Harry woke up early Saturday morning. The other boys in the dormitory were still sleeping. Quietly, Harry dressed and slipped out of the room. He contemplated stopping by the Great Hall to pick up some breakfast, but changed his mind. Ten minutes early for detention, he waited outside the Defense classroom. He did not fancy going in there at all, much less before he had to.

Professor Quinn's attitude had not improved since the first class. Harry had three more classes with the man over the last week. Each class was first thing in the morning, when his brain was still numb. So far, Professor Quinn had just lectured the class. His strict control over the class was almost tangible. No one spoke unless asked a direct question—woe to those who didn't give a satisfactory response.

Thankfully, Harry never had to worry about giving an answer, because the Professor never asked him a question. Regardless, Harry found himself studying each night with Ron and Hermione—just in case.

Harry was reluctant to admit it, but they were all learning a lot in this man's class. Despite the oppressive control of the classroom, Quinn was still a good teacher.

With a sigh, Harry turned the knob and pushed the door open into the classroom. Professor Quinn was already there, grading essays. By the looks of it, the man had been there for a while.

Harry paused in the doorway; he didn't know where to go.

"Mr. Potter," Quinn said, without looking up from his work. "Come." Slowly, Harry obeyed. When he reached the deck, the man looked up and asked, "Why do you have detention today?"

Harry stared back a bit confused. You gave it to me. Are you a complete idiot? he thought. Instead he said, "You sent a note. It said Saturday morning at seven."

"What was the reason for your detention?" Quinn asked.

Unable to help it, Harry rolled his eyes. Is this man completely daft?

Suddenly, Quinn slapped his hand down on his desk. "Don't you dare roll your eyes at me," he spat as he rose to his feet. "Now, answer my question."

Subconsciously, Harry took a step back. And then it dawned on him; the bastard knows exactly why I have detention. He just wants me to say it—to admit it. Gritting his teeth, Harry replied, "I did not return to my seat when you asked me to." Yeah that's right—that's all I did!

"When I give you a command, I expect it to be obeyed," the man lectured. He glared down at the boy and Harry found himself feeling very small. "I will not tolerate insolence. Is that understood?"

Harry nodded, but quickly remembered that he would be expected to reply. Doing so he said, "Yes sir."

Satisfied, Quinn sat back down at his desk. And then ordered, "Go stand in the corner."

"What!" Harry choked.

"You heard me," Quinn replied. He stared at Harry intently—menacingly, almost—daring the boy to object.

Oh god, Harry thought. At least I'm not carving lines into my arm. Barely swallowing his pride, he felt his legs moving towards the corner. Just get it over with. As embarrassing as this is, it can't last forever… In no time at all, Harry's view was encompassed by the stone walls of the defense classroom's corner. Studying the rocky crevices, his thoughts drifted back to other recent embarrassing moments.

Inevitably, that brought his mind back to Snape. Evil bat. After the horrible class on Tuesday, Harry spent a lot of time studying for potions. When Friday's class came along, Harry was more than prepared—at least he had thought so. He was able to answer the first few questions sent his way, but eventually Snape found something Harry didn't know. Although the insults were fewer and the glares more intermittent, Harry still left feeling rejected.

However, detentions with Snape weren't half-bad. In fact, they bordered on fun. Harry and Ginny were now talking and joking during their cleaning sessions. Several times, they found themselves laughing and Snape never once told them to be quiet—he never said anything.

After detention, Ginny and Harry talked about Snape's odd behavior. The man did look to be overworked and tired. They decided that perhaps he was too exhausted to say anything. But Harry knew better. Nothing would stop Snape from silencing a crowd with an ominous glare. Well, nothing he could think of. Something was up with Snape; something was wrong.

This knowledge alone gave Harry a glimmer of hope. Snape wasn't completely back to his old self. Yes, he was mean and cruel to Harry once more, but something felt off. So, Harry was compelled to make things right. He was polite and composed in class, giving Snape complete respect. Potions homework came first (DADA a close second).

So far, his efforts seemed to have no affect, other than to make him very tired. His NEWT level classes dished out a lot of extra work and studying.

