A/N: I'm not making promises on my updating schedule. You're getting three chapters today instead of one weekly one, as I'm only posting here mainly for Amber and in order to eventually have this story completed. Otherwise, I don't think I'd bother. It's a lot of work with little reward. If you want the weekly updates with chapter summaries and background notes / explanations as before, you can find me on A03, which is my new, favorite site that has a great community with very engaging readers.
Another Visit to Privet Drive
When Severus moved up the stairs to the headmaster's office after his second talk with Potter, his mind was still reeling. His life had been so quiet before the child had come to Hogwarts. He really should have appreciated it more.
"Severus!" greeted the headmaster cheerfully. "I hear our lost boy and his friend have found their way home at last? I hope you did not threaten them with expulsion for missing the train?"
"As if you would expel the hero of the wizarding world!" snorted Severus. "That'd be wishful thinking on my part."
"I don't believe a word you're saying, Severus. Given how concerned you were for his welfare the entire day, I'd wager you've taken a liking to him. Quite against your will, of course."
"The boy constantly gives me reason for concern. And there was a reason why he didn't board the Hogwarts Express."
Severus told the headmaster everything Harry had told him before – the missing letters, the sinister plot, the house-elf and the atrocious way Petunia treated her nephew. "The worst is, he thinks it's all totally normal and no reason to ask for help, Albus! He thought no one would miss him or be concerned for him. The idea didn't even cross his mind. He was surprised to hear that students on the train did have the means to contact a professor if they needed help or if there was an emergency. He's utterly convinced that adults are good for nothing and that kids have to somehow cope with every situation on their own."
"He's very mature and self-dependent for his age," Albus agreed. "A very special child, indeed."
"You don't know the half of it. Harry Potter wandlessly levitated Miss Granger's trunk loaded with all her books and belongings all the way from Hogsmeade to the castle. He didn't even think he was doing magic. He called it 'telekinesis' and more or less told me that he's been capable of doing it for a long time."
"Wandless magic?" The headmaster gave him an astonished glance over the rim of his glasses. "I would say that's impossible if anyone else told me that."
"He was magically exhausted when he arrived, but had no idea why. Poppy forbade him from using any magic tomorrow, which is probably a good thing because it'll give me time to retrieve his wand."
"You'll go to Surrey?"
"Unless you want Hagrid to deal with Petunia Dursley?"
"Hm. That might be effective, but I fear it would end up with Obliviators having to get involved. Better you do it, Severus. You don't have to actually use magic to be threatening. But don't antagonize her too much, please! We need her. Harry needs her."
Severus wasn't willing to make any promises on the matter and swiftly changed topics.
"What do we do about the elf?" he asked the headmaster. "Could it have been one of Hogwarts'?"
"I can't imagine so. You said the elf complained about being mistreated by his family, and no one is mistreating Hogwarts elves – sometimes it feels like they rule the castle. You also mentioned that this particular elf seemed – deranged?"
"That's what Potter said, but he has never seen a house-elf before. He doesn't know what their normal behaviour is like. In all honesty, to a Muggle, any creature threatening to punish themselves for a perceived mistake will seem deranged. But just to make sure, you should ask around if there's a house-elf named Dobby in the castle."
"I will. Other than that, I don't really know what to do about it – many people have elves, especially the pureblood families.
"Ward Privet Drive against house-elves?" Severus suggested. That much should have been self-evident, even before the mysterious elf's appearance.
"Yes. That might be wise, given the circumstances. Do that, Severus. Though I am pretty sure that the elf himself is no threat to Harry. The wards prevent anyone from entering who wishes him harm."
Severus left the office wishing the headmaster showed a little more concern about the fact that the wards obviously didn't prevent anyone from causing Harry harm who was already present.
*'*'*'*'*'*'*
This time, when Severus Apparated to the playground near Privet Drive in Little Whinging, it was dark, all blinds were closed and the cars neatly parked in their respective driveways. It was Vernon Dursley who opened the door at his knocking.
"You!" he exclaimed, his face immediately taking on a very unbecoming colour.
"Yes, me. Your powers of observation are astounding. Will you let me enter this time so we can talk without spitting and shouting or do I have to hex you again?"
Dursley's eyes darkened, and so did the blotchy pink on his cheeks. It really didn't look healthy.
"Not that I care," said Severus, "but if I were you, I would get my blood pressure checked."
Vernon grunted and threw a quick glance at the street to see if anybody had taken notice of their visitor. Then, still grunting, he proceeded to the living room, as there was no way Severus could have squeezed past him. Last time, he had strongly reminded Severus of a walrus. This time, he sounded and looked more like a pig.
"Good evening, Petunia." Lily's sister was in the kitchen and looked up in alarm when Severus followed her husband into the room. The tone of his greeting hadn't been friendly or even polite, but rather threatening.
"What do you want here again?" she spat. "You said you didn't want to come back!"
"I assure you I didn't want to. But your nephew – for the second time – arrived at school without his trunk. Did you forget to take it when you dropped him off at the station?"
"Don't pretend you don't know that the boy ran away again!"
"What reason could he possibly have had to do that?"
"He doesn't need a reason to be obstinate and insolent! He set snakes on our boy! And you had promised that he wouldn't be able to do any magic."
"And I stand by it. He didn't even have a wand. Which brings me back to the reason for my being here. Where is his school trunk?"
Petunia nodded to the hallway. "Where we always put all the magical clobber he brings home for the summer: In the cupboard under the stairs, safely out of our way."
"Then let's fetch it, shall we, so that I can keep my visit here as short as possible."
