Choice – Chapter 4: Settling In
Dedicated to Darkmark33LV, thank you for your timely encouraging words that kept me going.
Harry played with his fork absently, hardly noticing Terry's ongoing speech about his classes and Hermione's worried glances. He was nervous. His first day had gone fairly well - so far. As he'd predicted, the classes posed no real challenge for him. Not wishing to draw attention, though, Harry did not answer questions unless they were directed at him. Ravenclaw would earn enough points by answering questions with Hermione there, no need for him to worry. He couldn't help but be a little awed by the young witch. Sure Harry fared quite well in his classes, but that was due to his intensive upbringing. As far as he knew, Hermione grew up with ignorant Muggles, and yet she still managed to seem as if she knew her classes by heart.
He was again grateful of his teachers. Wait...was it teachers or... Harry frowned as the spell activated again. When he opened his eyes, all thoughts about his mentors were gone; for surely, that was not important. He sighed and shoved some mashed potatoes into his mouth; he supposed he should eat a little. All the other classes had been a breeze; this one was the one he had really been looking forward to, this one was what really mattered: Potions.
About twenty minutes later found Harry seated anxiously besides Hermione in the cold dungeon, despite Terry's complaints ("Two genius shouldn't sit together and be partners, what about us ordinary people?"). And there, Snape swept into the room, his black robe bellowing about him.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began, "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
Harry thought the speech was rather intriguing, as Potions had been something of a favorite even before he attended Hogwarts, which was also, unfortunately, his weakest subject as he hadn't had as much training. Hermione was looking desperate, as if she couldn't wait to prove that she was not a dunderhead. Harry mentally chuckled and nearly jumped when his name was called.
"Potter!" said Snape suddenly, "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Harry's mouth curled, Potions may not be his best subject, but he was more than adequate; Snape would have to try harder to embarrass him, "A sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death, sir."
Snape nodded reluctantly, "Right...Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?""
"In a goat, sir," Harry answered, and before Snape could speak, he added hurriedly as to leave no room for criticism, "More specifically, in the stomach of a goat."
Snape frowned and thought of one last question, "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
"There isn't any. They are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite."
"I did not ask for another name, Potter. One point from Ravenclaw for your cheek; showing off will not get you far in this class. However, your answer is correct. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"
Harry winced inwardly as he sat down, stupid, stupid, what possessed him to add the last bit; Snape was just waiting for a chance to take off points! Not that the one point bothered him, it was the fact that he had wanted to impress a professor that troubled him. It was not in his nature to seek attention; and if living with Voldemort taught him anything, it was the Slytherin steathiness. And there was the fact that he had never tried to impress anyone before except the Dark Lord...okay, maybe Sirius and Remus sometimes, but that was different.
Harry shook his head, he better pay attention and worry about his little problems later. It turned out that Snape had put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. It was no big quest for Harry and Hermione, and he let her do most of the work as she was still displeased that she didn't get a chance to answer the questions earlier. Harry was just planning on how to approach Snape after class when an explosion was heard. Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw that a Hufflepuff boy next to their table, Justin Finch-Fletchley's cauldron had somehow exploded. Without thinking, he shielded Hermione with his own body and clenched his teeth in pain as he felt the potion eating through his robe and burning his arm. Justin, who had been drenched in the potion, was babbling and whimpering as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.
"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand, "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?" Turning to a Hufflepuff girl, Susan Bones, who had been Justin's partner, he ordered, "Take him up to the hospital wing."
"You - Potter - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills?" Snape rounded on Harry. Just as expected.
"I'm sorry Professor." Harry said, inhaling sharply, willing himself not to cry out in pain. Snape looked down and seemed to notice, for the first time, that Harry's robes were burned and that his arm was as red as Justin's had been, "But then, I suppose I can expect no more of you than to get yourself in trouble as well, what are you waiting for? Get off to the hospital wing, I'm sure the potion hadn't immobilized your legs?"
