Warily noticing that the Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Quirrell, was just leaving Professor Snape’s office, he quickly told Salazar the password and stumbled into the common room, where he sat down on the floor, both hands pressed to his forehead.

Soon he was surrounded by his house mates, who looked at him worriedly.

“What is wrong with you?”

“Are you ill?”

“Shall we get Professor Snape?”

“Or Madam Pomfrey?”

He was bombarded with questions. Harry sighed and told them, “No, thanks. My scar hurt a lot a moment ago, but now it’s all right. I’ll just go to bed.” He went to bed immediately and was asleep within seconds. It had been a very long day.

A while later, he woke up to two voices talking right next to him. He groaned and turned over to face the wall. He didn’t want anyone to fuss over him, and he didn’t want to talk to anyone either. But then he noticed that someone had sat down on the edge of his bed. He turned back and lazily opened his eyes, only to see that Professor Snape was sitting next to him.

“What is wrong with you, Harry? Are you ill?” he asked in a voice that sounded concerned to Harry’s ears.

However, Harry remembered the Potions lesson in the morning and wasn’t willing to share any thoughts with the Professor – at least not at the moment. Therefore, he just answered, “No, sir, I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

Severus gave him a piercing look and sneered, “So fine that you forgot your appointment with Madam Pomfrey, that you slept through lunch and your history lesson, and that you came into the common room with an obviously bad pain in your scar?” He looked inquiringly at Harry, who felt very uncomfortable.

‘Who the h… told him about the History of Magic lesson?’ he thought frantically before he looked at his teacher. “I just forgot about Madam Pomfrey. At lunchtime, I was tired, and the pain in my scar went away immediately. Really, Professor, it’s nothing,” he explained, fidgeting in his bed.

“Has your scar ever hurt before, Harry?” the teacher asked, wondering what the problem could be.

“Yes.” Harry nodded. “Last week in the Defence lesson it suddenly hurt for a while, but that’s the only time so far. What does this mean?” he asked hesitantly.

“That is what I do not know,” Severus replied pensively. “Was anybody near you when it happened tonight?”

Harry tried to concentrate on the moment he arrived at the portrait, and suddenly, he remembered. “Yes, Professor Quirrell just left your office at the time. But it can’t have anything to do with him, can it?”

Severus lifted an eyebrow and repeated pensively, “Professor Quirrell? And he was there when your scar hurt the first time as well, I suppose.” It was more a statement than a question.

“Yes,” Harry said, glancing at his teacher curiously. What did this mean? Did Professor Quirrell want to harm him?

Severus had to try hard not to let the child see how worried he was. Harry had received the scar from the Dark Lord. Therefore, the event could be a connection to the Dark Lord. However, even if one assumed that he wasn’t dead, how could it be that the scar hurt when Quirrell was around the boy? Was the professor a Death Eater? But he, Severus, bore the Dark Mark as well, and Harry didn’t have any problems being in his company. He really would have to talk to the Headmaster.

“I don’t know what caused it,” he said finally. “I will talk to the Headmaster about it, and maybe he knows something. When your scar happens to hurt again, please try to remember where you were and who was around, and come to see me as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry answered solemnly. He didn’t know what to think, now that Professor Snape was back to the nice teacher Harry could confide in.

After a short break, the teacher continued, “Harry, I would like you to come to my office after dinner tomorrow. Let’s say… after you have finished your homework, so that you really have time. We have to talk about what happened to you before you came to Hogwarts, and maybe then I will know a bit more about your scar. Now, I either have to send you to Madam Pomfrey, or I have to check on you. Which do you prefer?”

“You?” Harry asked unbelievingly, and he felt even more uncomfortable.

Severus sneered and explained, “As a Potions Master I had to take the first degree of a Healer’s exam, so I have certain knowledge in this area. However, I don’t mind if you prefer to go and see Pomfrey.”

