Chapter 13 - Wands and pills

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"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry stated, concentrating fiercely. But even his 15th attempt to make the feather float didn't work. He wasn't surprised, though. He hadn't managed to achieve the goal of his first-ever charms-lesson during the last 30 minutes, and he was quite sure that even trying for another 30 minutes wouldn't change this. The girl next to him, however (that had successfully cast the spell on her second try), demanded that he should keep practising. Harry found it rather nice that she was trying to help him and Ron, who had similar problems like he, but he thought that she really wasn't very good in explaining things. He just didn't understand how exactly he should "swish" and "flick" his wand.

Ron, however, seemed to take offence at the girl's behaviour. Well, maybe she was a bit bossy, but Harry thought that this wasn't a reason to grumble about annoying know-it-all's. He found it quite nice that the girl tried to explain what he was supposed to do, instead of doing it for him or making him do it by using force. Harry wasn't really sure how she could force him, but the doctors and nurses on the ward had been able to make him do almost everything, no matter how impossible it seemed, so he didn't doubt it for a second that there was a way he could be forced to do this feather-floating-stuff, too.

Just then, Professor Flitwick, the charms teacher, approached the three of them, praising Hermione for doing it right and encouraging him and Ron to try it again.

Harry rather liked the tiny professor. He had imagined all teachers being similar to the two professors he had seen during his sorting, stern and tall and intimidating and practically all-powerful, but while the charms-professor certainly wasn't weak (he had demonstrated the charm by levitating his own, rather heavy-looking desk), he didn't seemed to be that frightening. He had even squeaked when he had called Harry's name at the beginning of the lesson and almost fell from the pile of books he stood on in order to see the class.

Next to him, Ron raised his wand, pointed it at the feather and exclaimed "Wingardium Leviosa!". And sure enough, the feather first quivered, and then rose and hovered a few inches above the table for at least two seconds. As soon as Ron noticed that he had succeeded, however, he gave a surprised yelp and the feather landed back on the table.

"Very good, Mr Weasley!" Professor Flitwick beamed at the boy, "now, Mr Potter, let's see what you can do!"

But no matter how hard Harry tried to make the feather do something, it didn't move an inch or even gave a sign of being affected by his magic at all.

"Not to worry, Mr Potter, not to worry! Some people need more time than others to get the hang of it. Just keep practising, and perhaps Mr Weasley and Miss Granger can give you some advice!" And with that, he moved on to the next table where a boy had just made his feather explode.

'At least he he has made something happen.' Harry thought, feeling stupid for not being able to keep up with his friend. Because this was what Ron was, or wasn't he? Harry wasn't really sure, he had never had a friend before (except for Hedwig). Of course, he had talked with other kids, mostly kids that had been on the ward with him. The kids in school hadn't talked to him, and every time he had tried to join them during breaks or lunch, they had given him frightened looks, as if he would attack them or something, and left. And though most children on the ward had been older than he was, some had talked to him. Well, at least when he had been allowed to join the others during meals or in the common room. But he had never really made a friend on the ward. Most of the children either hadn't stayed very long or they had been all funny and confused or obsessed with something stupid like not-eating or counting, or they had only talked about dying. This had frightened Harry. Why would anyone want to die? It didn't make sense!

His musings were interrupted by the bell that announced the end of the lesson.

"OK, your homework is to read and summarise chapter 2 of your textbook, and everyone who hasn't managed the spell yet keeps practising!" Flitwick explained, before he shooed them out of his classroom.

"Are you coming, mate?" Ron asked. "Don't want to lose the others, McGonagall will be mad if we are late for transfiguration!"

Yeah, perhaps Ron was his friend, Harry thought, while he was hurrying down the corridor to keep pace with Ron.

