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SIYE Time:1:15 on 29th March 2024
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Saving Harry
By The Seeker

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Category: Pre-OotP, Alternate Universe, Buried Gems
Characters:All
Genres: Angst, Drama, Romance
Warnings: Violence
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 1040
Summary: What if JKR had never intended the Harry Potter series to be for children? How would Harry’s time at the Dursleys been written? This story focuses on the years Harry lived in the cupboard under the stairs at number four Privet Drive, as well as his first appearance at Hogwarts. The treatment he receives during his decade there is not described in fairy tale terms. The boy who initially develops is not the Harry Potter we know. The story is liberally AU, with different personality traits, events, and relationships used to reflect the changes in this very different Harry and the environment in which he grew up. In the end, through the assistance of a certain redheaded young lady, Harry ultimately finds the life he should have had and rediscovers the qualities he always had inside of him. While I am not a psychologist or child development expert, the symptoms, actions, and behaviors portrayed reflect the realities of child abuse. Appropriate disclosures will be contained in the Author’s Notes above the chapter when warranted.
Hitcount: Story Total: 340146; Chapter Total: 13495
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
Hi guys, I was out of town all last week and unable to work on the story. So, sorry for the delay. I can assure you I would have much preferred working on SH than what I was doing.

Here's another chapter where I feel I should emphasize the AU aspects of the story: Days and times of classes may vary from canon, as well as events . . . and other things.

You will notice some brilliant – and quite familiar – prose in this chapter. Some quotes and descriptions are taken directly from Chapter Eight of HP and the SS (US hardback). I’m sure you’ll know what I am referring to when you reach that part of the chapter. Some of the section was “borrowed” as is; others were tweaked a bit to fit the voice and circumstances of this story. As you may guess, this scene is one of my favourites in JKR’s entire series.

As always, my thanks to cwarbeck for her exceptional beta work!




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September 3: Second Day of Classes

Harry Potter watched the graceful descent of his snowy white owl, Hedwig, as she and many other post owls delivered their mail at breakfast.

At least she won’t attract as much attention this time.

Harry held out his arm, and Hedwig softly landed, then held out her leg. Harry immediately recognized the handwriting on the outside of the envelope and tucked it in an inside pocket of his robes, to be read later, away from prying eyes.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry, Ron, and the other first year Gryffindors departed the Great Hall for their first DADA lesson.

“Fred and George said yesterday’s DADA classes were cancelled, because the professor was ill. Hope he’s still sick,” Ron said, with a hopeful grin.

“Ron!” Hermione admonished, but the lanky redhead ignored her.

As soon as the first years entered the classroom, Ron and Harry’s jaws dropped. Their professor was feeling better. More surprisingly, their professor was Remus Lupin.

He noticed their stares and said, “Good morning, Mr Weasley, Mr Potter, please find seats, so we may begin quickly.”

Harry looked around and noticed the Ravenclaws had already taken most of the front rows, so he joined the other Gryffindors seated towards the rear of the classroom.

I wonder why Professor Lupin didn’t tell us he’d be teaching when he brought the pensieve memories to the Weasleys’? Maybe Dumbledore told him not to say anything.

Professor Lupin cleared his throat. The students immediately quieted and turned their attention to the haggard-looking teacher. He quickly took roll, making notes on a piece of parchment, then turned his attention to the subject. “As I’ve written on the board, my name is Professor Lupin. In case you may have heard already, I am a last minute replacement for another professor, who apparently got lost on vacation in Albania, strangely enough, and has not been found yet.”

The pronouncement was met by widespread murmurs throughout the classroom. Lupin let the comments continue for a few moments, then resumed his introduction. “Those of you who have older brothers or sisters may have been told about the curriculum typically used in first year Defence Against the Dark Arts classes or DADA.”

Harry noticed Ron nodding his head.

Lupin smiled briefly. “This year will be different. With the headmaster’s concurrence, we will study more active approaches to defence than the typical coursework has offered in the past. Instead, you will learn to defend yourselves against attack, so the focus this year will be on shields and other defensive measures and learning counter-curses to stop the attacker.”

An explosion of noise greeted the professor’s announcement, as the students enthusiastically responded to the news with smiles and positive comments.

The professor again smiled briefly, then said, “Please settle down, so we can proceed. By a show of hands, who already knows the basic Shield Charm Protego?”

Several students immediately raised their hand, including Harry and Ron. “Good. Mr Potter, why don’t you come up?” As Harry moved to the front of the classroom, the professor asked, “Who knows the Disarming Spell Expelliarmus? Mr Corner, please join Mr Potter.”

“Gentlemen, on my count of three, Mr Corner, please cast the Disarming Spell, while Mr Potter tries to block it with his Shield Charm. Please stand facing each other about three metres apart. Ready?” Both boys nodded. “One . . . two . . . three.”

“Protego!”

“Expell . . .”


Corner literally flew backwards a metre before he could finish casting the spell.

Harry rushed over to this classmate. “I’m sorry. Are you alright?”

The student looked stunned but shook his head and accepted Harry’s offered hand. “H-how did you do that?” Corner blinked a couple times.

Harry shrugged. “Don’t know. Are you feeling okay?”

By this time, Professor Lupin had joined them. “I’m sorry, Mr Corner. I did not expect anything like that to happen. Mr Goldstein, would you accompany Mr Corner to the Hospital Wing? Oh, do you know where it is?”

Goldstein had already gotten up from his desk and was walking towards his Housemate. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Please explain to Madam Pomfrey what happened and that she can contact me should she have any questions.”

Corner’s face had turned quite red. “Professor, I’m fine. I don’t need to go to the Hospital.”

Lupin put a hand on his shoulder and replied quietly, “I’m sure you’re fine, Mr Corner. This is just a precaution.”

The boy nodded silently and left with Goldstein.

“Mr Potter, you may return to your desk.” The professor turned to the class. “I apologize for this unexpected outcome. Please understand that Mr Potter did nothing wrong. He cast the Shield Charm exactly as requested, so something out of the norm must have occurred.”

The rest of the class went smoothly as the remaining students practiced Shield Charms and Disarming Spells first against Professor Lupin, then pairing up and casting them against each other. Harry was paired with Ron and was able to restrict the force of his spells sufficiently to not repeat what he had done to Michael Corner. After dismissing the class, Professor Lupin caught Harry’s eye and gestured for him to stay.

Once his classmates had left the room, Harry walked over to his parents’ former friend, obviously puzzled by the summons.

“Harry, you are not in trouble for knocking Mr Corner down. I could see you were as surprised as he was. After your last class today — Herbology, isn’t it? — please see me here.” The wizard smiled wanly. “I think we have several subjects to discuss.”

Harry nodded. “S . . . sure.”

“Good. Have Madam Hooch see me if you’re late, and I’ll explain I kept you after class. Oh, if you haven’t already returned Professor Dumbledore’s pensieve, bring it with you.” The tall, slender man smiled more warmly this time. “Now get going.”

Harry looked at his professor for a moment, nodded his head, then sped out the door, arriving just as Madam Hooch began talking to the assembled students.