Harry shook his head, and said, “No, I don’t feel like running around the castle right now. Could you please do it for me, then?” He blushed deeply and would have preferred to hide in a mouse hole, but if the only alternative was to get up and walk up to the Hospital Wing, he preferred this solution.

Severus waved his wand over Harry a few times and nodded contently. “Your rib has healed nicely; your lung is still not good, but you don’t seem to have urgent problems. You have a slight fever, but apart from that you seem to be all right. I will tell Pomfrey that you will come for your missed check-up tomorrow before breakfast. Don’t forget it! And, now, go to sleep. Good night, Harry.”

Harry threw him a grateful smile and closed his eyes mumbling, “Thank you Professor. Good night.”

The next day passed rather uneventfully. In his Potions class, Harry managed to brew his potion flawlessly without attracting any attention. However, after class the teacher called him, “Mr. Potter, please remain for a moment.”

Harry was so shocked that he nearly chocked, but immediately, he went up to the front of the classroom, looking timidly at his teacher. What had he done now? He felt a bit consoled as he knew that his friends were waiting for him just behind the door.

“Harry, I am very sorry, but I have to postpone our appointment to tomorrow evening. Is that all right with you?”

Harry smiled at the professor, happy that he hadn’t called him to reprimand him for something. “Of course, Professor,” he replied and was dismissed so that he could reach his next class in time.

He was just sitting in the library doing his homework together with Hermione and Ron when Draco entered the library.

“Harry,” Draco whispered, “Blaise and I are going to the third floor corridor tonight to see what’s in there. Are you coming with us?”

Harry groaned inwardly. Of course he would like to go. It sounded so interesting to go and explore the castle in the middle of the night. But it was impossible. “Draco, I’m sorry, but I can’t. Remember, I cannot run. If there is something dangerous, or if Filch or someone comes to catch us, I cannot run away, otherwise I won’t be able to breathe. Maybe you can ask Ron to go with you.”

Ron threw Draco and Harry a curious glance, and Draco quietly explained what Blaise and he had planned for the night. Ignoring Hermione’s reprimanding expression, Ron agreed to come with them, and they fixed a time and a meeting point for the same evening.

However, when Ron came back shortly after midnight, Harry was already fast asleep, and Ron had to wait until the morning to tell Harry and Hermione the story of a three-headed dog guarding a trap door in the floor of a tiny chamber.

“Whose dog is it, and what can he be guarding?” they asked each other, surprised.

After classes, Harry sat in the library with his friends, but managed to finish his homework before dinnertime, so that he could go to Severus’ office immediately after dinner. On one hand, he was very reluctant to go and see Severus, but on the other hand, except for the Potions lesson two days ago, Harry had always felt very comfortable in the Professor’s presence, and Harry loved to talk to him. He really seemed able to understand him, even better than anyone had before.

When Harry knocked at the door of the Potions Master’s office, Professor Snape called him in and motioned him to sit on the other side of his desk, while he continued grading some parchments. While the professor was working, Harry fidgeted anxiously on his chair. What was he supposed to tell the teacher? How much would he have to reveal? Would he be able to deny everything? On the other hand, he didn’t want to ever go back to the Dursleys. Finally, Severus’ voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

The professor had left his desk and had gone over to a connecting door, which he held open for Harry. “Come on, Harry,” he said invitingly, and Harry hesitantly stepped into the teacher’s private quarters. In spite of the room being in the dungeons, Harry found, to his surprise, that it was fairly bright with a group of comfortable looking sofas and chairs in front of the fireplace and many book shelves on the walls. Except for the library, Harry couldn’t remember ever seeing so many books in one place. He glanced around the room in awe. It was just fantastic. He would love to live in such surroundings. Maybe, several years into the future, he would be able to have his own room just for himself to put as many books in it as he wished.

“If you have stared long enough, please sit down so that we can start our talk,” Severus said, sneering at the boy, who complied immediately.

