CHAPTER – 15
Harry coughed lightly as he pushed his food around his plate. He hadn't gotten any sleep at all last night. Nightmares after nightmares of Voldemort, Nagini, Cedric and Sirius plagued him. At last, he had given up on sleep around 4 am and had gone for his customary morning run and then a smoke afterwards.
"Harry?" Harry looked up into the concerned eyes of Hermione sitting across from him. "Are you alright? You aren't eating anything."
"Yeah, just tired." He mumbled and gave up all pretence as he pushed his full plate away.
"Nightmares?" Ron asked him as he poured some pumpkin juice for Harry and shifted the glass closer to him. Harry thanked him and nodded.
"Maybe you should ask Madam Pomphrey for some dreamless sleep, Harry," Hermione said, concern marring her face. "You can't keep going like this."
Harry was fortunately saved from answering by the daily owl posts. They swooped in and he watched as a letter was thrown in front of him along with a Daily prophet for Hermione. A small smile graced his lips as he saw whom the letter was from.
"Remus?" Hermione asked him and he nodded before opening the letter.
Dear Harry,
I'm so glad to hear from you. Harry, do not blame yourself for anything that happened. It wasn't your fault. There is no point in thinking what could have gone differently. Yes, I lost a brother, you lost a godfather, but at least we have each other.
I apologise for not replying sooner. I was searching for a job in London. Staying at home moping around wasn't doing me any good. Anyways, I have recently joined at Florish and Blotts as their new assistant manager. It's a good pay and it's in London.
I'm staying at Grimmauld Place for the time being. It does get a little lonely here. Sirius' house is as morose as London in December. If you would like, maybe you can stay with me during the holidays? We can cook something up for Christmas and have a blast.
I might have to visit Hogwarts sometime next month for Order business. I can't wait to meet you then.
Stay safe, pup. Make sure you take care of yourself. Don't get lost.
Yours,
Moony
Harry unknowingly controlled his tears as he read the letter. It felt so good to hear back from Remus and know that he wasn't angry at Harry. He was moving on, and Harry wished him the best. He made a mental note to write a reply to Remus today itself and stuffed the letter in his bag as they stood up to go to their first Defense lesson with Snape.
"What'd he say?" Ron asked as they waited outside the classroom for the man to open the door.
"Nothing. He got a job in Flourish and Blotts, and he's staying at Grimmauld Place." Harry said and added with a smile. "He wants me to stay with him during holidays."
"That's great, Harry!" Hermione said and patted his back just as the doors opened.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom felt colder than usual, the air tense with expectation. Harry stepped inside with Ron and Hermione and saw Snape standing at the front of the room, his black robes flowing as he turned to face the class. His gaze swept over the students, dark and assessing, as though cataloguing their every weakness.
"Sit," he commanded, his voice slicing through the chatter.
Chairs scraped against the stone floor as the students hurriedly obeyed. Harry sat between Ron and Hermione, dreading what was to come. He knew Snape was still angry at him. He hoped the man would not put him down in front of the whole class just because of what happened between them.
"As I am now burdened with the responsibility of preparing you for the realities of magical combat," Snape began, his tone icy, "I shall waste no time in separating the capable from the useless."
Several students shifted uncomfortably under his piercing gaze.
"This year, we will focus on spells that will protect you and—if you are competent—neutralize your enemies. However," Snape's lip curled, "most of you lack even the basic reflexes to avoid being struck down like lambs to the slaughter."
Hermione raised her hand hesitantly.
"Yes, Miss Granger?" Snape drawled, already sounding bored.
"What exactly will we be covering this term, Professor?" Hermione asked, her voice cautious.
Snape's lips curved into a thin, mirthless smile. "A fair question. This term, we will delve into the subtleties of defensive magic. Shields are only as effective as the will behind them. We will study them, of course, but also advanced counter-curses, mental fortitude, and non-verbal spellcasting—areas where most of you," he paused to sneer slightly at Neville, "are woefully inadequate."
Harry clenched his fists under the desk, feeling a familiar surge of protectiveness toward his friend.
"Today, we focus on shield charms—spells that are critical in both duelling and survival. We will start withProtego, and you will learn to maintain the charm under sustained attack." Snape said. "I am aware you have studied this in your earlier years, however, you gauge your potential, we shall start with this."
The class collectively exhaled in relief. A shield spell seemed far less terrifying than Snape's usual brand of intimidation.
"But do not think for a moment that this will be easy," Snape continued, his voice sharp. "Protegorequires focus, precision, and unwavering intent. Let us see just how abysmal you truly are."
"Now," Snape's eyes gleamed with a challenging light, "who among you believes they can defend themselves with their shield under constant attack? Anyone care to volunteer for a demonstration?"
No one raised their hand.
"Pathetic," Snape sneered and his eyes swept over the room before settling on the Golden Trio. "Let us see just how fragile your composure truly is…Mr. Potter," he barked, making Harry flinch.
"Me?" Harry asked, his stomach sinking.
"Yes, you," Snape said, his voice dripping with derision. "Up."
Harry hesitated before rising, every muscle in his body tense. There goes his wish to not be embarrassed today.
