Harry woke in the dim Hospital Wing, groping for a moment to remember where he was and how he had gotten there. Above the curtained panels surrounding his bed, he could see the tops of the tall, tall windows. The black night had faded to a pre-dawn shade of dark gray. A tiny wisp of cloud seemed to grow ever brighter against the sky as he watched, its pale ash color barely beginning to tinge with pink.

Morning was almost here, and it wouldn't be long until Harry could begin his new, better life at Hogwarts! Smiling, he rolled over and fumbled his glasses from the bedside table. He just had to find out what was making that awful ratchety noise across the room. How could anyone be expected to sleep through such a racket!

But his investigation got temporarily sidetracked when he caught sight of an array of items displayed upon the hard-backed visitor's chair next to his bed. A full school uniform, including a red-and-gold necktie and long wizards' robes! The robe even had a crest on it, with a rampant lion proudly captured in mid-roar. Shoes, which Harry could instantly see would fit him perfectly, and a pair of socks neatly rolled into one shoe. Beneath the plain white long-sleeved shirt, he discovered a pair of pristine briefs, just his size. Harry blushed a bit, but he was grateful that someone had thought of his needs beyond the regulation uniform itself.

Besides the clothing, he saw a stack of textbooks, a selection of that heavy paper like his school letter had been written upon-parchment, right?-some in sheets, some in rolls, plus two quills and a stoppered bottle of black ink. Imagine! Writing with FEATHERS! What a change from using Dudley's worn-down pencil stubs... And to top it off, a stout bag to tote everything in. Excellent!

As for the noise-

Harry crept cautiously from behind his bedscreens, following the sound to its source, his bare feet silent upon the cold stones, although he was pretty sure nobody could have heard him walking in leather shoes over the rasping, ratchety racket of...

He carefully pushed aside a curtain of the bedscreens across the aisle and realized it was Hagrid's snores which had awakened him.

Huh.

In the Hut, Hagrid had never snored as he'd drifted in and out of consciousness. Maybe the snoring meant he really was getting better, because snoring happens when you're asleep, right? Not unconscious? Harry shrugged. He was certainly glad if the snoring indicated that the sleeping large man was recovering, but it was just so LOUD!

He dropped the curtain back in place and nearly shot three feet into the air when a hand touched his shoulder.

"Mr. Potter!"

Harry sagged, his adrenaline rush causing all of his limbs to shake uncontrollably. "Madam Pomfrey!" he gasped, feeling his heart trying to pound its way out of his chest.

"What are you doing out of bed in the middle of the night? You should be sleeping!"

"Um ... I woke up when I heard-" he gestured at Hagrid's bedscreen. "It was kind of loud, ma'am."

Madam Pomfrey flicked her wand and Hagrid's snores abruptly ceased. At Harry's startled expression, the nurse explained, "Silencing Charm. It cancels sound. Hagrid is still snoring, but the noise won't disturb you anymore."

"Oh." Harry nodded. He was getting good at nodding at amazing information, he thought. "Magic again."

"Yes. Was there anything else you needed, Mr. Potter?"

Harry didn't think twice before blurting out, "A bathroom."

"Right this way," Madam Pomfrey said, directing him down the aisle and showing him to the door next to a narrow room which appeared to be her private office.

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Back to bed with you the moment you finish," she said sternly.

"Yes, ma'am."

For an ancient castle, the facilities looked modern enough, Harry noted as he flushed the toilet. Sinks and a couple of showers, which included animated dragons decorating the shower curtains, completed the room's accoutrements.

Leaving the bathroom, he ran on cold feet back to his own bed, carefully closing the bedscreen against the nurse's sharp watch. Before he climbed back into bed, he rummaged in the drawer of the bedside table, where Professor Snape had stashed his artwork and a few additional odds and ends from his room on Privet Drive. And ... yes! A penlight. Dudley's, to be precise, which his rotund cousin had inadvertently dropped in the flower bed under the lounge windows. Harry had kept it hidden in his drawer in the smallest bedroom after finding it while weeding Aunt Petunia's prized chrysanthemums. And Snape had brought it along with the artwork Harry had left in his desk at the Dursleys'.