Ron and Hermione were also struggling, but to a lesser degree. They were able to stay up much later than Harry was. In his eleven-year-old body, Harry found himself nodding off in the early evening, but then woke at an ungodly hour in the morning. And the nights were less than pleasant, plagued by awful dreams. For a fleeting moment, before he was completely awake, he would consider going to find Snape. Once conscious, though, he would berate himself for being so stupid.

The shuffling of essays brought Harry out of his thoughts. He wondered if Quinn was watching him or not. If only I could punch the git. He held down his pride and remained silent. He felt proud of himself; it wasn't very often that he was able to contain himself—to willfully submit to humiliation.

He wondered what Ron would do in this situation. He could see his friend now, fists balled, face red with anger, standing over Professor Quinn's unconscious body—he'd be expelled for sure. Silently, Harry contemplated different pranks he and his friend could play on the unsuspecting Defense teacher. But the man didn't seem to be the naïve type; undoubtedly, they would be caught. One thing Harry did not need was more detentions. He hardly had enough time as it was.

During breakfast on Thursday, Harry and Ron received a note from McGonagall about this year's quidditch team. The ridiculous lifelong ban on Harry had been removed and Ron had been selected as the team's Captain. For Ron's sake, Harry feigned jealousy, but really he couldn't be happier for his friend. Tryouts were promptly scheduled for next Saturday, and practices soon after that.

Harry imagined the freedom of flying on his broom, the wind rustling his hair as he sped across the sky. He could fly amongst the clouds, well above the world below. For a while he could be free of his thoughts and worries, leaving everything behind. If only I could fly now.

Bored out of his mind, Harry started to count the ridges in the rocks around him. He had no idea how much time had passed. I wish I had put on my watch. What are my friends doing right now?

On cue, a tentative knock broke the silence.

"Enter," Quinn commanded.

Harry's face turned a beat red. He glanced over his shoulder and was glad to see that it was just Hermione. Although it was still embarrassing, better a friend to see him than some random student. Or Malfoy, Harry shuddered.

Hermione gave Harry a sympathetic wink before she walked over to Professor Quinn's desk.

"I have a question about my essay, sir," Hermione stated. "Why did I get a Poor?"

Hermione was calm now, but he remembered the girl yesterday evening. She paced back and forth, rereading her essay over and over again. Then, she ranted on endlessly about the unfair grading, and stated her intentions to “request a second evaluation.”

"My marks are quite clear," Quinn replied dryly. "What is it that you don't understand?"

"I covered everything that you requested," Hermione defended herself. "I even described a bit extra on the—"

She was cut off, what happened? Harry turned a bit to see the defense teacher had raised his hand to silence the girl. But the most disturbing thing was the look on Quinn's face. It was utter disgust, like Hermione was the lowest form of life that he had ever been forced to set eyes on.

"I assigned twelve inches," Quinn spat. " If you cannot follow simple instructions, I will not even bother to read your essays. Now go."

Hermione stood there a moment; her mouth hanging open, completely at a loss for words. Under normal circumstances, Harry would find the sight a bit amusing. Right now he was busy fighting the urge to run over and clock the man on the back of the head.

Without another word, Hermione left. Quickly, Harry turned back to face the corner, lest his sentence be extended. He hoped his detention would be over soon—he was getting hungry and needed to pee.

Once this detention was done, he'd be free for the weekend. Well, except for his last detention with Snape… but he knew that wouldn't be too bad. He’d have time to spend with Ginny. His best friend’s little sister was actually quite funny.

Another knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Ron's turn to check on me.

"Enter," Quinn commanded.

A quick glance confirmed the fact it was Ron who entered. Upon seeing Harry in the corner, Ron tensed up with anger. Hold it together Ron, no need for you to get in trouble too.

"I have a question," Ron said with a forced calm, unrecognized by anyone who didn't know him. "I don't understand the net wards."

"Is there something specific about them that you do not understand?" Quinn asked.

"Well er.." Ron paused. Harry knew that the boy was completely making up his confusion. Hermione, Ron and Harry had already discussed the topic and had moved on to practical practice. Finally settling on a point, Ron said, "I don't understand what to connect them to."

