Chapter Thirty

Harry kept his eyes half open, half shut as he listened to Snape and Dumbledore's conversation. Both Professors thought that Harry was still asleep, and none of them knew that really, Harry was awake.

"What's going to happen to the girl?" Snape asked. "If Aureus is in a deep coma, then…"

"Yes, well she has an aunt that would be willing to look after her," Dumbledore replied. "It's the only other relative I could find for her. Her father, Dennis Haggorty, firmly refused to even look at the poor girl."

"She's not exactly a 'poor girl'," Snape muttered. "She's got quite a mouth on her. Didn't you hear the girl mouthing off to you when you tried to talk to her?"

"I did, Severus. But, I'm just thankful they didn't do anything drastic on her since she did, technically, kill Topaz Aureus. Saving Harry or not. After all, there's no chance of Aureus to ever wake up."

"Have you found another Defence Against The Dark Arts Professor?" Snape questioned, changing the subject.

"The only available person was Annabella Bellulus, but I'm not even sure if she's willing to take up the Defence Against The Dark Arts position," Dumbledore replied.

"Erm… Professors?" Harry said sleepily, pretending that he was just stirring then.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said, moving towards Harry's bed some more. "How are you feeling? Better?"

Harry frowned. "Yeah," he said, pulling the covers off of him and pulling his shirt up a bit. There wasn't any bandages on his stomach, and the wound was healed. "What happened?"

"Poppy did a good job on you, didn't she?" Snape said. "She stitched you up while you were sleeping. Thought it'd be less painful. I actually thought you'd wake up during it, but just goes to show that you can sleep through anything."

Harry frowned. "Stitch? She did it the muggle way?"

Dumbledore nodded, glancing at Snape. "I'll let you take class off today," Dumbledore said to Snape.

"What about the classes? Who will teach them?" Snape asked, looking surprised.

"Don't worry," Dumbledore said with a smile. "I'll take care of that."

He gave both another smile before walking towards the doors.

"So you're positive that you feel all right?" Snape said to Harry, seating himself on the side of Harry's bed like always. "You don't feel dizzy or sick or… nauseous?"

Harry shook his head and sat up. "I feel fine. Maybe a little… unsure about some things," Harry admitted.

"Like—?" Snape gave Harry a questioning look, but Harry shook his head.

"It's nothing, really. I'm just wondering what I'm going to do when Quirrel comes back to Hogwarts and starts to teach again. He's going to be returning when I start classes, isn't he?" Harry asked, and Snape nodded. "He tried to kill me once," he said, "what if he tries it again?"

"He won't," Snape said confidently. "Why would he? I'll be around."

"I guess," Harry said, but he didn't sound convinced. "But it's going to be weird with him in the school, while I'm also there." He paused, realization lit across his face. "This isn't good," he said. "Quirrel… he… Dark Lord—"

"I think what you're trying to say," Snape interrupted, looking slightly annoyed, "is that you think Quirrel is playing host to the Dark Lord?"

Harry nodded. "Exactly. And the Dark Lord is out to get me, isn't he? What if they know about you adopting me, since it was in the Daily Prophet, and you're the Dark Lords… erm… follower?"

Snape scowled. "Spy, Harry, spy!"

"Right," Harry agreed quickly. "But wouldn't he be mad that you adopted me? Or would he put a spell on you that makes you turn evil and you try to kill me? Or what if he uses a potion? What if he tries to kill me himself? That would be bad… very, very bad—"

"Will you calm down?" Snape snapped. "Just stop babbling. We'll figure this out rationally, because you do have a point."

"What'll happen?" Harry asked quietly. "What can we do?"

"I'm not sure," came the uncertain reply. Harry let out a sigh.

-

"Guess what day it is!" Harry exclaimed to Slyther. Snape had decided to teach his potions class today, so he had gone off to teach his class, leaving just Harry and Slyther.

Slyther was curled up on the bed in the hospital wing while Harry rested against his pillows. He had to spend an extra day in the hospital wing to rest.

What is it, Harry? I already know what day it is, it's Wednesday.