Dursley, obviously possessing a minimum of intelligence and self-preservation, fished a key from his key chain and opened the locks on the door. They had gone to extremes to make sure Harry couldn't reach any of his magical possessions.
Once the door was open, Severus bent down and looked inside. He was puzzled to find the trunk sitting on a mattress on the floor. The underside of the staircase had been decorated with child drawings done in crayons. The one that caught Severus' gaze and made his own blood pressure go up considerably was the one in cheerfully coloured, angular letters across one stair board, which declared the pitiful storage space to be 'Harry's Room'.
"Please tell me that your nephew doesn't live in here," Severus said with a dangerous voice, turning back to the Dursleys, who didn't seem at all concerned at allowing him even a glimpse into the cupboard. Maybe Harry had just been just been den-building here when he was little?
"Had that been the case," Vernon barked, "he wouldn't have got out to run away in the dead of the night, would he? His room is the second upstairs bedroom, though he must have used his freakish powers to make a getaway from there somehow."
Severus was tempted to use Legilimency on Vernon to be sure, but that was strictly speaking illegal, and he'd rather not have to resort to Obliviation. Besides, there were other methods to find out the truth.
"Show me," he demanded, levitating the trunk out of storage. "I will have to pack his clothes, too."
Pulling a sour face which didn't do anything to make Petunia appear any more pleasing to the eye, she led him upstairs, to a room that had a deadbolt installed at the door. Severus opened it and found himself in a smallish room which had a bed, a wardrobe and a small desk. It wasn't very different from his own childhood room, but in his home, all the rooms had been small and poorly furnished, while the Dursleys prided themselves on being middle-class and reasonably well-off.
If one was generous, one might have said that this room met the basic requirements of a child's bedroom – if it hadn't been for the bars in front of the windows, which made the room a prison cell.
"Don' give me that look," Petunia said to him, seeing his face. "It's a proven fact that the boy doesn't have any respect for rules. It's not sufficient to just tell him that he's grounded. And unlike you, I can't simply keep him put with a wave of a stick."
Severus pressed his lips together and refrained from saying anything, for fear that it might be a hex. He just pulled open the closet to put the boy's clothes into his trunk – only to find that it was stuffed with what appeared to be broken toys. "Where are Harry's clothes?" he asked, really having to make an effort to keep his voice civil.
Petunia nodded at a small chest of drawers behind the door. Severus found underwear and pyjamas, two pairs of pants that probably once belonged to Dursley, judging by the size, and two sets of cloth in a muddled grey. What was that? A Victorian sleep shirt? A nightdress? A blanket with arms?
"You can leave those here. Those are his gardening clothes. Everything else he took with him when he sneaked out."
Wordlessly, Severus levitated the underwear and PJs into the trunk and snapped it shut. There was nothing else in the room, except the owl cage on his desk. Which reminded him …
"I hope you didn't keep the owl locked up in this for lengthy periods of time," he said to Petunia, feeling malicious. "Magical owls have a nasty habit of bursting into flames if they get depressed or feel that their lives are threatened."
With satisfaction, he noticed that she paled.
"If that's all?" Petunia asked stiffly.
Severus nodded and was about to follow her out of the cell devoid of personal items, when a memory made him hesitate. His own childhood room had looked similarly impersonal. Because he had hidden his stuff. Turning around, he waved his wand. "Accio, Personal Belongings of Harry Potter!"
His spell had an immediate effect. From underneath the mattress, books came flying. Severus swiftly caught them. Looking at the titles, his eyebrows rose in surprise and concern. They would definitely have to talk about this.
Addressing Petunia once more before he turned to leave the house, he reminded her of the piece of advice he had given her about half a year ago and spelled out loud and clear the needs they were expected to meet. "It seems that my warning that the boy won't stay a child forever has not resonated with you. Maybe you're lucky and Harry will be more forgiving than I was when I turned seventeen. Have you ever heard what happened to my father?"
Severus saw with satisfaction how Petunia paled.
He lowered his voice to a conspirative whisper. "No one knows. He just vanished without a trace around the same time I went over to the dark side."
Her eyes widened as she probably remembered what Lily surely must have told her. Maybe the fact that he was teacher now had made her forget about the episode in his past. Time to remind her and send his message home: "Here's another fact hardly anybody knows," he said with an evil smirk: "I never left it, and if you force me to come back here once again on Harry's behalf, I assure you that you'll bitterly regret it!"
Another First Day of Classes
The first morning back at Hogwarts started with a bang. As unusual as Harry's and Hermione's trip to Hogwarts had been, when Harry came to the Great Hall for breakfast, the school was already buzzing with rumours about a rather spectacular entrance three other students had made yesterday: Apparently, Ronald Weasley and the twins had flown to Hogwarts in their father's magically enhanced car and had crashed into the Whomping Willow!
"Can you believe it?" Draco said, shaking his head with derision."Their own father works in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office and has pushed through that ridiculous bill which is supposed to put a stop to tinkering with Muggle items! And then he owns a flying car and lets his kids fly it! Wait until father hears about this!"
"I really hate to agree with anything goldilocks says," Tom remarked,"but he's right about this! I bet Weasley Senior is in a lot of trouble right now. Why would those Gryffindorks do such a thing?"
"Well, to be fair, their father didn't allow them to fly it," interjected Blaise, who thought the incident was a prime example of Gryffindor recklessness and as such rather entertaining. "They took it. Claimed that the barrier at the platform wouldn't let them through, so they couldn't reach the train."
"What?" asked Harry, shocked. He had thought he and Hermione had been the only ones affected. Had the barrier closed already before their arrival? Or had the three Weasleys arrived even after them?