Penlight in hand, Harry quickly perused the stack of textbooks on the chair's seat, extracting the volume required for his Potions class. After also pulling out the thick book on magical plants, he clambered back into bed, briefly chafing his cold feet to warm them before settling down under the covers to begin reading about Potions. To be doubly safe, he pulled the blanket all the way over his head to hide the thin beam of the penlight from being spotted by Madam Pomfrey.

Happier than he'd ever been, Harry prepared for his favorite class. He remained immersed in the world of potions and a myriad of intriguing ingredients as he read as fast as he could, astounded at discovering that werewolves were REAL while reading about a herb called "wolfsbane"-whoa!

At long last, he heard the nurse's soft step approaching, so he poked his head out from under the blanket and feigned sleep until she whisked open the bedscreen to reveal the rising sun peeking over the not-so-distant mountains.

"Time for your first nutritive potion, Mr. Potter. Along with a light snack. Professor McGonagall will be arriving to escort you to the Great Hall for a regular breakfast later, but this potion must always be taken with food."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry replied, downing the contents of the vial while wisely holding his breath.

The nurse gave a flick of her wand-how long until HE could do that?-and a floating tray appeared above Harry's knees. Upon it was a bowl of porridge, complete with brown sugar and cream, and a glass of orangey liquid which tasted like ... like a spiced pumpkin tart, Harry decided. Mmm... He eagerly set to work with his spoon as Madam Pomfrey disappeared behind Hagrid's bedscreen. By the time she reemerged, Harry had shoved the Potions texts securely beneath his puffy pillow and was still spooning up porridge. Not that porridge was necessarily his favorite breakfast, but to be able to eat an entire bowl of it instead of scraping the gummy leavings from the Dursleys' pot... What a magnificent way to start off his first day at Hogwarts!

"Madam Pomfrey?" Harry called quietly when the nurse left Hagrid's enclosure. He waved his hand to make sure he captured her attention.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

He pointed at his glass of orangey liquid. "I was just wondering-what is this? It's awfully good," he added hastily, not wanting the woman to think he was complaining.

"It's pumpkin juice," she told him with a smile. "Full of vitamins and nutrients."

Pumpkin juice! Who would have thought?

"Thank you," he smiled, and the Medi-witch returned to her office.

Harry had to wonder if his mum and dad had liked pumpkin juice as much as he did. He made it last, taking small sips after every few bites of porridge.

Just as Harry drained the last drop from his glass, the door of the Hospital Wing opened quietly. Professor Snape glanced his way and nodded briefly before disappearing into the nurse's office. Quick as a wink, Harry leapt from the bed, grabbing the Potions books from beneath his pillow and stashing them back in the pile of texts on the chair. It wouldn't do for Professor Snape or Madam Pomfrey to discover he'd been reading in bed instead of sleeping. They might not let him go to class! Harry tossed the penlight into the drawer and slid back under the covers a mere couple of seconds before Snape strode out of the office and headed directly for his bed. The man whirled his wand in a complicated movement before speaking.

"Good morning, Potter," said the Potions Master, his deep voice quiet. Harry didn't know if the man was being considerate of Hagrid, or if Hagrid could even hear anything-did the Silencing Charm that Madam Pomfrey had cast work both ways?

"Good morning, Professor! How are you?"

Snape's eyebrow went up, but he replied calmly, "I am quite well. And you?"

Harry grinned. "Just wonderful, sir! I can't wait to go to class!"

The dark man almost smiled. "I don't doubt that this will be a new and exciting experience for you." He flicked his wand and a second hard-backed chair suddenly appeared. After seating himself-how DID he manage all those folds of material so gracefully?-he looked at Harry ... stared into those wide emerald eyes ... and said gravely, "I have brought something for you."

Harry looked at him wordlessly, wondering. "Is it a potion?" he guessed at last. What else COULD it be?