###

Unbeknownst to Harry, Ron kept casting him worried glances. Why was Harry moving so slow and funny? Ron had never seen anyone walking so rigid and stiff! It almost seemed as if Harry couldn't move freely but were under some kind of spell. Ron had seen Bill hexing Fred after one of the twin's more nasty pranks. Fred had become stiff as a board and had been fallen over, unable to move until their mother had released him. It had almost been like Harry was moving now, only that Fred hadn't been able to move at all. Perhaps someone had tried to hex Harry and botched it up?
Of course, he could just ask Harry, but what if he hadn't been hexed but just couldn't move any different? Ron was quite sure that it would upset the other boy if he realized that someone had noticed his clumsy movements. After all, no one liked having his weaknesses pointed out. But then, Ron was well aware that he wasn't the only one who had noticed Harry's rigidity and clumsiness. Two of their fellow Gryffindors - Dean and Seamus - had already started whispering about Harry. So as a friend - they were friends, weren't they? - wouldn't it be prudent to tell Harry that others were whispering about him (and had even started pointing at him) because of his funny movements? Perhaps he could coach Harry to walk differently! The thought that he, Ron Weasley, average in everything, might be able to help the strong and famous Harry Potter with something - even if it was only walking - exhilarated him.

When they arrived at the transfiguration-classroom, Professor McGonagall was nowhere in sight, only a tabby cat was sitting on her desk. Harry remained standing in the doorway and cast wary glances at the cat - something wasn't right with it. He couldn't explain what exactly made him uneasy, but he decided it would be better to stay as far away from the beast as possible. And although he normally sat in the front of the classroom, next to the door - his teachers in primary school hadn't allowed him to sit in the back after the demon's first attempt to hurl him out of the window - he headed to the last empty table in the back row. Ron, who had started poking him after he hadn't entered the classroom right away, followed him straight.

When the bell rang, the talking died down, but when no professor came into the classroom, the kids decided that it would be safe to chatter about the exciting charms-lesson they just had. Everyone, except Neville and Harry, had managed to levitate his or her feather at least for a few seconds. Perhaps it was fortunate that Harry had difficulties to pay attention to everything that was going on, because he didn't notice a blond boy from Slytherin, the house the Gryffindor's were partnered with for transfiguration, jeering at him after overhearing his classmates talking about the boy-who-lived being unable to perform a simple levitating-charm.

Suddenly, the cat that had been sitting on the desk in front of the blackboard, seemingly observing the students, jumped up and transformed into their missing professor, who landed gracefully on the ground.

As soon as Harry saw the cat jump and it became somehow bigger, he jumped up, too, yelped and hid under the table.

The students had been quietened instantly by the sudden appearance of their professor. After a second of shocked silence some of them started clapping and a girl from Gryffindor exclaimed "Awesome, Professor!".
Ron, however, who had intended to see what Harry was thinking about their professor being an animagus - Ron had only ever heard of wizards and witches that could become an animal willingly, but never, ever met one - was alarmed when all what he saw was an empty chair and a few strand of messy dark hair looking out from under the table.

"Harry?" He inquired, diving under the table, too. All thoughts that the other boy might have dropped something and had missed the fantastic display of magic were dispelled when he saw Harry rocking backwards and forwards, hands covering his eyes, mumbling incomprehensible words.
"Uh, Harry? What's the matter? Don't you want to come up again?" He asked, uncertainly. When he received no response, not even an acknowledgement that Harry had heard him, he straightened up in order to call for the professor - surely she would know what to do - but was prevented from doing so by banging his head against the table-edge.

"OOOWW!" He cried out.

"Mr Weasley, what is the meaning of this?" Professor McGonagall asked, just as the right side of the classroom - the side were the Slytherins sat - started to giggle.

"Harry, Professor McGonagall! He is hiding under the table!" Ron scowled in the direction of the giggling. Stupid evil snakes!

"Mr Potter? Hiding under the table? Is this some kind of prank?" Minerva McGonagall was annoyed. This hadn't gone quite as planed. Normally, the first-years were excited after seeing their professor transform from cat to human, and the rest of the lesson continued quite smoothly as the children were eager to learn how to do this for themselves. Of course, the initial enthusiasm diminished quickly when they learned that it would be a very long time until they could even think about becoming animagi, but usually this didn't happen until at least the second or third lesson of the school-year.

"Eh, no, Professor. I mean yes... ehr, he is hiding under the table, yes, but I don't think it's a prank. I think perhaps he was startled by your transformation..."

