Chapter Twenty-seven

September 1st, 1990

Harry, his eyes gleaming with excitement, sat next to Snape in the Great Hall. There was a cheery chatter as students filled their tables and other students filed up in front of the Sorting Hat.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," McGonagall told the first-years. Harry listened to the Professor intently as she called off their names. "Brittany Gray."

A girl with short, brown hair and confident brown eyes walked up to the stool, sitting down on it while McGonagall placed the Hat on her head.

"Gryffindor!" The Hat called out, and everybody clapped politely. The Gryffindor House clapped the loudest of everybody else, Harry found.

As the rest of the Sorting went on, Harry found that the only exciting thing about it was waiting to see what house each person was sorted into. Other than that, he was becoming pretty tired.

"—Professor Aureus will be temporarily replacing Professor Quirrel in Defence Against The Dark Arts." Harry heard Dumbledore announce, just tuning in then as all of the students took their seat in their correct house tables.

A tall woman with long, straight brown hair stood up. Professor Aureus, Harry expected, was one down from him. A smile tugged at the corners of Professor Aureus's lips as her large, almost aqua-blue eyes scanned the students. She waved brightly, then sat down.

Harry clapped along with the rest of the students. Harry listened as Dumbledore made more announcements, and clapped when everyone else started to clap. Finally, Harry straightened his posture as food appeared on the tables, and all of the students dug in.

"I can't wait until Quidditch starts up," Harry said excitedly to Snape as he eyed the chicken leg on his plate hungrily. "When does the Quidditch season start, Professor?" He grasped onto the chicken leg and took a bite from the side.

"October," Snape said briefly, watching Harry in disgust as Harry tore the chicken off of the bone with his teeth. "Don't be such a pig. Your food is not going anywhere, it just won't get up a leave; take your time."

Harry looked up at the Potions master sheepishly, taking a napkin and politely dabbing his face. "Sorry… I'm starving. I can't help it." He set the chicken leg down on his plate, clearing his throat before picking it up and taking off tiny pieces of the chicken with his two front teeth. He glanced up at the Potions master, who was looking at Harry with raised eyebrows. "Better?"

"Much," Snape replied curtly, turning back to his own food. Snape picked up his goblet and tipped it to his lips, taking a sip.

Harry watched Snape drink curiously. "Is that… coffee?"

Snape raised his eyebrows, glancing at the half-full goblet. "Coffee? Definitely not. It's hot tea."

Harry nodded, picking his chicken back up and tried to eat it without looking or acting like a 'pig.'

As he ate the chicken, he couldn't take away his thoughts about the nightmare he had a while back, with the mist… and the man. He had been thinking about that nightmare lately, and more pieces of it came together. The dream still confused Harry at times, though. He wished everything was a bit more descriptive of the dream, because now it was just blurry and confusing.

He still remembered the pain; the pain was very clear. He didn't have a clue who the man was anymore, or what parchment had to do with anything. Harry kept trying to remember to ask Snape if he had any potion to bring back the memory of the dream back so it'd be more detailed, or if he had anything magical he could use, but every time he forgot. I'll ask him now, Harry thought, so I won't forget.

"Professor," Harry started. "D'you remember the dream I had a while ago?"

"Quite clearly, yes," Snape replied.

"I keep thinking there's something… important to it, but I don't remember all of it that well. D'you have a potion or something I could take to make it more clear?" Harry asked, looking up at Snape, who looked thoughtful.

"I think so. Come to my office after and I'll give it to you to try," Snape replied, and Harry nodded. Anything to increase his memory of the dream.

-

Harry waited in Snape's office chair until Snape found the memory potion. He was quite avid to remember the dream more than he did, so he could finally see what it was that he found so important.

"Here it is," Snape said, holding up a Potion vial. He handed it to Harry, who looked it over hesitantly. Snape looked at Harry in annoyance. "Well? It's not poisoned."

"I know," Harry said, taking the cover off it and sipping it. He felt a sudden drowsiness overcome him, and suddenly everything started to fade… and then something reappeared…

-

"No, not again," Harry moaned, wrapping his arms around himself as the rain from the storm splashed down on his head violently. He watched the man stare at the black mist in awe.

"Help me…" the mist rasped. "Let me…"

The man, like Harry remembered, nodded and the mist went through the mans eyes, ears, nose and mouth.

"Thank you, Quirrel," the mist thanked, though now the 'mist' was just another face on the back of Quirrel's head.

Quirrel… Harry thought to himself as his scar started to burn. That's who it was!

"Please make the pain go away," Harry moaned, dropping down to his knees as his scar burned intensely, like somebody lit a fire on his face. "Please…"

"Harry Potter," Quirrel spat, looking down at Harry as if he just noticed him on the wet pavement. "Can it be?"

"P… ease," Harry moaned, clawing at his scar. He just wanted it off, so the pain would go away. "Make it st… top."

"Is the poor baby's scar hurting?" Quirrel said in mock concern, bending down until he came face-to-face with Harry. "Aw. If only I could make it better." He took the tip of his fingernail and traced the outline of Harry's scar, causing Harry to writhe and jerk from the pain.

"Stop it!" Harry gasped out. "Do—n't t—touch me. It hurts." Tears pricked the corners of his eyes.

"I think I do have a way to make the pain go away," Quirrel said, in almost a whisper. There was a glint in his eye that Harry didn't like… that made him shiver with Goosebumps.

He suddenly had a sharp, glinting knife in his hand, and Harry gasped. "W—where did you get that?"