Snape's lips twitched. "Not quite." He reached into a dark fold of his robes and silently withdrew a slender stick. The man hesitated, gently stroking the length of the polished wood with a slender forefinger. Then, slowly, ceremoniously, he turned the stick-a WAND, Harry realized-and held it out to Harry, handle end first.

The boy stared at the man. "For-for me?" he whispered.

Snape nodded. "Until you can be taken to Ollivander's to buy your own. You shall need a wand to use this week. I had hoped this one might perform suitably for you, since you already share magic with it."

"I do?" Harry's eyes were nearly popping as he reached out to grasp the pale, gracefully-carved wand. The wood felt smooth. Warm. Welcoming. Almost familiar in some unknown way.

"Give it a wave," Snape suggested, then immediately grabbed Harry's moving arm to direct the wand's tip AWAY from Snape. "THAT way, Potter, if you please."

"Sorry, sir," Harry apologized, flushing red with embarrassment. Gee... The very first time he'd held a wand, and he'd already very nearly blown it. Maybe being a wizard was more than a simple matter of blood and genetics, huh?

But then the reality washed over him, erasing his initial discomfiture at his own ineptness-a WAND! He was HOLDING a WAND! Harry could swear he could FEEL Magic! HIS Magic ... ready to flow through the wand...

He gently waved the wand, and a single golden spark shot out, floating weightlessly to the stone floor. "WOW!" Smiling with delight, he gave it a more definite wave and was rewarded with a shower of golden sparks. "WHOA! WICKED!"

"It seems to respond adequately to your magic," said the Potions Master, the corners of his black eyes crinkling, although Harry wouldn't have said the man was openly smiling. "You should experience no difficulty using it as a substitute until you obtain your own wand."

"Thank you, sir!" Harry held the wand in his right hand, gently caressing the blond wood. "You said that I already shared magic with this wand?"

Snape nodded.

The boy frowned at him in puzzlement. "How is that possible? And how do you know that, sir?"

The Potions Master sighed, the sigh so heavy that it lifted his black robes and seemed to take a long time deflating the voluminous expanse of fabric. "This wand belonged to your mother, Lily. I... I have cared for it since her death."

Harry stared down at the length of pale wood. His mother's wand. She had held this wand in her own hand. She had performed magic with this wand. Tears pricked at the corners of Harry's eyes, and suddenly his cheeks were wet. This wand was the closest connection he'd ever had with either of his parents since their deaths.

"I..." His voice choked before he could whisper, "I don't know what to say, sir."

Snape sighed again, smaller this time. "I am certain that Lily would be pleased to know that her wand works for you."

Harry nodded, wiping the back of his hand across his wet cheeks. "Thank you, sir. I-I'd like to believe that, too." He continued to stroke the wand, his fingertip caressing the graceful carvings, trying to remember something-anything-about his mother. Finally, he asked, "What's it made of?"

"Willow," Snape replied, adding, "known to have an affinity for excellent Charms magic. It also has a core of unicorn hair."

"UNICORN hair?" Harry gaped at him. "But unicorns aren't real!"

Snape Looked at him.

"Oh," Harry mumbled, remembering his earlier discovery of werewolves and realizing the error in his assumption. "I suppose ... well, if you say they are, they must be, then. But Aunt Petunia always said they were make-believe."

The man rolled his eyes, looking disgusted. But when he addressed the boy, his voice was even. "Set the wand aside for now. We need to have a serious discussion before you begin classes."

Harry obediently stretched sideways to lay the wand on the table. Then he sat up straight in the hospital bed, looking expectantly at Snape, wondering what serious thing the Potions MASTER was planning to tell him about Potions.

Snape stared deeply into Harry's emerald eyes, and the boy suddenly felt as if he had fallen into a deep, black tunnel.

"Potter..."

After a moment's hesitation, when the man seemed to lose his train of thought, Harry offered, "You can call me Harry, if you like, sir. You did once last night, you know. When you were telling me about my parents."