"From what I heard," elaborated Blaise, "the oldest Weasley and his sister arrived with the train, so the whole story is obviously bollocks. I bet they only wanted to ride the flying car. You know how the twins are. And all Gryffindors are celebrating them for it, as if they did something heroic."
"And they didn't!" Draco said with vehemence."They crashed into the Whomping Willow and severely damaged it! A tree that has been on Hogwarts' grounds for decades, can you believe it?"
Actually, Harry could believe it – especially the part about the barrier being closed.
"Why did you miss the feast yesterday, Harry?" asked Blaise. "Your friends were there, but I didn't even see you coming to the dorm. We thought you had missed the train as well."
"I did," Harry said, and added with a dead-pan voice: "The barrier wouldn't open."
It took Harry quite a while to convince his dorm mates that he wasn't making it up, and that something weird had indeed happened to the barrier.
"We'll have to talk to the twins and find out why they couldn't get through," he said to Tom."And I really would like to know why they thought it a good idea to take the car. Surely, they knew about fire calls?"
Whatever excuse they had given their parents, it had obviously not convinced their mum. Harry hadn't known what a Howler was, and after witnessing the arrival and opening of one, he was sure that he never wanted to be on the receiving end of one.
*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*
When students were leaving the Great Hall for the first lesson of the day, Harry was held back by his Head of House before he could catch up with his waiting friends. Professor Snape pulled Harry's wand from the inside of his voluminous teaching robe and handed it to him."I believe you might want this back, Mr. Potter. But remember you're not supposed to use it today."
"You've got my wand!" Harry exclaimed happily, smiling at his professor. It was a great feeling to have it back in his hand. Harry was immediately flushed with a feeling of comfort and confidence. "Thank you, Sir!"
"I brought your trunk and some other things I thought you might want to have from you room, too."
Harry blushed at the thought that his Head of House had seen his pitiful room."I keep nearly all of my possessions in my trunk," he said in the way of an explanation.
"That doesn't make it any better," remarked Tom, seeing the raised eyebrow of their professor. "Aunt Petunia kept it from you throughout the summer."
Well. There was no reason to feel ashamed for the actions of his aunt, so Harry straightened his shoulders and returned his professor's gaze.
"Come and see me after dinner, Mr. Potter, to pick up the rest of your belongings. And I think we have a few more things to discuss." With that, the Potion Professor turned on his heel and vanished in a cloud of billowing robes.
"I really like how he does that," said Tom admiringly. "If I had my own body, I'd buy myself robes like that, too. He makes a statement just by walking down the hallway. Though a little more colour in his wardrobe probably wouldn't hurt."
*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*
The Weasleys' stunt was the talk of the day. They were being congratulated and hit on their backs in passing, as if they had accomplished a truly heroic feat. Ron especially was basking in the attention, the Howler fast forgotten.
"They must have arrived more or less at the same time or shortly after us, and probably tried to get in through the first pillar, as we did at first," mused Hermione on their way from the Great Hall to the Defence classroom after lunch."We were at the other end of the platform at the time and would not have noticed them. If they decided to take the car to Hogwarts, they probably left the station shortly before us."
"I still can't imagine how scared you must have been when not being able to pass through the barrier!" said Neville, who had got a very brief summary of their adventure in between lessons. Sometimes, there was an advantage to the castle being big and the commuting between classes being long.
"It wasn't as scary as the ride on the Knight Bus," declared Hermione, who would have much preferred the eight hours on the Hogwarts Express."Thank you for raising the alarm for us. I guess we might just as well have waited right at the platform for a teacher to come for us."
They hadn't been the only ones who hadn't considered that as a possibility, or the Weasley's wouldn't have taken their father's car. They probably hadn't even expected their parents to be able to leave the platform.
In the Defence classroom for their last lesson of the day, all talk of heroic deeds, flying cars and whomping trees finally ceased. Everybody's – or at least all of the girls' – attention was on their new and famous Defence professor, Gilderoy Lockhart, the famous author they had met at the book signing. Harry was totally taken aback when he noticed that the classroom had been newly decorated: mostly with huge portraits of said teacher in different poses. He was smiling down at them from every wall, flashing his unnaturally white teeth. It was creepy.
"Tell me I'm imagining this," he muttered to no one in particular.
"Nope," said Tom."Not dreaming. I'm afraid our new professor has a rather wide narcissistic streak.
Even Hermione seemed a bit perplexed by this shameless self-display."Well, he's a very prominent figure, and those were probably gifts given to him …" she nevertheless tried to defend their teacher, but she didn't sound fully convinced herself.
Lockhart greeted them with the same smile he proudly presented in each of the portraits, and they soon learned that he had won an award for it. Harry and Tom would have preferred an award that had something to do with his accomplishments in Defence, but at least the fact that he had written best-selling books about the subject still gave them some reason to hope. It was soon smashed, though, when he had them take a test about all of the seven books they had been forced to buy – before the first lesson had even started!
"What?" asked Tom, perplexed."He can't have expected us to have read them all already! The lists were sent out only four weeks into the holidays!"
And even worse, the professor (Harry already had difficulties even calling him that) didn't ask a single question that was remotely relevant to DADA, but most ridiculous questions about himself: 'What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favourite colour?' 'What would be Gilderoy Lockhart's perfect birthday gift?' 'What do you think is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest accomplishment?'
Tom demanded that Harry refuse to participate in such nonsense and was very adamant about it. Harry didn't have much of a choice, given that he had no idea what Gilderoy's favourite colour was or what his ideal gift would be. In fact, he could answer none of the 54 questions. So he could either leave the pages blank or try to guess answers, which would be a waste of time. So he just put 'I didn't think any of this was relevant for Defence so I didn't commit it to memory" beneath the last question and played a game of twenty questions with Tom to pass the time.