Harry was somewhat surprised that Snape was willing to let him go without taking any points, but he couldn't afford to leave the lesson now; not when he was looking forward to having a nice chat with the Professor afterwards. He replied calmly, despite the sweat on his face, "I would much prefer to stay. Thank you, Sir." Looking up at Snape, locking the man's black eyes with his own emerald green ones, he added, "I've been through worse ones."
Snape's gaze seemed to waiver for a moment, before he spat out a fine and swept away. Harry sighed and sat down, after making sure that no one else was watching, he cast a temporary pain-reliving charm on himself; healing charms were still too complex for him, and he had no wish to have the red spots fixed permanently on his arm because of a lousy healing charm of a first year.
"Harry, are you sure you are alright?" Hermione whispered, "That was very brave of you, shielding me from the potion and all."
Harry gave her a little smile, "No problem. I'm alright, it doesn't even hurt much now; it's just that I probably wouldn't be able to use my left arm until I am properly healed."
Hermione mouthed a "thank you" while looking at Snape warily, he didn't seem to notice the exchange of words. She decided it was safe to continue the conversation, "Why didn't you want to go to the hospital wing, though? The burns surely looked bad."
"I'm fine, really...I just, need to talk to Professor Snape about something after class. And I'm sure I'll be stuck there all day if I went to the hospital wing." Hermione looked at him as if he was out of his mind.
Harry waited until the classroom was cleared of other students, then he turned to speak to Snape. The other snarled when he realized Harry was still here, "What is it Potter? I haven't gotten all day."
Harry fingered his robe, suddenly a little hesitant. This whole thing seemed quite irrational to him now; so what if Snape knows he had accidentally helped you once? He'll probably curse himself for doing so as he seemed determined to hate you. Harry drew a breath, there's no backing out now, "Well, sir, I just wanted to say that I never forgot your kindness three years ago...and, and I am very grateful for what you did for me." With that, he turned to leave, leaving a very bewildered looking potion master behind. He was just about to step out of the classroom when the older man snapped, "Wait a minute, Potter."
Harry turned, and saw that Snape's face had gone impassive again. The potion master took out his want and cast a healing spell on Harry's arm, "You are free to leave now."
Harry flashed him a big smile and fled.
He was still in such a good mood when he reached the common room that he was beaming with delight as he seated himself near Hermione. She gave him a weird look, "I take it that everything went well between you and Snape?"
"Couldn't've been better," agreed Harry, "Hmmm...What have we got, Transportation essay?" That was enough to get Hermione off the track, and they were soon joined by Terry, who obviously thought it convenient to team up with the two top students of their year. Between the three of them, homework was soon finished, and Hermione declared that she thought they should start looking over tomorrow's lessons. A notion which, to Harry's surprise, Terry heartily agreed to. Those two were true Ravenclaws, after all, he reminded himself. As Harry had no intention to spend the whole night reading boring textbooks, he got up and told them that he'd prefer a stroll to clear up his mind a bit.
After some stern warnings form Hermione to be back before the curfew, he was finally free to leave. Harry grinned a little; he actually did plan on missing the curfew and had brought his invisibility cloak along with him. He thought of his promise to the Bloody Baron and supposed he ought to visit the ghost sometime. But he didn't want to be reminded of a certain Slytherin just yet, and decided to pull off the visit until later.
Still thinking, he nearly bumped into someone as he turned at the corner. "Oh, I'm sorry," he started and bent down to pull the other boy up, "Neville?!"
The other boy grinned, "Harry! I heard about the accident in Potions today; and, and since I didn't find you in the hospital wing...I just thought I'd check up on you."
"And just how did you plan on entering the Ravenclaw common room without a password?" Harry teased. Seeing Neville's embarrassment, he quickly added, "I really appreciate it though, thank you. So how is your first day?"
Neville shrugged, "It was okay...I guess everything went fine except Potions. Harry, that Professor Snape was dreadful! And we had his class with the Slytherins; they made passes at us all the time, and Snape wouldn't do a thing about it."