“I seem to have left the class list in my office. Do not attempt to do any flying while I’m gone.” She stared at the group with hawk-like yellow eyes. “I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

Harry had joined Ron and Neville, when an already familiar voice rolled over the quiet conversations that started just after Madam Hooch had departed. “Well, look what I found here. Longbottom, isn’t this your Rememberall? What good it is it, though, if you forget where you put it? Why don’t you do us all a favour and leave Hogwarts now, before you’re kicked out?”

The students in both Houses turned and glared at Draco Malfoy, who was standing several metres behind the group, tossing the Rememberall in the air, his usual sneer on his face.

Neville whispered, “I wondered where it was. Must have fallen out of my pocket.” Then, in a tremulous voice, he said, “G-g-give it here, Malfoy.”

“Come and get it, Squib. That is, if you can fly.” Malfoy swung his leg over the broom and kicked off.

Hermione screeched, “He can’t do that. Madam Hooch specifically forbade it.”

Ron looked at her and shook his head, then returned his gaze towards Malfoy, who had stopped the broom at a height of four or five metres.

“You’re going to lose more points for us, Malfoy.” Daphne had a disgusted expression on her face.

Tracey added, “What a pathetic example of a Slytherin you are.”

“Malfoy, you’re not impressing anyone. Get back down here,” Blaise Zabini yelled, while the rest of the students looked at the blond wizard with expressions that ranged from bored disinterest to outright irritation.

Harry had been watching Draco casually tossing the Rememberall up into the air, then catching it again. With the next toss, Harry subtly pointed his hand at Malfoy and thought ‘Accio Rememberall.’

Malfoy’s eyes bugged out as the small sphere immediately changed course and a moment later landed in Harry’s hand.

“Mr Malfoy! What are you doing up there after I left instructions not to fly in my absence? Get down here now!” Madam Hooch’s voice startled the students but immediately brought smiles to their faces.

When Malfoy landed in front of the flying instructor, she said, “Ten points from Slytherin and a week’s detention with Mr Filch. Report to him tonight.”

“I can’t see him tonight,” Malfoy said angrily.

“And why is that, Mr Malfoy?”

Trying to maintain his last shred of dignity but failing dismally, the blond wizard replied, “I already have detention this week.”

Hushed laughter spread throughout the two Houses.

“I’m not surprised. See him next Monday, then,” Madam Hooch said, shaking her head. She turned her attention to the other students. “Well, what are you waiting for? Everyone stand next to a broomstick . . .”

Within five minutes of getting a majority of the students into the air, Madam called out, “Mr Potter, please see me.” When he landed, she smiled and quietly said, “I see why Min, err, Professor McGonagall put you on your House team. Born to the broom you are.” Harry tried but couldn’t hold back a smile. “Would you help some of the students who are still on the ground?”

“Sure.”

Harry looked around and saw that most the Gryffindor wizards were in the air. Neville’s flying looking surprisingly coordinated, while Dean Thomas’ eyes were wide, and he held onto the broom so tightly Harry could see his hands had turned a light milk chocolate colour.

Hermione looked at her broom fearfully, as she pleaded unsuccessfully for it to rise “up” to her outstretched hand. Her roommates, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil weren’t even trying, so Harry moved his gaze towards the Slytherins. Crabbe and Goyle looked like a comedy team, flying very slowly about two metres above the grass and occasionally bumping into each other. Theodore Nott looked disdainful as he stood off to the side.

Finally, Harry noticed Daphne and Tracey were gesturing for him to join them.

“Do you need some help?” he asked.

Both witches grinned. “We know how to fly,” Tracey admitted.

“Just not in the mood to do it now,” Daphne said. “Tell you what,” she lowered her voice. “We’ll fly in a minute and make you look good.”

“Not that you need it.” Tracey grinned at him. “Youngest Seeker in over a century.” She fanned her face. “I’m feeling faint from your mere presence.”

Harry immediately turned red.

Tracey put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I was just teasing.”

“I k . . . know,” Harry finally choked out. He nodded his head upward. “Time to fly?”

Both witches grinned and easily kicked off. Harry shook his head, since it was obvious both girls were quite comfortable on a broom. He joined them, and with Ron, Neville, and Blaise quickly started a game of tag with the girls.

After the class was over, the same group walked back to the castle, chatting easily and ignoring the looks they received as they moved through the hallways to the Great Hall. Once entering the hall, they reluctantly parted and went to their respective House tables. None of them noticed the last two students from the class, who had entered the hall quite separate from the others.

Draco walked slowly to the Slytherin table and sat at his usual spot, alone at the end of the table closest to the professors. Despite the virtual banishment from his Housemates, Draco’s anger and arrogance were obvious to many of the other Slytherins at the table. Their reactions varied from concern that he would again lose House points due to some ill-considered comment or action to irritation at the superior attitude Malfoy still conveyed.

The second student, Hermione Granger, sadly scanned the long Gryffindor table, finally sitting close to, but not with, Lavender and Parvati.

Harry ate his lunch quietly, immersed in his thoughts and not participating in the general kibitzing going on around him.

I need to talk with Susan Bones next. Merlin, this is tough. Tracey and Daphne were easy, because they came to the train car. But Mr Weasley wants me to do this, so I will.

As soon as he finished his lunch, Harry rose from the bench and looked down the expanse of the Hufflepuff table, searching for Susan Bones. He finally found the young witch sitting towards the far end of the table, her shadow, Hannah Abbott, next to her as usual.

Harry took a deep breath and walked in their direction, trying to memorize their physical features.

Okay, Susan’s a bit taller than me. Ha! Almost everyone’s taller than me, so that’s not much information. Okay. She has long, medium brown hair, and it’s always braided. Hannah’s easier, with her yellow blond hair in those pigtails. She’s one of the few students my size. Oh God, she’s staring at me. Okay, remember to breathe.

Susan and Hannah — and many of their Housemates — stared at Harry as he approached them. Susan rose from the bench when she finally figured out Harry wanted to talk with her. Hannah followed seconds later. Both girls regarded him with curiosity but not in an unfriendly manner.

“Um, hi,” Harry said in a somewhat hoarse voice.

“Hi, Harry,” Susan replied. “You know who I am?”

He nodded quickly. “Susan B . . . Bones.” His eyes moved to the blond witch. “And you’re Hannah Abbott.” He took a deep breath. “I just . . . um . . . I just learned that the P . . . Potter and B . . . Bones families are related . . .”

Susan smiled and Harry relaxed slightly. “I saw that, too, on our Family Tree. I think it was about three centuries ago. I guess that makes us twelfth cousins or something.”

Harry returned her grin, then just as quickly, became serious. “I’m just learning this stuff.”

Hannah gasped, then looked at the ground as her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink. She finally looked up. “Sorry.” She instinctively patted his hand. “It’s all new to you?”

Harry nodded, feeling the perspiration beginning to form on his forehead and upper lip. “Yeah, I lived with my Muggle aunt and uncle.”

Hannah straightened up and her blue eyes brightened. “I, uh, that is, we would be happy to help fill in some of the gaps.” She looked at Susan for support.

The taller girl nodded her head. “Just ask. Okay?”

“Th . . . thanks.”

“Harry, we better get going to Potions,” Ron said, startling his roommate and the two witches. Neville stood awkwardly behind Ron.

“Oh, right. Uh, just a second,” he said and he introduced his dorm mates to the two Hufflepuffs.