Reluctantly, Harry rose to his feet, gripping his wand tightly. He mentally brought forth all the lessons he had learned from Snape this past summer.
Focus, agility and intent.
These were the main ones. He also remembered how Snape had told him to strengthen his shield. He hadn't gotten to practice that with their falling out and all, but Harry remembered the instructions.
"You will demonstrate," Snape said, stepping closer, "whether the so-called Chosen One can summon a basic shield under pressure. I will attack. Your task is to maintainProtegountil I cease."
Harry nodded, his jaw set.
"Wand at the ready," Snape instructed, raising his own.
Harry raised his wand and took a deep breath. He knew his classmates were watching and that made his palms sweat.
"Expulso!"
The blasting curse shot from Snape's wand like a cannonball. Harry reacted instinctively.
"Protego!" he shouted.
A shimmering, translucent barrier erupted in front of him just in time to absorb the blast. The force of the spell pushed him back slightly, but he held firm.
Snape didn't give him a moment to rest.
"Stupefy!"
The red jet of a Stunning Spell collided with the shield, causing it to flicker but remain intact.
"Again," Snape snapped, his wand a blur as he sent a barrage of spells—Rictusempra,Flipendo, andExpelliarmus. Harry's shield trembled under the onslaught, his arms straining as he maintained the spell.
The class watched in tense silence, their eyes darting between Snape's relentless attacks and Harry's glowing shield.
"Focus, Potter!" Snape snapped. "Your shield is faltering!"
Harry gritted his teeth, pouring every ounce of concentration into the spell. He nonverbally sent a stinging hex towards Snape when his shield faltered, surprising the man just a little. But of course, his hex was deflected by Snape as if swatting a fly.
But those few seconds gave Harry a chance to try out the new technique Snape had taught him for his shield during one of their defence lessons.
"When you envision a shield, how do you envision it, Potter?" Snape asked, his tone dripping with condescension.
Harry scratched the back of his head with his wand, frowning in thought. "Er... like a shield?" he offered hesitantly.
Snape rolled his eyes so dramatically it was a wonder they didn't stay lodged upward. "Brilliant observation," he drawled, sarcasm practically oozing from his words. "Allow me to rephrase for your limited comprehension:howdo you picture it? What form does it take in your mind?"
Harry hesitated. "Well, like a barrier, I suppose? Something solid, you know, protecting me from spells and all. Like a wall."
Snape clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing. "Hmm." He stopped abruptly and turned to Harry. "A shield need not always be a simple barrier, Potter. You produce what you envision. If you imagine a flat, rudimentary obstruction, that is precisely what you will conjure. Unsurprisingly, it's a reflection of your rather pedestrian imagination. Intent, Potter, intent is the key."
"So... if I imagine a hippogriff as my shield, will I conjure that?" Harry asked, a grin tugging at his lips.
Snape froze mid-step and turned to stare at him with the expression of someone who'd just been told they'd won a lifetime supply of dung bombs. "Abysmally put, as usual," he sneered. Still, Harry swore he saw the faintest twitch at the corner of Snape's mouth. "While your hypothetical nonsense holds no merit, you are inadvertently correct in principle. To strengthen your shield, you must account for your vulnerabilities. Your weak spots—such as your perpetually exposed left side—must be accounted for in your visualization."
Harry blinked, slightly taken aback. "Wait—my left side?"
"Yes, your left side, Potter," Snape snapped impatiently. "I've observed your duelling posture, or lack thereof, long enough to know you leave yourself wide open to attack there. Were I in a charitable mood, I might suggest you correct this glaring error immediately. But I digress."
Harry, stifling the urge to roll his eyes, refocused. "So, if I envision the shield as, say, a dome covering me completely, I'll conjure that?"
"Precisely." Snape nodded curtly. "It requires exceptional focus and practice, however. Bending a shield to your will is no easy task. Constructing such a shield drains significant magical energy. It's well beyond the grasp of your standard curriculum." He paused, narrowing his eyes. "But for someone like you, it might prove useful."
Harry nodded and then smirked. "No hippogriff shield, then?"
Snape let out a sound that was half-snort, half-sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Potter, I struggle to comprehend how a hippogriff-shaped shield would provide even the most rudimentary defence, but by all means, indulge your idiocy. If, by some miracle, you manage to conjure one and emerge from a duel with the Dark Lord unscathed, I will personally reward you with a 100 Galleons."
Harry chuckled, his eyes alight with mischief. "You've got yourself a bet, Professor."
Snape shook his head, his lip curling in exasperation. "I eagerly await your inevitable failure. Do try not to embarrass yourself in the process."
Snape was currently sending spells to Harry's left side and Harry gave him a small smirk before closing his eyes and envisioning his shield as a dome that covered him from head to toe. A small bubble that would hold safe from all sides.
Intent.
"Protego Maxima!" he shouted, reinforcing the barrier just as Snape fired anotherExpulso. He felt a surge of magic inside him and channelled it all in his wand arm. The enhanced shield, or rather a dome, glowed brighter, covering the whole of Harry and the force of the explosion dissipating harmlessly against it. Harry heard the gasps of his classmates and knew he had succeeded.
