Harry sat slumped against a tree, completely hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak, and watched as Wood held seeker trials. It was only temporary, Wood had assured him half a dozen times when he'd broken the news to Harry, just until he was back on the team, but they couldn't risk going in unprepared for their next match if he hadn't been cleared for Quidditch by then. Harry couldn't blame him; it was Oliver's last year and they all knew how desperate he was to finally win the Cup. Still, knowing that it was necessary didn't make it any easier.
Ron and Hermione had offered to watch with him, but Harry had begged off, claiming that he'd visit Hagrid instead. He couldn't bear the thought of them trying to be reassure him, not right now. Besides, the very last place he wanted to be was in the stands, surrounded by his housemates who all wanted to know why he wasn't playing. Rumours had been flying around his House ever since the try-outs had been announced, and everyone suddenly wanted to know just what the potions accident was and how long he'd be off for. He couldn't face that, even if it meant watching under his cloak instead.
There was a sudden cheer from the crowd. The final seeker broke into a dive, hurtling towards the ground in a scarlet streak. One hand outstretched, she wrapped her fist around the golden snitch and roared triumphantly.
Wood blew his whistle and the rest of the team came to land by him, clapping the seeker on the back and calling out their congratulations. On the side-lines, the other potential seekers stood glumly, aware that they would not be chosen, even before Wood made his way over to tell them the news.
Harry sat there numbly. That was it; Quidditch, the only thing Harry had always been able to rely on to keep him grounded at Hogwarts, was gone. He'd been replaced.
Maybe it was a good thing. Quidditch was a distraction and now, with his detentions almost finished, he could devote himself entirely to learning offensive spells. Maybe it was for the best. Only, it didn't feel that way. Right now, he felt hollow and tired and defeated.
He ran a hand through his hair several times, willing himself to stop being so weak. It was only a game, only a spot on the team, and Wood had promised it back to him as soon as he was cleared. If Madam Pomfrey would ever clear him. Although his final check-up wasn't for another week, he'd stopped by that morning to pick up another batch of his potions, and she'd hinted that she wouldn't let him back on a broom until he was willing to talk about his summer. Fat chance of that happening, even if it meant he didn't play for the team again until his NEWTS.
The Gryffindor team and their crowd of supports cleared the pitch and made their way back to the Castle, led by their new seeker, in a cacophony of excited chatter. Harry stayed under the tree for a while longer, dreading the thought of going back to the Common Room and putting on a brave face. He was so tired of it all.
Severus glanced at his watch impatiently. Although it was the weekend and he didn't have lessons or detentions to oversee, that wasn't to say that he didn't have a dozen places he currently needed to be. Dealing with Potter had proven to be a time-consuming matter, and the nightly detentions for the past three weeks had forced him to push other commitments to the side.
Like restocking the Hospital Wing, a task he'd almost forgotten about until he'd received an urgent memo from Poppy that morning. It had taken almost six hours, but he'd managed to send across the required vials of Pepperup Potion andCalming Draught, which were in unusually short-supply that year. Not that that was a great mystery, every staff meeting that term had begun with one of his colleagues complaining about the presence of Dementors and the sudden increase of nightmares, anxiety-attacks and missing homework. Still, it was Poppy who was experiencing the greatest strain from their presence, with her store cupboards depleting and what little free time she usually had being taken up with any number of Dementor-related ailments. She was currently waylaid force-feeding an entire bar of Honeydukes Best Chocolate to two second years who'd had the misfortune of wondering too close to them.
Severus looked up at the clock again. Surely she couldn't take that much longer. He'd been waiting for twenty minutes now and his patience was wearing thin. Not for the first time, he regretted leaving that week's edition of The Practical Potioneer in his sitting room, where it had been gathering dust since its delivery last Monday. Still, his magazine would have to wait. He'd been meaning to catch-up with Poppy for several days now, and their conversation couldn't be avoided much longer. She was the only person he could turn to for advice on the Potter situation, and it was becoming increasingly clear that he needed her expert opinion.
It was a few more minutes before the office door swung open and Poppy bustled in, spouting apologies as she set about pouring two cups of tea.
"This cohort of second years really are something else," she complained, adding a liberal splash of milk, "Even without the Dementors, why they thought they had any business venturing that close to the edge of the grounds is beyond me." She shook her head impatiently, stirring her drink with slightly more force than was required. "It's a good thing Hagrid spotted them when he did, I dread to think what could have happened if they'd gotten any closer. How Albus can justify their presence, I'll never understand."