Startled? Minerva had never, never met a child that had been frightened by her little show, not even a muggle-born! She approached the table. "Mr Potter, if you would please sit on your chair like everyone else. There is no need to be worried, that was merely a display of very advanced magic-" well, so much for her nice little plot to get the children to pay attention, "you won't be required to do the same until much, much later."
When this didn't work, she bend over to look at the boy and was surprised when she saw Harry rocking himself. What was the matter with the boy? First this mecin-stuff, then this... could there be something wrong with him? Perhaps living with the muggles had affected him more than she had originally thought. But then, there were many muggle-borns at Hogwarts, and no one had ever hidden under a table, well, at least Minerva didn't know about anyone.

But this wasn't the time to dwell on what might be wrong with the boy-who-lived. No, this had to wait until later, until she could talk to Poppy again and to a certain old fool of a headmaster. 'Damn it Albus, if these muggles have done anything to Harry...' she thought, almost growling.

"Mr Potter? ... Mr Potter, please pay attention." apparently, this wasn't working, the boy didn't even seem to hear her. "Mr Potter!... Oh my- Mr Weasley, could you please give Mr Potter a tap? It seems that he won't respond otherwise."

"Sure, professor!" Ron agreed, carefully touching the other boy's shoulder.

"NO NO NO!"

Ron hadn't been prepared for this reaction. "It's all right, mate!" He tried to sooth Harry, who had stopped rocking as soon as he had touched him and was now about to scramble into the corner of the room, directly behind Ron and Harry's desk. Apparently, he had forgotten that he was still under the table, though, and (like Ron's) his head collided with the edge.
Ron, who had seen this coming, tried to warn him, but it was already too late. "Uh, mate, I'm sorry... you have been hiding under the table, 'member?"
It was disconcerting that, instead of howling (the collision with the table had been quite hard), Harry stared at Ron in complete silence, first with a look of confusion which gradually changed into relief, though.

"Uh, mate, all right?" Ron felt stupid, who would be all right after hitting his head against a table? Harry, however, didn't seem to be bothered by the (second) lump on his head at all. "Eh, want to come up again? Professor McGonagall is waiting for you..." Ron continued. Why was Harry gazing at him like this? Completely at a loss of what to do, he reached out to help Harry up and was surprised when the boy actually took his hand, well, after he had eyed it suspiciously for two or three seconds.

###

Harry felt embarrassed. He had lost it in front of the whole class, only because their professor had showed them some awfully cool magic! Harry didn't understand what had happened. He had ended up under the table, yes, but he couldn't say why he had felt the need to hide there in the first place. It was only that every fibre of his body had screamed to run and hide when the cat - or had it been the professor? - had jumped from the table, apparently directly towards him. This was it. Now they were going to get him, tear him apart. The next thing he knew was Ron tapping him.

Just when he was about to sit down, trying very hard to ignore the staring and whispering and even the giggling, he noticed the shadow looming over his table and nearly scrambled back under the desk.

"Mr Potter... I'm sorry if my performance has frightened you, I wasn't aware of... well, I didn't know you would react quite so... vigorously. Now, do you think you can manage the rest of the lesson or do you need Madame Pomfrey to look at your head?"

"Eh, no, Professor, I'm all right! Honest!" He added, after receiving a doubtful look from the transfiguration-professor. These people were funny. They should send him to his cupboard for acting all crazy, not ask him whether he needed a doctor. But then, he didn't have a cupboard in this place. This place was confusing. It was so different from everything he had experienced with the Dursley's, but at the same time wasn't like the closed ward either! Harry didn't know how to handle people like the professor, the doctor-witch or Ron.

Thinking of Ron... Harry turned to his new friend, well, his ex-new friend now, only to be surprised when the other boy didn't look frightened or disgusted but only worried. He must not have realized what a freak Harry was. Because Harry didn't doubt it a second that he would stop being his friend as soon as he learned the truth about Harry. Ron might take medicine, too - at least he had said so during the train-ride - but Harry wasn't fooled. Ron wasn't nearly as freaky and crazy as Harry was!