Hermione, much to Harry's amusement and Tom's consternation, had diligently answered all the questions, some of them even correctly, and blushingly accepted ten points for Ravenclaw.
She didn't take kindly to Neville and Harry making fun of their new teacher, considering he was such a well-known expert on the field and insisted that they shouldn't judge him so harshly just for trying to make their first lesson amusing.
"He wasn't trying to be funny!" insisted Harry, as they entered the library after that horrible last lesson of the day. "Or if he was, we can only pity him for such poor humour. It was ridiculous and embarrassing!"
Neville, as usual when Hermione and Harry had an argument, tried to mediate and said that the first lesson was a bit of a let down in their expectations, but that they should at least wait until after the next lesson before making a final judgement.
Appeased, Hermione gave him a grateful smile and headed towards the far end of the library, where they found the twins already occupying their favourite table. The fourth years waved them over and invited them to sit down with them. "So we've heard youmissed the train as well," one of them - Harry dubbed him George – started the conversation, with Fred following up with the question of what had happened to them.
Once more, Harry and Hermione told their story, which Neville hadn't heard in full detail yet either. The twins were pretty impressed.
"Taking the Knight Bus – what a brilliant thought!" exclaimed George.
"Although you have to admit that our arrival had way more 'bang'", added Fred.
"What happened to you that half of your family arrived with the train and the three of you didn't?" Harry inquired curiously.
"Well, they made it to the platform quicker than we did and got through just fine … ", said George, starting the usual ping-pong style conversation that was the norm with the twins.
"We had to gather all our stuff, the trunks, the brooms, our schoolbags, Ron's rat cage ..."
"… and we had already got to the station really late …"
"… because George had noticed that he had forgot his box of Filibuster fireworks …"
"… when Ron had to go back for his broom."
"We would still have made it to King's Cross in time, if Ginny hadn't started crying because she had left her diary."
"Dad didn't want to turn around a third time, but Ginny got so upset that he just had to."
"Well, you know how girls are when they get close to puberty ..."
Hermione grabbed the book she was reading and hit George straight on the head with it. "No, I have no idea! How do girls get when they hit puberty? Please tell!"
"Go, Hermione!" applauded Tom, and Harry, too, had to stifle a grin.
"More reflective!" said Fred, raising his hands placatingly.
"Very much in tune with the world and all that is wrong in it …" added George.
"Attentive of all those minor slights and insults that would pass unnoticed by all those insensitive people they are surrounded with …"
"All right, I get it! She's introverted, moody and touchy. Just be kind to your sister, it's probably no easy thing being the only girl in your family, and being away from home for the first time is difficult, too.
"She actually came to my defence immediately when Ron rather rudely attacked me in the bookstore," Harry added."I owe her for that. Seemed very courageous to me."
"Yes, she's normally really feisty," nodded George."A temper like our mother."
"Dad is usually more the quiet sort. We didn't know he had it in him!"
George beamed. "But Malfoy really had it coming. Left with a blue eye!"
"We were there in the store when your dad got into the fist fight with Mr. Malfoy," said Hermione."Everyone was shocked, while you two seemed to have the time of your life."
"Of course we did!"
"The fob had it coming!"
"What's going on between the Malfoys and your family?" Harry wanted to know.
Fred shrugged."They look down on us because they have all that money and we don't."
"They live in a fancy manor, we have the Burrow – which, by the way, I'd take over their fancy manor any day!"
"And then dad managed to get that law passed which enabled the Ministry to do raids."
"Malfoy doesn't like that at all. He probably has to get rid of a lot of dark objects now."
"I saw him in Knockturn Alley," Harry said. "Came out of a shop named Borgin and Burkes." He told them of his brief adventure, and how he had almost headed into the Wyvern for breakfast. The twins almost fell off their seats laughing.
"Would have loved to see their faces if you got in there! Harry Potter, hero of the wizarding world…"
"… who's also only twelve years old! Imagine!"
"Well done, Harry! We're forbidden to even set foot into Knockturn Alley. Especially into shops like Borgin and Burkes. It's an antique shop mostly for dark magical items with a really shady reputation."
"I wonder what Malfoy did in there," wondered Neville.
"Sold all his dark artefacts before the Aurors could find them, I suppose."
"He's a school governor and plays the upright citizen, but it's a well-known fact that he was a Death Eater while You-Know-Who was still alive."
"What exactly does a Death Eater do?" wondered Harry. He had come across the term before in one of Hermione's books about events in the 20th century wizarding word. Tom had found the expression ridiculous. How was one supposed to eat Death? Unless it meant eating the flesh of corpses, which was just … yuck and deeply disturbing on many levels.
"Hm, no idea. Hang out with You-Know-Who, sing his praise and grovel a lot?" guessed Fred.
"They did raids on Muggles," said George."That seems to have been one of their fun activities. When they were not busy fighting members of the order, that is."
"Why the name Death Eater?"
"No idea. Because someone thought it sounded ominous and scary? Or it has to do with the Dark Mark on their arms, which is their emblem: a snake coming out of a skull."
Tom, who had been listening to the exchange with interest, had to put in his own piece of wisdom."For a dark lord, Voldemort seems remarkably stupid. Why would he put a tattoo on his followers that make them easy to identify?"
Harry wondered the same thing and asked the question.
"Yes, they identified them alright, but many of his followers claimed to have been under the Imperious curse, and quite a few of them walked free, especially the really rich ones, like Lucius Malfoy."
Fred nodded sagely. "Bribes get you a long way with the Ministry."