"I'm sure the Headmaster has his reasons," said Severus silkily, "Whether they would be acceptable to the rest of the staff is a different question."
Her lips thinned, "I suppose so."
She took a long sip of her tea, and gestured for Severus to do the same. He followed suit, wincing slightly at the taste. Poppy always added too much sugar. When she'd first started making him tea, when he was a dour and slightly awkward first year, he'd been too shy to admit that he didn't take sugar, and had committed to finishing his drink without complaint while she fixed whatever Marauder-related jinxes and Potions-experiment burns had brought him there. Perhaps he should have said something when he came back as a Professor, but he'd been slightly touched that she'd remembered how he took his tea and had elected to hold his tongue. Now, enough time had passed that the thought of mentioning such a petty complaint seemed entirely too awkward and it was easier just to ignore the cloying taste.
"Minerva seems to think Potter's doing better? Poppy said, more a question than a statement
"I didn't realise Minerva had spent enough time with him to make that judgement," Severus replied snidely, "As far as I'm aware, she hasn't seen him outside of classes, except from afar during mealtimes."
"So you disagree?"
"In terms of his day-to-day existence, he seems to be doing well, or at least as well as any student does. He's attending all his classes, his behaviour in said classes seems remarkably normal, and he's been following the potions regiment Poppy set him to the letter," That Severus was sure of, given that he'd taken to checking each evening before Potter's detentions, "But whenever I so much as mention his relatives, he falls apart. One second he's screaming at me for daring to mention them and the next he's on the floor hyperventilating, only to sit back up and insist that there's really nothing to worry about."
Poppy winced. As Matron, she was used to dealing with students who were struggling with complex family matters and mental health related issues. She was experienced enough to decipher the complex responses of a traumatised adolescent. Unlike Severus, who'd dealt almost exclusively with issues resulting from petty squabbles and first-heartbreaks which had never required anything more than a sharp reminder on decorum.
"Has he spoken more about his relatives?" She seemed to know the answer as she spoke, no doubt recalling Potter's reaction to her questions last time he'd been in the Hospital Wing.
Severus shook his head, "He's let a few details slip during his outbursts but otherwise it's like trying to get a sonnet from a Streeler."
"Perhaps it's time to reconsider the use of a mild truth serum?" Severus started to shake his head, but she ignored him, "I know that we were both hoping it wouldn't come to that but there aren't many other options. At some point soon, he needs to make a recorded statement, and it doesn't seem like he'll be making one voluntarily."
"I'm concerned about his reaction," Severus admitted wearily, "He's already volatile as it is, I worry that being forced to confront the problem head on will push him over the edge. He's clearly not ready to face the reality of his situation… I don't know how he'll react when it all suddenly becomes real to him…" Severus trailed off.
Poppy grimaced sympathetically, "I see your concerns and unfortunately you're probably right, but at some point, he'll have to come to terms with it. Better he does that now, before he has a chance to build up the delusion that all of it will go away if he ignores it hard enough."
She glanced over at her filing cabinet. No file has been produced from Potter's exam. No parchment trail, no written evidence. Nothing physical to prove that the events of the summer had occurred, especially now Potter's injuries had healed. Severus could see why she was desperate to have some formal report, some tangible proof that couldn't be hidden away.
"Besides, something has to be done soon. I've already ignored every protocol there is by allowing this to go unreported, but I can't continue to turn a blind-eye. Have you and Albus discussed a plan for what to do next?"
"Albus has asked me to watch over him, until suitable guardians have been found," said Severus, feeling rather confused. Surely Poppy already knew that.
"I don't mean where's Potter going to reside. I mean have you and Albus discussed how to go about filing a formal report. I understand why the Headmaster insists that no one from the Ministry can find out, but that doesn't mean that nothing can be done about Potter's relatives."
"Ah," Severus winced, "I haven't spoken to him about that."
In truth, he hadn't spoken to Albus much since their meeting. Other than the occasional brief update about Potter, Severus had hardly even seen the Headmaster. Between the extra workload on his side from Potter's detentions, and Albus's constant meetings with the Ministry regarding Black, it wasn't surprising that they hadn't had the time to make plans beyond Potter's immediate needs.
"Well you ought to. If you want Potter to come to terms with their treatment of him, you can't expect him to accept that they get to go on with their lives as though nothing happened. You saw his medical report. It's not enough to simply switch his guardians and sweep the whole debacle under the rug."
