I Don't Want to Be A Hero - Ch. 1

Sept. 1991 - The Welcoming Feast

Hagrid shouted, "Firs' Years folla me!"

Organised chaos gathered around the large man with the bushy beard. Once all the chattering, wide-eyed first years had collected into one mass, Hagrid led them off the Hogwarts Express platform and to the edge of a huge lake that was black and silver with reflection under the full moon. Dozens of boats waited at the edge.

"Is that how we're getting to Hogwarts, Ron?" asked Harry of the redhead beside him. He had met Ron on the train and were already fast friends.

Ron, grinning as much as Harry was, nodded excitedly. "My older brothers told me about the boats. It's the best way to see the castle at night."

"Five to a boat!" ordered Hagrid. "Quick now! We doona want ta be late!"

As they were told the children climbed into the boats but Harry and Ron were a touch slow. It was then that Hagrid waved to them. "Come along, 'Arry!"

Harry's eyes widened at the boat Hagrid sat in. He was so large he ought to be sinking, but the boat had not displaced any water just as the others had not. Ron grabbed Harry's sleeve, and they both trotted over. Hagrid helped them in, and then he shouted, "To 'Ogwarts!"

The boats then slipped across the water with their excited cargo. Minutes later the horizon of the lake glittered with tiny dots of fire, and all of the students looked up; there was the castle of Hogwarts with every window blazing with lit torches to welcome the new students. A cheer and clapping went up and as all the first years delighted in the sight.

Some time later the boats headed into a small, man-built cave with steps that led to a great, old, time-worn door of ironwood, and iron rusted fittings. At the top of the stairs was a tall, thin woman wearing forest green teaching robes, a tall conical hat adorned with a single pheasant feather, and silver, square-rimmed spectacles sparkled on the mid-point of her nose.

"That's Professor McGonagall," Ron whispered to Harry. "She's Deputy Headmaster, and the Head of Gryffindor."

"What's Gryffindor?" asked Harry in the same whisper.

"Just the best House in the world!" boasted Ron. "Everyone in my family is a Gryffindor because we're braver than anybody else."

"Being brave means fighting a dragon who can burn you with flames before you can get your wand out," snarled a little boy Harry had seen when he was getting his new robes at Madame Malkins in Diagon Alley. It was Draco Malfoy. "Gryffindors are stupid," Draco declared.

Ron's face got as red as his hair, "And Slytherins are cowards! They only think of themselves!"

Before a fight could break out Minerva McGonagall stepped in. She introduced herself, and then maneuvered all the new students into the castle, and through a hidden door into the Great Hall. They were met by the applause of the older students, and Ron could hear the twins, Fred and George cheering loudly for their little brother.

Harry was amazed by all the sights around him but he was not as vocal as the other new students. He was aware that most in the Great Hall were looking at him, and when he glanced up towards the dais where all the teachers sat, he felt most uncomfortable when the old, bearded man nodded to him as if they knew each other. There was something in those twinkling blue eyes that spoke to Harry that the man who sat up there was more than what he seemed; whatever that was it unnerved him.

Another teacher stared so hard, and with such curious hate at him that Harry shivered under his dark gaze.

"That's Severus Snape," Ron's voice broke into Harry's thoughts. "My brothers said he's a vampire."

Harry jerked his head away from the dark gaze that was holding his prisoner. "A vampire?" Harry's heart sunk. Ghosts, living portraits, boats that moved by themselves, and now vampires? What else was there? He glanced again at the table, and winced as he felt his scar suddenly burning. He also heard a whispery, sibilant voice welcoming him.

"Harrrry Potterrrrr hasss come to Hogwartssss at lassst."

"Potter, Harry!" called Minerva McGonagall's voice.

For a moment he thought that whispery voice was saying his name again, but someone behind him nudged him. It was Ron. "Go on, Harry. Time to get Sorted!"

Harry was unsure about that but with everyone smiling at him, maybe it was not a bad thing.

Professor McGonagall directed him onto the tall stool, and then she dropped the old hat she held onto his head. Amazingly, it began to talk to him!

"Harry Potter. Son of James and Lily. How very good it is to see you at last. Both your parents were in Gryffindor, but somehow that does not seem quite like you."

"Why not?" asked Harry.

"Well, you are a brave one but there is something more; you're a survivor. You've had to be."

"So?" Harry challenged bitterly. He bet the dumb hat was talking about his family, Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and his fat cousin Dudley.

The hat chuckled. "Not Ravenclaw. Oh, you're a smart one but you have the sort of intelligence that one needs when they have to think on their feet. Of course, you seem to have a strong loyalty to your new friend."

"I like Ron. His mum gave me a hug before sending me through the magic wall at the train station. Ron thought that was silly but I liked it."

"And, you like Ron. However, you're not a Hufflepuff."

Harry grimaced. "That sounds like a diseased blancmange. I don't want to be a Hufflelump."

"Hufflepuff," corrected the hat. "And they are very noble folk. I do think that Slytherin would be good for you... but... what is it, Mr. Potter?"

"I want to be in the same House as Ron. Is he going to be in Slytherin?" asked Harry.

Suddenly the Sorting Hat shouted to all assembled, "Gryffindor!"

The Hat was removed from his head and he was met by polite applause by his new House and varying degrees of approval from all the teachers on the dais. And, the Headmaster twinkled.

Dazed, Harry sat down at his new House table and was not entirely aware of what his House-mates were saying as they clapped him on the shoulder, and congratulated him. Moments later a breathless Ron Weasley slid in beside him.

"Isn't this great, Harry?" enthused Ron. "We can still be friends!"

Harry nodded numbly but it was that word 'still' that rang uncomfortably in his head. If he had gone to any other House when he have lost his first friend. He could not think anymore when the Welcoming Feast started and Harry was met by an array of food such as he had never seen in his life. It was all so fantastic but when he caught the eye of one House-mate scrutinising his scar, Harry's stomach tumbled into a roiling depth of worry.

And, he felt eyes on the back of his neck. He turned without any subterfuge and was met once more with the stony glare of the teacher known as Severus Snape. Harry could not fathom why but the man had taken an instant, and deep abiding, dislike to him.

A tawny owl fluttered over to the table and dropped a pretty parchment note in front of Harry. The curious, which was nearly everyone in House Gryffindor, urged Harry to open his note. He did not want to preferring to read it when alone but so many eager faces were looking at him that he bent to peer pressure. He broke the seal, unfolded the letter, and read the short note.

"What's it say, Harry?" as Ron rudely grabbed the note. Harry snatched it right back and could not stop a quelling look towards his friend's assumption.

"The Headmaster wants to see me after the feast in his office, Ron. He says I'm supposed to ask my prefect to escort me. Who's that?"

"Me, Harry." Another redhead, looking a bit like Ron but older, waved at Harry. "I'm Percy. Ron's older brother. I'll take you as soon as the feast is finished."

Harry nodded at Percy, and then looked down at his plate. It was filled with a fascinating array of meats, vegetables, and fruit. Harry selected the bowl of fruit as being the only thing he could stomach. Smiling at a few of his House-mates, he ate his cubes of fruit, and wondered what the Headmaster might want of him.