Snape lowered his wand, his expression unreadable. Harry too lowered his wand, panting slightly. His classmates broke into hesitant applause, which Snape silenced with a glare.
He walked slightly towards Harry and leaned down to whisper so that only the boy could hear.
"Well, Potter, I see our lessons weren't entirely wasted on you."
Harry glared at him.
"Back to your seat," Snape commanded sharply, his voice returning to its usual icy tone. As Harry made his way back to his desk, Snape addressed the rest of the class. "What you just witnessed was not a display of raw talent, but a demonstration of preparation and focus. Mr. Potter succeeded because, for once, he applied himself." Snape finished softly. Harry could see a little tinge of approval in the man's expression and he willed himself to not snort.
After this, Snape divided the entire class into pairs and started monitoring their progress. Of course, those who were in DA in the past year had no qualms about holding the shield against their classmates' spells. However, when Snape sent even one string of spells, their shield broke. The man had the power of Merlin, Harry thought.
"How did you hold your shield so long against Snape?" Hermione whispered, her brow furrowed as she tried to catch her breath.
Harry shrugged. "Dunno. I just... thought about what needed protecting."
"Yeah, but the type of shield…it was extraordinary," Hermione commented.
"I'll teach you later," He told her and winked at her before sending a barrage of spells against her shield.
When the lesson finally ended, Snape issued his final instructions: "I expect a 12-inch essay on the theory and applications of Shield Charms on my desk by Monday. Dismissed. Except for you, Potter. You stay."
The groans of the students filled the air as they gathered their belongings and shuffled out. Hermione cast Harry a concerned glance but followed Ron out of the classroom, leaving Harry alone with Snape.
Harry walked towards the man's desk and waited as he saw Snape read a small note before crumpling it and tossing it in the bin. Snape looked at Harry from head to toe and sighed.
"How long haven't you slept, Potter?" He asked. His tone went back to as it was during the summer and Harry felt his chest loosen after hearing it.
"It doesn't matter, Professor," Harry said sharply. "I'm fine."
"Your foolishness will take you 6 feet down, boy," Snape growled at him. "You must learn to ask for help when you need it."
Harry's eyes flashed with anger at that. "Ask for help from whom? Dumbledore? He's already got a blackened hand. Remus? He's not here. And you? Well, you never liked me, so I can't even count you in, can I?"
Snape looked a little taken aback at that. "Potter… Would you have come to me?" Had the boy come to trust him? Was he so neglected by all the adults in his life that when his most hated Professor showed him a sliver of attention, he grasped onto it?
Harry huffed and averted his gaze. "Doesn't matter now, does it? You've kept me from Elle, too." He added softly, his voice portraying his hurt. "I don't know what to tell you about that night, Snape. After seeing what you have – a life! A daughter! I couldn't put your life at risk. You're already a spy. Involving you in all of this mess is just going to make this more difficult for you, and I can't do that. I know I'm being hypocritical. I would not want someone to make these decisions for me, but…I can't tell. Please. Not yet. I can't have…" His voice was almost pleading, and Severus thought the boy might break down.
"You can't have what, Potter?" Snape pressed.
Harry looked up at him, his eyes, Lily's eyes, red with raw pain and tears. "I can't have Elle grow up like me. An orphan."
Severus closed his eyes and breathed out. Merlin, he had fucked up.
"Potter..." Snape began, but Harry was already retreating into himself, his expression blank as he worked to lock his emotions away. Snape recognized the signs all too well—he had done the same. And he knew just how destructive it was.
"Come with me," Snape said abruptly.
Harry shook his head. "No, I have class. I have-"
"I will let Professor McGonagall know," Snape said and guided the boy towards his office's door.
Harry stepped inside hesitantly and froze at the sound of a delighted scream.
"HARRY!"
He looked up to see Elle perched on Snape's desk, surrounded by parchment and a dragon plushie. Her eyes lit up as she scrambled down, dropping her pencil and toy before bolting toward him, hands outstretched.
Harry caught her with ease, pulling her up and into a tight hug. Her lavender-scented hair tickled his nose, and he buried his face in it, a sense of peace washing over him. Over Elle's shoulder, he saw Snape watching with an unfamiliar softness in his expression. Harry mouthed a quietthank you, and Snape gave him a small nod before turning away.
"Oh, Harry, I missed you so much!" Elle said, pulling back to look at him. Her face quickly shifted into a pout as she lightly slapped his shoulder. "But I'm mad at you! Why didn't you come to see me?"
Harry looked at Snape who had the decency to avert his eyes before moving towards his desk, ignoring the conversation fully. He glared at the man before looking at Elle with a sorry expression.
"I'm so sorry, Elle. School's been really busy, but I promise I'll come see you every week from now on." He said. Elle held up her pinky finger at his face and he intertwined his own bigger one with hers. "I pinky promise."
Her face lit up with a grin, and she hugged him tightly once more. Harry closed his eyes, savouring the moment. He hadn't realized just how much he'd missed this.