As the three boys prepared to leave, Hannah put her hand on Harry’s arm. “We’ll see you in Herbology later.” She smiled.

“Uh, yeah, see you then.” He looked at Susan and nodded goodbye.

“The twins said Snape hates Gryffindors,” Ron said quietly, as they hurried down the hallway towards the dungeons.

“Why?” Neville asked.

Ron looked around. “He’s the Slytherin Head of House.” Ron stopped there, as if his comment explained everything.

But why would he hate Gryffindors?

Harry entered the dank classroom and sat between Ron and Hermione. He looked around, returned Blaise, Daphne, and Tracey’s smiles, and tried to ignore Draco’s sneer and the questioning looks from the other Slytherins.

Ron’s comment was bad enough. I wonder if Professor Snape will favour his Slytherins. This classroom has the strangest feeling to it, almost like it’s angry.

Harry was trying to shake off the negative feeling that had come over him when the door in the rear of the classroom banged open, and Professor Snape swept into the room. Without any introduction, he began taking roll, speaking in a highly exaggerated drawl in which each syllable was pronounced separately, as if it had no connection to any other. He paused at Harry’s name.

“Ah, yes,” he said softly, “Harry Potter. Our new — celebrity.”

The word had been pronounced slowly and with equal emphasis on each syllable.

Malfoy and several other Slytherins sniggered openly.

The emotion coming from Professor Snape’s cold, black eyes puzzled Harry. It’s almost like he hates me. But why? We don’t even know each other.

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making,” the professor began. “As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this a magic.” His eyes briefly bored into Harry’s. “I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through the human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses . . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

Ron and Harry exchanged worried looks. Hermione had moved to the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn’t a dunderhead.

“Potter!” said Snape suddenly.

Harry’s head snapped up, and he focused on the professor’s words.

“What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry briefly closed his eyes. I know this. I remember reading about it. When he opened his eyes, he noticed Ron looked stumped, but Hermione’s hand was frantically waving high above her head.

“Uh, you would get a p . . . powerful sleeping potion, the Draught of Living Death . . . sir.” Harry’s response was so quiet the other students leaned forward to hear what he had said.

Snape’s eyes widened maliciously. “Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

Hermione’s arm shot up so quickly it threatened to dislocate her shoulder.

Why doesn’t he call on Hermione or someone else? What’s up with him? Harry swiped at the sweat that had beaded on his forehead.

“Professor, a bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat. It will save you from most poisons.” As soon as Harry finished giving the answer, his eyes dropped to the top of his desk, so he missed the dangerous look that burned in the Potion Master’s eyes. He did glimpse Hermione fanning her face, as if she had suddenly become overly warm.

With a sneering smile, Snape spit out the next question. “What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

Hermione had become so agitated she stood up from her desk, her hand stretching towards the dungeon ceiling and a desperate anticipation rolling off her.

Harry again answered quietly. “Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, Professor. It’s also known as aconite.” Sweat began to trail down the boy’s back, causing his shirt to stick to him.

The eyes of every student in the classroom had been switching between the Potions Professor and Harry Potter. As soon as the boy had answered the last question, their eyes returned to the professor.

Several students gasped, causing Harry to raise his eyes and look directly at Snape. His gaze was met by two jet-black coals that blazed back at him.

“That will be five points from Gryffindor, Mr Potter, for reading ahead,” Snape hissed. “Fame clearly isn’t everything.” The professor straightened up and his eyes swept across the classroom. “Well? Why aren’t you all copying that down?”

Harry immediately dropped his eyes back to the desktop. I’ve just cost my House five points for giving the right answers? That look he gave me. Snape hates me. Why? We don’t even know each other.

The hushed chatter from the other students reached him. My Housemates are upset at me for losing the points. The Slytherins must think I’m a show-off.

Harry brushed the heel of his hand across his forehead again. At the same time, he vaguely became aware of a slight rumbling noise surrounding him. He looked up and saw Ron, Hermione . . . and Professor Snape staring at him with startled expressions.

“Harry!” Ron whispered urgently. “Calm down.”

Harry immediately began to take deep breaths, trying to slow down his heartbeat, which had reached a thundering level. He closed his eyes and tried to picture something calming. The next thing he knew an image of the pond came to him. He and Ginny were sitting on the shore, chatting and smiling at each other, the emerald water contrasting with the cerulean sky.

The heat and noise dissipated.

Harry felt Hermione’s eyes on him. He turned slightly in her direction. Before she averted her eyes, Harry saw several emotions fighting for dominance — anger, disappointment, and . . . something else. She had turned too quickly. Harry looked at the young witch, hoping she would turn towards him again. When she didn’t, he looked at Ron.

The redhead’s face was flushed. “You were close on that one, Harry. You okay now?”

Harry nodded, then looked up to see Professor’s Snape’s head turning away from him, but he fleetingly saw a puzzled look on the man’s face before it disappeared from view.

The remainder of the double class was conducted in the same nightmarish fashion, as Snape made the twins’ assessment seem benevolent.

“Longbottom, two points off for not crushing your snake fangs sufficiently,” Snape snapped.

The Gryffindors looked at Neville’s cauldron, frowning and whispering to their desk mates when they noted that his Boil-Curing Potion was the same colour and consistency as any other student in class.

“Potter — why didn’t you tell Longbottom to crush his snake fangs correctly? Thought he’d make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That another point you’ve lost for Gryffindor.”

Harry squeezed his eyes closed and focused on his breathing. I can’t let him get to me. Just do your best. Take deep breaths.

Harry could hear the other Gryffindors complaining and hoped it wasn’t about him losing even more points. He glanced as subtly as he could at Ron and Hermione and took some solace in the fact that they both were angrily staring at Snape.

The class ended shortly after that. Ron and Harry bottled up their potion and turned it in, both boys feeling they had got it right, since the liquid was the colour and consistency mentioned in the text book.

Harry could see Ron was barely holding back a comment as they walked out of the classroom and down the hallway. As soon as they went up the stairs to the Entrance Hall, the redhead exploded.

“He’s worse than the twins said, and I thought they were exaggerating. What a slimy git that guy is . . .”

“Ron! You shouldn’t talk about one of our professors like that.”

Ron whipped around and stared at Hermione. “Are you mental? Snape hates Gryffindors. Did you see how he went after Harry and took points even when he was right on all those questions? I bet no one else in class knew all those answers.” Hermione winced but didn’t respond. “Then, he criticized Neville for nothing. Did you see him make one remark to anyone in his House or take any points away?”

Hermione shook her head. As soon as Ron turned back, Hermione blinked rapidly and made a beeline to the nearest loo. The rest of the group had already resumed their trek through the Entrance Hall to go outside for their first Herbology class and didn’t notice her absence.

The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students were arranged around the planting tables in Greenhouse #1, when Hermione quietly entered, just prior to Professor Sprout beginning the lesson. Everyone was chattering, so no one other than Harry, who was facing the doorway, noticed that the bushy-haired girl’s eyes with red-rimmed and still held a noticeable amount of moisture. Hermione looked around the long table for an open spot, but, with a look of acute disappointment, finally ended up next to two Hufflepuffs at the end of the table.