“Now, Harry, I can imagine that you don’t want to talk about what happened at your so-called ‘family’. However, I want you to understand that it is very important that you talk about it. First of all, it will be easier for you to get over your past, and secondly, you will need someone to know in order to prevent Professor Dumbledore from sending you back there during the summer holidays.”

Seeing Harry’s unsure expression, he added, “As I told you before, you do not have to confide in me, you can choose any teacher you have enough confidence in to talk about it.”

“I already chose you, Professor, if you don’t mind,” Harry mumbled. “However, it’s not easy to talk about it. There is no other way, is there?”

Severus thought for a moment. “There is another way,” he finally said pensively. “However, it would only allow me to see your memories. You would still have to talk about it sometime. Do you know what a Pensieve is?”

Harry shook his head and Severus stood up and went to the fireplace to call Albus and borrow his Pensieve.

“Now, you think about the happenings at the Dursleys you want to show me, especially the events that led to your injuries, and every time you have grasped a memory, you give me a short nod, and I will extract the memory and put it into the Pensieve,” he instructed his student.

Harry agreed, and they worked on the memory extraction for about an hour, until Harry let out a relieved sigh and tiredly leaned back. Severus called Tipsy, his personal house elf, and asked for hot cocoa and biscuits for Harry, before he entered the Pensieve.

After only a few minutes, Severus emerged from the Pensieve with a stern look on his face. “Harry,” he softly addressed the boy, who was already half asleep on the sofa, “I would like to watch your memories together with Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall, and the Headmaster. Would you mind any of these people watching your memories?”

Harry gasped. Of course he minded, but if Severus thought it was necessary... At least, he didn’t have to watch everything with them. He looked at his teacher and gave him a short nod.

“Are you sure, Harry? May I call them here now?” Severus asked, and Harry nodded once more and closed his eyes again.

During the next two hours the four teachers watched Harry’s memories of his stay at the Dursleys while Harry was fast asleep on the sofa. By the time they left the Pensieve, the two ladies had tears in their eyes.

“Oh, my….” Minerva trailed off.

“Frankly speaking, I had expected something like this, but I just can’t understand how someone can hate such a nice boy so much,” Poppy said with a very upset expression on her face.

“Albus, just promise me one thing: that Harry never has to go back there,” Severus told the Headmaster.

Albus sighed. Of course he didn’t want to send Harry there, but it would be the safest place for the boy, wouldn’t it? “Severus, I don’t want to send him there, but you know about the blood wards, don’t you?” Dumbledore started slowly, but was interrupted very fast by three angry voices.

“Albus!”

“F…the blood wards!”

“No! I cannot let you do that. If you send him back there, I will have to send a report to the Ministry because of child abuse. I am sorry, but this is my responsibility as a Healer.” Poppy’s reasoning finally was the one which convinced the Headmaster.

“All right,” he agreed. “We won’t send him back. However he will need a guardian, which, frankly speaking, probably will have to be one of you.”

“No problem,” the three others firmly replied at the same time. Tipsy once again served tea and snacks, and the four teachers talked for a while about what they had seen in the Pensieve. Fortunately, Harry didn’t even stir; otherwise he would have been very embarrassed by the topic of the evening.

Before the teachers returned to their quarters, Minerva suggested Severus to just let Harry sleep on the sofa instead of waking him up, and Poppy, who was just doing her usual check-up on Harry, agreed immediately, waving her wand once more to transfigure Harry’s clothes into comfortable pyjamas.

Finally, Poppy deemed Harry fit to fly under the condition that he came to her immediately when he encountered any breathing problems. Harry happily went in search for his Quidditch captains, Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint, to tell them the good news. They had to hurriedly teach him how to play Quidditch, as the first match would take place only a few weeks later.

Harry hadn’t thought about the timing of his appointment with the two captains and had just nodded to their suggestions. The two rivals, however, did not take it well that he had made appointments with them at the same time and threw temper tantrums on the Quidditch pitch.

“Now, look,” Harry begged. “We don’t have time for such rivalries. I am on both your teams, and if you can’t manage to teach me how to play Quidditch, none of your teams can win in your matches. So, please, help me now – two teachers are better than one!”