When Elle finally let go, she didn't release his hand. Instead, she dragged him to sit beside her, chatting animatedly about everything she'd done. Harry listened with a genuine smile, occasionally chiming in. Snape had disappeared into his private quarters moments ago.
"Potter," Snape's voice interrupted, reappearing at the doorway. "You have fifteen minutes to get to your next class. Here's a note for Professor McGonagall. I have fourth-year Hufflepuffs and Slytherins entering my classroom. I shall take my leave."
Elle beamed at her father, who rolled his eyes. Only she could make him bend to her whims so effortlessly.
With a small nod to Harry, Snape left the office.
"Harry, do you know, I had a very bad dream yesterday." Elle said with a scared face as she picked up her fallen dragon and held it closer to her.
Harry frowned at her in concern. "What happened?" he asked and pulled her chair closer, keeping one hand at the back of hers.
"There was a huge snake, and he was around my bed. It was about to come and bite me, Harry! It was so scary." Her lips quivered as she spoke and Harry gently picked her up and rubbed her back. "And – And there was a man. His face looked like a snake too, Harry. He was so scary!"
Harry froze at that. Voldemort?
"It's okay, Elle. I'm sure Professor Snape was there for you, right? Did you tell him about the whole dream? Even the man?" He said shakily. Snape was extremely protective of his daughter, the thought of him not helping her was just impossible. He was sure Snape must have checked out the whole quarters.
"Yes. Daddy was out, but he came back and woke me up. I even…" She looked away and bit her lip. Harry gently took her chin and made her face him.
"You know you can tell me anything, Elle." He said with a reassuring smile.
"I even…wet my bed, Harry." Her face reddened in embarrassment. Harry hugged her to save her from being uncomfortable in front of him.
"That's okay, Elle. It doesn't matter." He said in her ear. "It is totally normal. You don't have to feel bad about it. At all." Well, it wasn't normal for him. When Harry had wet the bed once at the age of 4, Petunia had made him wash the whole bedding with his hand and leave it out to dry. It was winter, so he had to sleep without a blanket in the bitter cold as his bedding wasn't dried. Vernon had even hit him for spoiling their stuff and Dudley had tormented him in school and bullied him for it. After that, Harry had never wet the bed. Now that he thought about it, maybe it was his magic that stopped him from doing it any further.
"Dad said the same thing." She said as she played with Harry's tie.
"Well, he is quite right." Harry said and brushed her hair away from her face. She looked up at him and smiled which he gratefully returned. He stayed with her for a few more minutes, telling her stories about Ron and Hermione before standing up.
"Alright, I have to get to class." He said and hoisted his bag on his shoulder. He grinned at the deliberate pout Elle made at him.
"Do you have to?" She asked him.
"Yes, or your father will have me scrubbing cauldrons until I'm eighty. Would you want that?"
"Well," she said with a mischievous grin, "if it keeps you here with me, then yes!"
"Don't be cheeky. I will see you later, okay? Maybe I will bring you a small present."
"Chocolate?"
"Always." He winked at her and with a quick hug ran off to transfiguration.
On his way, he saw that Snape had given him two notes. One for McGonagall and other for himself.
Potter,
Come to my office after dinner tonight. I trust you know what to tell your friends.
Harry shrugged and put the note in his bag before slowly opening the transfiguration classroom door. He quickly handed McGonagall the note and sat beside Ron who had saved him a seat.
"What'd he want?" Ron whispered.
"Occlumency." Harry said groaned a little to make his lie believable. Ron patted his shoulder in comfort before a swift glare from McGonagall had them taking down notes.
/
After dinner, Harry promptly reached Snape's office, a place that had somehow become familiar and even comforting during the summer. Just like then, Snape worked in a corner of the room while Harry and Elle spent time together, playing or reading, until it was time for her to go to bed.
"Say goodnight to Mr. Potter," Snape instructed as he guided Elle toward their quarters. She stifled a yawn and dashed to Harry, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck before planting a kiss on his cheek.
"Goodnight, Harry."
"Goodnight, Elle. Sweet dreams," Harry replied with a warm smile.
"I'll be back, Potter. Wait here," Snape said briskly, leading Elle through the door.
As Harry waited, he pulled out his class notes and attempted to focus on his assignments. Fifteen minutes later, Snape returned, now dressed more casually in a rumpled shirt and trousers after shedding off his teacher robes and frock coat, much like Harry had seen him wear during the summer. He walked over, peering at Harry's notes with a disdainful expression.
"It's a wonder you understand your own chicken scrawl, Potter," Snape remarked, seating himself in his usual chair.
Harry rolled his eyes as he folded his notes and slipped them into his bag. "Well, I never really got used to quills, I guess."
Snape glanced at the Potions text Harry had been reading. "How is your new professor?"
"Fetching for information, are you?" Harry teased, smirking.
Snape's glare quickly sobered him. "Professor Thornbrook's… fine," Harry replied carefully. "He likes to move around the class. He's very to the point, doesn't waste time at all. He's not overly fun—"
Snape snorted.
"—but he's not exactly like…" Harry hesitated, trying to find the right words.