"All right now, mate?" Ron asked, no hint of mockery in his tone.

"Eh, yes. I'm sorry..."

"No problem, mate!"

Now he was even smiling at Harry. Imagine, smiling at Harry after the latter had just proved his madness!

###

The rest of the lesson passed without further interruption, and Harry was relieved to see that this time he and the other boy from Gryffindor weren't the only ones that didn't manage to turn the matchstick into a needle. Of course, some people succeeded, but perhaps Harry wouldn't be the dumbest one in this class.
He was worried, though, because he really, really didn't understand how waving a stick would help him to change one thing into another! He liked his stick, yes, though he kept forgetting that these people called it wand, not stick. And apparently, they held the opinion that with a wand, one could do magic.

But Harry couldn't grasp the concept of it.

Holding his sti- wand made him feel good, though. It helped his constant headache and he was more alert than usual. Additionally, it seemed like the demon got weaker when he touched his stick, and Harry had already thought about hiding the wand under his clothes so that it would touch his bare skin all the time. It would be nice not to be bothered by the demon any more, or at least not constantly. Perhaps he should write Dr Green about his stick? The doctor used to ask him every time he visited him whether or not the demon was talking, and he had said that all the medicine was supposed to help Harry fight against the demon.

Oh. Maybe THIS was the reason the doctor-witch didn't want him to take his medicine any more? Because they used sticks instead of medicine here? But Dr Green - and his Aunt and Uncle - had told him he wasn't supposed to stop taking his pills, and he most certainly wasn't supposed to disobey them either. Hmm... he would need to write his relatives and Dr Green and tell them about the stick. Or should he just speak to the doctor-witch?

But if these sticks helped against demons, why hadn't the people on the ward used them? It was much more comfortable to hold a stick than to take medicine that made you all sleepy and itchy and stiff and twitchy. And Dr Green was a specialist. Harry had been told so many times, Dr Green was a specialist for people like him, for people who were mentally ill like Harry. But Dr Green had never considered that touching sticks instead of swallowing medicine might help Harry. So maybe sticks and medicine weren't the same after all? He didn't understand it. Why couldn't everything be nice and easy? He really, really wanted to sleep now. It was so tiresome to think about all this confusing stuff.

But it was lunchtime now and he wouldn't be able to sleep in the Great Hall with all the noise and the people.

When Ron and Harry entered the Great Hall, it was already very crowded and noisy. Ron cast a nervous glance at his friend - would Harry be OK with all these people after what had happened during transfiguration? - and was pleased to see that the other boy looked rather calm. Well, perhaps "calm" wasn't the right word, he had a faraway look on his face but didn't seem to be bothered by the noise or the people, despite many of them looking and pointing at the two of them.

They approached the Gryffindor-table and sat down next to the other first-years. Ron was delighted to see all the food - classes had been very taxing and Ron hadn't had the chance to eat very much during breakfast, due to being late because of Harry. Not that he blamed his friend, but he was glad that the house elves working at Hogwarts cooked almost as well as his mother, otherwise he would be starving!

Harry, however, wasn't interested in food but only in whether or not the doctor-witch stuck to her promise that he would get his medicine at lunchtime. On the ward, one of the nurses had handed out the pills, but he supposed it would be different here, since there were hundreds of children and it would last forever if the doctor-witch or the teachers handed out the medicine to each child individually. He had expected that he would find his medicine next to his plate, though, and was alarmed when Ron sat down near the other first-year boys from Gryffindor. There wasn't any medicine at the plate next to Ron's. Perhaps the other kids didn't get medicine at lunchtime and the doctor-witch had thought Harry would sit somewhere else?

"Where are you going, mate?" Ron called when he noticed that Harry went on, starring intently at the table, instead of sitting down next to him.

"' need to find my medicine..." Harry answered, distractedly. There were so many plates and knives and forks and dishes with different kinds of foot on the table, it was hard to make out the pills.

"Uh... but don't you want to sit next to me?" Ron asked, a little bit hurt.

