry asked in a whisper. He and Fawkes were in Harry's dorm room, where all of his roommates were sleeping. Fawkes didn't make any noise; he just pecked Harry on the shoulder once and disappeared with Gryffindor's sword. Harry rubbed the spot, checked the time and found that it was well after two in the morning. "Hmm, bed would be good." Harry said to himself as he stowed his bag away in his truck and pulled out a t-shirt and sweats. He did a quick bathroom trip and fell into bed. He wouldn't train that morning. He would find some time later in the day. Perhaps right before dinner? No, he had a class with Snape...Harry was asleep before he could complete the thought.
Harry opened his eyes as the door to his quarters opened. His trainer was there, carrying a tray. Harry knew that that was usually a nurse's job, or at the least an intern. Why would his trainer be doing it?
"Hello, Potter. Why don't you sit up?" Harry pushed himself up to a sitting position and his trainer lowered the tray to rest on Harry's lap. "The medic assured me that you are able to handle this type of food and that you could pick up things with your hands, even bandaged as they are."
Harry stared at the man for a moment. "Yes, sir." He didn't quite have the air to bellow it, but he did say it sharply as he could.
"Relax. I'm not here as your superior officer right now, Potter." Harry went back to staring at the man, carefully blanking his mind, just in case. His earlier practice with Occlumency served him well here; he could now keep everything away from his conscience mind. Otherwise, he would have already strangled this man out of rage. "How are you feeling?"
"Adequate, sir." Harry answered shortly. The other man motioned for Harry to begin eating and Harry reached out for the bowl of broth. Harry was well-accustomed to this type of diet. Madame Pomfrey had used it frequently when Harry was suffering from nightly visions of Voldemort's activities.
"The medic tells me that your progress is good." Harry put down his bowl and eyed the man out of the corner of his eye. Was he trying to make conversation? That was a scary thought. Harry didn't answer him and wondered if this was "Doc's" attempt to change the training. "I've gotten some new books for you to read, if you're feeling up to it. I'll bring them in later." Harry nodded. "Also, a WWN set. I thought you might like some music while you're confined to bed." Harry didn't answer this time. Harry had been confined to his bed several times before, always as a punishment of trying to run away from training. Not being under coercion spells certainly helped the experience. The only problem was that the medic had caught him returning from the bathroom without having notified anyone of needing to get out of bed. Harry's bunk now had a spell on it to alert the medical staff if Harry got out of bed without one of them there. It was actually a variant of a baby monitoring spell, the medic was pleased to tell Harry. The comment did its work. Harry did not leave his bed without someone from the medical team there to watch him. It was bad enough they thought he needed a spell.
"You had another nightmare last night," his trainer said calmly.
Harry nodded. He had several nightmares a night.
"The medic says that you aren't getting enough rest, but you've refused Dreamless Sleep potion. Want to tell me why?"
Harry wondered if he could get away with pretending to fall asleep to avoid this question. "Potter?"
"I can't take Dreamless Sleep anymore, sir." Harry told him. "I've taken so much that I'm almost addicted. Madame Pomfrey at Hogwarts was supposed to write it in my medical file, sir."
"Ah, I see. We don't have access to that information yet." His trainer answered. Odd. Harry was sure that Dumbledore would have turned everything like that over to his trainer. "We're working on it. Anything else medical I should know about you?"
Harry debated making up something that would make them ease up, but he couldn't bring himself to lie. They would receive the information sooner or later from the way his trainer spoke of it. "Calming potions have no effect on me. Don't bother with them. All bones in my right hand have been replaced once due to an idiotic teacher at Hogwarts. I've had several sprains, broken bones, and two dislocations healed by Madame Pomfrey, as well as several cuts, scrapes and bruises to accompany the other injuries. I've been possessed once. Voldemort never tried it again."
His trainer sat in silence for a moment before raising his head to study Harry. "And before Hogwarts?" He asked.
"Nothing of note, sir." Harry told him shortly. He did not wish to speak of his relatives.
"I don't know why I didn't insist on it before..." the man muttered before rising from his seat and going to the door. He made a vague motion and came back into the room. "We're going to do a full medical workup on you, Mr. Potter." Harry blinked at his name. He was only ever addressed as "Potter" here. Harry looked up as his usual medic and two nurses in scrubs came in. Harry tried to swallow. Those nurses looked like they could break Harry in half.
What followed was the most embarrassing time of Harry's life up to that point. The medic insisted on seeing absolutely everything. Worse, Harry's trainer wouldn't leave while the exam was taking place. Even blood was taken, which Harry thought was a Muggle thing until the medic told him that they could customize potions for Harry. A quill took down everything the medic said or discovered while they were doing the exam. Harry had tried to fight at one point until the nurses stepped forward. A sharp look from both the medic and trainer made him relax back into his bed. He didn't want them knowing about his relatives, especially Vernon's actions right before Harry had gone to the Weasleys for Bill and Fleur's wedding. He hadn't wanted anyone to know about that, EVER. The medic found out and then his trainer knew, too. Harry hated his life.
After everything was over and Harry had no dignity remaining, the medic pronounced himself satisfied and told Harry's trainer that the medical report would be on the man's desk within a day. The man left at that point, taking his two hulking nurses with him. Harry refused to look at his trainer. He wanted to disappear through the floor. He didn't want to deal with this right now.