"Ah, I see. Since these wards are placed outside, you have to be a little more creative when selecting markers for a boundary. You can attach the ward to almost anything, a blade of grass, a tree, or even a grain of sand. On Tuesday, we will begin practicing the wards. Review pages thirty-five through thirty-eight."

"Thank you, sir," Ron said in fake politeness. "I should go now, before lunch is over." And then he left.

Subtle Ron, Harry thought sarcastically, very subtle. Some more time passed. His legs were really starting to get tired. How long am I going to have to stand here? He shifted from one leg to the other. I wonder what Quinn would do if I just sat down?

"Come," Quinn finally commanded. Quickly, Harry obeyed; he would go anywhere to be away from the corner. "Now what have you learned?"

Wel,l there's a large crack in one of the stones, Harry thought sarcastically. Playing to the man's whims, instead he replied, "I have learned to obey your commands, sir." Oh God, where did that come from? What's wrong with me? I'm just so tired… please let me go…

Quinn looked smug. I'd love to wipe that look right off your face. Externally, Harry remained calm. It worked.

"You're excused," Quinn said finally.

Quelling the desire to sprint out of the room, Harry walked casually.

xxxxx

He made it to the Great Hall just as lunch began. So Ron had been exaggerating. He had plenty of time to make it to lunch. Either way, Harry had spent a long time in detention, staring at a stone wall.

"Finally, Harry," Ron said as the boy sat down at the table. "You were in detention for a while. Did you do the same thing the whole time?"

"Yeah," Harry replied quietly. He was glad that Ron didn't blurt out exactly how he spent detention. He really didn't want the whole school to know.

"That git!" Ron shouted. He looked ready to shout more, but Harry gave him a look that said, "Shut it."

"What did you have to do," asked Seamus.

"Oh, you know," Harry brushed off. "I just hate being around Quinn."

"I know what you mean," Neville said in a quiet whisper.

"Something is wrong with that man," Hermione declared. Her face was a bit flushed. She was definitely still angry about what happened earlier. After Ron rolled his eyes, Harry realized the girl must have been ranting on about Quinn for some time now.

No one spoke for a while until Ron brought up Quidditch. He talked on and on about his strategy for the tryouts. He would observe from the stands, while Harry would fly high to watch them from above. Then he rattled on about the different tests each person would have to undergo—speed, agility, and so on. During the conversation, Harry lost interest, so he just nodded occasionally to pretend he was still listening.

Tonight was Harry last detention with Snape. And then he had no detentions left, from anyone. For the rest of the weekend, he decided to focus on schoolwork and studying until he was completely caught up. He still had to find a long-term brewing potion and write up his proposal for Snape. It was hard to find the right potion; he wanted it to be good, impressive.

Harry was about to slip into this state when he was brought back to reality by the overwhelming quiet of the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall had stood up to make an announcement.

"It has been a long time since Hogwarts had enjoyed the festivities of a ball," she began. Harry groaned; he didn't like where this was leading. "This year we have decided to hold a dance the evening after each of the Quidditch games." The hall was suddenly filled with a mixture of groans and giggles. McGonagall raised her hand and the hall silenced. "These dances will not be formal and all years are invited." McGonagall sat back down as the room filled with many conversations.

"What's up with that?" Ron asked. He looked as annoyed as Harry felt.

Harry rolled his eyes. "McGonagall and her balls."

"Maybe they're having the dances in light of recent events," Hermione suggested. She held up her copy of the Daily Prophet. The cover story was entitled, "Four Killed in Death Eater Attack."

Stories like that were commonplace now. The world was all too aware that You-Know-Who had returned in full force. Harry wished they could be naïve again. He'd rather be the insane Boy-Who-Lived than to see the news these days. And I am supposed to stop it all.

"You're probably right," Harry said, trying to distract himself from his thoughts. "McGonagall probably things they'll cheer us up." Oh yes, I think I feel much better now.

"At least we have a while to find dates," Ron pointed out. Hermione glared at the boy, who now cowered a bit closer to Harry.