Snape shook his head slightly. "But I should not have done so. I always address students by their last names. It would be improper of me to address a student in a familiar fashion. I suppose that the set of unexpected circumstances in which I had found you led to my eventual breach of decorum."

"Oh," said Harry, thinking that he sort of understood what Snape meant. But after a moment's

further thought, he added, "But last night, classes hadn't started yet when we met, and we weren't at school to begin with, just in the Hut, and I didn't even have a uniform or books, so I wasn't REALLY quite a proper student last night, like I am today. So maybe you won't get in trouble with the Headmaster for calling me Harry last night, sir."

Snape couldn't repress a snort of amusement. The child certainly shared his mother's rather convoluted logic process. Lily had always been able to figure out a way to justify most anything, if she thought about it long enough.

"Perhaps," he agreed. "However, from now on, it shall have to be ‘Potter' all the way. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded vigorously, his tousled hair bouncing.

"But the matter which I wished to discuss with you goes far beyond forms of address." He looked at the boy waiting attentively. "Do you remember what the Headmaster told you of your parents' ... demise?"

"An evil Dark wizard murdered them."

Snape seemed to wince. "Yes. But you need to be aware that the Dark Lord was not acting alone. He also had numerous followers."

Harry's eyes widened. "But he's gone now."

"His followers, however, survive, Potter, and they are convinced that you destroyed their leader. Many of them would like to kill you in revenge."

Suddenly, Harry couldn't seem to breathe. "Kill ... ME...?" he finally gasped, twisting the bedclothes in white-knuckled fists. "ME?" he repeated, his green eyes searching Snape's black ones imploringly.

"Yes," said Snape, regarding him steadily.

"But... But... But this is Hogwarts!" Harry blurted out. "It's a Magic castle! They can't get to me here, can they? Wouldn't the Magic protect me?"

Snape leaned forward, regarding the boy intently. "You must understand. The Dark Lord's followers also have children-just as your parents had you. And the followers' children are also students here at Hogwarts."

Harry felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach. His mind began to whirl in a panic. His parents murdered. And people wanted to kill HIM. And THEIR children were right here in the castle... Even life with the Dursleys had never seemed this bad; even if they hated him, they

hadn't wanted to kill him. Except... Uncle Vernon HAD aimed the shotgun at him. And they HAD actually abandoned him in the Hut of No Return. They certainly hadn't meant to return for him, had they?-not after shooting Hagrid. They'd left him to die... And then he'd finally been rescued, only to find out that other people he didn't even know also wanted him to die...

Gasping ... gasping ... gasping ... gasping...

Harry heard the gasping sound, and he realized after a moment that it was his own breath heaving in the silence of the Hospital Wing. He struggled to control it-

But then Snape did something with his wand, and it was suddenly easier for Harry to breathe.

"One small sip," said Snape, extending a vial of pale violet potion. "It's a Calming Draught."

Harry sipped ... and the world began to slowly turn again. He could breathe. Deeply. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. When he felt in control of himself once again, his eyes sought Snape's.

"I do not mean to upset you," Snape assured him quietly, although Harry felt anything but reassured. "However, for your own safety-as well as my own-you need to be aware of certain circumstances which will affect your life from now on."

Still breathing, Harry bobbed his head slightly in acknowledgment. "I understand."

"Not fully," corrected Snape. "Not yet. Understanding requires both time and context in order to fully comprehend. For now, you must be aware that not everyone in the Wizarding world considers you a hero, including some students in this school."

Harry gulped. "Which ... which ones, sir?"

The Potions Master frowned. "I cannot name specific names. But you must always watch your back. The teachers on staff at this school are all dedicated to protecting you, Potter, but you must also do your part. Do not give your trust too quickly to anyone, or too blindly. Be particularly cautious regarding students from ... Slytherin."

The boy didn't even feel his jaw drop. "But you're the Head of Slytherin!"

Snape's lips tightened. "Which leads to another facet of our discussion."

Harry didn't know how many more facets he could take in all at once.

"Not all Slytherins would wish you harm. Likewise, not every member of the remaining houses would wish you well. Enemies may be found EVERYWHERE. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," he whispered.

