I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 19

Defence Against the Dark Arts

Defence Against the Dark Arts class was not one that any student cared for. Professor Quirrell was not a great teacher, but neither was he horrible. He would lecture about some of the oddest topics, and then he would set student against student. And, students got hurt.

Two upper class students had gotten hurt; one so badly she was sent to St. Mungo's. Hermione had been paired with the redoubtable Pansy Parkinson who had knocked her unconscious with a Shield Spell that threw her backwards and knocked her right into a desk. Pansy had been awarded 50 points that day but the Headmaster counteracted those points when he found out about them. Perhaps the professor had been talked to later (no one really knew). His tactic of making certain every student not a Slytherin was hurt, even if it was just a sting, continued.

Hermione stayed behind Ron and Harry but Harry felt the malevolent dark blue eyes of his professor on him wherever he was.

"M-m-mr. P-p-potter! So good t-t-to see you," greeted Professor Quirrell. He nodded to a desk at the front of his class. "S-s-s-s-s-s-sit down."

Harry winced as he felt a jagged fire race through his skull from the scar on his forehead. A voice whispered in his head, 'Sssssoooo very good to ssssseee you... Hhhhharry Potterrrrr. I cannot wait to ssssseeee your blood.'

"Harry?" asked Ron.

"Okay. I'm okay," he mumbled shaking away the pain, and the voice. He pushed ahead of the other students and seated himself at the desk the teacher had indicated.

The timid looking wizard stepped smoothly down his short dais to stand in front of Harry while all the other students took their seats. "I hear you have a n-n-new wand, Mr. P-p-potter. Shall we p-p-put it to a test?"

"I really don't know any defensive spells, professor," Harry tried to defend himself.

Professor Quirrell smiled. "Wh-wh-what a coincidence that this is Defence Against the D-d-d-ark Arts class. Mr. Malfoy, you will be Mr. Potter's opponent. Use your best hexes. Asssssss for you, Mr. Potter, you will employ the main defence shield spell, Protego." Professor Quirrell demonstrated the spell and then set the two opponents to their marks.

Draco tried not to look worried. He would use his most benign hexes since he knew a few that would punch right through Protego. Harry practiced his wand movements and then quickly managed a glance to Draco to let the Slytherin boy know not to worry.

Draco's first hex was Jelly Legs. Harry did not manage the Shield Spell and he was soon wobbling about on rubbery legs. Draco then cast a Bogey Hex and that one Harry defended himself against. Draco then threw an Itching Hex followed by a Trip Hex, and then a Stunning Spell known as Stupefy. Harry defended against the Trip Hex but he faltered and was hit partially by the Stunning Spell. He reeled, and never saw Gregory Goyle stick out his foot. Harry tripped, and hit the floor.

"Harry!" cried Ron.

"Sit down, Weasley!" roared a voice from within Professor Quirrell that was not his, yet it froze everyone in place. Professor Quirrell's trembling voice came back, "Mr. M-m-m-malfoy, end the spell."

Draco ended the spell. Harry was picking himself up and Draco wanted to help him but he was afraid to with the teacher nearly next to him. Harry made it to his desk and plopped heavily into his chair.

"T-t-t-ten points from Gryffindor, M-m-mr. Potter," said Professor Quirrell once Draco had resumed his seat. "Your performance w-w-was abyssssssmal." He stepped back up onto his dais. "Now, let me sssspeak to you about the time I wassss chasing a rabid hypno-demon in Transssssylvania..."

Defence Against the Dark Arts ended with Gryffindor losing an entirety of 130 points, and two people had been hurt but not enough to be sent to the Infirmary. Harry still felt woozy from the Stunning Spell, and Ron had been hit with an Expelliarmus that threw him into Professor Quirrell's desk. Ron was able to walk out of the classroom but he had an awful bruise on his back.

Halfway to the Great Hall for dinner Draco caught up with the Gryffindor Trio. "Harry? Ron? Are you two all right?"

"I just want to go to bed," sighed Harry.

"Fred has some bruise salve so I'll be okay," replied Ron. He glanced over at Harry with concern.

Hermione piped up, "Harry, a Stunning Spell shouldn't have made you look and feel so bad. What's going on?"

He turned suddenly away from his friends. "I need to talk to Professor Snape. Bye."

Professor Snape was on his way from his classroom to the Great Hall when he literally ran into Harry. He caught the boy, and turned him away, just as he vomited on the flagstone floor of the corridor.

"Sorry. Sorry, sir. Sorry!" Harry, Snape noticed then, was crying.

Professor Snape Vanished the mess, and then led the child down to his quarters. Once Harry was curled up on his sofa, Snape Summoned an Anti-Nausea Potion which he had Harry drink down. Snape then ordered a mild tea.

"Harry, would you tell me what happened?" asked Professor Snape as he sat across from the boy on the sofa.

Harry was quiet for a moment; his face trembling in indecision. He then lifted his gaze to his teacher and studied his dark gaze. There was no definitive expression on Professor Snape's face but in his eyes was genuine compassion. Harry, who had been taught never to accept compassion or affection from an adult felt a sudden sense of safety in the man.

"Sir... I'll tell you... could I... I mean would you mind...?" Harry sniffled and tried to hold back his weary tears. He was too afraid to ask anything of the professor. The teacher had been good to him, and Harry did not want to ask for something stupid, embarrass himself, and lose that.

Harry did not know that Professor Snape's often intimidating stare allowed him to silently Legilimens certain students, and once in awhile a staff member, that was being duplicitous, or hesitant with him. He saw very clearly in the child's mind what he wanted to ask. The wizard patted the spot on the sofa right next to him.

"Come here, child," he invited.

Harry slipped across the sofa cushions like an eel and leaned into the man's side with his head laid right over his heart. He held his breath, though, just in case Professor Snape might push him away. He let out a breath of relief when the professor's arm draped over his back, and drew him more comfortably closer.

"Will you tell me what happened, Harry? Whatever was it that upset you so?"

Snape then listened as Harry told him of his negative impression of Professor Quirrell, and that the wizard actually scared him. Harry also told his trusted teacher of the voice that had invaded his skull through his scar. At that point Professor Snape had stiffened, and Harry thought he had offended his teacher, but Snape had pulled him back into his side.

Finally, Harry drew his head away from his teacher's chest but remained close to him. "Professor, do you know what's going on?"

"Aside from the rumours of the Dark Lord, we have an incompetent, and dangerous teacher for Defence Against the Dark Arts and because of this our students are getting seriously harmed," replied Snape tightly.

"And, my scar? That's really strange," commented Harry with a shudder.

"Yes it is," murmured Snape. He had looked into Harry's mind once more with Legilimens and heard that sibilant voice that held the familiar in it. The Dark Lord had always enjoyed the menace that speaking English as a Parseltongue gave to him. "Harry, you have a half hour of dinner left. Go to your friends. I have a few Floo calls to make. Perhaps then I shall have a better answer for you in regards to your scar."

Harry nodded. "Okay, sir. Thank you." Harry slipped off the sofa and trotted to the door. "G'night, sir!" He then slipped out.

Severus Snape slumped on his sofa. Would it not have been simpler just to hate that child? Again, why did he now have guardianship of the boy?