"Time to go study," Harry announced. He rushed out of the Great Hall, followed closely by Hermione and a begrudging Ron.

xxxxx

In no time at all, Harry found himself back outside of the potions classroom, Ginny by his side. Today he had managed to get a lot of his schoolwork done. But he still hadn't picked a potion to work on. Nothing seemed good enough. Hermione had picked Blood Replenishing Potion and was nearly done with her proposal. Harry tried not to think about all the things that he still needed to do. The detentions with Snape might not have been that bad, but they were a waste of precious time.

"So, this is our last detention," Ginny said.

"Finally," Harry replied. "Funny, you and I got a week's worth of detentions for just standing there. Too bad we didn't do something more."

"Yeah," Ginny laughed.

They entered the dimly lit potions classroom and were surprised to find a cauldron set up with ingredients around it.

"The instructions are on the board," was all the Potions Master said before he returned to grading essays. Snape appeared to be really over-tired, more so than Harry recalled ever seeing before.

Turning his attention to the board, Harry realized they were going to brew a potion to cure boils. It was a simple first year potion. Ginny and Harry shared confused looks before they started working.

"So, what do you think about McGonagall's announcement?" Harry asked out of the blue. He blushed after he realized what he said, and then glanced quickly to make sure that Ginny wasn't watching him.

"It seems a bit inappropriate, don't you think?" she asked, not looking up from the snake fangs that she was now crushing vigorously. "I mean there's a war going on and people are dying." Harry was surprised by the amount of anguish in Ginny's voice. What happened to the giddy little girl? Ginny continued, unaware that Harry had stopped working and was now staring at her, "I think McGonagall is trying to cheer us up or something, but…"

"It's a stupid idea," Harry finished for her. He thought he heard Snape snort, but he couldn't be sure.

Ginny stopped short of annihilating the snake fangs, looked up at Harry and said, "I don't want to go."

"Neither do I," Harry replied.

"I bet McGonagall will make us," Ginny said as she added the fine powder to the now boiling potion.

"Yeah, since we're in her house," Harry confirmed as he started to stir.

"And we're on the quidditch team," Ginny added.

"You know what, we won't go," Harry stated. "But if she makes us, we can just go together. Do whatever it is she expects and then leave."

Ginny nodded and then removed the potion from the heat. The rest of detention was spent in silence.

xxxxx

Monday night found Harry alone in the Gryffindor common room. He would much rather be in the library, but it was well past curfew. Most of Sunday had been spent sifting through numerous potion books looking for "the one." By Sunday evening, Hermione finally managed to convince Harry to do the Polyjuice Potion. "Some potion is better than none at all," she had said.

So there he was, fighting to stay awake as he finished the last of all the requirements. He scoffed at himself as he wrote. They had discussed the potion in second year and although the other students hadn't made it, he, Hermione and Ron had. At least he remembered all the steps and ingredients. And he could test the potion on himself, using a bit of Ron for the potion. The only problem was the bloomslang skin. He couldn't write "steal it from Snape's private stores." Instead he scribbled down, "order from Hogsmeade Apothecary." He didn't really know if the store had the ingredient, but hopefully it did.

Sighing as he wrote the last line, he set down his quill, and nearly fell asleep on the spot. Shaking his head, he stood up and rolled up his essay. He knew it was probably laced with errors, but Hermione had gone to bed a while ago.

After putting away his school things, Harry climbed into bed. He kicked off his shoes and didn't bother switching into pajamas. His head hit the pillow and sleep consumed him immediately.

It seemed as though only a moment passed before Ron was shaking him awake. "Come on, Harry!" Ron yelled. "Wake up! You're going to be late for defense."

Harry's eyes shot open instantly. He stood up, did a charm to straighten his robes and slipped on his shoes. Before he ran out of the tower, he stopped to brush his teeth and wash his face. Ron waited for him and they ran out to the grounds.

Defense class was going to be held just inside the edge of the forest. Today was the first day that they were going to do practical magic. For the first time, Harry was actually looking forward to defense class.

They reached the grounds in record time—albeit gasping for air—just before class began. Finding Hermione and the other Gryffindors, they walked over and joined them.

