“Get up, Harry.”

Harry Potter had been awake for hours already, but had only slept for two last night and now, he wished nothing more than to sleep again, but the voice wouldn’t let him.

Harry slowly got out of bed and rubbed his tired eyes, making him feel, if possible, more drowsy, then stood up and stretched as the lights magically spelled on.

He walked over to his wardrobe and looked for a shirt to wear. Last night, he hadn’t even bothered to change into his night robes and was still wearing the pants he had on the day before.

Changing in his bathroom, he shivered as he slipped his new shirt on. It was deathly cold in there and his hands felt frozen as he let the faucet water run into them so he could wash his face. The water stung as he gently splashed it into his eyes to try and wake himself up.

Digging for his watch in his trunk, he found it was nearly eleven. He wondered how annoyed Snape would be with him if he continuously woke in the afternoon. Maybe he wouldn’t even care.

With a headache that had been with him since late last night, he sat close to the edge of his bed with his knees bent upward and began tying one of his shoes that he slipped his foot into.

He barley noticed how slow his fingers moved as he bound the two laces together. The throbbing above his eyebrow literally hazed his mind disallowing him to actually think clearly. He let one of his legs that had been propped on the edge of the mattress slide off and by not having any control whatsoever of the velocity due to his stupor, his sole hit the hard wooden floor with a pang that shot through his leg starting at the arch of his foot.

“Shite,” he muttered as he recovered from the fugacious twinge. He tied the other lace as well and stood up but swayed slightly from his fatigue.

He opened his door and peered out through the small crack, checking to see if anyone was there, then stepped out fully. It was noticeably warmer in the hallway so he pulled his long sleeves up with two fingers, making the cloth form ripples above his elbows.

He really wasn’t hungry at all, and didn’t want to go down to the dining room anyway. He felt agitated with his headache and bored with his lack of something to do, so decided to explore the house. After all, it was big- no, it was huge but there was always the possibility he would run into Snape, so he thought his fathers cloak would do nicely.

He pushed open his bedroom door and went to his trunk and fished around for his cloak. He rubbed his arms to warm them a little since it was chilly, but once he found what he was looking for, he wrapped it around him like a shawl, making him look like an amputee.

He stopped right at his door and pulled the cloak over completely before venturing out. The hallway was still empty, but he walked slowly anyway to avoid making the floorboards creak, just incase.

In the hallway where his room was, all of the doors were unlocked, though the rooms located there were of no significance to him. They were old, dusty bedrooms just as his was, though the beds and dressers were arranged differently.

All six rooms there looked as if they hadn’t ever been used, or if they had, not in several years. There was one storage closet though, but was empty except for cobwebs and spiders. However, at the end of the hallway and after a right turn, there was two large double doors at the end of a ward that caught his attention. He rattled the doorknobs but found them locked. Maybe if he could just lock pick it… but decided to try that later, along with some other doors he wanted to open.

But his boredom quickly vanished once he was out of that ward as he found there was three stories to the house, an attic and a basement that was locked.

The first floor had a few locked doors, but the rest were open. There was of course the dining room, he’d been there already, a large bathroom and in muggle terms, a living room though he didn’t know what the wizarding world would call it. Perhaps a family room or a drawing room, but he didn’t like the sound of that one… he thought he’d have nightmares from seeing whatever was drawn in that house.

There was something like a studio, it was just a big open room with very little in it. Though there were windows everywhere, it was still dim due to the thickness of the drapes that covered them. Even when he moved them aside, the glass wasn’t all that transparent and anything he might have been able to see was blurred, probably from the grime on them from outside, nothing was visible.

There was a study on the first floor as well, but no books in it. Just a small room with a desk facing a window. There was a desk chair, but it was dusty and looked wobbly, as well as an armchair that looked uncomfortable and also an easel in the corner and three blank canvases that leaned against the wall.