I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 2

The Headmaster's Tower

Percy Weasley one of the prefects for Gryffindor dropped Harry off in a narrow corridor where a large, granite griffin stood glowering down at him. The torch flickering behind the griffin's head gave the statue rather a sinister appearance.

"Password," asked the griffin, and Harry jumped with startlement.

Harry's lips thinned. Another thing that could speak, and was probably magical. At the feast Harry had met a real live dead ghost, Sir Nicholas Porpington who was not quite beheaded (that was gross!) and the twins, Fred and George Weasley, had related tales of one of the teachers (they did not say who) that was a cat, another teacher that was a ghost, a willow tree that killed students (and when Harry scoffed he was told that it was absolutely true). There were even more things about invisible, flying horses, Centaurs, and giant spiders, and it all made Harry wonder why he had thought this world of magic was so "neat".

Taking out the note, he saw that the Headmaster had provided the password, and so Harry said it aloud, "Licorice Whips." He then watched as the huge griffin slid effortlessly to the side to reveal a spiral staircase. Wary, Harry stepped past the griffin that watched him, and then onto the spiral staircase. Before he could ascend on his own power the staircase began to spin in place, and like a corkscrew he rose up to the tower office of the Headmaster.

The office of the Head of Hogwarts was a very large, and intimidating place; Harry felt absolutely tiny. It was in the north tower which was also considered that main, and largest tower of the castle. This gave the office curved walls of cut block stone that resembled granite. One wall was covered with portraits, all of whom were regarding Harry; they were whispering amongst each other as they kept an eye on him. Most of the remaining wall was taken up by shelves that held books, or a variety of figurines, candles, and curiosities that gleamed of brass, copper, and gold. Of those of metal they ticked, whirred, whistled, or moved in circles, parabolas, or even fired off small Jacob's Ladders of what appeared to be electricity but the arcs of colour ran the gamut of the rainbow.

Glass fronted, circular shelves allowed one to view the objects, some of which were very old wands, books, or scrolls, from all sides. These shelves sat about in the office with no rhyme or reason to their placement. There was a spiral, filigree staircase of iron that rose up to two more levels of books and curiosities, and on the topmost shelf, on the third floor Harry saw the Sorting Hat. It wrinkled in such a peculiar way that it appeared to be looking down upon him.

His nose wrinkled as he recalled his time under the hat; it had smelled. If he were at his relatives home he would wash that hat with a lot of soap flakes!

“After centuries of heads with hair in various stages of cleanliness I would not mind a good bath,” murmured the Sorting Hat.

Harry did not reply to the Hat. It was just another thing of magic. He grimaced at the smart aleck Sorting Hat, then continued his examination of the Headmaster’s office.

Harry saw two inner doors; one on the floor he stood upon, and one on the third level. Dominating all of this was a dais at the center of three marble tiled steps in a curve that mimicked the walls, and led up to a large desk of old, comfortably stained oak that held a variety of papers, inkwells, quills, and an open journal where a quill wrote in it all by itself.

Again, Harry felt terribly tiny in the huge office. His small survivor within warned him that he ought to turn tail and leave.

As Harry was turning slowly to do just as instinct dictated he was presented with a bird nearly his height, of flaming red and orange and gold feathers. It squawked softly at him as if aware that the boy was feeling skittish.

"My Phoenix, Fawkes," said a voice behind him. Harry spun to see the Headmaster. Albus Dumbledore walked around him, stepped up the dais, and began to stroke the bird's beautiful crest of feathers on his head. "I'm sure you'd like to pet him, Harry. Fawkes is rather affectionate."

Harry, not terribly sure of the bird, and certainly wary of the old man, stepped up carefully, and stretched out his hand. When Fawkes cooed he melted, and began to pet the bird. Fawkes began to sing, and Harry felt the knots in his stomach loosen.

The Headmaster stepped away from Fawkes and sat down at his desk. He adjusted his spectacles, and then glanced at what the quill was writing into the journal.

"What do you think of Hogwarts, Harry?" asked Albus as he watched the boy carefully.

Reluctantly Harry left Fawkes, and turned his attention to the Headmaster so he would not be perceived as rude. Carefully he replied, "Amazing, sir."

Albus smiled. "I am glad you approve, Harry."

Harry doubted that 'amazing' meant he approved, but if that's what the Headmaster thought... let him.  Looking into the man's twinkling eyes Harry had the odd feeling that his brain was itchy. The survivor within warned him to look away so he did. He cast his gaze elsewhere pretending to be dazzled by everything he saw.

"We try to show the students that the world of magic is a place of wonder, and it is something we do not ever want our students to forget." Albus eyed the small boy with practiced study. He had tried to see into the child's mind with his Legilimens but he was not as subtle as Severus Snape was, and it was clear the child had noticed the Headmaster's attempt. "Harry, have you any questions for me?"

Harry turned to face the Headmaster, and heard the whispers of all the portraits behind him. It was eerie. "Hagrid told me about my parents. Aunt Petunia told me that I lost them to a car accident that was... my fault because my father was a drunk." Harry delivered his accusation blandly as he gauged what the Headmaster's reaction might be.

Albus sighed in regret. "I'm afraid Petunia was not able to tell you the truth, Harry, due to the magic that was in place to keep you safe."

Harry frowned as his mind snapped back but not aloud, 'But Aunt Petunia was allowed by the magic to tell me it was my fault, and that my dad was a drunk.' Dumbledore seemed not to notice that Harry did not accept the Headmaster's 'simple' explanation. The older wizard was apparently not aware that Harry was angry with him.

Harry walked down the steps and moved over to the fireplace/Floo that was taller than him. He faced the Headmaster, and asked, "Who was I being protected from, sir, if I killed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named when I was a baby?"

"Voldemort is his name. To say his name reduces any power attributed to that name," Albus replied softly.

Harry believed that. His relatives never used his name. He had always wondered if they did would they disappear in a puff of smoke? After seeing Hogwarts he expected that such a thing was possible.

The Headmaster continued to speak, "Voldemort’s followers were called Death Eaters. Many escaped. I am certain that if they knew you were alive they would kill you for having destroyed their master."

"I was a baby!" shouted Harry, and many of the curiosities shook ominously in the glass cabinets. "I didn't even have a wand. If someone believes I killed Voldemort then..."

Albus smoothly corrected, "It appeared as though you killed him but what you succeeded in doing was separating his spirit from his body. The kind witches and wizards of our world believe you did kill him. The visible proof lies there," Albus pointed a slim but crooked finger towards Harry's head, "in the scar that the wizard bestowed upon you."

Harry touched his fingers to the scar, "They're all wrong," he mumbled softly.

"Perhaps," shrugged Albus as if he knew better. "The fact is you are a hero in our world, Harry Potter; the Boy-Who-Lived. And someday, when Voldemort has regained his strength, and a new body, the two of you will meet and decide our world's future."

Harry dropped his hand from his forehead, and stared incredulously at the old wizard. "You think he's coming... BACK? And, you want me to kill him?" Harry felt the rise of the anger he often kept beneath what everyone saw. Although a fire flickered dangerously beneath a facade, on the outside he was the bewildered, stupid 'freak' that he looked like to his relatives.

"Not I," smiled Albus, and again gave that tiny shrug along with a deadly serious twinkle of his blue eyes, "but Destiny. You are Fated to do so."