"I'm coming. Yes. But first I need to find my medicine. I'm right back, promise!" But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find his pills. He couldn't find any pills, for that matter, which he thought rather odd. Was he really the only one that got medicine at lunchtime?

Harry reached the end of the table, went to the other side and continued his search. The other kids were giving him strange glances, and some seemed to ask him questions, too. He couldn't listen, though, he had to focus very hard on not getting distracted by all the other stuff sitting on the table. Why couldn't they set the table more tidily? After approximately 5 minutes, he reached the other end, facing the teachers-table, and got increasingly agitated. Where was his medicine?! The doctor-witch had promised!

"Mr Potter, do you have difficulties finding a chair up to your standards?" Asked an icy voice directly behind Harry. The boy, however, was to absorbed in sorting out knives and plates and spoons and dishes and hopefully pills that he neither noticed the tall, dark professor behind him nor that this very professor was speaking to him in a voice that caused most Gryffindors to reconsider the whole bravery-matter.

"Mr Potter. If you would deign to give me your attention..." The potion-master's voice was almost a hiss by now, and the sixth-years Harry was passing right now were giving him horrified looks. This boy might be the boy-who-lived, but considering Snape's voice this would soon be history. Not even Harry Potter could survive Snape in full... well, full Snape-mode. And still, the little boy gave no sign of intending to stop his journey around the table a. If it had been any other professor, the sight of a first-year walking slowly down the Gryffindor-table, closely followed by a teacher (almost foaming at being ignored) would have been hilarious. But the professor being Snape even caused the teachers-table to fall silent. A few Gryffindors looked up, hoping to find their head of house or even the headmaster, but both were absent from the Great Hall. There would be no one to rescue Harry Potter from his upcoming doom.

"MR POTTER!" The potion master had enough. How dare the little urchin not only to ignore him but to ridicule him, Severus Snape, in front of the whole students-body of Hogwarts?!

When he had noticed Potter walking slowly down the table, he had first thought that the boy wanted to draw attention to himself, perhaps making it clear that the famous boy-who-lived wouldn't sit on any chair but only on the very best. Intending to teach the brat a lesson (and only a little(!) bit curious about a boy that was stuffed to the brim with weird muggle-medication) he had abandoned his lunch and approached the son of his nemesis. Only to be completely ignored by the big-headed brat! This audacity!

"POTTER!" He bellowed, simultaneously grabbing the boy's collar, intending to shake some sense into him. However, it never came to that.

###

When Harry, completely oblivious to anything except the quest for his pills, felt someone taking him by the scruff of his neck he reacted instinctively. He had long since learned that fighting never prevented them from catching him, carrying him to the bed, holding him down and tying him up. This didn't stop him from trying, though. Well, at least if his current medicine didn't render him unable to process things quickly enough. Sometimes, everything happened so fast that he was already tied down when he understood what was going on.
This time, however, he didn't feel as if his head was stuffed with mud. Ducking away, he almost managed to escape his predator, only to find himself face to bum with some Hogwarts-students. He couldn't tell which house they were, the bottom of Hogwarts-robes bearing no house-colours, not that it mattered anyway.

"Oh no, Mr Potter!" Snape was seething. What was this brat thinking?! Never, in all his time as a teacher, had any child actually tried to flee. Feeble excuses, trying to worm tone out of sticky situations, even purposefully "forgetting" detentions, yes, but outright escape?

Harry briefly startled. Since when did the nurses - or the doctors - addressed him by his last name? But he had no time to think about this strange new development. He had to fight. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" He yelled, and tried to kick the black-clothed nurse

"POTTER! CALM DOWN THIS INSTANT!"

"NOOOOOOOO!"

"Are you trying to make a fool of yourself, acting like a three-years old in front of the entire students-body?" 'And letting me look like a child abuser?' Snape silently added. He didn't want to ridicule the brat in front of the entire school. Well, technically it was the child himself that made himself look ridiculous, but Snape couldn't help to feel bad about his part in the whole mess. Oh, he'd love to get revenge for everything the brat's father and his lackeys had done to him during their own school-days, but while vindictive, Snape wasn't that... cruel. Deducting points, making the boy loath potion-classes or sarcastic remarks were one thing, but he wouldn't resort to the same means as the Marauders, making a fool of the boy in front of all the other students.