Susan and Hannah, who were at the table next to Harry and Ron had explained that Professor Sprout was their Head of House. Harry couldn’t hold back a smile when he glanced at the witch. She looked like someone who worked with plants and soil, since her robes were covered in dirt, her left cheek was smudged, and her fingernails had dark half moons under them.

The professor finished re-potting a plant that kept trying to grab her nose and turned around to address the students.

“Listen up, first years! We will learn how to care for a wide assortment of magical plants this year. You will be restricted to Greenhouse #1, because the least dangerous plants are kept here. You also will learn the uses of these plants, since many of them have medicinal or other beneficial properties.”

After Snape’s questions, I need to make sure I don’t answer anything in this class unless she calls on me. I really don’t want to stand out anymore than I do already.

Harry’s attention returned to the lecture, when he heard Professor Sprout ask, “Who can tell us about the snapdraconis? Yes, the witch in the back.”

All of the students turned and saw Hermione straighten up to her full height and heard her voice take on an authoritative tone. “Snapdraconis, or snapusdraconistatus, is a member of the Bitem Family, most of which can harm but not kill people with their bite. The snapdraconis is one of the least threatening members of the family, since the flower is soft, it lacks teeth, and is easily torn from the stalk. The best known member of the family is the Venomous Tentacula.”

The professor was smiling by the time Hermione had finished her textbook perfect answer. “Two points to Gryffindor for that recitation, Miss . . .”

“Hermione Granger, Professor.”

“Show-off,” Ron whispered loudly enough that several nearby students laughed softly at his comment.

“Class, your assignment today is to de-leaf these snaps. You will remove any leaf from the stem that is not adjacent to the flower. You are not to deflower the snaps under any circumstances. Since they do bite, the plant should be approached from behind.”

Harry heard muffled sounds and looked around to see where they were coming from. Seamus and Dean had their hand over their mouth, both looked flushed, and tears were rolling down their cheeks. Both Hannah and Susan were giggling. Harry shrugged and turned back to the professor.

“. . . take three plants each and remember to keep the flowers pointed away from you as you de-leaf each stem. Any questions? No? Get started, then.”

The students walked over to the table at the far side of the greenhouse. When Harry picked up his three pots, Hannah said, “Be careful not to deflower any of them, Harry.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond to that comment, so he just returned her grin and went back to his table. The task was simple as long as the flowers were pointing away, and Harry began to quickly strip the leaves from the stems. He became lost in the assignment until he felt something pressing against his left side. When he finished stripping the second plant, he looked to his left to see what was causing the pressure against his side.

Harry flinched when he saw Hannah Abbott standing next to him, seemingly oblivious that their bodies were touching from their shoulders down to their thighs. He immediately turned red and moved about six inches to his right.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Hannah said, with a smile. “I hadn’t realized I was that close to you.” She squeezed Harry’s hand and turned back to her plants.

The rest of the lesson progressed without incident, and a mixed group of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs chatted all the way back to the castle. When they arrived at the Entrance Hall, Susan, Hannah, Ernie Macmillan, and Justin Finch-Fletchley waved goodbye and headed downstairs to their dormitory. As soon as Harry reached the Gryffindor common room, he went straight to his room, dropped off his book bag, and retrieved Dumbledore’s pensieve from his trunk as Professor Lupin had requested.

When Ron looked at him curiously, Harry explained, “Remember? I have to see Professor Lupin now. I’ll see you in the Great Hall if the meeting runs long.”

“That’s right.” Ron nodded his head. “See you later.”

Harry left quickly, checking the Marauder’s Map when the portrait closed to the common room. While he made his way to the DADA classroom, a number of questions about his parents’ friend came to the boy.

The door to the classroom was open, so he walked in. “Professor?”

Remus Lupin appeared at the door to his office. “Up here, Harry. Come on up.” Once they were settled in the office, Lupin asked, “Do you want some tea?”

“Thank you.”

As the professor busied himself preparing the tea, Harry again wondered about the unusual feeling he got from Professor Lupin. He seemed nice enough, but there was another part of the man that wasn’t similar to anything Harry had felt before.

Until he does something to make me worry, I guess I’ll just ignore this feeling.

The professor handed the cup of tea to Harry and sat down.

He smiled briefly. “You’re probably wondering why I wanted to see you.” Harry nodded his head. “Well, again, you’re not in trouble over the incident in class. Professor McGonagall had mentioned how powerful you are, but I still underestimated. I’m sorry I put you in that position. Please forgive me.”

Harry looked at the man. Adults don’t apologize. Where’s he going with this? He finally shrugged his shoulders. “It’s okay.”

“I would be happy to work with you independently, so you could gain familiarity with your magic, its strength, how to use it most effectively.” The professor’s voice showed enthusiasm for the first time.

“I start working with Professor McGonagall next week for that,” Harry replied, still trying to figure out his parents’ former friend.

“Ah, yes. She and Professor Dumbledore said she would be working with you on your wandless abilities. I was hopeful I could work with the two of you.”

Harry again shrugged his shoulders, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling that continued to grow.

Remus sighed. “What’s bothering you, Harry?”

The boy’s eyes ignited. “You were a friend of my parents.” Lupin nodded. “Why did I just meet you a week ago?” The boy’s voice turned cold. “If you were such a good friend of my parents, why didn’t you visit me during the ten years I lived with the Dursleys?”

Remus closed his eyes, blocking the decade’s worth of doubts, self-criticism, and loathing that had followed him since his world exploded at the same time Harry’s had.

“Those are legitimate questions, Harry. The simple answer is that neither I nor anyone else could have visited you. Professor Dumbledore decided it was in your best interests to hide your whereabouts.”

Harry closed his eyes briefly. Everything, everything goes back to Dumbledore. There were lots of people I could have lived with instead of the Dursleys.

The boy’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the family friend. “Did Dumbledore ever ask if I could live with you?”

Remus Lupin blanched. “No, there were — and continue to be — circumstances that precluded that.” When he saw Harry’s reaction, Remus quickly added, “It had nothing to do with you, Harry. It was . . . is . . . me.”

Wave after wave of heat broke over the boy. “What about Sirius Black or Peter Pettigrew?”

Remus’ eyes widened. “You don’t know? Harry, you better speak with Professor Dumbledore.”

Harry felt something hot on his right thigh. He looked down and saw that his tea had sloshed over the sides of the cup. He looked up and saw Lupin blotting liquid off the top of his desk.

The boy shot to his feet and shakily put the cup on the desktop, feeling like his world again was crashing inside.

I need to get out of here, before I hurt him or his office.

He bolted towards the door.

“Harry! Where are you going?”

“I can’t stand this. I need to get out of here.” Harry sprinted out of the office.

Ignoring the confused and sometimes irritated looks, the shouted comments and questions, and the discordant noise that seemed to follow him at the same pace, Harry raced down hallways and up stairs until he reached the only place he could think of.

I need a place where I can get rid of my anger and not hurt anyone or anything . . .

With the third repetition, the desperately desired door appeared. Harry yanked it open and raced into the room. Dozens of dummies lined the walls.

Harry moved quickly to the nearest group and pointed at a dummy, levitating it to the ceiling and slashing his arm down. The dummy shattered at impact on the concrete floor. Harry tried to ignore the visage of Albus Dumbledore that had been on the dummy.

The next dummy shot towards the five-metre high ceiling and exploded against it. Debris rained to the floor below.