Harry found the idea that the father of his dorm mate might have been involved in the murder of his parents or the torture of Neville's shocking. Did Draco know? He was so proud of his father. The whole nonsense he spouted about blood purity appeared in a different and more sinister light all of a sudden.
They left the library an hour before dinner, so Harry could check in with Hagrid and Marvolo and inquire about Hedwig.
Both were happy to see him again, but Hagrid was also concerned. "'Twas a mighty jinx someone put on yer owl, Harry," Hagrid told him."Never seen anythin' like it. Had to ask Filius fer help – Professor Flitwick, that is."
Hagrid explained that the spell that had been cast on the owl was a sort of compulsion charm, which had probably forced Hedwig to drop her mail at a designated place close to Privet Drive instead of giving it to Harry. Dobby would only have to collect it from the spot as soon as he was alerted of a delivery. They had cancelled the hex, and Professor Flitwick had even added a charm that would alert him if anybody tried to tinker with her again.
Harry asked him to keep an eye out for Marvolo, too. If the elf wanted to make Harry's life at Hogwarts difficult, threatening his friends or familiars was a sure way to achieve it.
"Harry …" said Tom pensively while they were having tea and stone cakes with Hagrid, "… the Malfoys are a rich family. Do you think they have house-elves?"
The piece of softened cake he was about to eat fell back into his tea."You think that Lucius Malfoy might be the one plotting sinister things at Hogwarts?"
"He obviously knew who you were when he saw you in Knockturn Alley. He was a follower of You-Know-Who. He doesn't like the Weasleys for being poor and for defending Muggles. He looks down on Hermione, who is your friend. And he's one of the school governors."
"That's nothing but hints at best, not proof."
"No, but it's more than we have on anyone else, so let's keep it in mind. If we find out who Dobby belongs to, we know who's behind it."
"Well, we still wouldn't know behind what exactly, but I'm afraid we'll find out eventually."
Harry was rather subdued on their way back to the castle. Yesterday, he had just seen the change of their travel plans as an adventure or an inconvenience, as he had believed that the charm on the barrier had failed somehow. Now it seemed as if the mysterious elf was willing to go to great lengths to keep Harry from Hogwarts, and didn't even mind who else got caught up in it.
*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*
When Harry knocked at his Head of House's office door after dinner, he felt like the day had had more than the usual hours. Getting back into a routine after the long holidays would probably take a while.
"Come in, Potter," Professor Snape called and motioned for him to take the seat at the other end of his desk, just like the night before. Harry was beginning to think of it as his chair. "I thought you might be interested to hear about my visit in Surrey last night. I had a chat with your Aunt Petunia."
"I hope she is still well?"
"Would you care if she wasn't?" Severus raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Not much," Harry admitted."Except that I will probably have to go back to the Dursleys next summer, and she likes to bear grudges."
"Then you may rest assured that she suffered no physical harm. I made it clear to her, however, that 'care' implied enabling you to do your homework over the summer, to make sure you get your school supplies and have a way to communicate with your friends and teachers if need be. I also once pressed the fact that magical owls are related to phoenixes and prone to bursting into flames if mistreated."
Harry grinned."You did? Thank you, Sir. That will hopefully keep Hedwig safe."
"I retrieved your trunk from a rather pitiful closet under the stairs. It had a mattress in it, and markings in crayon claimed it to be 'Harry's Room.' Your uncle claimed that it wasn't."
"It isn't," Harry assured. How embarrassing that his professor had seen it and drawn conclusions! "I have a room next to Dudley's."
"Only since the beginning of summer," Tom silently added the crucial detail that Harry didn't want to disclose.
"One that resembled a prison cell and was devoid of any personal belongings," his guardian pointed out."Except for these, that is." He put a stack of books on his desk that Tom had insisted on buying. Harry remembered hiding them in his room. How had the professor found them?"
"Maps of Consciousness: Exploring the Mind and Expanding Awareness'," Professor Snape read out the title of the top one which he held up demonstratively. "Would you mind telling me why you took interest in these topics, Mr. Potter?"
Oh, that one. Tom had thought a map of the human mind might be helpful to locate where exactly he was sitting in Harry's. But the book had been rather theoretical and hadn't contained a map at all.
"I thought it might help me understand magic," Harry said, stretching the truth just a little.
"Help you understand magic?"
"Yes. It's a power of the mind, right?"
His professor gave him a meaningful glance, though what it was supposed to mean, Harry wasn't sure. He picked up the second book and read the title aloud:"Manipulation and Dark Psychology: The Best Guide on Mind Control, Persuasion and Reading Body Language.' Do I have reasons for concern, Mr. Potter?"
"Well, it has proved quite useful with Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon and Dudley," Harry told him honestly.
The third and fourth title were read out to him. 'Reflections on the Reality of Transient Mental Illnesses'. 'Looking Through the Eyes of Trauma and Dissociation: The Human Mind Owner's Manual'. I repeat my question: Do I have to be concerned?"
Not at all, since he and Tom had ruled out the possibility that Harry suffered from a mental disorder by now. The book was actually an old one, from the library. Occasionally, they gave away books they no longer considered up-to-date. Tom had wanted those two when they were still considering the possibility. Unfortunately, not even Tom had understood a word of it, and just as the map book hadn't contained a map, the manual hadn't actually contained a manual.
Harry wondered if telling him about Aunt Marge would do in way of explanation.
"Forget it. He's never going to believe it," said Tom dismissively.
"Any better ideas?"
"Nope. I wasn't prepared to defend my choice of reading material to a teacher. What did he do – search our bedroom? Surely, that's a violation of privacy?"
Harry shook his head."I'm definitely not going with that one."
"Harry?" Professor Snape stared at him, and there really was concern in his eyes.