"Like me," Snape finished for him, amusedly.
Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Something seems off about him, though."
Snape's eyes narrowed. "Why do you say that?"
Harry frowned, scratching his nose. "It's just a feeling. Maybe it's because he's new, and new professors have a habit of being out to get me—well, except Remus."
"Has he taken any particular interest in you?" Snape pressed, his tone sharp.
"No, not really," Harry said, puzzled. "Why?"
Snape waved off the question. "No reason.".
"Do you not like him? Do you know him personally?" Harry ventured cautiously.
"No, Potter, I do not know him personally. We've met only in a professional capacity, and whether I like him or not is irrelevant."
"It's not—"
"I was being polite. It means it's none of your business," Snape interrupted curtly.
Harry rolled his eyes but didn't push further.
Snape shifted gears, his tone softening. "You were particularly impressive in Defense today."
Harry blinked, caught off guard. "Bet you thought I'd embarrass myself in front of the whole class."
Snape shook his head. "I wouldn't have called you forward if I thought you'd fail."
Harry's smirk faded, replaced by genuine surprise. "Are you saying you went easy on me?"
Snape snorted. "By no means, Potter. If you hadn't noticed, I was harder on you than anyone else."
"I did notice. Quite unfair, really," Harry grumbled.
"Would you like to resume our Defense lessons?" Snape asked, ignoring Harry's complaint.
Harry perked up. "Of course! But how? The whole school's here now."
Snape smirked at him. "I happen to come across the information that you might have a room available. For all your DA related gatherings?"
Harry chuckled. "Fair point. When?"
"Tuesdays and Thursdays, after your classes and before dinner," Snape suggested. "We can substitute a few classes for Occlumency too. It would do you good to strengthen your barriers now that you can get them up."
Harry hesitated—it would make for a tight schedule—but nodded in agreement. "Deal."
"Do you still continue with your little club?" Snape asked him.
Harry shook his head. "No. We thought of doing that, but you are quite adequate in classes, so we don't need it as such."
"Adequate?" Snape raised an eyebrow as Harry laughed.
They sat in companionable silence for a while before Harry brought up Elle's nightmare.
"Are you sure it wasn't Nagini and Volde- Him?" he asked, his concern evident. "It sounded a lot like them."
"I checked. It wasn't," Snape replied. "Just a normal nightmare, Potter. Children have those."
Harry didn't respond. In his experience, nothing about nightmares was ever 'normal'.
"But how does she know what he looks like? A man with his face like snake? That's him bang on." Harry said, his panic showing in his words. "D-do you think he knows?"
Severus eyed him carefully before sighing and shaking his head. "There is no possibility. I don't even want to entertain that thought, Potter," He said softly and Harry understood.
As he prepared to leave, Snape handed him a small vial of Dreamless Sleep potion.
"Two swallows before bed. Do not exceed the dose," Snape instructed firmly.
Harry nodded, tucking the vial into his pocket. "Thanks, Professor."
With that, he made his way back to Gryffindor Tower, his mind swirling with thoughts about Elle, Thornbrook, and Snape's unexpected concern.
/
It was 1:30 AM, and the Gryffindor dormitory lay in a hush, its occupants deep in sleep. Harry, however, sat on his bed, his head cradled in his hands. His body trembled with soft, muffled sobs, and his tears glistened in the dim moonlight streaming through the window. He wiped at his face roughly, frustration bubbling within him.Why am I so weak?
The nightmare had been particularly cruel tonight. Sirius had died again, just as he always did in these nocturnal reliving of the Department of Mysteries. But this time, something had been different—Sirius had returned from the veil. Instead of comforting Harry, he had screamed at him, his voice filled with anger and blame.
Your fault! Sirius had shouted. My death, your parents' death—everything! You destroy everything you touch.
Harry's heart pounded at the memory. His fingers clawed into his hair, pulling hard enough to sting, as he tried to suppress the sobs threatening to escape. The guilt pressed on his chest like a lead weight. Every night was the same. He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't keep living this way, trapped in his own mind.
His eyes landed on the small vial of Dreamless Sleep potion on his nightstand—the one Snape had given him. The contents glittered faintly in the moonlight.
Without pausing to think, Harry grabbed the vial and uncorked it. His hands shook as he brought it to his lips and tipped it back. He gulped down four large swallows, ignoring Snape's explicit instructions to limit himself to two. As he always did.
The effect was immediate. His racing thoughts stilled, the panic and pain dissolving into a strange, numb calm. Harry collapsed back onto his bed, his limbs heavy and his eyes drooping shut. Within moments, he was asleep.
The next thing Harry knew, someone was shaking him roughly.
"Harry! Get up!" Ron's voice barked, cutting through the haze of his mind. "We're gonna be late for class!"
Harry groaned, his head pounding like it was stuffed with cotton. His body felt unnaturally heavy, his limbs sluggish as he forced his eyes open.
"I'm up," he mumbled, though the effort of speaking felt monumental.
Ron shoved Harry's glasses into his hand, and Harry fumbled to put them on.