"Does it matter, Potter?" Quirrel spat, a look of disgust crossing his face. Soon, a malevolent smirk replaced the disgust. "Soon it'll be all over, Potter. Say 'hi' to your parents, won't you? I'm sure you're just dying to see them…"

Quirrel pushed Harry's sleeve up, and the knife in his hand skimmed Harry's arm. Harry cringed from the pain, holding in tears.

"It's just a dream… it's not real," Harry said to himself as the salty tears soon escaped from his eyes and leaked down his cheeks.

"Oh, this is very much real," Quirrel responded, looking at the bloodstained knife. "It won't hurt so much, Potter. Believe me, in honor of 'the-boy-who-lived'—" He spat that part out—"I'll make this quick and painless. You won't feel a thing; it'll all be too fast."

-

Snape hadn't meant for the potion to cause Harry to fall back asleep and re-live the dream, if he was. He didn't know what to do as Harry's body started to jerk and writhe, or when blood started to seep from Harry's arm.

He pulled the boys sleeve up to find a long gash on Harry's left arm. "Wake up," Snape instructed sternly, shaking Harry's shoulder. All Harry did was scrunch his eyes up in pain and jerk and writhe some more, letting out a yelp.

He really didn't know how to wake Harry up.

-

"Stop moving," Quirrel snapped. "If you don't stop, Potter, I'll aim in the wrong spot. It'll hurt even more if I don't get the knife directly in your stomach."

"How do you know that?" Harry said, looking up at Quirrel in anger.

"I don't," Quirrel said with a malevolent smirk. "But I like the sound it makes."

Harry stared into Quirrel's dull eyes, terrified. He wasn't ready to die yet.

"Why do you want to kill me?" Harry said quietly, still looking terrified. "I never did anything to you."

"No," Quirrel admitted with a look of pure hatred. "Not me… but my lord."

"Indeed," Quirrel's other face hissed. "I have been waiting for this day for so long, Harry Potter."

With one last sharp intake of breath, Harry felt the sharp, cold, metal knife plunge into his stomach. His body jerked as Quirrel pulled the knife out of his stomach, and Harry doubled over, soaked in his own blood. Then everything became black, and he felt as if he was being sucked up.

-

When Harry awoke, he felt a pain in his stomach. He didn't know where he was, only that he was laying in a bed. All of his surroundings were blurry, but maybe that was because his glasses were off of his face.

"Harry," Snape's voice said, and Harry felt cold metal in his hands; his glasses. He adjusted them onto his face, trying his best not to sit up since his stomach ached.

"Where am I?" Harry asked in a hoarse voice. "Am I dead? Am I in heaven? Are my parents here?"

"If I'm here then you're obviously not dead," Snape said, sitting on the bed beside Harry. "You're in the hospital wing, and no, your parents are not here."

"Oh," Harry said quietly. "Is he here?"

Snape looked at Harry, his brow furrowed. "He? Who's 'he'? If you mean your snake, no, he's in your room like before. I really didn't have any time to tell that snake where we are."

"No, not Slyther," Harry said, giving his head a weak shake. "Him. Quirrel… and his 'lord.'"

Snape paled. "Lord?"

Harry nodded, a faraway look on his face. "Voldemort."

Snape scowled as he looked down at Harry. "I had a feeling that's who you were talking about. And never call him by that name, it's the 'Dark Lord'."

Harry frowned. "I don't care what I called him. He killed me!"

"He obviously didn't kill you since you're still here," Snape pointed out in annoyance.

"Well, Quirrel did anyway. He tried, at least," Harry continued, correcting himself. "But… he was there. He was Quirrel—the other half of Quirrel's face, anyway." He pulled the blankets of the hospital bed off him and looked at him stomach, which was bandaged up. Blood seeped through the white bandages, and Harry couldn't help but notice some patches of dried blood over his arms.

"Oh, Harry Potter!" A womans voice exclaimed. She had an American accent. "I heard what happened, you poor dear!" Harry frowned at the unfamiliar voice, and saw that it was the new DADA Professor, Professor Aureus.

The woman rushed over to the other side of Harry's bed and looked down at him pityingly. "Ooh, you poor, poor darling boy," she said, as if talking to a baby. "Bad things are always happening to you, aren't they, dear?"

"Uh, Professor Aureus—" Harry started uncomfortably as the woman brushed back Harry's bangs.

"Oh, it's Topaz, dear," Professor Aureus corrected. "How are you feeling Harry, love? As soon as I heard of your misfortune I came down as soon as possible!"

Harry frowned. Misfortune? It was more like his near-death experience.

"Erm—thank you?"

Professor Aureus stroked Harry's hair affectionately. "Such a polite little thing, aren't you, dear? Well, I should be heading out, but you can count on me being back tomorrow, Harry, dear!" Aureus smiled sweetly and wiggled her fingers at Harry before walking out of the hospital wing doors.

"She looked so shy during supper," Harry commented to Snape, not looking away from the spot where Professor Aureus stood. When he did look up at Snape, however, he was annoyed to find Snape looking down at him with mild amusement.

"Yes, well, I should 'head out' soon, too, dear," he said sarcastically, sweeping back Harry's bangs like Aureus did. "But you can count on me being back tomorrow!"

Harry scowled as Snape stood up from the side of Harry's bed and walked out of the hospital room, leaving Harry to lay in a dull pain and think about what had just happened.

-

A/N: Well, as I read this over I find that that was very OOC of Snape! Of course, when I wrote it I already knew that, but honestly, I couldn't resist!