Severus sank back in his chair. Poppy was right. He knew she was right. But it was difficult to admit that he had no idea what to do. Not when it came to Potter. Although he kept bringing up the reporting process to him, in truth he hadn't given the issue a second thought. He was already overwhelmed by the task in front of him, without having considered the intricacies of the arrangement. Not for the first time, he cursed Albus for giving him a role for which he was so utterly unfit.
"What would you suggest?" he asked wearily, reaching again for his too-sweet tea as he listened to Poppy list off the options.
Severus strode through the hallways, using the walk back to the dungeons to ponder over the possibilities Poppy had given him.
Although she'd had several ideas, there were only two Severus thought could be viable. The first was to make the report to the Muggle authorities, with a few details changed to protect Potter's identity. That was the safest option, and the only one that was strictly legal. Still, it carried a risk of being made public and alerting semi-retired Death Eaters to the situation. Then there was the second option, which Poppy had introduced only when Severus had rejected the first few. He could see why she'd been hesitant even to suggest it, since it wasn't strictly legal. A few liberally applied memory charms, coupled with the help of some of Albus's less scrupulous contacts in the Ministry, would allow them to go down the official Ministry-approved route while still concealing Potter's identity. It was a risky option, but it would allow justice to be served without risking Potter's safety.
Of course, there was a secret third option, which Poppy wouldn't even consider. Severus could make his own visit to the family and solve the problem without anyone at the Ministry noticing. After a decade of peace, the mere thought of playing that role again was horrifying. But he had sworn to Albus to protect the boy and if that was what was necessary, then so be it.
He'd have to schedule a meeting with Albus in the morning. It would be the Headmaster's decision to make, and for once Severus was relieved to be free from the burden of making it. There didn't seem to be any good options, especially when Potter's peace of mind had to be weighed against his safety.
No doubt their meeting would be a lengthy one, Severus realised with a heavy sigh. Perhaps he could get Minerva to reschedule his patrol until the following weekend. But that wouldn't do either, not when he'd already booked out that entire weekend to brew Lupin's Wolfsbane. At least Potter's detentions would be over by then, and, if the cretins he had the misfortune to teach could just behave themselves, he might at last have his evenings free again.
He scowled again and quickened his pace. Perhaps it would be better to brew the Deflation Draught that evening. He wasn't willing to teach his second years' the Swelling Solution without having an antidote prepared, but he couldn't see when he was going to brew it otherwise. The Practical Potioneer would have to wait for another night.
Although, perhaps the Deflation Draught would too, he realised as he rounded the corner and caught sight of Granger and Weasley slipping into one of the empty classrooms. What were they doing in the dungeons? While it wasn't strictly off-limits, they had no reason to be down there on a Saturday unless they, and by extension Potter, were up to something.
With a couple of quick silencing charms on his robes and shoes, he strode over to the door they'd just gone through and cast an eavesdropping charm.
"He's clearly not down here, Ron. Are you sure Fred and George aren't having you on?"
"Too subtle for them. 'Sides, they're worried about him too, aren't they."
"But how would they know he's down here? I can't imagine Harry told them anything."
There was a long pause. Severus could imagine Weasley shrugging, with the same gormless expression that he made every time Severus asked a question about the reading.
"They've say they've got a way of knowing where people in the castle are. And I reckon they probably do, otherwise they wouldn't get away with half the things they do."
Severus raised an eyebrow. That was an interesting titbit to pass on to Minerva.
"Well he's not here," said Granger, sounding frustrated, "And the only place left we haven't looked is the Slytherin Common-Room, and it's pretty safe to assume he's not there."
"Where is he then?" Weasley sounded frustrated too.
"He could still be down at Hagrid's-"
"-What, every single evening after detention? Hagrid wouldn't let him. Remember how he reacted when he went to visit him after Buckbeak attacked Malfoy? Half lost his mind and that was when we were there as well. He wouldn't let Harry visit alone after dark and anyway Harry wouldn't make such an effort to hide it if that was all he's doing. None of this is like him."
Granger's reply came so quietly that Severus had to strain to hear it. "He hasn't been right all term, has he?"
There was a silence, punctuated by chair legs screeching against the stone floor. Severus took half a step back; in case they were getting up to leave. But the footsteps pattering against the floor came no closer to him, instead they seemed to move across the room. As the mover came to a halt, there was a hitched breath, and then another.