Harry's fists clenched. More of the shiny instruments shook dangerously. He muttered darkly, "I don't want to be a hero; not yours or theirs." He turned, stomped out of the office, and gratifyingly slammed the door behind him.

Albus Dumbledore sighed heavily as the worries of the world sank down upon his shoulders. He looked sadly after the little boy who just did not understand; one could not outrun Destiny. Albus smiled thinly; he would test the boy and know his power. Power, he assumed, was great.

I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 3

Accidental Magic

As Harry ran down the corridor he heard a suit of armor fall over, and a painting jumped off the wall. 'Accidental magic,' Mrs. Weasley had called it. While Ron had fallen asleep in their car on the train Harry had found mention of Accidental Magic in Hogwarts: A History and a small article about it in his History of Magic textbook. Both said that it was the pre-pubescent emotions of children that awakened their magic into spurts of energy fueled by high emotion. Accidental Magic faded when the young wizard or witch went to Hogwarts to learn how to harness, and control it.

Harry was fuming, and he did not care about the pockets of destruction caused by his Accidental Magic as he ran.

He was no hero! He never killed or destroyed a wizard! And, he wasn't going to kill that same wizard if he up and came back!

A window shattered.

Harry was so angry tears began to course down his cheeks, and he slowed his running as his sight became blurry. Finally he stopped, sat down on the base around a column that was one of several where he was that supported the roof far above him. He saw that he was in the Hall of Moving Stairs just off the Entrance Hall. Removing his glasses, he picked up some of his robe, and wiped at the offending tears. He then walked the short distance away from the moving stairs, and through an arched doorway into the Entrance Hall.

As he sniffled, and thought of this new world, and all its wonders crashing down his ears in silence he contemplated the huge doors that led outside.

When Hagrid had told him he was a wizard, and told him about Magic, and showed him the amazingly brilliant Diagon Alley he thought he had been admitted into a world he could only ever have dreamt of when he read his mangled copy of 'Merlin'. He had wanted this world. It was special. It was the sort of thing that took one's average, unwanted life and turned it into something that was wonderful.

Harry recalled that night when he had been returned home to Privet Drive by Hagrid. He expected possibly a beating but that had not happened. Dudley ignored him, Uncle Vernon did yell at him about letting that fat, bushy-haired, filthy wizard come and disrupt their perfect lives. Luckily Uncle Vernon had fallen asleep before he finished.

It was Aunt Petunia who became the really scary one that night.

"You should have been killed with your parents," she had spat from the kitchen table where she sat alone with a mug of tea steaming, and un-touched.

Harry let the insult slip off his back. He had heard it before. Instead, he had questions. Normally he would keep those inside, and never mention them, but after the day in Diagon Alley maybe his aunt would answer them.

"Why didn't you tell me the truth, Aunt Petunia?" asked Harry softly.

"I couldn't," she replied angrily. "The Blood Wards that Bumblebore created wouldn't let me." She did not give him a chance to ask about the Blood Wards when she got up from the table, walked over, and slapped him. "I wanted to drown you but when I tried, I couldn't. The only thing I could do was this..." Harry tried to duck away from the next slap but she cuffed his ear, and he crouched in pain and held his hand protectively over his ear.

"Please Aunt Petunia! I've always been a good boy!"

His aunt hissed at him. "You've always been a waste of our food, and our money, and space in our home. I hope you die in that fancy world of magic, you freak! Then I won't ever have to see you again."

His aunt had grabbed his upper arm (the bruises from her fingers were still there - an ugly mass of healing green and yellow and red) and threw him into his cupboard under the stairs. He had scraped his shin on his new trunk, and Hedwig, stuffed into her cage, had ruffled her feathers, and hooted at him as Aunt Petunia shut, and locked the door. Neither saw the light of day except for when Uncle Vernon threw bread and water into the cupboard. In the evening Dudley took him to the loo.

Finally, a week had gone by. Uncle Vernon had yanked Harry out of the cupboard, ordered him to shower, and once that was done he piled him in the car with his trunk and Hedwig where they were all dropped at King's Cross Train Station.

All of that is what Harry had hoped his wonderful, new life would save him from. He would go to school, learn lots of magic, and never have to put up with the cruelty of his relatives again. As he had listened to the terrible stories at dinner that everyone seemed to think were so great, as he met ghosts, and talking griffins, and then listened as the Headmaster told him that he was wanted dead by Death Eaters, and was Fated to kill a wizard who was dead but probably not so... the ugly and scarred side of that world presented itself.

Harry wanted none of it. It was more than just unfair that everyone else thought he was a hero it was stupid that they also thought he was such a powerful wizard that he had killed the strongest Dark Wizard in the world when he was just a year old.

The sniffling child walked up to the huge doors, grabbed one of the large rings that served as a door handle, and pulled. It surprised Harry that the door, though slow since it was heavy, did open. When it opened just enough for him to slip through he went outside, and he began to walk. As he drew further away from the castle he went faster and faster until he was running. He had no idea where he would go but it would not be back to his relatives, and he would certainly not go back to Hogwarts. He would find a way to leave it all behind. Tears were falling again as he ran because Harry was sure that his decision meant he would never see his first and only friend Ron ever again.

I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 4

3 Weeks Later - 22 Sept. 1991

Albus Dumbledore drummed his fingers upon the surface of his desk. He scratched his chin beneath his long, white beard, sighed, and re-read the report that had been sent to him: Harry Potter had been found. Of course the report said much more but that was the gist of it; that was the part that was important.

The Headmaster glanced up as Severus Snape walked casually into his office. "You requested my presence, Headmaster?" His voice was sulky as if he had been busy with something more important than meeting with the Headmaster.

"Severus, do stop. I understand you are angry with me, and that you will show it whenever it is feasible. However I do not have the time for your pique today."

"No time? I suppose this might raise your attention; we have another Muggle-born in the Infirmary after a class with Professor Quirrell. I just spoke to Poppy Pomfrey.  She does not expect Miss Clearwater to survive the night."

Albus head snapped up in shock to face the smug, yet grim look upon Professor Snape's features. "You needn't look so satisfied, Severus!" thundered Albus.

A gasp came whisperingly from all the portraits of the past Heads of Hogwarts. Severus himself stiffened and wiped his face of any emotion. Still his black eyes glittered dangerously; he had warned Albus that something was dangerously wrong with the twitchy professor but the Headmaster had been too preoccupied with the disappearance of his pet Gryffindor.

Justin Finch-Fletchly had been released from the Infirmary two days ago after receiving burns from a spell given to a Hufflepuff by Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor Quirrell. Justin's burns had caused damage to his wand arm, and hand. He would bear scarring for the rest of his life.

Hermione Granger, another Muggle-Born was still in the Infirmary after being hit with a Slippery Hex during a supposedly mock battle. She had struck her head upon a desk and had fractured her skull. She was recovering and would do so fully but a fractured skull did not heal quickly as it required a particular Bone Re-Growth Potion that Severus had to brew once a day.

That very afternoon fifth year Penelope Clearwater of Ravenclaw was struck by an Entrail Twisting Curse no student ought to know. Although Professor Quirrel claimed to have stopped the curse Poppy said it was too late and she was unable to reverse the damage. Penelope would die that evening suffering from great pain.