"NOO- what?" Harry stopped howling and squirming. Something wasn't right. This wasn't the usual procedure. What was going on?

"Mr Potter, you will accompany me this instant." Snape muttered through gritted teeth. He had to get the boy out of the Great Hall, away from the starring students.

"But- what?" Harry didn't understand. No. This wasn't right. What- eh... no. Where was he? This wasn't the ward. And the man holding him wasn't a nurse. And all the other children. They wouldn't fit on the ward, not even if they would get bunk beds.

Oh. Hogwarts. Oh no. He was at Hogwarts, his new school! And he had just lost it in front of everyone else! Shit! Harry gulped. What would they do with him? The stare of the nur- teacher holding his arm unnerved him. Would they decide he was to crazy for going to school again? Would they send him back to hospital? Or would they just give him additional medicine like Aunt Petunia did when he lost it at Privet Drive? Medicine. Wait. This was what he had been searching for. But he had never found it, something had distracted him. The teacher, perhaps? Or had he just tried to help him looking for his pills? Or had he even wanted to give Harry his medicine? Perhaps the doctor-witch had send him?

"Uh, Sir... I'm sorry... uh, do you have my medicine?"

Briefly, Snape thought that he must made a very good impression of a fish. This kid didn't stop to surprise him. What was going on in his head? From screaming and fighting and acting as if the Dark Lord himself was trying to murder him to being (almost) polite and calm in little more than thirty seconds! And now he even asked for that medicine which was safely locked away in Poppy's office. The child couldn't mean to take it voluntarily, could he?

"Potter, what do you mean whether I have your medicine?" He snapped.

"Uh, you know, my medicine. I'm supposed to take my pills regularly, you see, and the doctor-witch, she promised I would get them with lunch, but they aren't here. I have searched all the table, it's rather difficult, you know, with all that stuff, but I've been really careful and I'm sure I haven't overlooked anything... uhm, I haven't searched this part yet, so perhaps..." And he looked almost longingly at the few metres of empty table behind Snape.
The potion-master noticed the newest Weasley -Ronald, wasn't it? - sitting near that part of Gryffindor-table Potter stared at, his expression a mixture of confusion and concern. Apparently, he couldn't decided whether he had to rescue the boy-who-lived from the head of the snakes or not.

"Come with me!" Snape ordered. He had to get the brat somewhere where he could talk to him without nosy students trying to overhear them. It wouldn't do to have rumours about the boy-who-lived being... well, different flying around. But perhaps this was exactly what the little pest tried to achieve? Behaving all strange in order to get attention? Perhaps he was indeed different from James Potter... perhaps this Potter had set on being the centre of attention by playing the role of the poor, lonely orphan? Or the brave and tough survivor of an atrocious childhood?
Snape decided that whatever it was that made the boy act the way he did, it didn't matter right now. He took Harry by his shoulder and lead him out of the Great Hall, ignoring the stares and the feeble attempts of Weasley to call him back. One of the more menacing glares was enough to make even the sixth-year prefect from Gryffindor cower away. Surprisingly, Potter himself seemed to be the only one who didn't have any objections against following Hogwart's most feared professor away from the safety of the Great Hall to an empty classroom on the other side of the Entrance Hall. On the contrary, it wasn't even necessary to exert particular pressure on the boy's shoulders to keep him going. It was almost as if he voluntarily went with Snape. But this couldn't be. No self-respecting Potter would ever accompany the greasy git by choice.

"Now, Mr Potter," Snape addresses the boy after he had made sure that the door was closed and a Muffliato was in place, preventing anyone from eavesdropping. "Would you care to explain your earlier behaviour?"

"Can I get my medicine now?" Harry asked. After all, this was the reason the teacher had led him out of the Great Hall in the first place, hadn't it? Harry wasn't stupid, the doctor-witch might as well have told him that he was supposed to go to this room in order to get his pills, it would have saved him from searching the whole table! But now the teacher was just looking at him strangely and asked weird question instead of giving him his medicine and a glass of water, waiting until he had taken the pills and making him open his mouth to show that he had indeed swallowed the drugs.