Harry decided to give him a half truth. "Well, I have these moments when I sort of get lost in my thoughts. I'm really just running through things in my head, debating them with myself – it helps clear my mind. But it freaked Aunt Petunia out, and even Hermione and Neville find it weird. So I thought it might be some kind of mental illness and I wanted to do research on that."
"You thought you might suffer from a mental disorder?" asked Professor Snape, making sure he heard that correctly.
"It seemed like a possibility, especially before Hogwarts. I got the books way back when I was nine."
The professor pulled up his eyebrows again."You read books on psychology at age nine?"
He really had a funny habit of repeating things Harry said to him back in the form of a question. He never did that in Potion class. "Well, I tried to, but honestly, I didn't understand anything written in there. I just put it away until I was older."
Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. He already felt another headache coming. Worrying and being totally at a loss at what to do was obviously stressing him out. Lily's son had believed himself to be mad, thanks to not being informed about magic and thanks to him being raised by an aunt who called him a freak. Yes, that certainly constituted mental trauma, but he didn't know what it constituted that Harry had logically deduced that was what he might be suffering from. The boy seemed so stable, even serene. Was that also a sign that something was wrong with him? Did the boy need a psychologist? There was no such thing in the wizarding world. And he couldn't possibly take the boy to a Muggle therapist – he'd end up in the closed ward for sure.
"And how do you feel about that now?" he asked."Do you believe that you are suffering form a mental disorder?"
"No, Sir. I'm pretty sure that I'm not. The blanking out moments – which are in fact just moments of intense thinking - might be a bit unusual, but it's not like I'm not coming out of them on my own. So I don't see them as anything harmful."
"Well done, Harry!" congratulated Tom."It always surprises me when you manage to talk yourself out of a situation by simply telling the truth. It's not very Slytherin, but it seems to confuse them to no end."
Tom was right, Professor Snape seemed a bit unsure of what to do with the information. "Very well. Just – Harry, I've said it before and I would like to repeat it just to make sure it really sinks in with you: You're not alone in this anymore. I am your legal representative, which is as good as being your guardian in the wizarding world. I take that responsibility seriously. If you have any worries or concerns or are in need of advice – well, I can't promise that I will be able to give it to you – but I promise that I will listen and try my best. Even though it's clearly not my core competence."
Harry had to suppress an amused smile at that. "Don't worry, I think you're doing fine, Professor!" he said consolingly. "If there is ever something I feel the need to discuss with an adult, you'll be my first choice."
Severus almost shook his head in disbelief at this sudden role reversal. Damn, he really wasn't good at this. He could only hope that the boy was truly as grounded as he seemed to be.
"Thank you, Mr. Potter," he said with mild irony. "Here are your books. Take what you need from your trunk and - provided you have no better use for the rest – leave it all here with me. I can donate it to our fundus."
"There is a fundus?" Harry asked, surprised.
"Not all families are able to afford school uniforms, and many kids are grateful for second hand clothes, books or trunks, even in the wizarding world."
"That's great, but how do people know? I wasn't offered a second hand uniform or any books."
"You never sent us a return owl informing us of financial difficulties and asking us for help in procuring any of the items on the list."
"And had I lived with wizards, they would have known to do that?"
"Yes. Though it's unfortunately no guarantee that they would have asked for help." His own mother certainly hadn't.
Harry opened the lid and quickly sorted through the items. He had grown considerably in the last year, so few of his old clothes still fit. There were a few Muggle novels he wanted to keep and all the psychology books, if only not to bring further attention to them. There were some owl treats in there that were still edible, and some stationery which he could always use.
"That's all, Sir. You can give the rest to whoever might need it. And thank you for the trouble of getting my trunk back for me."
"It was no trouble, Mr. Potter."
Quidditch
If there was any doubt that their new Defence teacher was utterly incompetent, it was laid to rest a week later, when Lockhart – in what he called a practical lesson - unleashed a swarm of Cornish Pixies on them.
Pandemonium broke loose. The creatures weren't dangerous, but utterly destructive. If one wanted to make a room look as if a bomb had just exploded in it, letting a bunch of Cornish Pixies loose was the way to go. They finished the job in under ten minutes.
Harry was almost impressed. Not so much with his teacher though, who had fled to his office after failing to send the Pixies back into their cages – not before instructing the students to 'just nip the rest of them back into their cage'. Tom thought that a freezing charm would probably do the trick, but neither he nor Harry bothered to try. It wasn't their mess, after all. They just secured their most important belongings (Harry wasn't sad to see that four of his seven Lockhart books were shredded) left the rest to their fate and hastened out of the classroom, dragging Hermione with them.
"He probably just wanted us to get some hands on experience!" she protested, directing a last 'Immobulus' at one of the pixies before Harry closed the door behind her.
"Hermione, the man is quite obviously a narcissist and an idiot! I can't believe Dumbledore hired him as a teacher!"
Hermione pouted during their entire Herbology class, so that Harry partnered with Blaise instead. It seemed that 'creatures that screamed' was the topic of the day, as they had to repot Mandrakes – ugly, baby-like roots that were used in potions when fully grown. At least they were given earmuffs this time.
The only sensible and quiet lesson of the day was Transfiguration, which had the added advantage of having a qualified teacher. History of Magic this year was as bad as ever, Potions always a bit nerve-wracking and exhausting, as they were constantly kept on their toes, but Charms with Professor Flitwick was nice. They had learned quite a few useful charms since they started Hogwarts: Levitation and the wand-lighting-charm, an unlocking, mending and softening charm, the fire-making spell and, what they were currently working on – a freezing charm.