He went into the room where he had first flooed to, the one with the shabby looking table and chairs. Directly in front of the fireplace as a sofa with an adjoining armchair on the side of it with an area rug beneath them. A dusty suit of armor was located in the corner of the room and a series of torches were aligned on the wall.

There was a medium sized room beside the dining room, which contained a sitting area that faced an enormous window. There was an empty birdcage, a bookshelf and a writing desk all on different sides of the room.

When he made his way up the marble staircase from the first floor, he skipped the second since he had already seen it but looked all around that story for another stairway he had seen when he was exploring that section of the house. It was a good while from his own bedroom, but once he walked up it, he found the third floor irrevocably dreary.

There was too many ways to part from the main hallway which was connected with several others, so he only went down a few to avoid getting lost. Every once and a while, he’d check if a door was locked but stopped after a while; they were all locked.

He was began to get tired of walking a little while later and decided that after he explored the attic, he’d call it quits and maybe take a nap.

He had trouble finding a way to the attic again, all the corridors on the third floor were clones of themselves and often found himself confused and asking himself if he’d been here or there before.

He eventually did find the place with the small flight of stairs and walked up them into the attic. He found that it wasn’t as big as he’d expected it to be, considering how large the house was, it could have been ten times bigger, maybe even more.

There was only one window in there however, located in the center of the wall farthest from the staircase, and as he made his way towards it, he found it overlooked a vast forest. Of course, there was some sort of yard in the back of the house, but any land after that was consumed in woods and he was itching to go and explore it, but Snape’s words from yesterday were ringing in his ears:

With a sigh, he went away from the window and out of the empty, dust ridden attic and after what seemed like an hour, he found his way back to his room and collapsed on the bed with a groan.

He pushed himself further up the bed and kicked off his shoes and laid numbly on his back, staring at the ceiling. He tried to pull the cloak off, but some of it was stuck beneath him so he just remained there laying on it, too lazy to lift himself up and pull it out from under him, but he did close his eyes. There was no escape from the headache he had been ignoring all day.

It was like he had only closed them for a minute or two, but the next time he opened his eyes, he was laying on his stomach with his head in his arms, shivering. He wished he had covered himself with his blanked before he’d fallen asleep.

Groaning, he squinted his eyes as he pivoted his wrist so that he could read his watch. It was 6:34.

He sat up, lifting himself with his arms and rubbed his eyes, then noticed that his head wasn’t throbbing for the first time that day. He smirked when he realized that all he needed was a nap.

With it still being chilly, Harry stepped off from his bed and walked over to his trunk. He put his cloak that he had in his hand beside him and began fishing around for a sweater he could wear.

At the bottom, he found one, a knitted sweater he was given by Mrs. Weasley last year and pulled it over himself. He took out a Charms book and threw it on his bed. He thought it was better to try and get some homework done to kill time rather than be bored out of his mind. As he was about to close his trunk, something shiny caught his eye.

He moved some old junk, like parchment and ink bottles aside and found fragments of glass hidden beneath the clutter and tracked them to find a shattered mirror, still in the brown paper bag it had came in though some shards of glass had ripped through it and they seeped out onto the floor of his trunk….A gift, from Sirius. He realized that this mirror, in it’s current state, did not only reflect his eyes, his nose, his face but it also reflected what he was feeling inside; broken.

As quickly as he could, he covered the bag with anything he could find in his trunk, old clothes, books, socks, feeling more desolate than ever. Right on top of the pile he spotted three chocolate frog boxes and took them out, scooping them up in his hand and pocketed them as he stuffed his cloak back into his trunk and closed it.

Sitting cross legged on the floor, he picked one of the frog boxes and opened it, not caring what card he got, he threw it aside as the frog immediately jumped out once the package had been broken, causing Harry to try and catch it, missing several times, his palms banging the floor as it jumped around before he actually caught it; his fingers gripping its legs in midair.

He smiled as he nibbled on it, starting from the arms onto the face until he consumed the rest whole. The second chocolate frog box had already been open; it was empty. The third did have a frog, but he cupped it in his hands once it flew out and avoided the trouble of having to snag it before it jumped away.