"Miss Clearwater's death will bring the Ministry, Headmaster. Miss Granger, and Mr Finch-Fletchley's accidents might have been easily dismissed but this is a death under suspicious circumstances; too similar to when Moaning Myrtle was killed. You do recall how that affected Headmaster Dippet, do you not?" Severus glanced up at the portrait of the very Headmaster he referred to.

Armando Dippet's portrait sighed heavily, "It was a grievous year, as you well know from the history, Albus. You cannot ignore what sits right on the end of your nose." He clucked his tongue.

Albus' lips thinned, "You want me to arrest a man on mere suspicion? Armando? Severus?"

"Are you waiting for your Pet Saviour to come back and deal with Quirrell, Dumbledore? Potter is gone. He ran like the coward he was. He will not return," spat Severus.

Albus slapped the paper before him. "On the contrary, Professor Snape!" snapped Albus angrily. Lifting the paper he threw it at Snape who caught it.

The report was not something official; it was a Muggle newspaper. It had been folded in such a way as to reveal an article and accompanying photo. The photo was of a hospital patient. In the article the hospital was seeking the help of the public to identify a young, male comatose patient. Severus frowned at the unmoving image that was clearly young Harry Potter.

"The Muggles are claiming a possible car accident, but if you read the symptoms..."

"The Cruciatus Curse," breathed Severus sharply.

Albus nodded. "Harry ran, I am certain, but once he was away from the protection of the castle I believe he was found by an escaped Death Eater who tortured him." Albus stood and walked around his desk. He took the newspaper from the younger wizard. "I need you to bring Harry back so that Madame Pomfrey can assess his damage."

"And, what of Quirrell?" asked Snape. "The moment he hears of Miss Clearwater's death..."

"He hasn't yet, Severus, and he will not," the Headmaster assured stubbornly. "Bring back Harry Potter, Severus."

Snape nodded sharply once, turned on his heel, and left.

The boy in room 394 was given a daily IV of nutritional liquids to keep him 'fed' and hydrated. A respirator on the other side of his bed helped him to breath. As of now it seemed there was nothing more to do for the child but to maintain what they had.

Three weeks ago the male child had been found by a homeless man at an underpass to a walking bridge in the local park. His fingers had been broken, along with two ribs, and his right foot. His breathing was erratic, and there were dozens of bruises all over his body; almost as if he had been rolled down a rocky hill several times.

It was thought he was a victim of severe child abuse, and had been left for dead by his torturer(s).

The bruises had healed, and the bones had all been set and healed or were healing. Surgery had saved both hands but the motion of his right hand was still questioned by doctors.

Once a day a doctor simply looked in on the child, referred to the notes in hand, checked his IV, and his breathing, and then left the boy to the nurses. The nurses had come to call him "Little Lamb" and all adored him.

One nurse, his night nurse Jodi Winfield, read to Little Lamb at night, and occasionally sang him songs from her own childhood. Jodi was just 26, had light brown hair that she kept up under her nurses’ cap, and she lived alone with two cats, Salvador and Dali.

It was Jodi that had suggested to Little Lamb's doctor that they give the child's photo to the local newspaper in an effort to identify him. Four days had passed, and there had been nothing at all.

That night Jodi went to look in upon her favourite patient. She spoke softly so as not to startle him, and she told him about her day.

"Met with Charlie Welter again. Handsome bloke but all he does is just talk about his work with earthworms, or Star Wars." Jodi chuckled as she massaged with great care Little Lambs fragile fingers. "I've never seen Star Wars but with the way Charlie goes on about it I think I know all the characters. I like Jane Austen instead. You might like Star Wars since you're a boy... oh! I think there are some paperbacks of Star Wars in the lunch annex. I'll check. You might enjoy that more than Little Women."

Jodi Winfield checked her patient's vitals, then the IV, his respirator, and then checked all over his body to make sure that the bruises were all healing as they should. The one bruise that made her almost cry was on the child's right hip, and it resembled the outline of an adult boot. Jodi was certain Little Lamb had been kicked, and several times in that one spot.

The bruise was a sad looking thing with a reddish center, mottled green and broken blood vessels, and then healing yellow at the edges. The bandages for the broken ribs was taken off earlier that day and Jodi was heartened to see that Little Lambs skin was pink and healthy. His ribs showed though, and his doctor had said earlier that they found signs of long-term malnutrition.

Finally combing her Little Lambs unruly black hair, Jodi sighed, and began to sing. Most everyone on the third floor thought she was ridiculous for singing to her comatose patients but she swore that all of them enjoyed it. Little Lamb especially who smiled despite never waking up.

"Stop that caterwauling," ordered the silken, deep voice behind her.

Jodi turned to face a man who was thin but stood at least a head taller than she. He was a dark man, almost like an anti-hero from her romantic Jane Austen stories. He definitely brooded, and his hair, though neatly tied at his nape, either shone from not being washed, or it was as smooth as baby fine straight hair. Jodi wondered briefly about that but when her brown eyes met the dark fire in the black eyes of the mysterious visitor, her instinct ratcheted up into 'Mummy Mode' and she stood between Little Lamb and the harsh man.

"Who are you?" Jodi demanded.

"No one you care to know. Move aside. I need to look at the boy." Snape used a Compel Charm in his tone of voice to get the Muggle woman to do as he said but inexplicably she did not move. Her body was in a protective stance, and she exuded violence that would be unleashed if he meant any harm to her child.

"He is not yours. Why do you protect him as if he is?" asked Severus with genuine curiosity. He also tempered his tone to show he meant no harm to the child.

"No. Little Lamb's not mine but he IS my patient, and I will make sure he is safe. Now, who are you?" Jodi demanded again.

I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 5

Taking the Hero Home

The newspaper was local to the small town it originated from and soon he discovered he was south of Cokeworth, the industrial town he grew up in that became a virtual ghost town after the factories all closed. The paper related that ‘a child was found was in an industrial town’s park.’

The town was abandoned but every once in awhile someone walked through the park. Teenagers found the boy near death beneath a walking bridge. The teenagers called authorities, and the authorities sent the boy to hospital.

The small town, what was left including the park, was called Ibittswort. There was little traffic at night, no street lights to be seen, but the great, square, grey building that was the medical centre gleamed like a beacon to all the surrounding counties. The centre actually sat on a large piece of property just outside of Ibittswort, and likely served all the small towns and villages around it. This was St. Mary’s Mercy Medical where the lost little boy, the Boy-Who-Lived, now resided in a comatose state.

Snape had arrived at night with the assumption that the hospital was not terribly busy at such a late hour. As it was no one took notice of the tall, slim man in a dark wool coat, and trousers, and shoes that had equally dark hair tied back with a simple bit of string. Using this lackadaisical anonymity to his advantage, Snape tracked the lost hero through several nurses stations until he had a room: 394. An odd number since there were only 20 patient rooms to a floor of a hospital that had nine levels. But, who was he to question the odd things Muggles did?

At room 394 Snape heard a pleasant voice singing a lullaby his own mother had sung to him until he was ten. The voice was a soothing one, and no doubt Potter, in whatever condition he was in, found the voice to be calming. So he hoped. The after-effects of prolonged Cruciatus use would be devastating if not deadly to an eleven year old boy.