The first weeks of classes flew by, and it felt to Harry as if he had never been gone from the castle. He still remembered all the trick stairs, was greeted by familiar portraits and the ghosts (only Slytherins were acknowledged by the Bloody Baron in a civil manner – all other students were rather fearful of him), and most important at all, he was back with his friends. They visited Hagrid every other day, as Harry wanted to check on Marvolo every so often to make sure he was fine, and it was always nice to have tea and chat with Hagrid.
Hagrid seemed to enjoy the viper's company, even though the two couldn't communicate. But Hagrid really had a knack with animals and was actually pretty good at figuring out what Marvolo wanted or needed. And after the loss of Norbert, Hagrid was probably happy to have at least one dangerous beast around. Fluffy had been returned to a pen with a hut in the Forbidden Forest, where Hagrid visited him daily.
Harry also went to the owlery every other day, to briefly talk to Hedwig and tell her about his day. He had no idea if she could understand him like Marvolo did, but she was patiently listening, so maybe she really could.
The rest of the time was spent in the library, though Madam Pince had not been pleased at all when, after finishing their homework, they had set up Cluedo, their favourite board game, intending to play it. Apparently, the library was not a place for playing games.
"That's so stupid!" ranted Hermione. "What other place do we have? We are not allowed in each other's common rooms, so where can we hang out together in our free time?"
"I think the issue rarely comes up. Students don't seem to mingle much between houses."
"It's almost as if they want it that way. All because of the house points. Seriously, I'm beginning to resent the entire concept."
"It's still nice enough outside," said Neville, looking for a solution instead of lamenting the problem. "Let's go and sit in the courtyard or in one of the arcades."
"Sitting on a bench without a table," grumbled Hermione, unsatisfied with the situation. "Besides, we won't be able to do that much longer. It's going to get cold soon."
"Let's just keep our eyes open. I'm sure we'll find some corner nook or remote corridor where no one will bother us."
*'*'*'*'*'*'*
In the beginning of October, the tryouts for the Quidditch teams were announced. As a second year, Harry was now allowed to try for the team, and he was really interested. The twins had told him a lot about the game. They were the Gryffindor chasers and very enthusiastic about the sport.
Harry and Tom had another dispute about this. Harry wanted to fly – he loved it! He had never felt so free as when flying on a broom. Tom hated it. Fortunately, he didn't get motion sick, because that would really have sucked, but he felt it was very dangerous and not at all worth the risk. As a compromise, Harry offered to inquire about the safety measures in place to make sure kids came to no harm, to see if the sport was really as dangerous as Tom feared.
To say that Professor Snape was a bit surprised at his questions was an understatement. Apparently, kids never asked. "The last notable death in Quidditch occurred in 1357, and it was a referee who was cursed," he told Harry, when he had got over his confusion. "We have never had a student die due to a Quidditch accident. However, I would be remiss not to point out that there are quite a lot of accidents that usually result in broken bones. But nothing that Madame Pomfrey can't take care of, if that sets your mind at ease."
"But what if one falls off a broom for some reason? How can one possibly survive a fall from such heights?"
"Mr. Potter – there are always wizards and witches present who know how to cast an 'Arresto Momentum', which cushions or even stops a fall if perfectly cast. It's a spell you will learn in your third year. I assure you that all teachers, all upper grades and your team captain are capable of casting it."
"I'd feel much better if I was able to cast it myself before I sign up for the team, though."
"Of course you would." Severus shook his head. He wanted Harry on the Quidditch team. Rolanda wouldn't stopped raving about his flying skills after every lesson and had prophesied that once Harry was allowed on the team, Gryffindor would have a hard time winning the Quidditch cup. Severus didn't like to admit it, but he was quite competitive when it came to Quidditch. Not because of the sport – that had never caught his interest. But he wanted to see Slytherin win.
"Alright, Mr. Potter. I will show you the incantation and the wand movement. It's a bit more complex than the ones you've learned so far, and it's important that you can cast it in your sleep, otherwise it won't be of help if you should happen to fall."
"Of course, Sir! I'll make sure to practice every day."
"Please practice on things that you don't mind breaking if they hit the floor – not on yourself!"
"Understood!"
With such assurances and Harry eventually proving to Tom that he was competent to cast the spell, Tom grudgingly agreed to let Harry try out for the Quidditch team. He still wasn't happy about it and thought it stupid to risk even broken bones for a stupid game, but it was first and foremost Harry's body, and Harry had never had many things in his life that he enjoyed. He didn't want to be a spoilsport.
The tryouts went extremely well for Harry. It seemed he was a natural on a broom. That's what it felt like to him. He was much better than Draco, who also tried out for the seeker position, which was the only one which had a true vacancy as the previous seeker had graduated.
Draco was not amused when he noticed that Harry was doing better than himself. After all, he had been sitting on a broom since he was two, whereas Harry had never flown outside the flying lessons at the beginning of year one.
His temper wasn't the best when they finally left the Quidditch pitch. The captain, Marcus Flint, said he would think about it and make his decision over the weekend. Much to Harry's and his fellow Slytherins' surprise, Draco's mood was all but restored when he came into the common room after dinner the next day.
"Great news!" he said, grinning broadly. "My dad just promised to buy brand new Nimbus 2001s for the entire Quidditch team once I'm a member. Oh, I know you haven't decided yet, Marcus, but I thought you should know." He gave Harry an evil grin and enjoyed the flabbergasted expression on most faces.
"A Nimbus 2001 for every team member?" Miles Bletchley, their keeper, said in awe. "Wow, that would make us unbeatable!"
"Not if we have a bad seeker," Adrian Pucey, one of the chasers, objected. "Seeker points usually make the game. He has to have a decent broom."