"No-"

"WHAT? BUT I NEED THEM!"

"SHUT UP, POTTER!" Snape wouldn't let a Potter shout at him. "You will explain what just transpired in the Great Hall. And if you have answered my question satisfactorily, you might get your medicine!" He wasn't head of Slytherin for nothing.

"Uhm..." Harry swallowed. It didn't look as if he had a choice. But this was so weird! Years and years they had practically forced him to take his medicine, and now when he actually wanted to take it he didn't get it! Well, he didn't really wanted to take the medicine, but he knew that if he didn't obey to his Aunt's (and Dr Green's) orders, he would be in very big trouble. Not to mention that the teachers surely would send him to hospital again if he started to become crazy again. Harry knew that this was bound to happen if he didn't take the pills. They had explained it to him after he had complained about having to take stuff that made him feel all woozy and stiff and sick.
Perhaps this was some kind of test? Perhaps the teachers - or the teachers on behalf of Dr Green? Or his Aunt? - wanted to test whether Harry would obey orders? Obedience was important, after all. Only obedient children were allowed to leave the ward. Only that he wasn't on the ward, was he?

"I don't have time until dinner, Potter!"

Uh shit. He had completely forgotten that he was supposed to retell what he had done. Perhaps the teacher wanted to test how well he remembered things? Or whether he could concentrate? "Well, uh, I have searched for my medicine. Because the doctor-witch said I would get it when I would have lunch. Ron - he's my friend, I think, you know, I never had a friend before - apart from Hedwig, of course, but I have only got to know her during the summer. There were a few children that talked to me, mostly on the ward though, well, I haven't really been in school very much after all, and then there was Dudley - my cousin - uh eh... yeah, Ron sat down and I didn't see the pills so I thought that perhaps she had put them somewhere else. She couldn't know where I would sit, couldn't she? I tried really, really hard, but the table- there was so much stuff and it was really hard to make out everything, so perhaps I have overlooked them after all. I don't know. There were sitting other children, too... you don't think one of them accidentally took my medicine, do you?" Harry asked, horrified. He hadn't thought of this before.

Snape listened, flabbergasted. What was the child talking about?! "Potter, stop it! What do you mean, the "doctor-witch" told you you would get your medicine during lunch? And why do you need it in the first place? And- well, answer my questions!"
He had intended to ask why the boy hadn't been in school very often. Or what "wards" he was talking about. The blood-wards? Or why he didn't have friends. Not that it mattered to him, no, it was simply, the boy-who-lived was important. And he was already far more... unusual than he was supposed to be. Having no friends... that was uncomfortably close to Severus' own youth. And he could already see the headlines if the Daily Prophet found out that the saviour of the wizarding world wasn't at all what people had expected him to be. They had already tried to attribute dark powers to the boy shortly after the Dark Lord vanished. If it hadn't been for Dumbledore... And, of course, it would prevent Snape from hating Potter properly, and that just wasn't and option.

"Uh... Professor McGonagall - she's my head of house - took me to a doctor-witch before classes started. Because I needed to give her my medicine. My Aunt and Dr Green have told me so! Uhm, and she told me I would get it during lunch but-"

"Yes, Potter, you have already said this. But why do you need medicine in the first place?"

"Because I get really crazy and difficult if I don't take it! My Aunt and Uncle won't have me in the house without me taking my pills. And the demon gets more power, too! I don't like this. He tries to hurt me, and then Dr Green makes me stay on the ward again-"

"What do you mean, getting crazy and what demon?" Snape interrupted the child again. He hadn't the patience to listen to the boy rambling nonsense.

"Uh, crazy like... well, mad. Dr Green says I'm 'entally ill. But my relatives only call it crazy. And the demon... uhm, he's kind of in my head... and hurts..." Harry didn't like to talk about all of this, not at all. "Uh, can I get it now? I- uhm, well, perhaps... I mean, it would be really great if I could have some lunch before classes start again..."