Harry nodded sympathetically, he knew of the heated rivalry between those two houses. "Well, at least you guys will have flying lesson with us tomorrow."
If Harry was trying to console Neville, he couldn't have been more wrong; a shadow immediately settled over the other boy's features, "I almost forgot! Flying lessons...gran never let me touch a broom before; said I was too clumsy...what if I am the only one who can't fly tomorrow?"
"I'm sure you'll be fine. There are many Muggleborns who probably have never mounted a broom before. And I'm not very good at flying either," Harry lied, "We'll just have to help each other."
Neville nodded, "Thanks, Harry. By the way, where were you going before I bumped into you?"
Harry winced; he cannot let Neville know of his plans, yet somehow he couldn't bring himself to lie to the boy who was looking at him with such innocent eyes. I must've been getting softer; lying had never bothered him before Thinking fast, he coughed an answer, "I...er...I am going to the library to get a book I need for my homework tonight. I gotta run y'know, it's near curfew." Excellent answer, and not exactly a lie, either. Neville nodded ever so understandingly and bade Harry goodbye. Harry let out a small sigh as the other boy disappeared down the corridor. To avoid more encounters like this, he put on his cloak swiftly after making sure no one was in sight.
The library was eerily quiet when he slipped in, as it was a little after the curfew. Carefully stepping over the rope that separated these books from the rest of the library (you'd think that they'd use something more effective than ropes if they really wanted to keep students out; but then, most people don't get the chance to be anywhere near the section without a glaring Madam Pince), Harry found himself safe in the Restricted Section. It was even darker than the rest of the library, and the air was stiff with dust and the smell of old books. However, Harry found it simply fascinating. Books hundreds of years old were peering at him, calling out to be read; Harry felt the Ravenclaw in himself stir. He quickly conjured up a light and scanned through the titles. A leather-bond book caught his attention; shrugging, he reached for it - a mistake he was not likely to repeat.
As soon as he opened it, a piercing, bloodcurdling shriek split the silence. Berating himself with all the obscenities he knew, Harry quickly put out the light with a "Nox," pulled the cloak over him and strode outside; even as he heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside. How could he have been so careless as to open a book without checking first? You'd think after spending all those years in Riddle Manor...Harry sighed; perhaps the three years without Voldie had really changed him more than he'd thought possible.
"Who is there?" A harsh voice broke Harry away from his thoughts. Filch, the caretaker, was staring at Harry's direction suspiciously. Harry hoped the man'd just turn away, but apparently good things just don't happen to Harry Potter, for Filch was positively moving towards him with out-stretched arms. Harry held back his breath, and moved further down the corridor as quietly as possible, with Filch gaining on him. Turning desperately, he saw a door stood ajar to his left. Without a second thought, he squeezed though it.
Harry pulled off his cloak and let himself relax as he heard Filch's footsteps die away. He was vaguely aware that he was in an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket - but something propped against the wall facing him caught his eye. It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. Harry eyed it closely and found an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. Frowning slightly Harry stepped closer, as the line was somehow familiar to him; he was sure he had read it somewhere in a book...Ah, the Mirror of Erised! Harry's eyes widened with shock as realization dawned on him. He quickly turned around so that he would not see what was in the mirror. He was afraid of what he might see.
For hours, it seemed, he just stood there; unable to face the mirror yet unable to leave. Biting his lips, Harry willed himself to go back to his dormitory, have a nice sleep, and forget about the mirror. But surely looking into it wouldn't hurt, would it? A small voice in his head suggested innocently. Harry gulped... alright, just a peek, that's all. Turning abruptly, he opened his eyes -
And his worst fear was confirmed: even after all these years of knowing Voldemort's wrongs and what would happen to the world if the Dark Lord had had his way, his biggest desire was still to have his Voldie back. The older man was smiling at him, which was sure to freaj anybody else out if they were to see that expression on He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's face. But wait, there was more...two other people were sitting with the Dark Lord; they were smiling, waving at Harry, and - HAVING TEA WITH VOLDEMORT?! Harry could have laughed out loud; yet his heart sank as he realized just who those two people were. His deepest desire was to have his parents having a friendly chat with the man who murdered them. Tears of shame welled up in Harry's eyes; how could he even hope to have his parents forgive Voldemort so that he can follow the Dark Lord with a light conscious? Not wishing to stand this any longer, he turned and fled - only to run into another person.