"I'm just so worried about him," Granger babbled, her words slightly muffled, "Whatever happened over the summer and now all of this mess and he won't tell us why he's sneaking off or how he ended up in the Hospital Wing and he's just pretending everything's okay and it's not. And he's going to get himself into trouble and we're not going to be there to help him…"
She started to sob. Severus could hear Weasley whisper quiet words of comfort, mostly meaningless babble alongside promises that they'd find out where Potter was sneaking off to and that he'd be okay. Severus listened for a moment longer but when it was clear no more useful information would be forthcoming, he cancelled the eavesdropping charm and slipped off back to his office, any plans for brewing long forgotten.
Harry ducked through the portrait hole, hoping to avoid drawing any attention to himself. He'd gone straight to the cloisters after the Quidditch trials, unwilling to partake in the inevitable celebrations.
If he'd had it his way, he would've spent the rest of the evening there, but the Herbology Society had a meeting which Neville couldn't miss and there wasn't much point in practising shield charms without him. Left with the option of finishing his homework alone in the cloisters or returning to the Common Room, the latter had narrowly won out. Admittedly, Ron and Hermione played a part in that decision, since he knew they'd be wondering where he was. It was harder to slip away at the weekends and the last thing he wanted to do was make them more suspicious. Even if that meant facing his teammates.
Sure enough, when he climbed through the portrait hole, he was greeted with the sight of the Quidditch team gathered around his replacement, swigging from bottles of butterbeer and clamouring over one another. The new seeker had already been fitted with a set of the team robes, and at one point she even twirled around in them while Katie and Alicia cheered.
Harry stood there, a hot swooping feeling in his chest. The numbness that he'd carried around with him melted away, leaving a wave of anger and regret and a dozen other things he couldn't possible name in its wake. He looked away quickly and scurried towards his dorm, but the image stayed burned in his mind. If only Snape hadn't interfered, then none of this would be happening. If only-
"Watch out!"
At that moment, a burst of fire shot out, accompanied by an explosion of turquoise stars, emitting loud sparks and bangs as they whirled wildly towards him. Just before the flames could reach him, he heard someone call out "Protego" and the stars rebounded away from him and exploded into streaks of bright light which whizzed over his head and showered the room in a bright blue mist.
"Sorry about that," Fred came bounding towards him, slopping butterbeer over the head of some first year in his haste.
"What was that?" Harry asked, his heart still racing.
"Do you remember when we fed that salamander fireworks last year. We've been trying to modify some Filibuster's fireworks to mimic the same effects."
"But we left some of the prototypes out and Lee accidentally set them off," George finished, appearing behind him, "You alright?"
"Yeah I'm fine, good shield charm," said Harry, accepting the bottle of butterbeer that George pressed into his hands and taking a swig, "Where d'you learn how to do it?"
"Picked it up as we went along. Turns out, almost getting set on fire half-a-dozen times if a good motivator." Fred grinned
"Could you teach me?" Harry asked casually, trying to keep his desperation from showing, "Seems like it could be useful."
"Sure, it's pretty simple when you get it," George pulled out his wand to demonstrate and then hesitated. Percy was marching towards them, a furious expression on his face and blue soot covering his hair, "But not here."
"Classroom eleven?" suggested Fred, "It's not being used for anything and it's on route to McGonagall's office."
George glanced in Percy's direction and nodded. They weaved easily around a gaggle of first years, pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through the hole.
"Why do you want to go to McGonagall's office?" Harry asked, once they were safely out of Percy's reach.
"Lee managed to get hold of a set of nose-biting teacups," said Fred cheerfully, "Figured they'd make a nice addition to our Monday lesson on turning teacups into tortoises."
"Add a whole new dimension to the challenge, really."
"The only issue has been switching them out."
"But we think we've got that sorted. McGonagall's office will be empty until dinner," George explained, "There's a staff meeting to discuss changes to the patrol schedule and they always last forever. It's the best chance we've got."
"It'll be a two-minute detour," Fred assured him, "And then we'll teach you a shield charm. You in?"
Harry was so relieved about finally sorting his shield charm that he'd have agreed to just about anything. He grinned at the twins, nodded, and followed them down the corridor.
The staffroom was empty when Severus arrived. He settled down in his preferred spot; a low armchair by the window which overlooked the Quidditch Pitch. Rain was still pelting down, but the howling winds had eased considerably over the weekend, enough that his house team had gone out to practice with minimal complaining. Or rather, six of them had.