One manikin after another was flung against the ceiling, floor, or walls of the room. Harry began to alternate hands, until an idea came to him. Using both hands simultaneously at a blurred speed, he directed two dummies at each other. The collision sent the remaining rubbish flying across the room.

Harry didn’t notice the outcome, because he had summoned two more dummies. With a slashing motion from each hand, he flung the dummies at each other so they collided at a height of two or three metres. Fragments again littered a large area.

Harry had already started his next exercise. He pulled two dozen manikins away from the wall in front of him with a mild Summoning Charm, so they stood in a line about five metres from the wall. He quickly moved in front of the manikin at the far end to his right. With a violent motion from his right hand and arm, the dummy was dispatched so quickly it shattered against the wall before Harry’s arm had finished the motion.

Eleven more manikins were destroyed in the same manner.

Harry stalked to the far left end of the row and demolished the remaining dozen dummies using his left hand. It was impossible to discern any difference in the destruction wrought by each hand.

Cold, bitter embers were all that remained from the fire that had come close to consuming the boy. He collapsed to the floor, as if his bones and muscles had abandoned him. Tears flowed like lava, feeling like they left molten trails through his skin, as they ran down his cheeks.

What did I do to deserve this? Why did Dumbledore keep everyone from me? Did my parents do something so horrible Dumbledore is punishing me? Does he think I’ll do the same thing?

I can’t stand this any more.


The small boy cried until he had nothing left. No tears, no emotions, no feelings, no thoughts. He felt empty inside. If he never moved again, if no one found him, he wouldn’t care.

With his body heat dissipated, the boy began to shiver. At first the feeling of cold, a form of numbness, was welcome. But it soon sank into his bones, his heart, his soul. His body began to shake convulsively. The boy squeezed his eyes closed, trying to seal himself away from these feelings.

I can’t let this get to me. I have so much to do. Mum and Dad told me in those dreams. They told me it’s important.

Mr Weasley wants me to bring the Houses together. I can’t let him down.

I can do this. I can’t let Dumbledore stop me. I still don’t understand why he’s made all these decisions, kept me away from everyone, stuck me with people who hated me. But I survived the Dursleys. I knew what to do. I can do it again. I have to.

I have Ginny.


A smile came to the boy’s face for the first time in hours. He reached into his robes and pulled out an envelope with the familiar handwriting on the outside.

Dear Harry,

Whoops!

It wasn’t fair for Dumbledore and McGonagall to tell you not to do wandless magic. That’s what you’re used to. So, my advice is, don’t worry. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Sooner is better.

I told Mum and Dad about Professor Dumbledore doing Legilimency on you. I’m not sure they would want me to tell you, but they were both upset that he would do that to you. I have a feeling they might say something to him.

It is really different without anyone here. I’ve always had Ron, and even though he’s a prat sometimes, he’s always been here. I just have to adjust to the changes, I guess. Having you telling me what’s going on helps a lot, so you have to continue writing me. Okay, Harry?

I already read the first couple of chapters, so I’m in good shape there. I do the spells without my wand, so the Ministry can’t track any underage magic. I went to the pond to try wandless magic but nothing happened. I’ll keep trying, though.

Okay, I don’t want you to laugh when you read this, but the strangest thing happened last night. Mum let me know it was okay to fly, so we both went out to the paddock area. I flew around kind of showing off, then I sat up at tree top level and looked at our stars.

Harry, you won’t believe this, but I felt you. It was like you were there with me. Please don’t take the mickey out of me about this, because it felt so real. I want to believe it was.

Oh, I did a full Wronski. Mum almost died. But it was perfect. I love flying and now I don’t have to hide it any more.

I hope you’re doing okay, Harry. I know there’re a lot of new things for you to get used to. Just think of me, if you need some help. I’ll be there, because I know you’d be there for me.

Let me know how your second day went!

Your best friend,

Ginny


Harry felt like he was waking up from a dreamless sleep. Energy began coursing through his body. His arms and legs — everything — came alive. His strength returned. A warm feeling flowed through his body, filling him up inside, and giving him hope once more. The boy couldn’t stop smiling.

We did the same thing, sitting in the sky, looking at the stars. I knew it was Ginny, and she knew it was me. I’ve got to write to her.

“Room, may I have a quill, parchment, and a chair and desk so I can write a letter to Ginny?”

Seconds later, Harry was sitting at the desk, writing a letter to his best friend.

Dear Ginny,

I felt the same thing you did! I was sitting on a broom, above the top of the Quidditch pitch, and looking at our stars, when I felt you with me. I wouldn’t tease you about that. I had gone to talk with Professor McGonagall . . .


When he finished the letter, Harry asked, “Room, may I have an envelope, please?”

He wrote Ginny’s name on the outside, then remembered he needed to ask the Gringotts goblins to make his properties safe for the Weasleys for their Saturday visit. He quickly scribbled another note and addressed it to Griphook. Once that was completed, Harry found he had enough time before dinner to go to the Owlery and got up to leave. Before he reached the door, though, he stopped and looked around.

“Thank you, Room. It really helped to get all this out of my system. Sorry for the mess.”

Harry walked out of the room smiling, but stopped in his tracks when he saw Professor Lupin waiting for him in the hallway.

Harry felt his anger heating him again.

Stop it! Let him say why he’s waiting here.

Harry took several deep, calming breaths.

“Hi, Professor.” He walked towards the wizard.

The professor glanced up and down the hall. “Hello, Harry. Can we try again?” The boy stared at the wizard for several moments, then nodded. “Good. Shall we talk while we mail those letters?”

On the way back from the Owlery, Remus exclaimed, “He did what?”

Harry repeated himself. “Professor Snape took five points from me for reading ahead. He figured that was the only way I could have answered his questions correctly.”

“And he called you a ‘celebrity?’”

“Yes, sir.”

Lupin stopped in the middle of the hall and looked around. “Harry, we have the headmaster’s pensieve in my office. Would you allow me to extract your memory of the class? It won’t hurt.”

“Will it make things worse in Professor Snape’s class?”

“Only if the headmaster doesn’t do anything about it.”

Harry paused for several moments. “Okay.”

The professor and his student returned quickly to his office. Lupin explained the process. After Harry had collected his memory of the class, the professor placed his wand against the boy’s temple and removed it. The memory proved to be a very long and thick strand.

Once it was placed in the pensieve, Professor Lupin entered the memory, as Harry waited in his office. When the professor returned, he was fuming. “I think I need to speak with Professor McGonagall, since it affects her House and maybe others, for that matter.”

Harry nodded his head, still not sure this was a good idea.

Remus took a pinch of Floo powder and put his head in the flames once they had turned green. “Professor McGonagall’s office.”

“Hello, Pro, err, Minerva, we need to meet at your earliest opportunity . . . Seven tonight? That’s great . . . I’ll see you at your office.” Lupin turned to Harry. “May I use the memory and pensieve, so I can show it to Professor McGonagall?”

Despite the gnawing feeling that this could blow up in his face, Harry reluctantly acceded to his professor’s request.

Lupin smiled. “Let’s go to dinner. Your mates are probably wondering where you are.”