Harry looked up into cold black eyes; Snape was staring down at him. "P-Professor…I-I didn't mean…" he stuttered out, mirroring Quirrell.
Snape frowned; he ought to be happy to have caught his old rival's son outside of bed – a perfect chance to take off major points from Gryff-Ravenclaw. Yet the tear-strained face of Potter unsettled him; it was not like the boy to break up like that, he himself had seen the boy's cool composure after the boiling potion spilled on him. "What is wrong, Potter?" he spat, surprising even himself.
Harry looked up dumbly, wondering why Snape wasn't taking off hundreds of points already. Eager to have someone to confine in, though, he answered, "I…I looked into the Mirror…and I, I saw him…"
"The Dark Lord?" Snape broke in quickly, "But how could you…"
Harry rubbed his forehead in distress, "But that was not all…I also saw my parents, with him…I mean, they were actually friendly with him…" He sighed, in calmer voice he added, "I know…it was stupid…how could I even hope they'd get alone with their murderer…plus Voldemort never was…he wasn't anything to me…he, he was just…" Merlin he hated those sharp black eyes of the Potion Master; he had an uncomfortable feeling that they were reading him, revealing those that were unsaid…
"I would wonder why your deepest desire concerns the Dark Lord if he were nothing to you," Snape stated dryly.
Harry looked away…he knew he had to tell someone, to sort things out…but could Snape be trusted? Would he understand?
Snape sighed when Potter didn't reply, that little brat! No matter, he would not push the boy further for now. "Well, Potter, since you don't seem capable of giving out any answers, perhaps it is time for bed? Now be warned: you will not get off so easily the next time."
Harry could hardly believe his ears, he supposed his show of gratitude had more profound effects than he'd expected. He scrambled away hurriedly, thanking whichever muggle who had said that "he that has once done you a kindness will be more ready to do you another than he whom you yourself have obliged."
The second day of school found a very tired Harry Potter. Hermione and Terry gawked at the black bangs under his eyes during breakfast. "Harry...when did you come back last night?" Hermione asked, her eyes flashing dangerously.
"Er...a little later than usual?" Harry replied sheepishly, "Come on, Hermione, it wasn't even that late...I just couldn't sleep last night." Harry replied, rubbing his forehead again; it was becoming a subconscious act of his. That was when he realized something was amiss...the faint tingles in his scar were gone. He looked up at the High Table, and was surprised to find several teachers, including Snape, missing. Perhaps the feelings were due to Snape's dark mark? It was a plausible answer, which would also explain why it was gone now... "HARRY!"
Startled, he spilled the pumpkin juice he was holding and found a very aggravated Hermione glaring at him, "Were you even listening to me? You could have lost us points, wondering around after curfew..." Sighing, Harry gave his friend a guilty grin. Inwardly, however, he realized that he acutally quite enjoyed her overprotectiveness and the fact that he could answer her questions without trying to figure out underlying messages. It was one of the things that he needed getting used to when he first moved in with Sirius and Remus - that those people meant what they said and only that. However, he wasnontheless quite relieved when Terry announced it was time to go to classes.
Neville looked at Harry worriedly as they gathered on the grounds outside the forbidden forest for their flying lesson. "Harry, are you sure you're alright? You don't look too good."
Harry gave the other a small smile – which was interrupted by a yawn - and replied, "Yeah I'm fine…just didn't have enough sleep last night, that was all."
Hermione made a snort but mercifully did not press the matter, as she was distracted by her nervousness towards their first flying lesson. Their conversation was caught short as Madam Hooch arrived. "Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked, "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.