"Additionally..." Snape paused, "Additionally, I fear that I am destined to disappoint your expectations of me as a teacher."

"What?" Harry's eyes popped again. This couldn't be! "How? Why? I don't understand, sir- you're the Potions MASTER!"

Snape slowly nodded. "Indeed. However, as you pointed out, I am also Head of Slytherin and, as such, have a long-standing reputation of favoring my own house when it comes to awarding points."

Harry thought that through, long and hard. Finally, he asked, "What does that mean for me, sir? As a student in your class? You would disappoint my expectations of you ... how?"

The corners of Snape's mouth twitched, almost as if he were trying to smile, although the rest of his expression could almost be described as sad.

"It means, Potter, that while you may be prepared to consider Potions your favorite class and give it your every effort, I cannot afford to give points willy-nilly outside the students of my own House. It would break a pattern which I have striven to uphold for more than a decade."

"So..." Harry frowned, concentrating, "Does that mean I wouldn't get credit I deserved, or does it mean that Slytherins get credit they don't deserve?" And before Snape could reply, he added, "And why do you have to maintain a ... pattern?"

The man gave a dark chuckle. "You are every bit as clever as your mother, Potter."

Harry's eyes glowed a warmer green at the compliment.

"In answer to your first two questions, yes, to both. As for the pattern," Snape's face seemed to lose expression, "In public, I must continue to favor Slytherin. Due to certain circumstances involving certain students whose backgrounds I have already discussed."

Suddenly, Harry began to see the light... "Those students. Their parents. You're..." He did NOT want to say "afraid", but the professor's intent was staring him in the face. "You're concerned about their parents' reactions, aren't you? But why? Have they threatened you or something? Couldn't you go to the Headmaster and have him set them straight?"

Snape stared deeply into Harry's eyes once again.

"I believe I have said enough for the time being, Potter. And, as I mentioned earlier, full understanding will come with time and context, which you undoubtedly will absorb through interactions with your fellow students through your years at here at Hogwarts. Suffice to say, if I fail to publicly acknowledge or reward your efforts in my class, rest assured that you

will be given the credit you deserve in the marks you earn, but only in my private record. Understood?"

"Yes, sir. Sort of. I just wish you could explain it ALL right now."

Snape's long hair swung darkly when he shook his head. "Not a chance, Potter. You will have to be satisfied with what I have offered for the time being, and allow the full context unfold in its own time."

Disappointed, Harry shrugged. "If you say so, sir."

"I do," stated the Potions Master emphatically. "And one thing further, Potter."

"Yes, sir?"

"This discussion is NOT-and I repeat NOT-to go farther than this hospital bed-right here, right now. You may NOT divulge any of this PRIVATE discussion to any other students now, or into the future. Do you understand?"

Snape was glaring at him. GLARING! Without warning, and with a single change of expression, the black-robed man's demeanor transformed into something utterly-and dangerously- forbidding.

Gulping, Harry replied, "Yes, sir. I understand." Even though he didn't, not really. Not the reason, that is. "I won't tell a soul."

"Good."

Harry nodded like a puppet.

"One other thing. Do not expect for me to become your favorite teacher."

"Sir?" Harry stared at the man in confusion.

"Last night, in the Hut, I had the distinct impression that you had already decided that Potions would be your favorite class, since you were so interested in chemistry."

At the memory, Harry couldn't help grinning. "Yes, sir!" he agreed whole-heartedly.

Snape glared again. "Regardless of your seeming obsession with Potions, I shall make every possible effort to discourage you from viewing me with admiration. You will NOT smile at me in class, Potter. Or anywhere else. Do I make myself clear?"

The young Gryffindor smirked a bit and began ticking off items on his fingers. "Right. Let me

see. I'm supposed to work my arse off and not complain when I don't get public recognition. I should probably pretend to hate the class even if I love it. I'm never to smile at you because the Slytherins' parents would threaten your job-for whatever reason that I'm not supposed to learn for several more years. And even if you're the greatest teacher I've ever had, I'm not to let on. Did I miss anything? Oh, and I'm never to mention a word of this conversation to anyone, not ever."