"Yeah," Harry said, "but not only is it Wednesday, it's the first Quidditch game since school started up!"

Well, that's nice and all, Slyther said, but you can't go. You have to stay here in this bed until you're allowed to leave.

"Do you think Severus'll let me go if he goes with me?" Harry asked. "I mean, if he goes with me—"

Just keep on hoping, Slyther interrupted, sounding bored. You never know.

-

"No, absolutely not," Snape said, with a shake of his head later on. Harry stood in front of him pleadingly.

"Why not?" He whined. "I've been waiting a long time for this!"

"I know you have," Snape acknowledged. "But remember what we agreed on? You'd rest until you're completely better. "

Harry sighed. "Yes, I know what we agreed on. But, come on, this is Quidditch! I've never seen Quidditch before, and you know I want to! Please? I'm really better, Severus, I'm not sore anymore."

"If it'll make it any better, I'll excuse myself from the game and stay here with you," Snape said in annoyance. "Will you just not whine about it anymore?"

"No, it does not make it any better, and I'm not whining!" Harry exclaimed, his face flushing in anger.

"Then you'd prefer me to attend the game and leave you alone here?" Snape asked, looking at Harry for an answer.

Harry frowned. "I wouldn't be alone. Slyther'd be here with me!"

Actually, Slyther started uneasily, I've been kind of curious as to what Quidditch is… and how they play…

Harry let out a yelp of frustration and threw his hands up in the air. "This is no fair!" He cried, falling back on the bed. He turned over and buried is face in the pillow."I just wanted to go to the Quidditch game, and now I can't!"

Snape frowned, not knowing what Harry said since his voice was muffled from the pillow. "What?"

Harry pulled his face back and sat up again. "I said I just wanted to go to the Quidditch game, and now I can't! It's all your fault!" He buried his head back into the pillow.

Snape raised his eyebrows. "My fault? I'm trying to do you a favor, Potter."

"Potter?" Harry repeated, lifting his face from the pillow once more. He sat back up on the bed and turned to face Snape with a glare. "Since when have I become Potter and not Harry?"

"Since you're becoming an inconsiderate, disrespectful—oh why bother continuing to name what you are? The list goes on, and it's not good—brat," Snape snapped.

Harry's face turned cold as he clutched onto the pillow in his lap, his knuckles turning white. "That wasn't a very nice thing to say," Harry finally said, his appearance deceiving him. Though he looked angry and cold, his voice wavered with hurt.

"Can I help speaking the truth?" Snape said coolly. "Not being able to go to the Quidditch game is making you very inconsiderate. I offered to stay here with you during the game, did I not?"

Harry averted his gaze guiltily. "I'm sorry," he muttered, not able to look Snape in the eye.

Snape raised his eyebrows. "Hmm? I didn't catch that."

Harry looked up, scowling. "I'm sorry," he repeated in a louder voice.

"Very well," Snape said, curtly. "If you behave better and aren't sore by time of the game... I may allow you to attend."

Harry's eyes widened. "Really?"

Snape gave his head a brief nod. "That's only under those conditions, however."

-

Harry had never seen anything as exhilarating as Quidditch. It was better than he imagined—and Harry knew he had a pretty good imagination. He was just happy that Snape actually let him come to the game after all.

The game (Gryffindor versus Slytherin) ended up Slytherin in the winning, but Harry knew it was such a good game that in his mind, both houses won.

"That was brilliant," Harry murmured as everybody began to walk off the stands. Slyther remained coiled around his arm. "Did you see how they moved on the brooms? Brilliant," he said again.

"Well, now that you were able to see the game, will you go back to the hospital wing and try to sleep?" Snape asked in irritation. "Or will you have a fit about that, as well?"

Harry raised his eyebrows, glancing up at Snape. "Fit? What fit?"

"Well you had a fit about not being able to go to the game—which may I point out that you did watch the Quidditch game—so I'm asking if you're going to have a fit about going to bed because you want to stay up," explained Snape.