Before entering the room Snape charmed his voice to compel the nurse to leave. When he had entered he tried out the spell, and discovered that it failed miserably. The nurse had interposed her body between himself and the boy, and she radiated the 'mother protection' that most women of childbearing age developed. He could not use his magic but if he tried to force her aside he had no doubt that he'd take back to Hogwarts a number of scrapes, and bruises.

"Who are you?" she demanded a second time. Her brown eyes were anything but soft and gentle; they were the feral aggression of a mother bear protecting her young.

Snape gave her a nod, a symbol of deference, and submission. He then spoke calmly, "I am Severus Snape. I have been given temporary guardianship over Harry Potter until I bring him home."

The nurse held out her hand. "I'd like to see proof of what you claim," she demanded.

Snape opened his coat and pulled out some officious looking paperwork that Albus had created for Severus on the off-chance he might get caught liberating Harry from the Muggle hospital.

The nurse grabbed the paperwork, glanced at Harry, and then began to scan all the legal noise that Muggles seemed to enjoy in their ‘official’ paperwork. Finally she came to a place in the legalese that relaxed her. With a nod she handed the papers back to Snape.

She turned slightly so she could see both Snape and her patient. "So. Little Lamb is Harry Potter, an orphan."

"And, you are..." Snape asked.

"Jodi Winfield, Little... I mean... Harry's night nurse. You should have come here during the day so the doctor could talk to you, Mr. Snape."

"I came when I was able, Nurse Winfield. Can you tell me what happened to Mis... to Harry?" he inquired.

"Well, Harry was found three weeks ago under the walking bridge at Topher Park. He was in a bad way, sir. Left to die, I think..."

"What were his injuries, and is he still recovering from them?" Snape interrupted.

Jodi nodded, "Right. Well the fingers on both hands were broken -- each one in two pieces right at the second knuckle. Two ribs, here and here, were broken, and one with a hairline fracture, here." The nurse pointed to each rib. "He had literally hundreds of bruises and cuts..." she pulled down the sheet and then gingerly lifted Harry's hospital gown to reveal the worst bruise. "This is the worst bruise. I think he was kicked a number of times and the impact may have broken the ribs I showed you. Had it been lower his kidney would have been severely damaged if not outright exploded from the punishment." Jodi gently pulled down the hospital gown, tucked Harry back in, and then pushed aside the fringe of hair that hid his curse scar. "This is older than all of the injuries. It's as if someone carved that into him." Jodi looked at Snape over her shoulder. "Do you know who could have hurt Little Lamb so, sir?"

Snape was still staring at the boot-print bruise even though it was now covered. He thought he had an idea who had done this, but that boot print was small, and it had a point. He also knew of a Death Eater that enjoyed using the Cruciatus Curse to torture Muggles with. Bellatrix LeStrange. She was also still at large.

As if against his will Snape touched the boy's colourless cheek. "There are simply bad people in this world, Miss Winfield. I will make certain this does not ever happen again." Turning swiftly, Snape stunned the nurse, caught her in his arms, and gently lowered her to the floor. He then turned to Harry, proceeded to removed the IV and the Respirator. When Harry's breathing stopped Snape did not panic. Using a spell taught to him that morning by Madame Pomfrey he cast the spell, and Harry's lungs began to inflate, and deflate in rhythm.

Catching the boy into his arms Snape felt how light the child was, and wondered if there had been more damage than what Bellatrix had caused. Harry's head flopped to the side, and Snape shifted the child's weight so he could tuck Harry's head against his upper arm. Once he was sure he had him secure he Apparated directly to the Hogwarts Infirmary using the Apparition point that was located in a hidden room of the Infirmary. It was the only place one could Apparate into, and out of.

"Poppy!" he shouted for the Medi-Witch. Choosing a bed he laid Harry down upon it, then cast a Warming Spell over him.

Poppy Pomfrey the Healer at Hogwarts, began to work immediately upon the child. For a moment Snape watched. "Poppy, would you also scan him for a physical medical history?"

She glanced up from her work but her hands kept working without her looking. "Do you expect something else, Severus?" she turned away.

"He's thin, Poppy. Too thin. I want to know how those relatives treated him."

Poppy nodded as she dosed the boy with one of the potions she had set up on a bedside table. "I'll do it, Severus."

"I need to clean up at the hospital and bring any records they made here. Who knows, they might be helpful." Snape went back to the hidden room, and was gone in a breath.

"You poor dear," sighed Poppy as she had her first sight of the terrible bruise on the boy’s hip. She settled Harry into a more natural, Healing Coma, and then made sure after several ministrations that he could breathe on his own.

It took Professor Snape several hours to "clean" the memory of Harry Potter from the minds of everyone he met or who worked on him. His night nurse, Jodi Winfield was the toughest to work upon since she did not have the usual mind that most Muggles had. She had also grown affectionate for the boy. Even so, Snape wiped her memory, and he was done.

When he returned to Hogwarts Harry was on his way to healing although he would need to take a potion for Cruciatus tremors the Potions Master would brew for him; with Harry’s help. Albus Dumbledore knew of all of this but he was not aware of the report that Professor Snape held in his hand; it was the physical history of health he had asked Poppy to do.

Professor Snape sat in one of the visitor's chairs, imbibed the Headmaster's expensive brandy, and watched as the older man read the report.

"What am I to do with this, Severus?" Albus finally concluded as he put down the parchment filled with rather depressing detail of Harry's relatives "great" care of the child.

"Do not send him back there, Albus," Severus replied simply.

"It is not that simple, Severus, and you know it. Hogwarts does not have the necessary protection Harry would need over the Summer. The blood wards are tied to Harry and his Aunt Petunia." He shrugged, and clucked his tongue. "I have no choice, my boy. He is an orphan and therefore he has no relative in our world to keep him safe."

Professor Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, then blurted out before he could bite his tongue, "Then give me guardianship, Albus. I can keep him safe."

The Headmaster smiled, "I am heartened by your offer, Severus, and I am extremely confident that you could fight anyone who would hurt him."

"I would not hurt him, Albus."

Again Albus smiled at the younger man. "I know that you would not, my boy. Unfortunately, you are not his blood, and thus your protection simply would not be strong enough." He sighed knowing that what he would say next would incense the young wizard, "Harry will return to the Dursleys for the Summer." The Headmaster rose from his desk and pressed his hand to the wizard's shoulder. "Until then, Harry will help you to brew his potion, and you will resume your duty to him here."

Professor Snape left the Headmaster's office. It was no use arguing with the old man when his mind was made up. Snape believed that the one thing no one was addressing was the fact that Potter had run away.

Why had the boy run? Was it because of how his family treated him, or some other reason? Professor Snape intended to find out. After all he had promised the memory of Lily that he would watch over her son. That meant Harry was now his priority.

I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 6

Visitors - A Week Later - 29 Sept. 1991

"Good morning, Harry," Harry glanced up from his breakfast to watch as the aged wizard that was the Headmaster of Hogwarts stroll into the Infirmary like visiting royalty. Professor Snape had visited him, but as forbidding as that black-clad wizard could look he at least seemed like a genuine and honest man to Harry.