"Stick out your right hand over your broom and say 'Up!'"
At his command, Harry's broom jumped into his hand. He looked around and was troubled to see that neither Hermione nor Neville managed to do that, although Hermione's did roll over on the ground. After a few other try, Madam Hooch proceeded to show them how to mount their brooms and checked for their grips. "Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch, "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle – three – two –"
But Neville, nervous and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips. "Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle.
Harry had a glimpse of his friend's scared, white face before he shot up into the sky and tightened his grip on his broom. He knew he should take off after Neville, but that would definitely give away his flying skills. Why wasn't Madam Hooch after him, he thought desperately. Just then, the red-head boy who came with Neville took off, he flew after the other determinedly albeit a little shakily. Harry looked at Neville and realized the nervous boy was slipping sideways off the broom. The other boy was not fast enough to catch up on him – unless… Harry shouted, "Don't chase after him, dive under him!" To his immense relieve the other obeyed his command, and not a second too soon. For Neville slipped off his broom then and was falling like a rock straight to the ground. The other boy just barely managed to catch him and the impact sent them swirling to the ground. They managed a relatively safe, though definitely not graceful, landing. Madam Hooch rushed to their side, after checking for any injuries, she declared the class dismissed a bit shakily.
Harry went to catch up with Neville, "Are you alright?"
The other boy gave him a little smile, "Yeah, thanks to you and Ron." Harry made a guilty noise at that and found the red-head patting his shoulder. "It's lucky that you told me where to dive, ya know."
Harry brushed it off, "You are a good flyer; I could have never done that." Ron's face turned bright red at that, and Harry was pleased to note that he had just made another friend. He invited the two to come over to Ravenclaw table for lunch, which they accepted after a moment of hesitation. Near the end of the meal, Harry and Ron were already talking like they've known each other for years. The other boy's straight-forward personality fascinated Harry. You could literally read emotions off the red-head's face, and you could tell that he was the kind of person who would run after a course he deemed right without a second thought; he was everything Harry could never hope to be, not after living with a Dark Lord for eight long years. Could be a useful follower later, Harry thought, and instantly berated himself for evaluating his friends like goods, manipulating people around. He shuddered at how closely he imitated Voldie.
Harry excused himself from dinner early as he was rather tired and was planning on going to sleep early. He walked through what were now almost empty corridors since most of the school were still in the Great hall. That was when he saw a shadow disappear around a corner. Curious, he sneaked up silently, just in time to see Quirrell swept outside the school through a side-door. Harry frowned as he realized that Quirrell was one of the teachers that were missing today, and his garment surely showed that he'd done some great traveling. After a moment's pondering, Harry whispered, "Accio cloak!" Pulling it over him, he went after Quirrell, well-aware that he was acting more like a foolhardy Gryffindor than anything. Yet there was something about Quirrell that called to him, and Harry was confident that he could hide himself well enough.
Harry followed as Quirrell made his way to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. There was something stealthy about that man, and he constantly looked back over his shoulders to check for followers. Quirrell seemed to stop near a large tree, and Harry crept up to find he talking to a large snake. That was not possible! For all he knew, the only living Parselmouths were Voldemort and Harry himself. Harry narrowed his eyes; he could hear the hissings but were too far to tell what they were speaking about. His eyes traveled to the black snake, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when he recognized it: Nagini. What was she doing here? The snake had disappeared after Voldemort's fall, and it was first time in years since Harry last saw it. Harry's mouth set determinedly, he was sure Voldemort had something to do with this, and he would find it out. He tried his best to not to think about what he would do after he found out their plan or meet their master, for now, he desperately needed to see reassurance that Voldie was still around.
The two figures stopped talking and started moving further into the forest. Harry followed suit, eyes intent on them. Darkness soon devoured him.
A/N: Passing reader, DARKMARK33LV, Maryna, sadisticfreak5290, thank you all for reviewing again, I hope this chapter lived up to your expectations.