Chapter Twenty-one

"Potter, can you keep it down just a bit?" Snape demanded, glancing up from a Potions book he was reading. Harry, who was having a conversation with Slyther, looked up at the professor.

"Sorry. Can't you tune our conversation out or something, like you said you could do? Then you won't hear us at all," Harry suggested, feeling proud in the black cloak that he was wearing (which he had almost left at the Dursleys, but thankfully didn't.) Snape sighed, and turned back to his book.

So has your scar been hurting any, Harry? Slyther asked. Since that storm, that is.

"No," Harry said. "And I'm glad. It never ever hurt like that before. Wasn't it weird that it happened, and then the storm was over? Don't you think?"

Yes, Slyther agreed. Do you think it meant something?

Harry looked down at the snake skeptically. "Like what? Someone's going to return from the dead and try to kill me?" He laughed. "That'd be something. Then this un-dead person would try to kill the whole world, and I'd save them, and then I'd be a hero!" He puffed his chest out, putting on a proud expression. "But that'd be something, huh?" He let his chest deflate, and started to laugh. "Very unlikely, but it's OK to dream, right?"

I wouldn't want to have the world on my shoulders, Slyther remarked. I'd get too… stressed.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know if I would or not." He got up from the couch, glancing at Snape who was in the armchair not too far from the couch, not taking his eyes away from the book in his hands.

Harry grabbed a piece of parchment from the table in the interconnecting room, a quill and a bottle of ink.

Who are you writing to? asked Slyther.

"No one," Harry replied. "I want to draw."

What are you going to draw, then?

"I'm not sure," Harry admitted. "Something." He lay down on his stomach, staring at the blank piece of parchment for a minute, before he dipped the end of the quill in ink and started to draw something that came to mind.

Ew, Slyther said a few minutes later, as he slithered up to Harry and peered at the parchment. What are you drawing?

Harry stopped drawing to look at his own picture intently. "I don't know. Isn't it ugly?"

The kinds of things you imagine are grotesque, Slyther said. Harry frowned as he looked at the parchment. He had to admit that he wasn't an artist, but the picture did look grotesque.

Somehow, the image of a bald man had come to mind. So, Harry drew it. And then things just sort of added on, and he was left with his picture: The man, that had appeared out of nowhere in his mind, was said bald; and where the back of his head would be, was replaced by another face, this time looking appalling and hideous.

Harry shrugged. "Do you think I should throw it away, or frame it?" He grinned before getting up and walking towards Snape. "Professor?" He questioned. "Want to see the picture that I drew?"

"Can't you go find Albus and show him?" Snape demanded, glancing up from the book. Harry looked thoughtful, considering the question.

"But I want to show you," Harry insisted. Without waiting another second, he held the parchment up in front of his face, showing Snape his artwork. "Weird, isn't it?" He turned the picture back around, surveying it again. "Can we frame it? It looks kind of… cool."

Snape raised his eyebrows, looking at the picture that Harry had drew again. "That looks almost familiar," Snape mused suddenly, looking at the picture more intently. "Very familiar, but I don't know where. What, exactly, is it suppose to be of?"

Harry gave his shoulders a small shrug. "A bald head of a man, with another face coming out of the back of the other mans head," Harry explained. He jumped up onto the couch, while Snape still sat in the armchair, and placed the picture on the cushion next to him. "Can you tell me all of the classes and who teaches what?" Harry asked.

"Why?"

"I don't know," Harry said cheerfully. "I want to know. Please." He didn't wait for Snape to reply to his question, but kept on going. "You teach Potions, don't you? What are some other classes?" Snape sighed and put the book down, looking annoyed.

"Transfiguration—"

"Taught by...?" Harry questioned.

"Minerva McGonagall," Snape replied brusquely, continuing. "Charms, taught by Professor Flitwick. Astronomy, taught by Professor Sinistra. History of Magic, taught by Professor Binns. Herbology, taught by Professor Sprout. Defence Against The Dark Arts, which is taught by Professor Quirrel." Harry frowned curiously.

"I haven't heard of Professor Quirrel before. Is he not here for the summer?" Harry asked.

"He's out 'traveling' around Europe," Snape said curtly, picking the Potions book back up and flipped back to the previous page he was on. A moment later, Snape lowered the book, glancing at the parchment, which sat on the cushion next to Harry. "Flip that back over," Snape instructed, talking about the parchment. Harry looked surprised, but obeyed. Harry picked the parchment up and held it out in front of him, letting Snape survey it again. "That's why it looks so familiar," Snape said quietly, almost to himself. "This picture you drew," he said to Harry, "is of Quirinus Quirrel."

Harry looked at Snape, as if he was crazy. "How could I have drew a picture of a man I don't even know?" He pulled the parchment back, looking at it. "And does this 'Professor Quirrel' have two heads?"

"Well, no," Snape admitted. "But that face, the normal face, is of Quirrel."

"That's odd," Harry said softly. "The Defence Against The Dark Arts professor? I just don't see how I could draw his face…"

"I'm just as surprised as you are," Snape said, lifting the book back up. Harry gave Snape another look before turning back to the picture.

The DADA teacher, huh? Slyther said, still on the mat, which lay on the floor in front of the fire, which wasn't lit yet.

"DADA?" Harry repeated, confused.

DADA. Defence Against the Dark Arts… Slyther said, and Harry nodded.

"I get it. What about the DADA professor?"

You drew him. How could you draw him, if you don't even know him?

"Don't ask me," Harry said, "the picture just came into my head, and drew it on paper. I'm not even sure if this is what the DADA professor looks like."

"Well, you don't have to be sure," Snape spoke up, not taking his eyes off of a page in the Potions book. "I know what Quirinus Quirrel looks like, and though you're not the best artist Potter, it almost resembles Quirrel. A bit."

"I thought you were tuning us out," Harry said, frowning. Snape didn't say anything, but continued to stare at his book. Harry turned back to the picture, looking at it just once more. Did this picture have any significance towards the future, or was it something that Harry had just created in his mind, though it looked an awful like a professor (so Snape said).

And just where, exactly, did the image that formed in his mind come from?

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