Firebird's Son: Book I of the Firebird Trilogy Chapter 13: Lost in the Stars, a harry potter fanfic

A/N: Chap 12 review responses are available in my forums here on ff dot net. One more relatively happy chapter.

Chapter Thirteen: Lost in the Stars

With the first school day of the second term came a new class. Where Wizarding Studies was a double class on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, their new schedules changed that to a one hour class three times weekly, replacing the first hour with Astronomy.

Professor Aurora Sinistra was a strikingly beautiful witch with almost shimmering black skin and delicate, European features that hinted at a mixed heritage. According to the older students, she was Professor Snape's second and younger wife, chosen several years after he and Professor Hooch bonded.

Like the other twelve boys in his class, Harry found himself staring at her in awe. "Snape's a lucky man," Seamus muttered.

"Wands down," Sinistra said as she walked in. "If any of you decide to pursue this class beyond O.W.L.s, then you will get used to staying up late. However, for now…"

She flicked her wand, and suddenly the thirteen boys found themselves floating in a sea of stars. "Whoa," Harry whispered.

"Magic is a wonderful thing," Sinistra lectured, "but it is finicky. Sometimes the smallest, seemingly most innocent things can affect you or your magic. Potions can be affected by tidal forces or even the alignment of certain planets. We track constellations because the very position of the Earth to the stars can impact some rituals. Granted, the impact is not always significant, but it is measurable. Astronomy is not just staring and memorizing star patterns. It is, in its heart, the purest form of applied Arithmancy you will ever find. At least for those who choose to pursue it beyond your O.W.L.s. For now, it is learning the rudimentary aspects of magical spectrometry, and the principals of alignment, pull and how those things affect your personal magic. The alignment of the stars can be the difference between a boy or a girl; or having a child at all."

Harry didn't know whether to be excited over a fascinating subject, or terrified at how hard she made it sound.

~~Firebird~~

Despite the new term, the Quidditch Season was still in the first round, and the next game was Gryffindor against the twice-defeated Ravenclaws. In fact, both teams were at the bottom of the bracket with no hope of improving their standings for that round.

It was the most fun Harry ever had in a game. With no reason not to, he tried every trick he could think of after viewing Omniocular recordings of previous games, both at Hogwarts as well as professional ones.

Angelina, in her first game after her punishment, proved why she was Wood's first choice by leading the chasers with surprising skill for such a young, inexperienced player. Wood was on fire, blocking almost every Quaffle that came. It was the best game they ever played as a team; they lost by ten points after Harry snatched the Snitch right out from under the Ravenclaw Seeker's nose.

Somehow, though, it didn't matter. After congratulating the 'Claws for their first victory of the round, the team gathered around Harry and Wood to celebrate their improved play. Afterwards, McGonagall escorted Harry back to the castle while the rest of the team went to the changing room.

"If the team keeps improving," McGonagall said, "I would not be surprised if we take the second round of play. If not then, I think at the very least we have a chance to do very well next year."

"This year would be fun too, though," Harry said with a happy smile. They lost, but compared to where they started from, he felt like he had won.

In the last Saturday in January, Slytherin beat the stuffing out of Hufflepuff, quite literally. By the time the Slytherin Seeker caught the Snitch, the Hufflepuff team had five reserve players in the game, and of those two were injured. The first round of games went to the brutal Slytherin team.

Gryffindor would play them again in two weeks.

~~Firebird~~

Harry's stomach was tight again when the dreaded morning of their rematch with Slytherin finally arrived. The past month had been spent in intense practice sessions to prepare themselves for the most violent game of their lives.

He dressed in his dorm room with his roommates talking to him in an encouraging fashion, and actually walked with him to the pitch together until he joined the team. In the team room, Wood gave a long, rousing speech, and then promised not to get cold-cocked in the first seconds of the game.

They flew out to the cheers of the whole school, while Slytherin flew out to the cheers of Slytherin and boos of everyone else. Flint had a big, dangerous grin on his face when he drew even with Wood.

Wood gripped his broom firmly and glared right back.

Harry kept his eyes on Professor Hooch who carried the kit out onto the pitch. She reached in and released the Snitch first, and Harry watched it intently. He could see the spark of golden magic in it, highlighted oddly enough by the painful, bitter cold of a February in Scotland. He kept his eyes peeled on it as it rose high into the sky before darting to the right. He continued to watch it as it hovered high above the stands, visible more as a shimmer than a ball.