Snape tried to make sense of what he had just heard. Apparently, Potter had taken medicine regularly because his relatives - or had it been this ominous doctor? - considered him... unbalanced. But this didn't make sense. Petunia knew about magic. And there wasn't anything else that was different about the boy, was there? He was just as annoying, trouble-seeking and strong-willed as the average Gryffindor, perhaps more big-headed, but certainly not ill.
But then... there was undoubtedly something wrong with Potter's coordination and his general movements. If Severus hadn't known better, he would have sworn the boy was under an Imperius or something similar dark. Moving like a marionette, glassy eyes, these typical twitches the victim showed if it tried to fight the curse... but it couldn't be. The boy hadn't had contact to any wizard since that Halloween. Maybe there was something wrong with the boy's brain?
Severus almost smirked, this was a Potter, of course there was something wrong with his brain. Well, he would need to do some research soon, very soon. This needed to be sorted out, maybe the boy required a potion, or there were many spells that were applied when people had suffered a head injury... it was strange, though, that Albus hadn't mentioned anything about his precious boy-who-lived needed medical treatment. Or that he hadn't seen to the boy being sent to St Mungo's when the initial injury - or illness? - occurred. Surely the healers would have sorted this out in mere seconds. But no, leaving it to the teachers - to Snape! - to deal with the mess. Manipulative old coot!

"Uh, Sir?"

Snape snapped out of his thoughts. Damn, the brat was still here! "Mr Potter, you may return to the Great Hall. I will speak with Madame Pomfrey about everything." And he turned to leave as well. However, just when he had reached the door, the boy started to scream. Again.

"I HAVE TO TAKE MY MEDICINE! YOU CAN'T DO THIS! I NEED IT IF I DON'T GET IT THE DEMON WILL SURELY KILL ME! YOU STUPID!" Harry screamed and cried. This was so wrong, everything was wrong, nothing made sense any more! He had to obey his Aunt and Uncle and Dr Green but the new teachers and the new doctor just wouldn't let him and in the end it would have been him, again, that would be punished. He had rarely felt as helpless as he was feeling now. With Dr Green, he had at least known what he was supposed to do, he had known the rules. But here? Everything was wrong. He really wished he could have stayed with his relatives. Sure, he wouldn't have become friends with Ron, but everything would have been much easier, less confusing, less terrifying...

Snape, completely frustrated by now, decided it was high time to get rid of the boy. "Potter, come with me! Now!" He didn't wait for the boy to obey but just grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the infirmary. Thankfully, most of the students were still in the Great Hall and didn't witnessed a crying, screaming Potter being pulled through the corridors by Snape.

To say Madame Pomfrey was surprised when the potion master entered the hospital wing, a crying child in tow, was an understatement.

"Severus Snape! What it the meaning of this?!"

"Potter! He insists on getting his blasted medicine! Perhaps you can convince him that he isn't to take it until we have sorted out what is going on? Why have you told him he would get it when having lunch?!"

"I haven't...oh... Mr Potter? Ehm, you can't take this... this medicine. I'm sorry you misunderstood me but-"

"NO NO NO I HAVE TO TAKE IT! I HAAAAAVEE TO YOU... YOU..."

Severus huffed. Why hadn't he thought of this sooner? While Poppy tried to calm down the distraught child, he went into the medi-witche's office, made sure the boy wasn't paying attention to him and conjured several small, white pastilles.

"Mr Potter, here is your medicine, kindly take it at once." He shot a glare towards the medi-witch who was about to protest.

A few minutes later, a confused and still-angry but also relieved Harry left the infirmary and the potion master explained his little trick to Madame Pomfrey.

"Hmpf. I don't think it is wise to betray the poor child in such a way..."

"Do you have a better idea?" Snape snapped. He thought his plan to give the boy glucose-pastilles until they could figure out what was the matter with him rather brilliant.

"Well, no... no. I suppose it makes sense, yes... well, at least there isn't anything seriously wrong with him, it would have shown in the scan I cast in the morning... just make sure not to delay your research, do you? If I can be of any help..."