He opened his emerald eyes as wide as he could, just like he'd done with Madam Pomfrey the night before, staring at Snape with an expression of absolute, deliberate innocence.

"Five points from Gryffindor for cheek, Potter."

"What!" Harry was outraged. "But that's not fair!" Clenching his fists, he seethed under Snape's humorless, closed-lip smile. He couldn't believe that the Potions MASTER had just turned on him!

"Now you're catching on," purred Snape in his silky, deep voice. "That one was for practice, but the point deduction stands."

Harry glared at the man furiously, his fists still clenched as if to strike out, but he realized he couldn't do anything of the sort. He was powerless in the face of Snape's undisputed authority.

"Excellent, Potter. Keep this up, and we shall get on splendidly. Do not be late for class." Snape rose, shaking out the folds of his ebony robes. The morning sun angling across the width of the Hospital Wing put a tinge of color into his pale face. "As for your mother's wand, do treat it with all respect. Return it to me PRIVATELY when you have acquired your own, and I shall keep it safe for you until you have passed your N.E.W.T.'s."

"Newts, sir?" asked Harry, distracted despite his anger over being docked five points before he'd even gone to his first class. "Like eye of newt, toe of dog, or something like that? Wasn't that Shakespeare? Or maybe not? I've just heard kids chanting it sometimes. Uncle Vernon- well, I was never permitted to say it myself."

"Your Seventh Year final exams, Potter," Snape elucidated. "And you are to tell no one that you are using your mother's wand, or where you got it. Understood? It is simply on loan. Allow people to believe you obtained the use of a spare wand from your own Head of House."

More mysteries. But it was obvious that Snape did not intend to give a deeper explanation. Harry sighed. "Yes, sir."

Snape twirled his dark wand in another complicated pattern, one that reminded Harry of how Madam Pomfrey had made Hagrid's snoring go silent. Maybe Snape had made sure nobody could overhear them talking? That would make sense, if Harry was never to tell anyone what they had talked about. He watched as Snape opened the bedscreen shielding Harry's bed, and

Harry was delighted to see Hagrid's curious face peering at them from his own bed across the aisle.

"I shall see you in the Potions dungeon, Potter."

DUNGEON? Well, it was a castle, after all, but going to class in a DUNGEON...? In spite of himself, Harry just had to wonder if there were torture devices in the dungeon, in case the students did poorly at their lessons.

"'Allo, Perfessor! I didn't know yeh were talkin' t' ‘Arry over there. Madam Pomfrey tol'me how yeh helped t' rescue us from that Rock. Much obliged, Perfessor!"

"It is gratifying to see you looking so much improved, Hagrid. I wish you a full and speedy recovery."

"Thanks, Perfessor! Have a good day teachin'! It's a bran' new school year!"

Snape nodded regally before sweeping his robes along the aisle and through the door to the corridor.

"Hi, Mr. Hagrid!" Harry called, hopping out of bed and scampering across the aisle to greet the smiling bearded man. "How do you feel?"

"'Allo, ‘Arry! I'm feelin' much better, now that I'm back at Hogwarts, yeh know. An' yeh're here, too-I tol' yeh they'd come, r'member?"

Harry grinned. Hagrid's happiness was contagious!

"Yes, sir, Mr. Hagrid! And they really came! I'd just about given up hope," he confessed in a smaller voice, his head drooping to stare down at his bare toes. But it really seemed like they'd had to wait FOREVER for someone to rescue them.

"Nah," Hagrid shook his hairy head. "Yeh jes' have t' be patient, tha's all. An' do call me ‘Hagrid'-ev'rybody does. Jes' Hagrid, tha's who I am."

"And I'm just Harry," Harry said with a chuckle. Hagrid looked and sounded SO much better today! "But as for being patient-I tried and tried and TRIED to send for help while we were stranded in the Hut."

Hagrid's bushy eyebrows rose high on his forehead. "How'd yeh do that?"