"Good morning, sir," Harry replied quietly, and politely. He watched as the older man appeared to be scanning all his get-well cards, and gifts of sweets. He had the irrational bloom in his chest that silently warned the old man not to take what was his. It was the instinct of the lowest animal to protect the smallest scrap of food it was thrown when the other animals ate the better food. Harry could not stop the feeling inside him, and so his gaze glittered in warning as he watched the old man like a hawk.

The Headmaster saw the shift of wariness to outright hostility in the child's eyes. He de-fused it by sitting down in the visitor's chair by Harry’s bed, on the other side away from the side-table that held all of the gifts. This caused Harry to look away from those little things, and to concentrate solely on the Headmaster.

"Madame Pomfrey tells me that you are recovering quite quickly. She might even release you today so that you can return to Gryffindor, and your classes. I understand Miss Granger has been doing an adequate job in bringing you up to date?"

Harry nodded. "Hermione has lots of notes. Professor Snape's taught me a few spells."

The Headmaster nodded in approval. The truth was he did not understand this seemingly sudden, and aggressive desire to protect the boy he had noted from Severus since rescuing Harry. It was a marked contrast to how often, before the child had even come to Hogwarts, that Severus had derided the child, and spoke hatefully of James Potter.

"Harry, why did you run from us? Was this world so unsettling to you?" asked Dumbledore benignly.

Harry said nothing. He knew the Headmaster would not understand so he was not going to waste time explaining himself.

Dumbledore could tell he had lost any trust he might once have had with Harry. Allowing the boy to stare at him the Headmaster leaned over to pick up a book Harry had buried his nose in since Professor Snape had given it to him. Harry tried to snatch the book back but the Headmaster held it perfectly out of reach.

"Thin book..." the Headmaster mused as he studied the book. "Important one, though. The Rise & Fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Voldy," muttered Harry. "Professor Snape doesn't like his real name and saying all that... He-Who-Whatever is stupid. I call him Voldy."

Dumbledore nodded approvingly. "Mmm. A nickname that does not show the respect most might afford him, yet saves your tongue the annoyance of the fear that even shows in our newspapers and books." The Headmaster held up the thin volume. "There is much written about the heroes of that first war, Harry. Your parents, Lily and James, for one."

Harry glowered. He had formed an opinion of the witch and wizard that had given birth to him at a dangerous time, then left him; it was not a popular opinion.

"Ahh," smiled Dumbledore as if discerning the child's thoughts. "They were heroes, though, Harry. Foolish, perhaps, in their love for each other, and you, but they were heroes. Three times they defied Voldemort and sabotaged plans he had made, and kept him from harming many Muggles. Regardless of how you may think of Lily and James, they are your parents..."

"Were," Harry corrected sharply.

"They are, Harry. And, you have a responsibility to their memory, to their heroism, to uphold what they began." Dumbledore stood, and to Harry's utter annoyance, the old man patted him on the head like one might do to a dog.

The Headmaster left, quicker than he arrived in order to detain any protest Harry might bring up. As it was, Harry assumed the Headmaster did not hear as he muttered darkly, "I'm not fighting your war for you, sir."

That afternoon Harry was visited by Ron, and his new friend, Hermione Granger. He was relating the visit of the Headmaster to his friends. Ron was entirely sympathetic but Hermione was being altruistic, and noble; like a Gryffindor.

"Dumbledore wasn't being shifty, Harry, he was just telling you the truth. Your parents are heroes," maintained Hermione.

Harry huffed, and rolled his eyes. "Look Hermione. I never said Lily and James weren't heroes. I read about them, okay? They did lots of good but then they had to get selfish and have me right in the middle of a war where they were number one targets. They got killed and left me with the Dursleys." Harry grimaced. He'd never hinted at much about his present situation with his relatives but Professor Snape had insisted that his friends though annoying were trustworthy. Still, Harry was stingy with information about himself that he parted with; and he had yet to straight out and tell anyone about the Dursleys and his life with them.

Ron clarified what Harry was not saying clearly, "The Headmaster wants Harry to kill a dead guy, Hermione. He isn't going to."

Hermione sighed at both boys and buried her nose back in her book. Ron gave Harry a chocolate frog. Both boys munched on the chocolate in silence. Harry voiced his frustration through bites, "I just wish people didn't think I was some hero."

"We' you ah a he'wo," stated Ron after a large bite of chocolate frog. Hermione glared at Ron over the edge of her book for his rudeness in speaking with his mouth full. He shrugged, and smiled showing teeth that were flecked with chocolate. Ron swallowed, then repeated clearer, "But you are a hero."

Harry interrupted. "I know I am, Ron, but why? What'd I do?"

"Killed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," replied Ron matter-of-factly.

Harry's lips thinned, "Ron, Dumbledore says he's coming back, and I have to fight him. So, he wants me to kill a dead guy."

Ron's eyes widened, "He's coming back?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah. So, even though it's really ridiculous to think I, as a baby, killed the strongest, most dangerous wizard in the world, I have to do it a second time because he's coming back."

"Bit silly, that," muttered Ron. "Course, when I think about it, it's all a bit daft you being a baby and with no magic, yet. I think. Did you have magic then, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "I didn't know I had any until Hagrid told me I was a wizard."

"Yeah but you said yesterday that you once flew up to a roof to escape your cousin," reminded Ron.

"I didn't fly, Ron. I was in the street, then just on the roof like..." he waved his hands, "... like poof! There I was. And, I didn't even think of magic. I was just trying to get away from Dudders and his friends who were going to beat me up."

"Well but maybe you did have magic, and you killed him," Ron put forth.

Harry had begun to give up the conversation at that point. "And the dead guy is coming back to kill me cause I killed him. Right."

Hermione Granger, whom Ron had made friends with while Harry had been gone those three weeks, came to visit Harry daily. She did her best to catch him up on classes which generally involved a lot of notes. As Ron and Harry talked she was on the other side reading.

Hermione Granger was a short, bushy-haired girl with muddy-brown eyes, slightly bucked teeth, and always carried a book with her. Ron had told him earlier that she had cracked her head in Defence Against the Dark Arts class but that she was all better. The students had been told by the Headmaster that Penelope Greenwater was at St. Mungo’s. No one but the Headmaster and Madame Pomfrey knew that she was dead.

"Voldemort's not really dead," Hermione said almost apologetically to Harry. He looked towards her to see what she had to add to the conversation.

"So what is he?" asked Harry giving Ron a glare for wincing at Voldy's name. "What happened to him? Did I... poof him?"

"Poof him?" Hermione asked faintly. She then shook her head which made her hair spring all around her. "No, Harry. The Department of Mysteries concluded that it was your mother who hurt Voldemort using 'Mother's Magic'. It protected you by ricocheting the spell he sent at her back at him."

"And, that killed him," said Harry a bit unsure.

"It destroyed his body, or most of it." Hermione opened a large, formidable book that appeared all official with gold leaf, gold stamped binding, and big letters on the cover that spelled out, The Unspeakable Conclusion of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's Death. "Listen..." She began to read:

Mother's Magic is in all women who have given birth. The magic varies but if the child is being hurt or is in danger that Magic increases. Normally it will react by increasing the witch's own naturally occurring magic.  