"You've got ten minutes to get ready, mate," Ron said, exasperated. "Hermione's got a muffin waiting for you downstairs. Move it!"
Harry nodded faintly, his movements robotic as he dragged himself out of bed. He caught the robes Ron threw at him and dressed with leaden fingers, barely registering the passing time. His mind felt foggy, detached from his body.
Ten minutes later, Harry shuffled into the Gryffindor common room, his bag slung over one shoulder. Only Ron and Hermione were there, waiting for him. Hermione handed him a muffin wrapped in a napkin, her face pinched with concern.
"Sorry," Harry muttered, unable to meet their eyes.
Hermione exchanged a look with Ron, but neither commented. Harry clapped twice, a steaming cup of coffee appeared on the small table near the fireplace and he grabbed it. He sipped it as they made their way to Transfiguration, his muffin untouched in his hand.
The day dragged on, and Harry's weariness only deepened. He felt lightheaded and disconnected, like he was moving through a fog. At lunch, he managed a few bites of food under Hermione's watchful gaze but pushed the rest away, claiming he wasn't hungry.
"You alright, mate?" Ron asked, his voice tinged with worry.
Harry waved him off. "I think I'm coming down with something."
It was enough to quiet his friends, though Hermione's frown lingered as they left the Great Hall.
The afternoon brought a rare stretch of sunlight, and most of the students flocked to the grounds to enjoy the crisp autumn air. Harry, however, stayed behind in the common room, his head resting on the back of an armchair. His body felt unnaturally heavy, his thoughts slow and muddled.
It's fine, he told himself. I just need to rest a little longer.
But deep down, Harry knew something was wrong.
It was a beautiful day, the kind that begged to be spent outdoors before winter fully cloaked Scotland in its chill. After their classes, Harry, Ron, and Hermione ventured to a secluded spot by the Black Lake, just inside the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dancing shadows on the soft ground as they laughed and splashed in the lake.
When they tired, the trio lay side by side on the warm earth, staring up at the sky. Harry felt the tension in his chest ease slightly, the oppressive weight of sleepless nights and restless thoughts lifting, if only for a moment.
"You feeling better, Harry?" Hermione asked from his right, her voice tinged with concern.
"Yeah," Harry replied after a pause. "Yeah, I am. Guess I just overslept." He wasn't entirely sure if that was true—he suspected the potion's effects were wearing off—but it was easier than explaining the turmoil that plagued him.
"A rare event for you," Ron quipped with a grin. "That's why we didn't wake you up. Figured you needed all the extra sleep you could get."
Harry glanced at his friends, warmth blooming in his chest. Despite everything, they were always there for him. He didn't know how he'd gotten so lucky.
After a comfortable silence, Hermione broke in with a question. "Have either of you noticed Dumbledore's glove lately? The black one?"
"Yeah," Ron said. "At first, I thought he forgot the other one, but he keeps wearing it. Guess it's just one of his eccentricities."
Harry frowned, sitting up. "It's not an eccentricity." The seriousness in his tone made Ron and Hermione sit up, too, their attention focused entirely on him. "There's something I need to tell you—something I learned over the summer."
As they huddled closer, Harry launched into the story of Horcruxes, recounting what Dumbledore had told him and their visit to the Gaunt cottage. He spoke of the cursed ring and the objects they suspected were Horcruxes. Hermione listened, her brow furrowed, while Ron stared, wide-eyed.
"Merlin's beard," Hermione whispered when he finished. "If Dumbledore's hand is cursed, it must take constant spellwork and potions to keep him stable."
"Snape's handling that," Harry said. "But Dumbledore doesn't share much about the curse. He's more forthcoming about the Horcruxes, though."
"About time," Ron grumbled. "After last year's mess, he owes you some transparency."
Harry hesitated, glancing between his friends. There was more—something even heavier. "There's something else. Something Dumbledore told me after... after Sirius died."
He recited the prophecy, his voice steady despite the weight of the words. Hermione's hand shot to her mouth, and Ron's expression shifted to one of quiet disbelief.
"Harry..." Ron finally said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "That's... a lot. To know there's a prophecy, that it all comes down to you and him... it must be unbearable."
"It's not, actually," Harry said, surprising himself with his own conviction. He gazed at the shimmering water of the lake. "In a way, I feel lighter. There's clarity now. I know why my parents died, why he's after me. It all makes sense. I have a purpose."
"But..." Hermione's voice was small. "Neither can live while the other survives. What does that mean?"
Harry's expression darkened. "It means one of us has to die. And the one who survives must kill the other."
Hermione gasped softly, clutching Ron's hand. Ron's jaw tightened, but his eyes shone with determination. "Then we'll do everything we can to make sure it's him who goes down."
Harry smiled faintly, gratitude warming the edges of his weariness. "Thanks. The first step is destroying these Horcruxes. Dumbledore's too weak to help with the search, so it's up to us now."
He pulled a crumpled parchment from his bag, spreading it out for them to see. The list of potential Horcruxes was scribbled in Dumbledore's tidy handwriting, with one slot conspicuously empty.