"There were these owls, you see," Harry explained. "One came each day with a newspaper for you-wait a second!" He darted back to his own bed, collected the stack of Prophets and Hagrid's pocket change, and dashed back to present it all to the large man. "I hope you don't

mind that I read the papers," he said softly. "I didn't know anything about Wizards and I wanted to learn. I had to use your coins to pay the owls, but the leftover money is all there, except for one gold coin that fell through a crack in the floor. And there's one extra brownish coin, on account of I didn't know what to pay the first owl, or how, and it took off with that paper in its beak and didn't come back."

"Hmm... Tha' soun's like a full accountin', it does," Hagrid declared. "An' I thank yeh for payin' th' owls, ‘Arry. If yeh hadn't, th' Prophet mighta cancelled my subscription. An' it's jes' fine fer yeh t' read th' papers, but mind tha' yeh don't BELIEVE ev'rythin' they say. Th' Prophet has a nasty reputation fer printin' outlandish rubbish t' make sales. Mark my words-th' wilder th' story, th' more likely it is t' be full o' half-truths an' outright lies. R'member that, ‘Arry."

"I will, Hagrid, I promise," Harry said solemnly. And then he returned to the issue of the owls. "I kept trying to send out a message that we needed help, but those owls outsmarted me every single time. I did have one last plan to get a message out, but Professor Snape, Headmaster Dumbledore, and Madam Pomfrey rescued us before I had to try it."

Hagrid stretched, causing a lot of popping noises in various joints all over his body. "Yeh see, ‘Arry, yer problem was th' fac' tha' those partic'lar owls were newspaper owls. They ONLY d'liver newspapers, not pers'nal post. Yeh need a post owl t' send post. Jes' out o' cur'os'ty, what all did yeh try, anyway, t' get th' newspaper owls to take a message askin' fer help?"

Combining a bit of pantomime with his explanation, Harry entertained Hagrid by recounting his misadventures with each of the newspaper owls. By the time he'd finished, Hagrid was mopping away tears of laughter with the corner of his bedsheet. "Ach," he gasped through his laughter, "I wish I'da been able t' see it! O' course, if I'd been conscious, I coulda tol' yeh tha' those owls would never take a message." He chuckled deeply, causing the entire enlarged bed to shake alarmingly. "Jes' out o' cur'os'ty, wha' WAS yer final plan?"

Harry laughed. "Oh, that! I'd decided when the next owl showed up, I'd grab the paper and shove the message in between the newspaper pages while I had my back turned to the owl. Then, when I refused to pay, I figured the owl would do exactly the same as the first newspaper owl-just grab the entire unpaid-for paper and fly off with it. I hoped that whoever got the returned paper might open it, see the message fall out, and send help."

"Well, ‘Arry, tha' las' plan mighta actually worked!" Hagrid's laugh boomed throughout the Hospital Wing, causing several of the windows to rattle. "Tha' was right clever thinkin' on yer part, I mus' say."

"Thanks!" grinned Harry, his eyes sparkling greenly. "But I guess we'll never know now, will we?"

That set them both to laughing, just as Madam Pomfrey rounded the bedscreen to shoo Harry back to his own bed.

"Time for your shower, young man." She handed Harry a robe, a towel, and a washcloth, then pointed emphatically under the edge of his bed. "Your SLIPPERS are THERE. No more running about in bare feet. As a result of your ... ordeal ... your immune system is already fragile, and I do NOT want you to end up back in this bed due to illness, do you hear?"

Eyes wide, Harry nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry about the slippers, Madam Pomfrey. I didn't see them there."

"Where else did you think they would be?" she demanded sternly.

"I-uh-I actually didn't think, you see. I'd never had..." Harry's voice trailed off in embarrassment.

The nurse's expression softened. "Well, never mind. Just run along to your shower, then dress. Your Head of House will be here soon to take you to the Great Hall."

"Yes, ma'am." And waving a temporary good-bye to Hagrid, Harry hurried off to the bathroom.