He moved his blanket to the side and laid down on his stomach pulling the text book towards him, then his blanket over his back. He stuffed a pillow under his chin to get more comfortable before beginning his homework; a Charms essay on:

The next thing Harry knew, his head jerked up, his glasses were askew and his neck was stiff.

He sat up and wiped the side of his face and looked down at his drool-clad book. It was barley opened to page 13 and his essay was a whole one sentence in.

Harry rubbed the side of his neck that was hurting and went to the bathroom to wash his face. He looked at his watch; it was 3:07.

“Yes, actually. It does. Maybe you wouldn’t sleep for a short time every few hours if you’d eat something besides candy every once and a while-”

“So maybe I’ll go downstairs and get something besides candy. When I’m actually hungry, that is.”

Harry looked at himself in the mirror. There were shadows under his eyes. He rubbed his face with his hands that were cupped with water and after, took a long shower with hot water.

Once he dressed himself, along with his sweater, Harry grew bored but knew he’d fall asleep again if he started reading that boring textbook again. He looked around his room. He could use new scenery, he thought…

Halfway between trying to push his wardrobe to the opposite wall, he sighed and sat on the floor. If only he were allowed to use magic outside of school.

After five more minutes, it was against the wall, though not at the spot he would have liked. His bed was easier to move, however. It didn’t weigh ten tons like his wardrobe. In fact, the bed frame had wheels, that was surely a plus.

His desk was pushed on the side of his bed and he moved back the bedside table on the other… then he realized he liked his room better the old way, but didn’t think he could push that stupid wardrobe back all the way to the other side of the room. He sighed and sat at his desk, scribbling on an old parchment.

“Er… Grib?” He asked out loud, though quietly. Then there was a pop next to him and he turned around to face the small house elf.

“Master Harry was needing something? Breakfast? His clothes washed? His-”

“Um, no. I was wondering if there were any tubes of paint anywhere.” Grib smiled, his brown eyes wide.

“Yes Master! Should Grib be bringing a easel and canvas as well?” Harry nodded, unsure of why the house elf would be this enthusiastic about painting. Grib apparated away, leaving Harry grinning in his chair. The house elf looked a lot like Dobby, or even Winky for that matter.

Grib returned with an easel, five canvases, an assortment of paint tubes, a small glass and a clear, lidless container with several different sizes of paintbrushes.

“Thanks,” he said and examined a brush.

“Would Master Harry be needing anything else?” Harry considered the offer. Here he was, bored out of his mind, and here was a house elf that would give him practically anything he wanted. Knowing he would take advantage of the situation later, he rubbed his stomach. Now that he thought of it, he was kind of hungry.

“Yeah, is there anything to eat-”

“Yes Master! Breakfast is already made! Grib-” Grib’s eyes became wide again, but not with excitement like with the painting, wide with fear.

“What?” Harry asked.

“Grib interrupted a wizard,” he muttered quietly. “Grib has to be punished.” Harry wondered why Grib extended his arms, trembling, but then realized why. Harry knew how wizards generally treated house elves, and that disobedience was something punishable. He felt saddened that Grib would think he’d ever harm him, but was angry that this was Snape’s house elf, and already knew when he was supposed to be punished.

“I’m not going to punish you,” Harry told Grib sternly.

“Then Grib is to go to Master Severus to be punished?” Harry shook his head.

“You aren’t to be punished at all,” he told him. Grib looked confused but relieved. “I think I’ll just go down and eat breakfast, though.” Harry turned to walk out of his room, and Grib apparated, supposedly downstairs.

Harry went down into the dining room, grateful no one was there. Just as he sat down on the chair he had sat in the first night he had arrived, a plate full of breakfast appeared in front of him, as well as a mug.

“Would Master Harry be needing anything else,” Grib, who apparated beside him asked.

Harry peered into his mug of coffee and grimaced. He hated the taste of the drink.