After an uneventful dinner, the Gryffindors returned to their common room. The noise and activity again proved to be too much for Harry, so he escaped to the library, sitting away from the few other students who were there, including Hermione Granger. The witch’s head rose slightly when her Housemate entered the library, but her eyes quickly returned to her book when she saw he sat elsewhere.

The only homework assigned came from Snape, so Harry reached for his Potions book and began writing about the need to grind snake fangs properly and the timing of adding dried nettles to the Boil-Curing Potion. When he had finished about half of the essay, Harry felt a presence near him.

“May I join you?”

Harry looked up and quickly had to snap his mouth shut. He refocused several times before he knew for sure who the person was.

“S . . . sure.”

Hannah Abbott pulled out the chair to Harry’s left and sat down. “Thank you,” she said with a smile.

Harry continued to look at the young witch, until understanding finally dawned on him. “Your hair is different.”

A bright smile lit Hannah’s face and she briefly squeezed his hand. “Thanks for noticing. I keep it in pigtails most of the time because it’s easy. Sometimes I like to do something special with it.”

She took out several books, parchment, an ink bottle and quills, while Harry continued to assess her hair out of the corner of his eye.

It’s loose and wavy now and goes across her forehead, not pulled straight back like before. It looks . . . pretty.

Harry’s head snapped up, as the strangest feeling made its presence known. Why am I noticing this stuff. This isn’t right. He shook his head in response to the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Hannah apparently hadn’t noticed Harry’s reaction. When she turned to him, she again was smiling. “What are you working on?”

He grimaced. “A Potions essay on snake fangs and dried nettles.”

Hannah nodded knowingly. “We had the class yesterday and the same essay. I’ve finished mine. Did you want to look at it?” She ended her offer with her eyebrows raised, which made her blue eyes appear even bigger than usual.

Harry shook his head to pull his eyes from hers. What’s wrong with me tonight? “Uh, no thanks, I have a pretty good start on it.”

Hannah looked at him, an inquisitive expression on her face. “What did you think of Professor Snape?”

Warning bells started going off in Harry’s head. I don’t know her well enough to say what I really think. I know what I’ll do.

“He’s, uh, different. What did you think?”

Hannah looked around to make sure no one was within listening distance of them, then she leaned close to Harry, who stifled his instinctive reaction to move away from the girl.

“He took House points from both us and the ‘Claws,” she whispered. “A lot of the students were complaining. He seemed . . . mean . . . not nice at all.”

Harry blinked rapidly, trying to get rid of the warm feeling Hannah’s breath on his ear had caused. He did the same thing to the other two houses, just like the twins said. Merlin, she’s close to me. If I turn my head to talk, our noses would touch.

Harry shifted his chair slightly so he could create some space between them. “Snape took five points from me even though I answered all of his questions correctly.” When Hannah’s eyebrows raced up her forehead, he added, “He penalized me for reading ahead.”

The young witch furrowed her brow. “He took House points when you were right? Did you read ahead in the text book?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. I’ve read through the third year in all of the subjects.”

Hannah’s eyes widen so quickly Harry became concerned they would pop out. Then, another concern arose. I shouldn’t have told her that. If she tells anyone, I’ll get even more attention.

“Uh, Hannah, please don’t tell anyone that I’ve done that. Okay?” Harry could feel perspiration beginning to form on his forehead. “I wasn’t really studying them, you know.”

Her immediate smile made him relax, but when she put her hand on his shoulder, Harry tightened up again. “Don’t worry, Harry, your secret’s safe with me.” She finished by squeezing his shoulder. His confusion grew when she didn’t remove her hand.

“Th . . . thanks. Uh, I guess we should get back to the homework.” He looked hopefully at the girl.

Hannah grinned. “If you insist.”

Harry silently took a deep breath of air when she finally took her hand off his shoulder. He quickly picked up his train of thought on the Potions essay while Hannah worked on Transfiguration. Half an hour later, he had completed and rechecked the essay. He glanced at the girl’s parchment and saw that she had completed about two-thirds of the Transfiguration essay.

I want to go back to the dorm now. Do I just tell her I’m leaving? Wouldn’t that be rude? Why did she want to sit with me anyway? This is really uncomfortable.

When Harry put his book, essay, and writing utensils in his book bag, Hannah looked up in disappointment. “You have to go?” she asked softly, her eyes shifting to her unfinished essay.

Harry felt a stab of pain in his stomach. Though it quickly subsided, the memories of being left so many times while growing up remained.

He shook his head. “I have another book I can read until you’re finished.” He pulled Cunning Charms from his bag.

Hannah’s smile let him know he had made the right decision. “Thanks, Harry. That’s very nice of you. I’ll hurry.”

Harry returned her smile. “Don’t hurry. You don’t want Professor McGonagall marking you down.”

Hannah’s eyes quickly moved to the essay, then returned to his face. “I’ll just tell her Harry Potter distracted me.”

He couldn’t hold back a snort and immediately felt the old librarian’s eyes drilling into his back from across the room. “She would mark you down even more for saying that,” he whispered, and the two children grinned at each other.

Hannah reached over and squeezed his hand. “Thanks, Harry.” She returned to her essay and began writing, while Harry read his book.

Twenty minutes later, the two students walked out of the library, unaware they were being watched closely. The observer followed, staying a discrete distance from them and walking along the side of the hallway where alcoves and suits of armour provided places to hide should the need arise.

A look of curiosity, approaching a frown, crossed the person’s face, as the female of the duo occasionally bumped into the boy’s side or brushed her hand or arm against his. The wizard’s physical reaction was quite interesting. He seemed to be bewildered and uncomfortable; he stiffened slightly at each contact, and was obviously trying hard not to run away. Both parties stopped, when the duo reached the dual staircases, one leading downward; the other to the upper floors.

“I guess this is where we part,” Hannah said, her blue eyes smiling at the boy. She took a small step towards him, halving the distance between them. “It was fun talking with you.”

Before he could say anything, the witch quickly kissed the boy on the cheek, then quickly moved down the stairs.

Hannah stopped on the third step down. “Goodnight, Harry.” With a smile and a wave, she continued down the stairs, leaving a dumbstruck Harry Potter on the landing, his hand lightly touching his cheek.

What was that about? Why did she kiss me? God, this doesn’t feel right at all.

Harry mindlessly turned and began walking slowly up the stairs, his stomach feeling like the world’s wildest roller coaster had just taken residence in it.

How am I supposed to act around her now? What does she want from me?

The list of unanswerable questions grew as Harry made his way towards Gryffindor Tower. After a few moments, he realized someone had called his name several times. He winced when he realized the voice calling out was female.

“Harry!” The tone was sharp, almost demanding.

He turned and tried not to look upset when he saw Hermione Granger striding towards him. “What was that back there? Second day of school and you already have a girl friend? What will Daphne, Tracey, and Susan think?”

Harry saw Hermione’s reaction to his anger before he felt the heat building inside him. She backed up several steps, her eyes wide and fearful.

He quickly closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing slowly and deeply. Think of something peaceful.

Immediately, he was racing through the night sky at The Burrow, his best friend mirroring his broom’s movement. Both Ginny and he wore huge smiles. The joy of flying, of being with Ginny, streamed through him, calming his nerves and cooling his anger.

He opened his eyes.

Hermione’s emotions cascaded in mere seconds, moving from anger to shock and recognition and finally ending with remorse and embarrassment.