"I don't know where we can find them. We have to search for them. Most of these artifacts have been lost since hundreds of years from what I could gather." Harry said as Hermione and Ron poured over the parchment.
"And how do we destroy them? Is there some kind of ritual?" Hermione asked him.
Harry shook his head. "No. I destroyed the ring with the Sword of Gryffindor. It just appeared next to me, as if called by me. Dumbledore thinks it's the only way to destroy them. I don't know where it is though."
As they studied the list, Hermione's analytical mind kicked in. "Harry, you said the diary was a Horcrux, right? You destroyed that with a basilisk fang, not the Sword of Gryffindor."
Harry hadn't thought about that at all. He clapped Hermione on the back and gave her a small grin. "I used the Sword of Gryffindor to kill the Basilisk, it's possible that the basilisk venom seeped into it, thus, destroying the horcruxes."
Ron grinned proudly. "So, we just need to raid the Chamber of Secrets and grab some of that snake's teeth," Ron suggested with a smirk.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "We need the Horcruxes first, Ronald. Finding them will be the hard part. As Harry said, these artifacts are old. Like, really old. How Voldemort got his hands on them is a mystery in itself. And to search for them again, it's going to take months."
Harry nodded, his heart sinking. The search could take months—time they might not have. But as he looked at his friends, their resolve unwavering, he felt a flicker of hope. Together, they could do this. They had to.
"Why is the seventh slot blank?" Ron asked, frowning as he studied the parchment again.
"Dumbledore thinks there are seven Horcruxes in total, but he couldn't identify the last one," Harry explained. "He says we should focus on what we know until we find proof of another."
Ron scratched his head. "Couldn't the seventh just be Voldemort himself? I mean, he does have a soul in his body keeping him alive."
Harry snorted. "Debatable." He then shrugged. "But maybe. Dumbledore isn't sure."
"Anyways, whatever the number may be. We need to make a plan. On how to approach this." Hermione said as she took out her parchment and quill. Ron rolled his eyes and gave Harry an exasperated look who just grinned in response.
As Hermione scribbled furiously, her brow knit in concentration, Harry leaned back, letting the sun warm his face. Despite the looming weight of their mission, he felt a rare sense of comfort in this moment—with his friends beside him and a plan slowly forming.
"Alright," Hermione said, breaking the silence. "We'll start with what we know. The diary – destroyed. Ring – destroyed. We must look at the next, most approachable objects."
"What are those?" Ron asked as Harry too poured in.
"The objects of Hogwarts' founders, of course." Hermione said as she showed them the notes. "All four of the Hogwarts' founders created the objects during their lifetime. These were deeply tied to their identities and values, especially the ones of the houses we see now." She spoke. "All these were initially passed down to their families as family heirlooms. But of course, it's been more than hundreds of years. None of them have been preserved. Except, the Sword of Gryffindor, of course."
"Where do we find them then?" Harry wondered. "Trace them? But that's impossible."
Hermione sighed. "I shall start scouring the library. Ron, you can help me."
"As if I had a choice." Ron said begrudgingly.
"And Harry, maybe you can ask Dumbledore. I'm sure he knows more about them. He must have some clues to trace them as he's been searching for them since long." Harry nodded.
Ron looked at his watch. "It's dinnertime. Let's go."
As the trio got up, Harry suddenly fell down, his vision swimming in front of his eyes.
"Harry!" Hermione yelled as Ron quickly grabbed Harry's upper arm to steady him. He slowly pulled the raven-haired boy down on the grass, breaking his fall.
Harry put his head in his hands till his world stopped spinning. "I'm fi-fine, guys." He rasped out.
Ron was kneeling in front of him and Hermione was opening a bottle of water before handing it to Ron who thrust it in Harry's hand. Harry took a small sip and sighed as his vision steadied. He drank some more water until he felt a little normal.
"Harry, please listen to me and let's go to Madame Pomphrey." Hermione pleaded him. Harry shook his head though.
"Hermione, you know why I can't do that." He spoke. "It will just create more panic and concern and frankly I am in no position to handle that."
Ron who was keeping quiet this whole time gave Hermione a defeated look. "Your scar, okay?" He asked.
Harry nodded. "It's not him. It's just…exhaustion."
After a few minutes, with Ron's help Harry stood up and the trio slowly made their way to the Great Hall. Harry was promptly made to sit between Ron and Hermione with Ginny across from them.
"Everything alright?" She asked as she looked at Harry who was now looking worse for wear.
Before Ron or Hermione could answer, Harry nodded at her. "Yeah, yeah Gin. All's good." He said and shot her a small smile. Ginny returned it, but gave Ron a look which said she was not fooled.
Hermione piled a decent amount of food on Harry's plate and gave him a pointed look when he protested.
"Harry, you haven't had a decent meal since days. Shut up and eat." She said and watched as he smiled at her before picking up his cutlery.
Unbeknownst to them, black eyes were watching the three of them from the head table with a scrutinizing gaze.
"Does Potter look…tired to you?" Snape looked at his right where McGonagall was seated.
"You're asking me?" Severus raised an eyebrow at her. "He looks fine to me." He added snidely, keeping up appearances.