"Attention, class," Quinn called. Everyone quieted and gathered closely in order to hear well. "Listen carefully for your partners. Mr. Weasley with Mr. Malfoy." Harry could see from the corner of his eye that Ron's face had turned red, his whole body tensed. This is going to be bad… And it didn't get better, "Mr. Nott with Mr. Longbottom." Poor Neville paled. "Miss Bulstrode with Miss Parkinson." They seemed pretty happy about that and so did Dean and Seamus when he called them next. Terry was with Anthony and Ernie was with Michael. It was fairly obvious the pairs were being matched up with the same sex until Quinn grouped Hermione with Justin. The final group was comprised of the three remaining girls, Hannah, Susan and Lavender. Which was odd, because there was an even number of students. Harry hadn't been paired up with anyone.

"I would like the pairs to spread out, but not too deeply into the woods," Quinn explained. "Work together to create a Net Ward surrounding you and your partner ten meters in diameter. I will be walking amongst you, watching your work. Now begin."

The students scattered, but Harry stayed where he was. He didn’t know what to do. "Excuse me, sir," Harry asked with as much respect as he could muster. "What would you like me to do?"

"Watch," Quinn replied calmly as he started to walk away.

Harry was confused. Is he completely mad? "I'm sorry sir, I don't understand."

Quinn turned back to Harry, walked up close to the boy and towered over him. "You are to watch. I will not have an eleven year old boy attempting complex magic in my class."

"But I—" Harry tried to defend himself, but the man held up his hand silencing the boy.

"You may have your sixteen-year-old memories. Never the less, you are essentially eleven." Harry opened his mouth to protest. He'd been doing magic in other classes without any problem. Before he could speak, Quinn cut him off, "Not another word. Ten points from Gryffindor. Now if you continue to disrupt my class, you will find yourself in another detention. Is that understood?"

Looking up at the tall Professor looming over him, Harry felt small, humiliated, defeated. "Yes sir," he replied.

Left alone at the edge of the woods, Harry sat down on a mossy stump. He looked around for his friends. Hermione was lecturing an overly-confused Justin. Neville and Nott were working near each other, but obviously not together. Ron and Malfoy where already shouting at each other and had their wands ready to duel. Let's see the perfect little professor deal with that.

Quinn was between the two boys a moment later. He bent down and spoke something into Malfoy's ear. Afterwards, he said something to Ron. He stepped away and to Harry's astonishment; the boys were back-to-back, wands in the air. They got to work, each creating their own half of the Net Ward.

Satisfied, Quinn moved on to Neville and Nott. In no time at all, he had those boys cooperating together as well. He made his way around working with more than half the students. Before the end of class, Ron and Malfoy had managed to encompass themselves in a thin blue bubble. It was weak, but complete.

Harry walked back to the classroom flanked by Hermione and Ron.

"Did you see us?" Ron said excitedly. "We had it. On the first day!"

"It was more unusual that you actually worked with Malfoy," Harry said.

"Yeah, er… That was strange," Ron admitted.

"What did Quinn say to you guys anyway?" Harry asked.

"Well, I don't know what he whispered to Malfoy," Ron replied. "But then he told us both that we were the two most promising students in the class. He said that if we just put our differences aside—"

Harry interrupted, "You bought that?" He said it a little more harshly then he meant to.

"What's that supposed to mean!" Ron shouted back.

"Er… well," Harry didn’t know what to say. What did I mean? He looked towards Hermione for some help and then back at Ron.

"Forget it!" Ron yelled and then he stormed away.

Hermione and Harry were left behind in silence. They stood there for a minute, Harry feeling pretty guilty.

"What did you mean?" Hermione finally asked.

"I didn't mean to say that he couldn't be one of the best in the class," Harry said quietly. "But isn't it obvious… Quinn's just placating him."

"Maybe," Hermione replied. "Perhaps that was not the best way to go about telling him, though. Especially since he and Malfoy did manage to progress farther than anyone else in class. He was so excited."

"Yeah," Harry said, so quietly that it was almost unheard.

Hermione changed the subject; "Quinn never came by to help us."