In the case of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in Godric's Hollow in 1981, 31 October the residual signature of an unprecedented amount of Mother's Magic was left behind. This committee of the Department of Ministry, the Unspeakable Researchers of Magical Phenomena concluded that it was the Mother's Magic of Lily Evans-Potter who feared for the life of her son. It was her Mother's Magic that imbued the helpless Harry Potter with enough magical support to protect himself. The resulting fallout of the great expenditure damaged the body of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and continued by destroying most of Potter dwelling.

Notation: Further analysis could not be completed upon the body of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named since the body was stolen hours after its recovery.

Notation: Subject Harry Potter was not available for analysis but it is believed by this committee that the backlash of the magical protection that killed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named left a scar on the boy’s forehead in the form of the protective rune, Sowelu.

Hermione closed the book. With her pert little nose up in the air, she spoke summarily, "So you see, Harry. It wasn't you that destroyed Voldemort but your mother's own protective magic."

Ron pushed down on Hermione's nose. "Don't do that, 'Mione. You look snotty."

Hermione glared at Ron, brushed the tip of her nose, and then glared at Harry for good measure.

Harry shrugged, and then did so again because he could. "Sounds good, Hermione but I think you're the only one who read that. Everybody else thinks I killed him, and that I'm a hero."

"You were a baby then, Mr. Potter, and you are right that it is foolish for others to believe in a story cocked-up by the Daily Prophet."

"Hello, Professor Snape," Hermione greeted politely. She and the others never heard Snape as he slipped into the Infirmary.

The teacher nodded to the student, "Miss Granger. Have your headaches finally gone?" he inquired solicitously.

Hermione smiled. "None at all today."

Ron, who was still suspicious of Snape, was only polite because both his friends demanded it. "Hi, Professor. Do you know if Harry's getting out today?"

"As a matter of fact, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter is to leave with me. That means you, and Miss Granger either need to get a bit of lunch before the time is over, or prepare to your next class."

Knowing they were being dismissed, Hermione slipped from her chair, kissed Harry's cheek, and grabbed Ron by the hand. He glanced back at his friend, "Later, Harry?"

Harry smiled lightly, and nodded. "Yeah, Ron. I'll see you. Bye, Hermione." He then watched, protectively, as his two friends left.

"Dumbledore was here," Harry said in a monotone. "I think he wants me to fight his war, and to kill Voldy." Harry settled a pleading gaze upon the Potions Master; hoping the man would tell him he was wrong.

"Professor Dumbledore does not expect you to fight the entire war by yourself, Mr. Potter. However, he does expect you to lead it, and he does expect you to slay the Dark Lord."

"I'm not going to," said Harry stubbornly. "Besides, Voldy's dead already."

"Technically it is the Dark Lord's body that is dead, Mr. Potter. After all I was present at the Dissolution. The Dark Lord's spirit was merely separated from his body, and thus we await the return of his spirit to finish what he began."

Harry glared glumly at his toes covered by his hospital bed blanket. Snape tossed a set of folded clothing upon the bed. "I have explained all of this before, Mr. Potter, so stop looking like I hexed your dearest friend. The Dark Lord will return, but you will NOT be fighting or killing him in honour of parents you never knew. Now, get dressed."

Harry grabbed the clothing. "What are we going to be doing, sir?"

"I have decided to enlist your assistance in brewing the potion you will need for Cruciatus after-effects," stated Snape. "Get dressed, and use the loo if you need to."

Harry was so very glad to finally get out of the Infirmary. He grabbed his clothes, threw off the bedcovers, and practically ran to the Infirmary loo, and slammed the door behind him.

"Your exuberance is to be expected, Mr. Potter, but there is no need to act like an undisciplined creature. No running! And, no slamming of doors!" ordered Snape acerbically.

"Yes, sir! Sorry!" yelled Harry from the loo.

I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 7

The Cruciatus After-Effects Relief Potion

Harry sat in the Potions Master's private lab upon a tall stool next to the wizard. His legs dangled and he was kicking his heels against the support dowel until a light touch upon one knee from Professor Snape stopped him. Snape glared pointedly, and handed Harry a sheaf of parchment bound together on one side, and covered with a dragon-hide cover. Harry, marvelling at the journal, saw two initials carved in the lower right corner of the cover.

"H. P." Harry grinned. "This is mine, sir?" asked Harry in obvious disbelief.

Over a week of watching the child recover from injury inflicted by Bellatrix LeStrange, and unknowingly by the Muggle hospital, Snape had many chances to observe Harry's over-abundance of joy when things that ought to normally be his were presented to him. He had nearly wept when Snape had given him an entirely new set of first year textbooks after it was determined that not only had Harry's books gone but so had his trunk, and everything in it. His owl had fortunately gone to owlery upon first arrival to Hogwarts.

A determined investigation with Minerva McGonagall, interviews with Harry's dorm mates, and a by-hand search that tore apart the dorm, turned up nothing. Not even a clue. Harry's books, new robes, parchment, inks, and quills, and his new wand, were all vanished.

Minerva had given Harry a set of ink and quills, while Hermione had given her new friend a roll of parchment. Fred and George Weasley had their old first year robes, and gave those to Harry. They were a touch worn, but they were clean and would do until he could get his own. Ron, not to be left out, used the last of his allowance to get a good-sized bag of owl treats for Hedwig.

All of this had been given to Harry on the fourth day of his recovery at Hogwarts. He had wept. Later, when Snape asked him why he had been so emotional Harry had simply told him that no one had been so nice before, nor had he been given so many gifts at one time.

Snape explained, as he did now, "It is simply a tool to be used to better organise your work." Harry nodded but he was clearly holding back his tears. Snape sighed, "Shall we begin, Mr. Potter?" Snape handed the boy a Never-Ink Quill, and then lightly squeezed his shoulder.

Harry opened his journal and wrote his first sentence: The Cruciatus After-Effects Relief Potion

"The potion is based around the herb scutellaria, also known as the skullcap. I will also show you a very good tea made with crushed skullcap flowers and leaves. For the potion we require mainly the leaf of the skullcap and one flower powdered. Please bring me a size 2 iron cauldron, Mr. Potter." Snape pointed to a shelf that held several sizes of cauldrons, and also cauldrons of different materials. Harry scrambled off the stool, went over to the shelf, and studied all the cauldrons. "Also, bring the dragon-teeth knives, and a set of crystal stirrers."

Harry examined all the supplies, and then he began to choose what was needed. Once he had everything Professor Snape had asked for he carried it all over to the Potions Master.

Snape nodded at the correct cauldron. He was impressed by the boy seeing there was a difference between Hamadryad Teeth Knives and Dragon-Teeth. He was also pleased with the set of crystal stirrers wrapped carefully in supple dragon hide. They were Snape's best stirrers. "Very good, Mr. Potter. Now, use your wand..." Harry gave him a sudden dismayed look. Snape nodded, "I did forget, Mr. Potter. Until we can replace your wand, would you use mine to fill the cauldron with one deca-liter of water." He offered his wand to the boy the way someone might offer a sword to a knight.

"How do I do that, sir?" Harry took his teacher's wand and it suddenly felt heavy, dark, and very powerful. He was almost afraid of the wand.