Severus didn't bother to suppress an eye-roll. Although Poppy had assured him several times that Malfoy was fully recovered, the third year had elected to keep his arm wrapped in bandages and secured in a sling, and had insisted on being signed off all Quidditch practices for the foreseeable future, which Severus had taken to mean until the weather improved.
Severus sighed. He was busy enough as it was, between settling in the new first years and dealing with Potter, but he knew that soon Flint would turn up at in his office, demanding he do something about Malfoy. Normally, that was the sort of task he could delegate to his prefects, but Malfoy was unusually obnoxious and thick-skinned, and Severus had learned over the past two years that it was best to handle him directly, before he infuriated someone who wasn't afraid of his father's wealth and influence.
Not that Severus wasn't suspicious that the heavily-bandaged arm was one of the Lucius's schemes. The elder Malfoy was itching to cause trouble after the embarrassment of last year, and Hagrid had handed him a new way to interfere with the school on a silver-platter. He'd have to keep an eye on that, just in case Lucius was plotting something more dangerous. If last year had taught him anything, it's that he couldn't underestimate the depths of Lucius's viciousness, even while the Dark Lord was still gone. Especially when the discontented whispers among the old crowd were growing stronger, and occasionally starting to morph into more than just words. Enough time had passed since the end of the war that some former Death Eaters were growing bolder, no longer fearing reprisals or investigations now that they'd assimilated back into society. The odd incidents of muggle-baiting had started cropping up, and cursed objects were being traded with such frequency that the Ministry had started conducting raids again.
Severus could read the warning signs clear as day. He'd taken to spending more time in the Slytherin Common Room, listening out for any further rumblings among the older students. Even an overheard snippet from a letter home might give an indication of what was to come. Anything to give Albus an edge against the wave of darkness they both expected to return.
Although the last of the daylight was rapidly fading, his students showed no signs of letting up on their practise. He watched out the window as the emerald-clad figures darted through the sky and wondered if they had inkling of what was coming.
"Ah, Severus," The staffroom door banged open and Minerva made her way across the room to him, several sheets of parchment in hand, "You're here early. Here, I've got a schedule for today's meeting, hopefully it shouldn't last too long." She glanced at the clock on the wall and then back at him, "Although while we've got a moment, there was another incident between the second years that you be aware of." She summoned a chair from a nearby table and sat down across from him.
Severus sighed heavily. Yet another problem he didn't have time to keep an eye on. The tension between the Gryffindor and Slytherin second years was unusually pronounced this term. He couldn't remember the last time the house rivalry had been this widespread. Even within the third year cohort, excluding Potter and Malfoy, there were few petty squabbles that escalated beyond playground taunts. With the second years, it was a different story. Severus suspected it had something to do with the Chamber of Secrets and all the Heir of Slytherin nonsense that had flooded the school last year. The first year Slytherins had been particularly indignant about being accused of being vicious murders, while the first year Gryffindors had never gotten over one of their own being abducted into the Chamber. For the youngest Weasley's sake, Albus had refused to reveal the true story, which Severus could sympathise with except that it meant the cloud of suspicion had never fully been lifted. Which as a practical matter meant that tensions between the two houses were higher than they'd been for a decade.
"What have they done this time?" He asked wearily.
He listened to Minerva detail the latest series of pranks and duels, his eyebrows climbing as the list grew. Some of the pranks were impressively creative, although how Evie Proudfoot had managed to slip Screaming Snakes Hair Potion into half a dozen drinks was anyone's guess. At least his Slytherins gave as good as they got, even if he'd have to have a serious discussion with some of them about proportional responses. It was one thing for Sarsina Shafiq to hex Demelza Robins so that she could only talk in rhyme, but he'd have to have a stern conversation with Gordian Rookwood about using the blasting curse against other students.
"I reached my tipping point this morning, when the first years started getting involved. I've given all of them afternoon detention tomorrow. They'll be mucking out the Hippgriff Stalls together, in groups of five." She smiled grimly, "That should be enough to put them off breaking the rules for a few weeks. I've also scheduled a meeting with my house to address the issues. I'd appreciate it if you would do the same."
"Of course," Severus inclined his head, although he winced internally at the thought of adding another task to his already overloaded schedule.
Minerva considered him for a long moment. She glanced at the clock again, her eyes flicking to the closed staffroom door and back to Severus.