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

"I don't think he likes me," Hermione said as they started to walk again.

"At least you didn't have to watch."

"Something is up with him. Do you think we should go talk to Professor McGonagall?"

Harry shrugged. He didn't see what good it would do to go to McGonagall. She hadn't really helped them in the past.

xxxxx

Arriving just in time for potions, Harry headed up to the front of the class to turn in his essay. He was surprised at how nervous he was. The essay was horrible; he knew that. But he'd turned in bad essays before. He couldn't look Snape in the eye, half expecting the man to legilimize him on the spot and realize how deplorable he really was. When he reached out to set his essay on the stack, he couldn’t stop his hand from trembling.

Returning to his seat, he was glad that they just had lecture today. Exhaustion was catching up with him and he didn't think that he'd be able to pay attention to brew.

Harry put his elbows on the desk and rested his head in his hands. Snape began to speak his lecture, emphasizing different points with dramatic prose. Harry couldn't help himself; the man's voice was mesmerizing. He was barely aware that his eyelids were becoming heavy as the world turned dark.

His head slipped forward as his body went limp. Before his head could hit the table, a hand grabbed him by the front of his robes. His small body was lifted effortlessly, until his eyes came in contact with one irate Potions Master.

"You stupid, arrogant boy!" Snape yelled, his nose only a few centimeters from Harry's. "Sirius wasn't enough, was he?" Harry was tossed to the ground. Expecting to hit stone, he was surprised to land on something soft—squishy. "You had to let them all die." Harry tried to stand, but couldn't. He looked down to the ground and realized it was someone—a body. "Savior of the wizarding world… you failed us all." He tried to scramble away from the body when he crawled onto another one. Everywhere he looked, there were more and more bodies. He was going to be sick.

"POTTER!" Harry was jolted awake. Back in potions class, he was met by a bunch of staring faces. "You think you can sleep in my class?" Snape spat.

Snape was right next to Harry’s desk, glaring at him with the same irate look from his dreams. He scrambled as far back in his chair as he could manage. "I'm so…sorry, sir," he stuttered. A tear escaped from his eye and he wiped it away with a trembling hand. He couldn't get the image out of his head… the bodies. I'm going to be sick!

Leaning over his desk, he retched his entire lunch all over the dungeon floor. Only dumb luck saved him from covering Snape's shoes. Oh no, what do I do now? No amount of strength could make him sit up.

He remained leaning over his desk for what seemed like an eternity, until Snape ordered, "Hospital wing! Now, Potter!"

Not needing to be told twice, Harry jumped out of his chair. Making eye contact with no one, he just ran out of the room, leaving behind his bag and who knows what, but he didn't care.

The image replayed over and over in his mind. There was no way he'd make it to the hospital wing. Slipping into the nearest boy's bathroom, he retched until his stomach was empty. Even then, he was plagued with dry heaves until his body collapsed to the stone floor. Curling up into a small ball, he silently sobbed into his arms. Crying till he could cry no more, he stayed there in silence. No one ever entered the bathroom, for which Harry was grateful.

Again, he wished he hadn't messed everything up with Snape, remembering how Snape held him before, comforting him from the nightmares. He wanted it again… just this once…

I'm being such a baby, Harry scolded himself. He got off the floor, washed his face, and set off to return to the Gryffindor Tower.

Entering the common room, he was bombarded by Gryffindors.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked.

At the same time, Ron said, "All over Snape's floor. I can't believe it." Apparently the boy had forgiven Harry for his earlier comments. Harry filed this knowledge away for later. If ever Ron's angry, just sick up in the middle of Potions.

"You don't look too good," Neville commented.

Finally, Harry found his voice; it sounded strained as he spoke. "Just the flu," Harry lied. "Madame Pomfrey gave me a stomach calming draught. All I need is rest now." He tried to push his way through his friends, to get to his dormitory.

"I went to the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey said you weren't there," Hermione stated.

Harry inwardly cringed. He hadn't thought about that. Of course they'd come to check on him. "It took me a while to get there," he replied. It was lame, but the first excuse he could think of.