Harry shook his head, as if he hadn't a clue what Snape was talking about. "Fit? I won't have a fit! I want to go to bed."

"Oh, you do, do you?" Snape said, his voice layered in thick disbelief.

"Well, no," Harry admitted with a shake of his head. "Not really." A smile started to tug at the sides of his lips. "But I'll race you back up to the hospital wing! Whoever gets there first wins. And I'll make you a deal: If I win, I get to stay up longer. If you win, then I'll go to bed without another word."

"I don't think so," Snape drawled as Slyther began taunting.

"Why not?" Harry pouted. "It'll be fun… and I know I'll beat you." Harry paused. "That's it! That's why you don't want to have a race with me! You know that I'll beat you, so you think that you won't even need to race."

"That's not it at all," Snape replied, still smirking. "But, if you insist on the race…"

Harry's smile soon grew wider. "Excellent! On the count of three! One… two—"

"Three!" Snape butted in, but Harry was quicker. Just as he took one step forward he felt arms grab him around the waist and hold him back.

"No fair!" Harry cried, squirming in Snape's arms. "You can pick me up! That's cheating!"

"Either way you were going to bed," Snape said.

Harry sighed. "You cheated."

"Going to pout about it?"

Harry gave another sigh. "I don't pout."

"Sure. You're still going to bed, I hope you know."

"Fine," Harry reluctantly agreed. "I'll go to bed."

"Just like that?" Snape sounded surprised.

"Yeah, can you set me down, though?" Harry said, since Snape still had Harry tucked under his arm.

Once Harry was down on solid ground, he started to run towards the castle.

-

"Little Harry Potter," Quirrel said softly, though his eyes reflected rage. "Didn't I get rid of you the first time?"

Harry froze, and didn't dare turn around. Was that really Quirrel? If it was, how was the man able to visit him in Harry's dreams?

"It looks like it didn't work, doesn't it?" Harry said, his voice shaky as he turned around. There wasn't anything different about Quirrel, except for the fact that he was wearing a purple turban now.

"How can that be?" Quirrel murmured to himself. "I plunged the knife through your stomach… I saw your blood… I saw you take your last breath! How can this be?"

Harry didn't say anything, but kept his glare with Quirrel.

"Do you remember what Topaz told you?" Quirrel questioned quietly.

Harry looked up in surprise. "What?"

"Topaz Aureus," Quirrel repeated, his eyes flashing with annoyance. "Do you remember what she told you?"

"She told me a lot of things," Harry said warily. "How do you know about that?"

"I watch you," Quirrel responded. "I watch your every breath… your every movement." Harry shivered, and Quirrel continued. "I know about Snape."

Harry turned ashen. "Snape? W—who are you talking about?"

"My lord is very upset with the traitor," Quirrel said airily.

"H—how's this 'Snape' a traitor?" Harry stuttered, pretending to play dumb. "I haven't a clue what you're talking about."

"Oh, I know you do," said Quirrel. "After all, Snape is your guardian. But soon, Harry, Snape will be your guardian no longer."

-

Harry woke with a start. Cold sweat dripped down his forehead, and realized his whole body was trembling. When he looked up, he was expecting to find Snape standing in the doorway of Harry's bedroom, his forehead lined with concern; but Harry forgot that he wasn't in his bedroom. He was in the hospital wing.

Are you all right? Came Slyther's sleepy voice. Is something wrong? The greasy human told me to watch out for you, you know, so that's what I'm doing. Now tell me what's wrong so I can go back to sleep.

"I had a bad dream," Harry said quietly. "A very, very, very bad one."

Erm... that's not good... Do you want to talk about it? Slyther questioned awkwardly. Though, I don't really know what else to ask, I'm not really good at this stuff...

Harry wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "I don't want Severus to die, Slyther."

Die? Slyther sounded alarmed. Who's dying? I'm sorry, I zoned out—

"Just go back to sleep, Slyther," Harry instructed, laying back down. "It was probably just a bad dream. That's all."

-

A/N: Thanks to all of you who read and review, I appreciate it LOTS :-)