“Yeah, actually.” He said as he dug his fork into his eggs. “Do you have anything that I could drink that’s not coffee?” Grib looked afraid when Harry asked.

“Yes Master,” Grib squeaked, coiling, making Harry wonder why the house elf would be scared at all. The question was asked politely. “Grib was not knowing Master Harry Potter did not like coffee. Master Severus always has it for breakfast. Grib was not knowing what Master Harry would want!”

“Its ok,” Harry said, trying to avoid making Grib scream. “I’m not mad, but do you have anything like… lets say pumpkin juice?” Grib looked disturbed at the question.

“No, but Grib is making some now-”

“No, its fine, Grib.” Harry told him. “I’ll just have tea then.”

“Yes Master!” And Grib was gone with a slight pop. Harry began eating his food again and wondered where Snape was off to. Not that Harry would ever want him there, but he wondered what he was doing, or what he had been doing all of yesterday.

“Is this alright, Master?” Grib asked once he apparated back, then handed Harry a small steaming tea cup that contained unfamiliar scenting tea.

Harry tasted it finding it surprisingly delicious, even before adding sugar or crème. It tasted like a mix between blackberry, peach and smelled slightly of clove.

“Yes, thank you,” he said pulling the sugar towards him, not caring that house elves weren’t supposed to be thanked. That, to Harry, still seemed completely ludicrous.

“Anything else, Master?”

“No,” Harry replied as he began sipping his tea. “I’m fine.”

Harry’s breakfast consisted of beacon, eggs, toast and pancakes. He really didn’t eat all that much, but he did drink a lot of the tea Grib, who was gone now, had brought for him. He really, really liked this drink. Though he did like Pumpkin Juice, he’d had it at almost every meal at school, this… mystery tea was certainly a lot better.

When Harry was full, he stood up and all of his dishes disappeared. He wasn’t feeling all that bored now that he knew he had something to do today.

Once upstairs, he set up the easel with a canvas and arranged the paint on the desk beside him. He went to his bathroom and filled the empty glass with water and dipped a paint brush in it.

He stared at the canvas for well over a minute. He had a solution to his boredom for a while, but he didn’t know what to paint. He had never painted before anyway. Well, except the times when he was little and he’d paint on sheets of manila paper with water colors, but besides that, all he had was his childhood house-with-smoke-coming-from chimney experience and he really didn’t want to paint something like that.

So he started with painting a wardrobe. Funny it looked exactly like the one he had been having trouble moving not an hour ago. Halfway into it, he realized it was one-dimensional, so started painting a book that looked just like his charms text book as it sat on the floor. When he was done, he stepped back to examine the wardrobe and book…well, if you could call it that. From where he was standing, it looked like a big box, and a small box.

Sighing, Harry put up a new canvas and tried painting a house with smoke coming from its chimney, but when he was done, he felt as if he’d seen this picture several times before.

His legs became tired from standing for an hour and a half, so he sat cross legged on the floor with the canvas with the two boxes and began mixing paint colors together anywhere that was white.

He liked the way that orange and yellow mixed together best. It looked like the sun as it was setting and that’s how he came up with his new project. To paint the sun setting, exactly how it was. Of course, the sun wouldn’t set outside for… well, all day. It was only about nine in the morning right now, so it was too late to see the sun rise instead. So he started painting little ‘rough drafts’. Of course, he knew he’d have to try and get colors blending in right before he painted his ‘final draft’ of the sun set.

For about two hours, he tried painting layers of color around the sun. Like red, yellow and orange, but nothing really seemed right. It looked to…animated. It didn’t look real to Harry, but he knew that was because this was his first time trying to paint. He was practically self teaching himself. Then he thought of that saying ‘practice makes perfect’. He scoffed as he lifted his brush onto the canvas and tried to paint over a mistake; that was just another way to say ‘you really suck’.

It was eleven thirty by the time he knew it, and he really wanted some more mystery tea. His stomach was slightly growling anyway, so he decided to go back downstairs to the dining room.