"Potter, what are you doing?!" Johnson whispered.

Harry just shook his head, refusing to look away from the shimmer.

Hooch threw the Quaffle into the air, signifying the start of play, and Harry shot off toward the shimmer without hesitation, moulding himself to his broom to reduce not only his drag, but also the bite of the cold.

He heard a loud, magnified voice saying, "What is Potter doing? Has he seen the Snitch already?"

He felt as much as heard the Slytherin Seeker behind him, but he didn't look back. He knew for a fact that they were not ready to beat Slytherin yet, not on their Chaser skills alone. But if he was fast enough…and there it was! The shimmer became a small golden ball with wings. He arched his trajectory and came in from a low angle, once more herding the Snitch. The Slytherin Seeker was almost on his straw, but he didn't dare look.

Suddenly the Snitch dropped straight down. Harry pulled his broom up hard, flipped backward and then shot straight down, leaving the startled Slytherin far behind. The Snitch flew as if possessed by evil pixies, moving faster than Harry remembered it moving in the other games. Yet he stayed right on it, manoeuvring between other players, Bludgers and even the stands themselves. The Slytherin Seeker gave up trying to catch him, and instead started trying to foul him instead.

Harry ignored him, like he ignored everything else—the whole of his concentration fixated on that that Snitch. He reached out for it, inches away, when the Bludger struck his broom. In a snap decision, Harry pushed himself forward off his now flailing broom with a grunt, snatched at the Snitch, and then began to fall uncontrolled toward the pitch.

He saw a stream of magic swish by, but unfortunately for him it missed. A second stream and then a third whizzed by, but none struck and he landed on the ground with a violent expulsion of air, and a loud snap of bone as his leg broke.

Professor Hooch was first on the scene. Grimacing at the pain in his leg, he nonetheless reached up with the Snitch. "Did we win?"

Hooch stared down at him in shock, then up at the scoreboard, which reported: Slytherin 10, Gryffindor 50.

Back with Harry, the Professor shook her head. "Aye, you crazy little lion, you sure did. Congratulations."

Harry had a surprising number of visitors in the infirmary that night as Madam Pomfrey healed his leg. Because it was a rather nasty break, she decided to vanish one of the bones and regrow it. "Now, remember, this is going to affect your magic for the next few days," she warned. "So don't push yourself."

"Yes, ma'am."

The discomfort of the Skele-Gro was more than offset by the sheer joy on Oliver Wood's face when he came by with flowers and Chocolate Frogs. His roommates came by accompanied by Percy to congratulate him, and he received dozens of cards from his classmates whom he never got to see.

He couldn't help but smile when he saw Hermione's name on one of the cards, and Jessica Rivers and Deanna Thomas's names on two others. He remembered Parvati from the sorting, while he did not remember Lilith Moon at all. He was also surprised to find a card from Justine Finch-Fletchley in Hufflepuff.

However, the notes all congratulated him, wished him well, and some had drawn hearts or smiles. He glowed under the praise, knowing at least until their next game that he was a hero. That glow lasted until his first special session with Professor Severus Snape.

~~Firebird~~

He was in his dorm finishing up his chemistry homework when the Sixth Year Prefect, Jones, came. "Come on, Potter," he said. "You got an appointment with Snape."

Seamus, Ron and Neville all shared alarmed looks with Harry, until he remembered why he was supposed to go. "Oh, right, forgot. Coming!"

Jones, who seemed cold to Harry, passed the First Year off to the last person he wanted to see: Marcus Flint.

"Here's the runt, Flint," the Sixth Year said.

Flint grinned darkly. "Got him. Come on, runt." He grabbed Harry's arm roughly and pulled him further into the Slytherin part of the castle that even Gryffindor prefects didn't go if they could help it. The glow from his Quidditch triumph quickly began to recede in fear, especially when he saw a group of older Slytherin girls walking toward them through the darkly lit hall.

"Oi, Flint, what do you have there?" one of the girls, a coldly beautiful young woman with curled blond hair and glowing brown eyes said.

"Just a firsty, Melissa. Nothing to get your panties in a wad over—wouldn't do nuthin for you anyhow."

"That's Potter!" another of the girls exclaimed—she was as blonde as the first, though rounder in face and figure.

"Snape said no touching," Flint said darkly. "If you're that eager, come see me in an hour or two."

"You're taken," the wide-bodied girl said.

"And disgusting," the first blonde added.

"I'm beautiful on the inside," Flint said with a sneer. "Now get moving."