"I thought so." The man said quietly. "I had my suspicions." Harry decided that he wouldn't feel better that something other than morbid curiosity had prompted this invasion of privacy. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" He asked as he pulled Harry's only chair over to the bed.
Harry glared at the man and refused to answer. His trainer met his glare and stared Harry down until Harry had to avert his gaze. "Ages six, seven, eight, ten in primary. Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen more than once, and finally at fifteen. After that, I quit trying to tell someone. No one was listening. People were dying in the war at that point. Why would anyone think my still being alive was a bad thing?" Harry shrugged and rolled away from his trainer.
"Did you try telling Dumbledore?" His trainer asked.
"Who did you think I was telling? I quit trusting him when I was fifteen years old. He wouldn't help me. All of the other teachers were following his orders, as McGonagall told me when I tried talking to her. I quit looking for help then. It was easier to turn my energies to endurance." Harry told him. "I really don't wish to talk about this. Sir."
Silence stretched between the two of them at that point. Harry ground his teeth for a moment. He'd like nothing more than to strike out at this man. He had discovered all of Harry's secrets. Harry had nothing left.
"For what it's worth, Potter, I'm sorry. I didn't know. I had false intelligence about your life." The man said with some odd emotion in his voice.
You and everyone else, sir. Harry thought to himself. He only shrugged.
"Things are going to change around here, Potter. I've been following orders up to this point. I'm taking over, but I'll need your cooperation to make it work. I'm not expecting you to suddenly start trusting me or confide in me. I know I'll never be able to earn that from you. You do need training, even you have to admit that. We'll talk tomorrow. Think things over. It can get easier than what we were doing before." The man patted Harry's shoulder and moved away from the bed. "Rest up, Potter." With that, the man left the room. Harry was left alone with his thoughts until a stack of books and a wireless set appeared on his nightstand. The top book wasQuidditch Through the Ages. Harry fell asleep with that book not long after he started reading it.
Harry finished off his essay and tucked it into his book bag. An apple appeared on the table in front of him and he grinned. "Thanks, Serry." He whispered as he picked it up. He was on his way to the Potions classroom for his lesson with Professor Snape. Things were going well today, even though he was tired from staying up so late last night. He bit into his apple as he shouldered his book bag. Harry left the library and started down to the dungeons. He and Snape were going to start on advanced healing potions today. Harry knew most of them, but that didn't mean he didn't want practice at them. In fact, he would welcome it. He needed to replenish some of his from the time Dobby had stolen them during his visit to the Malfoys. He hadn't been able to find a lot of time to re-stock everything. Besides, Madame Pomfrey practically begged Harry to come to her should he need anything in the way of potions or medical attention. One would think that she would calm down after having him in her clutches for seven full days, but she still insisted on giving him a check-up once a week or so. She seemed convinced that he was delicate.
"What are you grinning about?" Snape demanded as Harry entered the Potions classroom.
"Madame Pomfrey's overprotective tendencies." Harry answered as he finished his apple and disposed of it. "How are you today, sir?" Harry asked as he removed his outer robe and hung it in its usual place before pulling on his work apron.
"Fine, Potter. A touch of headache."
"So that's why we're making these potions! You're out of your personal stock!" Harry smiled and folded his arms.
"Try not to look so smug, Potter. Get started on those ingredients over there, if you please. Migraine potions should be easy for you." Snape muttered. Harry hid his grin and went over to prepare the ingredients. Twenty minutes later found him stirring the potion under Snape's watchful eye. Snape plucked the stirring rod from Harry's hand after the last stroke and ladled out a dose into a goblet. He cooled it with a spell and drank it off.
"That must have been a really bad headache, sir." Harry said as Snape banished the goblet to the sink.
"Yes, quite." Snape agreed. "Speaking of headaches...would you care to tell me why you ate a Chocolate Frog for breakfast this morning?"
"I had finished my breakfast before I ate it!" Harry objected.
"Mr. Potter, are you in danger of becoming a typical eleven year old?" Snape asked as he began to set up another cauldron.
Harry glared at him for a moment before grinning. "Maybe," he answered. "Just maybe."
"Heaven help us all." Snape said quietly. Harry and Snape worked quietly for the next two hours. "Dinnertime, Potter." Snape said finally as Harry finished bottling a blood-clotting potion.
"Yes, sir." Harry said. He finished cleaning his station, wished Snape a good night, and went to dinner. He and Terry talked about the Transfiguration class and how McGonagall certainly surprised them with that pop quiz. Harry wondered if she had done that to boost everyone's scores in Ravenclaw. She knew that they had pulled together a study session; she had passed them in the library while they were deep in the intricacies of changing insects into clothing.
Harry wandered through the halls after dinner. He knew he should go study, or write that essay Snape wanted on the properties of healing potions, or something else. For now, he just wanted to wander. Things were starting to come to a head in his mind. Quirrell/Voldemort was definitely trying something without anyone else aware of it. Harry decided that he needed to act soon.
"There you are!" A Stupefy spell hit Harry in the back and Harry fell to the ground.
Author's Note: Blame the Muse for that little cliffhanger! Not me!