Again, once he sat down, a plate of food appeared in front of him as well as the tea. Lunch, for Harry, was grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup.

Harry ate lunch slowly, drinking a lot of tea along with his meal. He didn’t care for the soup that much, but did eat about a one and a half sandwiches before becoming full. He was about to stand up and leave when Grib popped in the room looking proud, and handed Harry a cup with unknown contents in it.

“What’s this?” Harry sniffed the contents of the cup. It was all orange and gunky and smelled like… rotten pumpkin.

“It’s pumpkin juice, Master Harry!” At first, Harry didn’t understand but when he did, he burst out laughing. Grib took the term literally this morning. He didn’t know what it was and actually juiced a pumpkin. When he got control of himself, he looked back at Grib who looked hurt. He hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings and felt bad.

“Oh, er… thanks Grib.” He said quickly. Grib just looked back from him to the glass of pumpkin juice in his hand.

“Isn’t that right, Master Harry?” Grib asked. “Grib did what he thought might make pumpkin juice. Grib took a pumpkin and carved out all the insides, mixed it with water and sugar and cooled it-”

“No, no,” Harry said. “This is exactly right, Grib. Thank you…”

Grib was still staring at him, waiting for him to taste it. Harry, who would feel bad if he sent it back, gulped hard and took a deep breath as he put the glass to his lips. Slowly, he let some of the contents pour into his mouth; it tasted like something an amateur chef with a big imagination would make on Halloween. He forced himself to swallow and bit down on his tongue trying not to grimace or gag. He smiled at the house elf who looked like he was about to explode with glee, which would have been disgusting as he blew his guts and pillowcase attire all over Harry as well as Snape’s dining room.

“Wonderful, Grib,” he said as he put the glass on the table, looking away from it since he thought he might be sick. He decided to talk his way out of the nauseous state he was in.

“Where did you get the pumpkin for this, anyway,” Harry asked him. He doubted Snape would have a hidden garden in the back of the house. Grib frowned.

“It’s ok, Grib. I wont get mad if you tell me.” Grib looked scared but spoke slowly as he stared at his feet.

“Grib knew Master Harry wanted pumpkin juice this morning, so he went to a pumpkin patch he knew was about ten miles from home and took one.” Harry felt a little horrible that he would make Grib want to walk ten miles for a mere pumpkin, but was half relieved that this would give him an excuse to tell him not to make the drink anymore.

“That was really nice of you, Grib,” Harry began. “But I really don’t want you to have to walk ten miles just to make this. I actually prefer tea, anyway.” Grib looked up and nodded, looking guilty. Harry smiled sadly at him and with all of the Gryffindor courage he had, took another gulp of the pumpkin juice. Grib looked happy again at that.

“Well,” Harry began, standing up. “I think I’ll go back to my room now.” Just as the plates disappeared, Grib stopped him.

“Master Severus ordered Grib to tell Master Harry to go to his office after Master Harry had eaten lunch.” Harry stared at Grib, considering his words. He had to go to Snape’s office?

“For what?” Harry asked, though he didn’t mean for it to come out as harsh as it did. Grib flinched.

“Sorry,” he quickly added. “Do you know why…Snape wants me to go?”

“Grib is not knowing, Master.” Harry nodded and looked down at his sweater. It was splattered here and there with paint. He’d just take it off before he went to his office… but he didn’t know where it was.

“Er, Grib? Do you think you can show me where his office is?”

“Yes, of course Master Harry.” Grib began walking toward the door, beckoning Harry to follow, which he did as he took off his sweater.

Grib led Harry up the marble staircase and as they passed his door when they were going down the hallway where it was, Harry stopped and threw his sweater inside before he continued to follow Grib all the way up to the third floor and down a dark brick corridor with lit torches on the walls. Grib stopped in front of a dark wooden door and knocked for Harry, who didn’t know why he was even nervous. If he could drink Grib’s pumpkin juice, then seeing Snape should be no problem.

“Come in,” Harry heard a dark voice say on the other side of the door.