"Er, you're taken?" Harry asked. Now that he looked, he saw that Flint did indeed have a bond on his magic.

"None of your business, runt," Flint said coldly. Finally, they came to one of the many doors that dotted the corridor, this one no different than the others. Flint didn't knock, and after a moment Harry could see why. A nimbus of light blue surrounded the door and shimmered like water when they came within a few feet of it.

The door opened of its own accord; Flint pushed Harry forward. "Go on, runt."

"Er, right."

Hesitantly, Harry stepped into the room, which was a small chamber filled most by a desk and bookshelves. Being a potions master, he expected to find cauldrons and other creepy things in Snape's office, but it was just an office, with a desk and bookshelves. Behind the professor, though, he saw another door once again surrounded by a nimbus of blue light, this one overlaid with red.

"Er, Professor, those lights around your door … are those wards?"

Snape looked up from whatever he was grading, and looked at Harry flatly until he lowered his head. Leaning back in his chair, the Slytherin head said, "Describe them."

He even sounded flat. "Er, it's like a blue balloon, same as on the door behind me, but that one also has a red balloon over it."

"Yes, those are wards," Snape said, speaking in a curt, abrupt manner. "Sit, Potter."

"Yes, sir," Harry sat quickly and clasped his hands together in an effort not to fidget.

"I am going to be candid with you, Mr Potter. You look a great deal like a man I deeply, deeply despised," Snape said. "James Potter was a childish, hateful prat. He was a bully, as were his friends, and worse of all he was selfish. As much as I wish it were otherwise, so was Lily. James should have had a minimum of two wives, possibly even three, but Lily could not stand the thought of sharing, and James only cared about her. For those reasons, I have no reason to look upon you with anything but contempt."

Harry tried to swallow in a dry throat. "But, sir, I…"

"You are not your parents," Snape said. "As I have been repeatedly reminded. This is why we are having this discussion. Occlumency, and its counterpart, Legilimency, are the most difficult and intimate magics to learn, and I am frankly sceptical you will get anything from these lessons despite the Headmaster's faith. However, because of that, we must be honest with each other. I have a great desire to despise you, and no reason to do otherwise other than my wives, who remind me constantly that you are not your father. And though you remind me a great deal of Lily, you are not her either. You were raised by Lily's sister Petunia, correct?"

Harry blinked in surprise that Snape knew that. "Yes, sir."

"She's a despicable person as well, but then again, Lily almost killed her and maimed their mother with accidental magic. I'm sure that plays no small part in how you were treated as a child." Snape stood and stepped around his desk, pausing long enough to snag a chair before he sat a foot away. Harry turned in his chair to face him.

"Mr Potter, I tell you this because during the course of our training you will undoubtedly receive bits of memory or emotions from me, and it is only fair that you know why. The one thing you have going for you is that Professor Sinistra speaks well of you. Now, what do you know about Occlumency?"

"I read in Mum's book that it's a way to shield your mind from attack," Harry said, relieved to be discussing something safe. "She said she also used it to help her learn things like an ordering potion, and it sometimes helped her when she got emotional."

Snape blinked. "Ah, yes, Lily's book."

"Sir?"

"Nothing, Potter. Occlumency for most people is simply mental shielding, nothing more. However, Lily was able to employ it in unique ways. I cannot, for instance, use Occlumency to order my emotions, nor can I use it to learn faster. For those I depend on sheer will or potions. For Lily—she was an emotional girl, and could use all the help she could get."

"Sir, please don't say…" Harry started, before looking down. "Uncle Vernon said they were no good drunks. I was raised to believe they were worthless and didn't love me."

Snape blinked and leaned back, showing a hint of surprise for the first time. "As much as I disliked them," he finally said, "I know for a fact that they loved you. They died for you. They fought and nearly destroyed one of the most powerful wizards to ever live, all for you. I shall endeavour not to let my personal dislike colour my contact with you too much."

"Thank you, sir."

"Now, let us get started. Do you recall what your Mum wrote about for people just getting started?"

"Er, yeah, she said…."

~~Firebird~~

The Ravenclaws trounced the Hufflepuffs in their second round game. The 'Puffs had to replace one of their starters with a reservist because the poor girl simply refused to play after the injuries she received during the Slytherin game, and the change-up showed in how the 'Puffs played. In fact, if anything, the Ravenclaw team played even better leading into the second round than the first.