When Professor McGonagall stood in front of her window and had a glance at the Quidditch pitch, she couldn’t believe her eyes: The Quidditch captains of Gryffindor and Slytherin were training their new seeker TOGETHER! ‘I have to show this to Albus,’ she thought and stepped through the Floo into the Headmaster’s office, pulling him to the window.

“25 points each to Gryffindor and Slytherin for cooperating nicely,” was the Headmaster’s comment about the unusual scene.

After one hour of explanations and two hours of flying and catching the Snitch about a dozen times, Harry knew what he had to do on the Saturday of the first match, and he noticed that he had to stop the practise because he could hardly breathe any more.

He flew down to the ground, breathing heavily, and told the captains, “I am sorry, but I have to stop practising now. However, I know what I have to do in the match, and I will try had to catch the Snitch fast.”

Both captains let him go immediately and told him to attend Quidditch practise from the following week, onwards. ‘Practise for two teams means practise every day,’ Harry thought. ‘When am I going to do my homework?’ He had to talk to his Heads of House about this. As he was practising for two teams, maybe half of the practising time each would be enough.

Halloween was a few days later. Harry had never thought much about Halloween, especially since the Dursleys hadn’t allowed him to do anything on that day. He only had heard stories from other pupils at his primary school – and he remembered that somebody at Hogwarts had told him that his parents had been murdered on that day. Therefore, he didn’t really look forward to the party, which had been announced for the evening.

Harry and the other Slytherins had just had Charms together with the Gryffindors. When they were on their way back from the class, heading for the Great Hall to eat lunch, Ron came to Harry’s side and complained about Hermione, who had – as always – managed to do a charm better than him and had tried to help him.

Unfortunately, Hermione heard him calling her a ‘know-it-all’ among other things and ran away crying. She ran too fast for Harry, who tried to catch her but had to give up when he noticed that it was getting difficult to breathe. As he didn’t know where she had gone, he went to the Great Hall and sat down at the Gryffindor table.

In the afternoon, Hermione didn’t show up for History of Magic, which fortunately was the last class for the day. Harry spent the afternoon in the library doing his homework, and he finally managed to finish everything before dinner, although he often caught himself watching the door pensively and hoping that Hermione would show up.

He sat down at the Slytherin table, feverishly scanning the Gryffindor table. When he couldn’t see his friend, he said to Draco, “I am worried about Hermione. You know that she ran away before lunch, right? She has not returned yet. What can I do?”

“I know where she is,” Millicent Bulstrode, one of Harry’s classmates, told him. “She has been in the girls’ washing room on the first floor crying for the whole afternoon.”

Harry threw a short glance at Draco, before both boys stood up and left the hall, not noticing that several people at the Head Table were watching them sternly. They walked to the girls’ bathroom and entered hesitantly, softly calling Hermione’s name. After a few minutes of talking, they managed to get her to leave the washroom so that they could talk in the hall.

“Come on to the Great Hall with us, Hermione,” Harry tried to coax her. “The Halloween Feast is just going to start.”

“No,” Hermione cried. “I hate Ron. He always laughs about me because I like to read and because I’m better in class than he is. He always tells me I should have been sorted into Ravenclaw. And this morning after Charms, he called me an ‘insufferable know-it-all’, and that was just too much.”

Harry frowned. What was he supposed to say?

“You are lucky, Harry. When Ron gets jealous of you because you’re on the Quidditch team or something, you can just go to Slytherin and spend some time there. And then you are gone, and I’m stuck with Ron alone. I don’t have any other place to go.”

Suddenly, they heard a strange noise from around the corner, and Professor Quirrell came running towards them. However, the teacher seemed not to notice them and continued running in the direction of the Great Hall.

“What the h…” Draco started to speak. However, he quieted immediately when something huge came around the corner, obviously following the teacher. It was gigantic, and it stank.