His friends pondered the comment for a moment, and then their faces turned a bit green as they garnered understanding. Harry realized what they must have been imagining; it was true after all. He had spent quite some time bent over the porcelain bowl.

"I should get to bed," he announced. This time he didn't have to push his way through as they all parted to let him pass.

Changing into his pajamas, he had no intention of going to bed. He had a charms essay to write, not to mention he was behind in reading for transfiguration. Climbing into bed with the necessary items, he pulled the curtain shut on his four-poster bed. After warding his bed so that no light or sound would escape, Harry got to work.

xxxxx

For most students, Saturday morning was the most joyous moment of the week, but for Harry it was just another day in hell. It seemed that no matter how hard he worked, he was always behind in schoolwork. He got less and less sleep each night, as the nightmares increased.

This made it even harder to concentrate in class. On Thursday, in Herbology, he had accidentally repotted the wrong plant, much to Professor Sprout's disappointment. Surprisingly enough, defense was the easiest class all week, since all he had to do was "watch." He even slept through the entire class on Friday, without hearing anything from the overly stern teacher. But because he slept on the ground, he ended up getting dirty. In his next class, Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall took a ten-point deduction because of his sloppy appearance.

The worst class of all that week turned out to be potions, no surprise there. He managed to stay awake for the whole lecture, even answered some questions. At the end of class, they got their essays back. Scrawled elegantly across the top in huge red letters, did he really have to write so big, was the word "Declined."

No explanations were given other than, "find another potion." He wasn't so surprised that his essay wasn't good enough. But now he would need to spend another weekend searching in vain for some potion to brew. Was everyone else struggling as much? Hermione definitely wasn't. She had picked Blood Replenishing Potion ages ago. Of course, her proposal was accepted. Now she was working on acquiring the ingredients, like most of the students in the class. He needed more time, perhaps even a pass into the restricted section.

All of that would have to wait till later though. At the moment, he was stuck in the bloody Gryffindor locker room. Ron was yakking his ear off about his strategy for the tryouts. Ron had lost him somewhere after hello, and Harry was surprised when the redhead stopped talking.

"Er… okay," Harry replied.

This satisfied Ron, and they walked out to the field. A crowd of students, second through seventh year, all stood, their emotions obviously mixed with excitement and nervousness. Ron addressed the students in another one of his long, drawn out speeches. Harry contemplated hitting the boy upside the head with his broom, but before he could decide, his friend was finally done talking.

Moments later, Harry found himself in the air. At first, he thought the familiar sensation of flight would bolster his mood, but he was just too tired. Concentrating on the tryouts below him, he flew in a simple figure eight. Every once in a while, he would fly down to confer with Ron and now Ginny, who wanted to add her opinion, too.

They stopped for a short lunch—Harry didn't recall Ron eating so little since he was throwing up slugs. Then another group of hopefuls was up in the air. Most of them were an obvious “no”, but Ron felt everyone needed to be given their fair share of time.

Ron called Harry down to consult. As he got closer to the ground, he realized a second year above him had just been hit by a bludger and was knocked off her broom. Reacting without thinking, he moved to catch the girl. He forgot one small detail. His body was still the size of an eleven year old—a small eleven year old.

The much larger second year smashed into Harry's body and they were both sent falling through the air. Harry hit the ground first—pain, but at least he was alive—and then the girl fell on top of him. The world went blank.

xxxxx

The next thing Harry was aware of was a soft bed. By the smell of the room, he was in the infirmary. He tried to wake, but recognized the drugged state of his mind.

He heard a voice. Even under his current condition, he recognized it as Dumbledore. "You must betray him."

"That is something I cannot do," a man replied—Snape. Harry pulled at his mind, willing himself to wake. He wanted to get to the man… he had to be there for a reason.

"You are making matters worse," Dumbledore replied. The old man seemed mad; did he ever get mad?

Someone shifted nervously to Harry's left; it has to be Snape. Instinctively, he tried to reach out.

"He's waking up. Get out of here," Dumbledore commanded.

Harry lifted his head, opened his eyes, and tried to look around. The world was blurry, dizzy…"Snape," he whispered and then passed out.