This meant that two weeks later the Gryffindors were actually favoured to win for the first time that year against Hufflepuff.

Harry still had his familiar butterflies and had to force himself to eat anything at all, but when they flew out onto the pitch for their game against Hufflepuff, he felt a surge of something completely new: confidence.

This wasn't to say the Hufflepuffs were going to make things easy, and they didn't. However, that surge of confidence Harry felt wasn't unique to him. He could see it in the faces of his teammates. They played like a completely different team from their first few games. With Angelina in charge of the chasers, they were communicating more efficiently than ever, and passing the Quaffle as if they had been doing it the whole of their lives.

Wood was a machine, barking orders to the rest of the team while blocking four out of every five shots on goal, and those all being excellently made shots from Hufflepuff's skilled chasers.

And Harry? Harry cut loose, flying with an excited scream half the time as he dove through Hufflepuff formations, kicking their passes wide and in general making a nuisance of himself to the Hufflepuffs while doing everything he could to help his own team win. Still, the score remained neck and neck despite the Gryffindor's improved play, until Harry saw the Snitch.

The Hufflepuff Seeker saw it at the same time, and this time it was a straight out race. The other player was larger, stronger and more experienced. Harry was small, fast, and insane in the way only young children could be, being completely unmindful of his own safety.

It made them surprisingly even.

They came on flying inches apart toward the Snitch. The 'Puff managed to keep Harry out of his preferred angle of attack through sheer size , but Harry had a feeling in his gut that the Snitch was going to drop on them again. He couldn't afford to risk that, though, and so stayed by the larger girl's side.

A larger girl, Harry noted with a touch of anger, who had much longer arms. The Puff was reaching out five inches further than Harry and was within a finger's breadth of the Snitch when, just as Harry thought, it dropped straight down.

The Puff cursed and pulled hard left in a partial barrel roll to drop.

Harry flipped backward and dropped like a missile, out-distancing the Puff with what he was now thinking of as his signature move. The Snitch continued straight down, and Harry continued straight after it, pulling up only feet from the ground with the Snitch. He had to run with his broom for a few steps to keep from ploughing into the grass before he took off again, inches from the floor of the pitch. The Puff was quickly gaining through a sharp angle of attack so Harry willed every ounce of magic he could into his broom to go faster.

He surged forward, and with a swipe of his hand, grabbed the Snitch out of the air before the Puff could recover from her slow dive. As the gong sounded, Harry looked up to see the score: Gryffindor 120, Hufflepuff 90. Once again, the Snitch made the difference.

"Look, he can still walk!" Georgina Weasley said as she arrived first. She socked his shoulder hard, hugged him, and then kissed him soundly on the lips before virtually throwing him to Fred who—much to Harry's discomfort—did the same exact thing. Amazingly, though, he felt no butterflies or reaching magic from either of them.

Nor did he when Angelina caught him in a while hug, screaming, "You did it again, Harry!" followed by Katie and Alicia both. Katie did give him a shy peck on the cheek, but he felt no strange magic from the gesture, and in her magic saw only happiness at the victory, and pride in his performance.

The team lifted him to their shoulders and carried him off the field, chanting "Potter! Potter!" It was more magical than charms. And just like last time, the glow of victory lasted until his next Occlumency lessons.

Snape did not chant his name nor praise him at all. While the man was not cruel, he was cold at the worst of times and simply unemotional at best. Harry's seeming lack of progress did not help at all with the professor's opinion of him either.

"I think Snape hates me," Harry confided to Professor Burbage during their next tea.

Charity laughed. "One: that's Professor Snape, Harry; and two: do not take it personally. He hates everyone."

"But he's married to two really pretty witches, why should he be mad all the time?"

Charity nodded over her tea. "While I like to think Rolanda has nothing on me, even I have to admit that Aurora is a truly beautiful woman. She and Severus, at least, are well matched, and it was to Rolanda's credit that she saw that and acted to bring Aurora into the marriage. No, you're mistaking a lack of social skills with hatred. Professor Snape would much rather spend all his time in a Potions Laboratory than teaching—he's a researcher, pure and simple."

"Then why is he here?" Harry asked.

"Sometimes we can't always control where our paths lead us. Now, I heard a rumour that you did exceedingly well in your last Charms exam. Care to enlighten me?"

Harry told her all about the last test, feeling a little bit of the glow returning. It always did when he took afternoon tea with Professor Burbage.

Author's Note: Very special thanks as always to Teufel1987, JR and Miles for beta reading.