"I can still amend the patrol schedule before the meeting starts," she offered. Severus blinked at her in surprise and she hurried to explain, "I know you've got enough in your cauldron now that you've taken on additional responsibilities towards Potter. I'd be happy to cover some of your other duties, given that he ought to be my responsibility."
"That would be helpful," he admitted, "Thank you."
"It's the least I can do. I meant to ask, actually, if you think it would be a good idea for me to speak to Potter. As his Head of House, I ought to offer support or at least acknowledge his situation."
"Not yet," Severus said, after a moment's thought, "He still thinks only Poppy and I know about his relatives' mistreatment. Given that he's struggling enough with that, I doubt it's the right time to acknowledge that there are others who know or will have to become involved. For now, don't say anything, but if you could keep a close eye on him, that would be very helpful. I try but I can't be everywhere."
"Of course," she agreed, "How's he doing? I spoke to-" She broke off quickly as the door swung open and Filius came strolling through, making a beeline for their table.
"Later," Severus instructed quietly.
Minerva nodded and stood to greet Filius, handing another sheet of parchment over to Severus first, "You'd better make your changes now. There's a Protean Charm on my schedule, so make any alterations on there before I hand the rest of them out."
The twins were in high spirits as they walked back to the Common Room. They'd spent the last few hours shooting fireworks and brightly coloured hexes at him until he'd finally mastered the shield charm. It was well past curfew when they finally left the unused classroom but that didn't seem to bother any of them in the slightest. George was walking ahead, consulting a tattered piece of parchment as they weaved through the corridors. Fred and Harry followed a couple of paces behind him, Harry howling with laughter as Fred recounted the story of a prank they'd pulled the previous year involving a broom racing tournament in the Northeast corridor and a series of time delayed dungbombs. Fred was in the middle of an impression of one of the racers when George swore loudly.
"In here," he pulled them into a nearby classroom and closed the door quietly. "Filch is coming this way," he whispered into the darkness.
"Can we double back?" Fred asked, murmuring, "Lumos" and peering over George's shoulder at the tattered parchment.
"No, look, we'd have to go down the Charms Corridor and Lupin's there."
"What if we cut through the hidden passageway here," he pointed at a spot on the parchment, "the one hidden by the tapestry of Ignatius the Impotent?"
"No good. McGonagall and Snape are still in the staffroom, see, and we can't chance them coming out and catching us. I reckon our best bet's to wait here for Filch to pass."
"Not many good places to hide in here," Fred said doubtfully, "What if he comes to investigate the light?"
"There's a cupboard over there," George suggested, "Hey, Harry, can you see how much space there is in there?"
Harry made his way over to the cupboard on the far side of the room. It rattled slightly as he approached but he didn't think much of it as he pulled the doors open. At once, a dementor emerged, one glistening, scabbed hand reaching out towards Harry. The lights from their wands flickered out and the room was plunged into darkness. Harry could hear a deep rattling breath. An icy chill washed over him and he shivered. The cold air was wet and heavy and sat in his lungs like liquid until he could hardly breathe. Somewhere far away, he could hear Fred call out to him, but his voice was muffled behind the thick white fog descending over him.
A piercing scream filled the room. The voice, the same one he'd heard on the train, was screaming. Terrible, terrified, pleading screams. Then she started begging, "Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead-" There was a cruel, high-pitched laugh and the screaming continued, louder than ever, echoing inside his head.
"Harry!"
Someone was tapping him hard on the face. He blinked into the wand light. He was lying on a dusty classroom floor. Fred and George were hovering over him, looking extremely pale.
"It was just a boggart," said George, reaching out a hand and pulling him upright, "Fred got rid of it."
"C'mon, let's get back to the Common Room. Lupin's back in his quarters, we can cut through via the Trophy Room."
They moved towards the door, waiting for him to follow. But Harry could not move. His limbs felt heavy, like he was moving through treacle. Time was slow and strange and the twins babbling meant very little to him. Because all he could hear, ringing in his ears, was the sound of his mother screaming as she begged for his life.
A/N: Chapter 13 is finally here. Hopefully there'll be a shorter wait for the next one, I wrote quite a lot of it as the start of a one-shot before I decided to write a full story instead. It's the Halloween chapter, and I can't decide whether to hold off posting it until October or not. As ever, thank you for all the follows, favourites and reviews. They're always fun to read and I appreciate any feedback