A second later, she fled up the stairs.

“Hermione. Stop.”

She didn’t.

Harry stood on the stairs, wondering what had just happened with these two witches.

Why was Hannah being so friendly? What am I supposed to do? Was Hermione watching us? Why did she yell at me? If she was mad, why did she look like she was going to cry when she ran away? God, I don’t understand any of this. Who can I talk with?

*****


A t precisely seven o’clock, while Harry and a few other students were in the library, Remus Lupin’s head appeared in the green flames of Minerva McGonagall’s quarters.

“May I come through, Minerva?”

“Of course, Remus. I’ve been expecting you.”

Remus emerged from the flames, which immediately returned to their usual red and soft yellow colours. He carried a pensieve in his hands and walked across the sitting room and placed the large bowl on the dining table.

“Minerva, you’ll want to see this.” He extracted a phial from his robes and poured Harry’s Potter’s memory of the after lunch Potions class into the pensieve and moved his wand over it. “After you.”

McGonagall leaned over the bowl and was quickly followed by her colleague once she had entered the memory. As the professor watched the proceedings, her expression became increasingly sour, until, at the end of the double period, the witch looked like she wanted to curse the imaginary figure of the Potions Professor.

Seconds later, they returned to her quarters.

“That is intolerable.” The witch angrily strode the full length of her sitting and dining rooms, her eyes sparking with righteous indignation. “How can someone who purports to be an educator attack an eleven-year old like that, especially one with the disadvantaged background that Harry has?”

The witch reversed her direction. “He took five points from the student for giving the right answer? And another point off for not involving himself in another student’s potion, who was sitting two rows behind him?”

Each of the last seven words rose in both pitch and volume.

“‘Celebrity? Fame isn’t everything?’ Remus, this is far worse than the worst nightmares I’ve had about Harry and Severus.” Minerva McGonagall stopped and collected herself. “Over the years, I have heard repeated rumours about Severus’ bias towards his House, but I had no idea he was so blatant in his treatment.” Her eyes flared again. “No wonder Slytherin wins the House Cup every year.”

“That is why I wanted to bring this to your attention, Minerva. His treatment of Harry is one issue which must be dealt with, and we both know the history behind his behaviour.” Remus’ normally neutral eyes took on an unaccustomed heat. “His treatment of the other Houses also may require intervention. If Harry’s memory is representative of the environment in which Potions is taught at this school, measures need to be taken. Minerva, I’m sorry to bring this to your attention on the second day of school, but as Head of Gryffindor House and Hogwarts Deputy Headmistress, you would be involved in both issues, regardless.”

Minerva nodded her head. “On the contrary, Remus, I am very motivated to see that changes are made. This memory will add credence to all the words I’ve expressed to Albus Dumbledore over the past decade. I have another issue with the headmaster, which I was going to discuss with him tonight.” Her eyes narrowed. “It promises to be a very interesting meeting.” The witch issued a tight-lipped smile.

“Do you want me to participate, at least in the issues I’ve brought to your attention?”

McGonagall considered the question for several moments. “Thank you, Remus, but I think it is best handled by just myself at this point. The issues raised fit in with the other concerns I have.”

Remus nodded his understanding. “Let me add one more item to your list. Harry seems to harbour very strong negative feelings towards Albus. I had him come to my office after his last class today. Harry knows I was a friend of his parents, so he asked several questions. Each answer came back to decisions Albus made regarding Harry — living with the Dursleys, instead of me, Sirius or Peter, for example . . .” McGonagall gasped. “Yes, I know. Harry appears to lack an understanding of what happened to him and why, which makes Albus’ decisions look worse than the reality may be. He also wondered why he had been cut off from everyone in the wizarding world, especially those who had known him or his parents previously.

“Minerva, I thought he was going to explode in anger. Books, parchment, desks, windows, all were vibrating. Thankfully, he raced out of my office and went to a room on the seventh floor. He forgot to cast a Silencing Charm, and the sounds continued for fifteen, twenty minutes, before stopping. Minerva, it sounded like he was destroying something for that entire time. Another twenty minutes passed in silence before he left the room. He came out with two letters in his hand. I saw that one was addressed to Ginny Weasley.”

“Remus, the room has been set up for Harry for all the reasons you can imagine, including the wandless training I will resume next week with him. There is a lot more to the room, so please forgive me if I do not discuss it further.”

Remus got up to leave. “If I can be of assistance, please let me know. I would appreciate hearing anything you feel comfortable sharing.” The wizard’s shoulders slumped. “Harry’s questions made me realize how much I have failed the boy. I want to help him in any way I can.”

“I understand, Remus. I do, too.” The professor took a deep breath. “I will let you know the results from my conversation with Albus. Thank you for responding so quickly to what you saw and for sharing them with me.”

“Good luck, Minerva.’

Throwing a pinch of powder into the fireplace, Remus Lupin returned to his quarters.

*****


The questions continued to pummel Harry Potter as he became rooted to the stairs leading to the Gryffindor common room, frozen by his inability to understand the actions of Hermione, Hannah, and Professor Snape.

I don’t want to go back to the common room yet. I can’t handle the noise and people staring. What if Hermione’s there and she starts yelling again?

I don’t want to go back to the Room. Maybe I can walk around outside.


The small boy reversed his direction and descended the stairs. Exiting through the large wooden doors in the Entrance Hall, Harry immediately saw that enough light remained for him to walk around the grounds. He immediately headed for the lake.

Sitting by the shore, the light breeze ruffling his hair, Harry tried to soak in the details of the lake like he had with the pond. The lake is huge. It almost feels cold. The pond felt friendly and safe. This place makes me feel small.

The lowering sun coloured the lake in steel blue, making it look hard and inhospitable. Harry instinctively drew his knees towards his chest and wrapped his arms around them, as a way to ward off the chill he felt in the air.

He looked over his shoulder at the castle. It looked even larger and bulkier in the fading light, as shadows merged and grew, painting the blocks of granite in sombre tones that conveyed the feeling that the structure would be there far longer than any of the people it housed.

I hadn’t realized how comfortable I felt at The Burrow. I don’t feel that way here. I guess it will take a while. I wish I had someone to talk with about this stuff. I can’t talk with Professor McGonagall about Hannah or Hermione. That would be weird. Ron wouldn’t understand either, and I wouldn’t know if the twins were having me on or what.

I wish I knew what was up with Professor Snape. He seemed to hate me, but we never met before. Did he know my parents? I can’t go to McGonagall after just one class, and Dumbledore wouldn’t tell me the truth. Professor Lupin just forgot about me for all those years, so he wouldn’t help.

I wish Ginny were here. Then, I wouldn’t have to worry about those other girls. I wonder what Ginny would say.


The boy snorted. I can see her now. ‘Mr Potter, don’t you know it is impossible to figure out what a witch is thinking. Don’t even try or else you’ll get a massive headache. Just listen to me.’ Okay, Ginny, I’ll just listen to you and not try to figure out other witches. I get enough headaches as it is.

The boy laughed softly to himself at the image of Ginny giving him advice on girls.

The chilling breeze blowing off the lake and through the shoreline trees reminded Harry that he had been outside for far longer than he had anticipated. Getting up from the now damp grass, he picked up his book bag and wrapped his robes more tightly around him.