"What broom do you have, Harry?" asked Marcus, who seemed very undecided about the news.
"I have my father's broom. It's a Cleansweep 4."
"Even the Weasley twins fly on a Cleansweep 5," Draco said disdainfully. "And that's a really old broom."
"Well, I'm hardly going to buy myself a fancy expensive broom if I'm not even on the team," retorted Harry. "Where would I fly? Surely not during the summer."
"I fly during the summer. We have a Quidditch pitch at our home."
"Of course he does – snotty little upstart!" sneered Tom, who did 'disdain' much better than Draco in Harry's opinion.
"Well, then it's a mystery why I still beat you today in the tryouts, isn't it?" asked Harry, who very much disliked Draco's arrogance.
Tom cheered. "Bravo Harry, that was a good one!"
"Okay, boys, that's it," said Marcus, sensing a fight in the making. "As I said, I will think about it and let you know."
Draco and Harry didn't talk much the entire evening and the next day, both of them miffed with the other. Not that they had ever been in the habit of exchanging pleasantries. They mostly had heated discussions. One might even call them arguments.
"You know, I really hope that you make seeker, Harry," said Tom. "If only to stick it to Malfoy. That arrogant prat! Bribing himself onto the team. Like father, like son. Does he have no shame?"
Apparently, bribery was not regarded as something to be ashamed of among Slytherins. Sunday evening, Marcus announced he had made his decision. Harry Potter was going to be the Slytherin seeker. If Draco's father was good to his word and bought them new brooms for the team, Draco would replace seventh year chaser Stuart Crocket.
Draco wasn't quite sure what to think of that, and Stuart was not amused to be kicked off the team for new brooms. But he accepted the logic of the decision. He was definitely not worth more than seven brand new brooms, even if he was better than Draco.
After thinking it through for a moment, Draco decided that being on the team was what counted. After all, a chaser was more prominent than a seeker, as he saw a lot more action during the game.
Everyone but Stuart was happy with the decision, and so Marcus went to Professor Snape to get special permission to use the Quidditch pitch in order to train Harry and Draco in time for the first game.
The Gryffindors, whom they had to chase away from the pitch, were not pleased, and it almost resulted in an altercation. Quidditch was taken very seriously by all teams. Harry shrugged apologetically towards the twins, who sighed and then tried to soothe their team mates' ruffled feathers by pointing out that it gave them a brilliant opportunity to watch their competitors train.
The fact that the Gryffindors chose to hang about irritated Marcus a great deal, though he tried not to show it. Harry soon forgot everything but the broom, the little golden snitch and the wind in his hair when he chased after it. It was beyond compare. Coming to Hogwarts had totally been worth it, if only for this moment!
Marcus was happy with how the training went and threw a smug glance to the now worried looking Gryffindors in the stands. Malfoy wasn't all bad as a chaser, and Harry had caught all the practice snitches with ease, and sometimes in breathtaking manoeuvres. And all that on his old broom. Once they had their new brooms, the Slytherin Quidditch team would be unbeatable.
When they left the pitch, Harry suddenly found himself face to face with a flashing camera that momentarily blinded him. When his eyes could focus again, he saw a really young looking Gryffindor who was almost jumping up and down in front of him in excitement. He started commenting on how awesome the practice had been, complimenting Harry for his reflexes, his broom and his Quidditch uniform, telling him how much he admired Harry for defeating not only one dark wizard, but two, and how his parents would be thrilled to hear that he had met Harry personally. He was talking without taking a breath. It was worse than Hermione when she was nervous! Or maybe he was just more used to her by now, and Colin – that was the name of his fan-boy – had a rather high-pitched voice.
The other Gryffindors had long since made their way back to the castle and his teammates had disappeared into the changing rooms, leaving him to deal with the excitable little Griffin on his own. Harry was longingly looking after them but thought it was rude to let the boy just stand there. So he slowly headed back in the direction of the castle and was, unfortunately, followed on his heels by the still talking kid, who was now asking him a myriad of questions, like if he could take more pictures of Harry and if he would sign them afterwards. Tom snickered.
Harry, desperate to get rid of the boy, promised him an autograph later, just to get him to leave. Much to his chagrin, Lockhart, who was just stepping out of the castle gates, had witnessed the scene and came towards them. He jovially offered Colin a picture with himself and Harry in it – wasn't that neat! - and drew Harry forcefully to his side before he could react. On top of this indignity, he then saw the need to give Harry unsolicited advice on how to deal with fame, namely not to let it go to his head. It was too ridiculous to even take seriously, although the man clearly meant it.
Harry finally managed to escape from both of them by claiming to need a shower. He didn't really, as he had never even broken a sweat flying around and chasing the snitches. But it was a welcome excuse to basically run away from them.
On his way to the dungeon though, he suddenly froze when he heard a strange voice hissing somewhere to his right. "Come … come to me … let me rip you … let me tear you … let me kill you …"
"What?" he said loudly, looking around like he had when first hearing Tom's voice on the school roof. There was no one there.
"I heard it, too," Tom said, sounding perplexed. "It was Parseltongue."
Yes, now that Tom mentioned it, Harry realized it, too. It had sounded a bit like Marvolo. Definitely a snake. Except he couldn't see a snake anywhere.
"Where did it go?" he asked Tom, confused.
"I have no idea. I never saw it. Which is kind of strange, as there is really no place to hide in this corridor."
They were in the dungeons. The passages were rather narrow, devoid of decorations or alcoves and entirely made of stone.
"Well, it sounded a bit ominous," said Tom.
"It was probably chasing rats," shrugged Harry and continued on his way. Maybe a nice warm shower was a good idea after all.