Tired? That was an understatement. Boy looked utterly exhausted and ready to fall.
"He hasn't been having a good year, from what I could gather." Minerva said with a sigh.
"You're his head of house." Snape said. Minerva rolled his eyes at him. "I, on the other hand, have little to no interest in this conversation."
"And what do you propose? He's sixteen, Severus. He's not going to listen to me. In my experience, it's better to leave them be. They will figure out on their own whether they need help or not." She said and returned to her meal.
Severus widened his eyes a fraction at her. "Do you really think a sixteen-year-old boy would come to you for help? Willingly?" he asked her, his tone mocking.
"Well, he should if he needs it." Minerva said as a matter of fact. "He knows nothing good will come out of running himself to the ground."
Severus shook his head at her slightly before watching the boy again. Potter had barely eaten anything off of his plate and was now being coerced by Weasley and Granger both to at least finish some of his rice. It was as if Minerva didn't know anything about her students at all.
If it was one of his Slytherins, Severus would have already taken some strict actions for the student's well-being.
From his left, Dumbledore stood up. He smiled at the students before turning around. He put a hand on Severus' shoulder and leaned down to whisper in his ear.
"I trust you will take care of whatever is going on with Harry?"
Severus snorted. "Do I have an option?"
"My other option is Minerva. But I think we both know how that will turn out." Albus said and patted his back before straightening up and leaving.
Severus shook his head at himself. He was positively stuck from all angles. He needed to find out what was going on with Potter, and the best way to do that was building trust between them.
That night, as Elle slept on his lap in the living room of his quarters, Snape pondered over his predicament. It had been a few days since Voldemort had called him, and as far as he knew, even Potter hadn't had a vision. But he knew something would happen soon. He had been in talks with a few followers, who kept telling him about any new updates. He had noticed a few movements of the Death Eaters especially in some far-off places. Severus had no idea what was happening and it frustrated him.
His mind wandered to Harry. The boy was clearly not doing well. The only time Severus ever saw genuine happiness on his face was when he was with Elle. The boy always soaked up any affection Elle showed towards him, as if he didn't know how long he could be able to do that. These days he barely slept from the looks of it. Severus' decision to give him dreamless sleep was to help him sleep for a week and get a good rest before they advanced their defence and occlumency training. But from the looks of it, Potter might need Dreamless Sleep for more than a week.
Dreamless Sleep was however a dangerous potion. It completely slowed down your body's functions and fogged up your brain if taken excessively. There was also the threat of the body going into a magical coma for months, even years if the excessive dose was taken over a long period of time. Therefore, Severus was extremely careful whenever he himself took the potion or gave it to Elle. He always gave her half of the dosage prescribed for children. He knew he was trusting Potter a lot with giving him a whole vial of the potion, but he trusted the boy to adhere to the dose.
Severus rubbed his face as thoughts swirled around his head. He sighed as he picked Elle up and rose. Maybe a good night's rest will do him good and he may wake up with fresh ideas as to what to do with Harry bloody Potter.
/
That night before going to sleep, Harry waited for everyone in his dorm to fall asleep before picking up his cigarette box and lighter and heading to the room of requirement under his invisibility cloak.
He reached the seventh-floor corridor and entered the same room he entered every night before making his way to the balcony. Cold breeze blew tonight and Harry knew he couldn't be able to stand out in the balcony from the next week as winter had almost arrived. He quickly lit a cigarette and instantly felt better as the smoke calmed his nerves.
Today, he was missing Jerome, his friend from Privet Drive. He wondered if the boy would have thought of him or asked Dudley about him at all. Jerome was always there for Harry whether it be with a bottle of liquor or with a joint of weed.
Harry smiled as he remembered a few stupid things he had done with the boy. It was the only time he had ever felt like he had a friend in Surrey. He crushed his cigarette butt and without thinking lit another one.
Today he needed more. He still had a few left, but knew he would have to make a round in the town soon. He thought of smuggling in a bottle of FireWhiskey while he was at it. Maybe that could help him sleep so that he didn't have to depend on the dreamless sleep.
He wasn't a fool. He knew dreamless sleep was addictive. He knew whatever he was feeling today was because of over dosage of the potion. But Harry couldn't help but think about the sleep he had gotten after gulping down the potion. He hadn't woken up once. It was like alcohol. You have a lot of fun when you're drunk, but then have a hangover in the morning. And if anyone was used to hangovers, it was Harry.
Harry suddenly wondered what would happen if someone caught him smoking. What if Snape caught him? He snorted at that. He would probably have his hide. But why would he care? He never cared about Harry before. Maybe he won't let Harry meet Elle. That would be sad. Harry shook his head, no, he couldn't let that happen.
The only thing working for him in his life were his friends and Elle. Elle gave him pure joy. She made him forget about all his worries. She was his hidden treasure. He could never lose her.
His second cigarette also burned out and Harry sighed before making his way back to his dorm. His roommates were still in deep slumber as Harry settled in his bed. He looked at the potion vial kept on his table and shrugged before taking 4 swallows again.
Good night, nightmares.
A/N: Sorry for the late update! Leave a review!