By the time he entered the common room, all but a few sixth and seventh years had already retired for the evening. The older students looked up briefly, and upon seeing who had entered, went back to their conversations and studies. Harry sped up the stairs and quietly entered his dorm room, where he was greeted by a cacophony of snores and other sleeping sounds.

Harry quickly put his books away, changed into his pyjamas, and brushed his teeth. Returning from the loo, he passed his wardrobe and wondered if he should sleep there this night.

No. I need to get used to this. Oh, I know. I’ll do a Silencing Charm.

Harry slipped into bed, cast the spell, smiled as the silence surrounded him, and lay down. Soon, he fell asleep.

*****


“Pr ompt, as usual, Minerva. Lemon drop?”

“No, thank you, Albus.” But she noticed that the headmaster’s eyes glanced briefly at the pensieve she had brought with her. “I have several issues to discuss with you. Would you join me in the pensieve memory?”

Dumbledore looked curiously at his Deputy Headmistress as she moved her wand over the pensieve. “Of course, Minerva.”

The Deputy and Headmaster of Hogwarts entered the pensieve. Minerva McGonagall watched her colleague closely, knowing he was a master at maintaining a neutral expression, even in light of unexpected or dramatic events. Seemingly faster than the first time she had seen the events, the two educators left the memory.

“This is from Harry?” Dumbledore sat down heavily in his chair, as McGonagall returned the memory to its phial.

“Yes, it is, Albus, from their lesson today. Do you need me to list the grievances I found when I visited the memory, or may we dispense with your usual protective game-playing regarding Severus?”

The headmaster sighed. “I will talk with Severus. He obviously is letting his past history with James affect the way he deals with Harry.”

“No, Albus, that is not a sufficient response.” McGonagall spoke softly, but her voice carried a decade’s worth of accumulated abuses. “What transpired today is not education. He acted arrogantly and inappropriately with the Gryffindor students in general and towards Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter, specifically. He took off points, when in reality he should have awarded them. There are probable school-wide ramifications to his actions. We’ve gone well beyond the point where I can tolerate this type of behaviour any longer from a Hogwarts professor. Please answer my question again.”

Albus lowered his half-moon glasses and slowly rubbed the bridge of his long, crooked nose. “Perhaps we are looking at this from the wrong perspective. You know why I have placed Severus on our staff. He needs to maintain this cover so he can resume his work for us when the need arises again. And trust me, Minerva, it will arise again.”

Professor Minerva McGonagall caught and held Dumbledore’s blue eyes as if he were a first year student. She shook her head in disgust. “Hogwarts is the pre-eminent magical educational institution in the world. Do not attempt to misdirect this conversation or the issues that I am attempting to raise. Do you wish to discuss these issues or shall I tell you what needs to happen?”

“Harry — and many other students — learn best through adversity,” Dumbledore replied. “Look at how well he came out of the situation with his relatives.”

McGonagall’s eyes blazed. “How dare you! Harry learns best in a positive, encouraging environment, as I’ve witnessed and been part of. As for the perdition with his so-called relatives, we can only thank Merlin he did not die at their hands. He came out of there malnourished, distrustful, and hugely angry. It is only through the ministrations of the Weasleys and his own innate abilities that Harry can function at all. He still carries — and may for the rest of his life — the emotional and psychological scars from the abuses heaped on him by those sad excuses for human beings.”

Albus shifted in his chair, sitting straighter in it, as he peered down at his guest. “Minerva, I can’t be seen as showing any favouritism towards Harry. That perception would have a seriously negative effect on morale throughout the entire student body.”

Professor McGonagall rose from her chair and stared down at the headmaster. “That is not the issue here, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. We have three issues; each involves your Potions Professor. As you well know, the first is his inexplicable and thoroughly unprofessional display during class today towards not just Harry Potter but also Neville Longbottom.

“Second, we have had numerous discussions about his blatantly one-sided taking and awarding of points. He makes a mockery of the House Cup. Severus must be told to abide by the rules or suffer the consequences.

“Third, he does not teach. He intimidates children. There was no teaching done in his entire double session. Again, this is not the first time, or even the tenth, that we have discussed this problem.

“Albus, you have seen for yourself. It’s time for you to do your job. We, as educators, have that responsibility to our charges. I, for one, will not fail in that responsibility, and Merlin help you, Albus, if you do not do what is right, instead of taking the easy route as you have done previously.

“You do not want me as an adversary.”

Albus Dumbledore slumped in his chair, looking every year of his century-plus age. “You are right, dear friend. Thank you for reminding me that it is our decisions that define us. I will ensure that Severus understands that his actions have consequences. He will be told that adjustments need to be made by the end of the week. I will observe in my usual manner, but please keep me informed of anything you hear.”

The Deputy Headmistress spoke softly. “Thank you, Albus, I had fervently hoped you would understand my concerns. I trust that you will do the right thing if Severus proves incapable of making the necessary adjustments.”

“You are welcome, Minerva. Now, is there anything else you wish to discuss?”

Minerva McGonagall issued a small, tight smile. “Just one more issue,” she said lightly. “What were you thinking of, using Legilimency on Harry Potter?” Each subsequent word gained in power.

Dumbledore winced. “Another mistake, I’m afraid. He did not respond well to my questions, and I had hoped to gain some insight into his thinking. Alas, it was a dismally poor decision on my part.” The headmaster looked at her curiously. “How did he know it was Legilimency?”

McGonagall smiled. “Hermione Granger. Apparently, she overheard Harry describing what he felt when you entered his mind. She told him it was Legilimency, which she had learned about in her independent reading. If Miss Granger and Harry ever start working together, it will be comparable to the Marauders or the Weasley twins, but on an entirely different level.

“Albus, is it necessary for me to tell you the chasm between Harry and you has grown again? That was pure foolishness on your part. You know that Harry is extremely sensitive to his surroundings and how it affects him. If that mistake wasn’t bad enough, Remus Lupin told me just this evening that Harry asked a series of questions about decisions that have affected his life. It turns out that you had made all of those decisions, and Harry became furious.

“Harry desperately needs a male to mentor and nurture him. I am doing my best from the female side, but I can only do so much. You will find Harry is an absolutely wonderful young man once you’ve gained his trust. Please, Albus, do not make any more harebrained decisions like using Legilimency on the boy. I don’t think you are too far from losing him at this point.”

Albus Dumbledore gazed directly into the eyes of his Deputy. “Thank you for having the courage to show this old man the many errors he has made.” He smiled. “You know, I do count on you to do that . . . occasionally.” They both laughed lightly. “I will endeavour to do as you ask. I will speak with Severus tomorrow and place him on probation if I don’t receive the proper responses. He and I have discussed each of the issues, except, of course, for his mistreatment of Mr Potter today. If need be, I will show him the memory and explain the circumstances under which it was obtained.

“The folly of making decisions based on the greater good has never been shown more strongly than in those I made on Harry’s behalf. I will strive to repair the rift between us and to base my decisions on his needs. I still would like to protect his childhood as best I can through these few remaining years.”

“A noble objective, Albus, just make sure you don’t protect his childhood and lose the boy.”

With that, Minerva McGonagall bid her headmaster a goodnight and left him to his thoughts of Harry Potter and the difficult tasks that lay ahead of him.
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