"Reference the front of your textbook for the proper Latinate measurement charms, Mr. Potter."

Harry opened his book and grinned at the perfect chart that held measurements needed in potion making. He studied the chart, and found what he needed. "Litre una deca," recited Harry.

"Cast Aguamenti as I showed you but add the measurement after the spell to get the correct amount." When he saw Harry starting to point his wand in the air, Snape indicated the cauldron. "Let us not begin with having to mop the floor, Mr. Potter. Aim."

Ignoring the heat in his cheeks, Harry aimed the wand, and said clearly, "Aguamenti litre una deca." The water gushed forth from the tip of his wand and filled the bottom of the cauldron then stopped.

Professor Snape then guided Harry through the full brewing process from simmering the water to dicing the Skullcap leaves, and powdering the Skullcap flower. He also added Chamomile seed, Valerian Root, Passion Flower, and for taste he added a sprig of eucalyptus.

"Generally I am not kind enough to add flavour to a potion in order to remove its usually unpalatable taste," said Snape as he carefully watched Harry stir the potion widdershins 50 times.

"You don't like kids, sir?" asked Harry softly.

"I do not like people, Mr. Potter," replied Snape smoothly.

"You don't like me?" Harry stopped stirring. Catching his hand Snape wrapped his own hand around Harry's to continue the stirring.

Snape captured the green eyes with his own dark ones, and answered solemnly, "You are becoming tolerable, Mr. Potter."

Harry who had been holding his breath, smiled beatifically.

"However, keep in mind Mr. Potter that as far as anyone else is concerned you and I dislike each other immensely," warned Snape.

Harry nodded. "I can do that, sir."

"50," announced Professor Snape.

"We're done, sir?" asked Harry.

Professor Snape nodded as he Summoned a bottle for the potion. "It will need to cool, and then at bedtime, 9 of the clock, you will come to my quarters and drink all of it."

"Your quarters, sir?"

"The first three nights the potion will put you to sleep but it will be a violent sleep of multiple tremors that are washing out of you. You could fall from your bed in your dorm, hurt someone else sleeping there, or it might even manifest your Accidental Magic. It is also not a restful sleep, and that is what the Skullcap Tea is for. It will revive you but not in such a way that it is hard upon the nerves."

Harry was dutifully writing all of this down, and Snape watched, just barely wincing at the child's atrocious penmanship. "I believe you ought to ask Mr. Percy Weasley to aid you with your penmanship. If I receive an essay with that mess, I will most assiduously deduct points from Gryffindor."

"I'll ask, sir." Harry shut his journal, and gingerly handed Snape his wand back. "Thanks for everything, Professor Snape. I'll see you this evening. Bye!"

Harry slipped off his stool, and Snape watched as the boy ran out of the private lab with a spring in his step; something that warmed the wizard to see.

Turning away Snape began to spoon the viscous green potion into the clay bottle.

I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 8

Night Night

Harry did not have classes so he had to wait an awfully long time in the Gryffindor common room for his friends. He skimmed his textbooks but he lingered on his Potions textbook. He was drawn to the old ink drawings but the many recipes for all the potions he would be brewing in his first year at Hogwarts fascinated him. He marvelled that several potions held ingredients that were plants he recalled from a Primary School textbook that were listed as poisonous. It was at that point he opened the journal Professor Snape had given him, and he began to write down all the questions he wanted to ask the professor.

On the fifth question he paused recalling that Professor Snape had reminded him that in public they were to maintain an enmity between them. Harry could pretend to hate the teacher he had begun to have affection for. He was very good at pretending. Just as he had become very good at pretending he was nothing so his family did not see him when they did not want to.

Harry was honest with himself that having to keep such a secret -- that he liked Professor Snape -- bothered him. He wanted everyone to know that there was one adult that liked him just because he was HIM. He also did not quite understand the enmity between himself and Professor Snape. He heard the rumours in Gryffindor tower. Professor Snape was universally reviled as evil, a git, a snake, a vampire, and someone who eats children for fun. To Harry that just meant that students did not like the teacher it would not make him an enemy.

Letting out a sigh he began drawing instead of writing down his questions. He had the quill Professor Snape had given him during the brewing of his potion so there was no stopping to dip the quill into the inkwell.

His lines were sketchy, at first, a vague indication that something of substance was becoming ingrained upon the pages. As he continued Harry let his textbook drop the short distance from his lap to the floor in front of the low coffee table. The lines thickened, lengthened, and Harry was pleasantly lost in his drawing. From memory, and imagination, the drawing grew features that were at first questionable, and then resembled someone the young wizard knew; Harry was drawing himself sitting beside his teacher as they brewed his potion that afternoon.

"Hey, Harry!" both Hermione and Ron's voices chorused together. Hermione sat down on the worn sofa and lugged her bookbag up beside her. Ron dropped his bookbag on the floor, and plopped down beside his friend at the coffee table. Ron studied the drawing.

"That's good, Harry," Ron appreciated. "You got Snape right scary."

"Scary?" asked Harry a touch disappointed. He thought Professor Snape just looked serious; not scary.

Hermione leaned over to look at the drawing. "That's not scary, Ron, that's just thoughtful." She smiled at Harry and handed him a large bundle of notes -- for today.

"Thanks, Hermione," said Harry gratefully. He closed the journal and rolled out the notes Hermione had taken. She was like an encyclopedia when she took notes.

"Did you have fun brewing your potion with Professor Snape, Harry?" asked Hermione politely. Ron immediately snorted at anyone having fun brewing potions. Hermione glared at him.

"He really made it all make sense, Hermione," Harry replied simply.

Ron interrupted, "Snape won't let Hermione answer any questions in class and she knows everything!"

Harry looked up at Hermione who had opened a book and was now doing a very good imitation of not hearing them talk.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" asked Harry.

"Ron's right," she muttered. "And, I don't know why he keeps taking points from me."

"Yeah," agreed Ron unhelpfully, "Snape took 50 in total from 'Mione today."

Hermione's brow furrowed as she buried herself deeper into her textbook. She really was trying to read the paragraph on the connection between manifestation and visualisation in Transfiguration.

"50 points?" asked Harry with dismay. He stood resolutely. "I'll ask him about that."

Ron grabbed Harry's sleeve, "He'll just take more points if you bother him, Harry!"

Harry yanked his sleeve free from Ron's grasp. "I'm not going to bother him. Professor Snape told me I'd have to sleep in his quarters tonight. So, I can ask him." Harry strode away from his friends as they both stared at him.

Hermione kicked Ron with the toe of her black patent leather Mary Janes. 'Go stop him!' she mouthed as Ron rubbed his shoulder indignantly.

Ron suddenly understood Hermione so he pushed himself up, and rushed after his friend. Harry had stepped through the Gryffindor tower portrait door just minutes before Ron reached it. He pushed through, and followed after Harry.

************************

Harry went down to the dungeons, and promptly got lost. Knowing he should not wander and make things worse, he sat down, wrapped his robes tight about himself, curled up since it was chilly, and hoped someone would find him.

************************

Ron had his map. First years were always given a map that pointed out their classes and main areas of the castle: the Entrance Hall, the Great Hall, the four Houses, teachers offices, the Headmaster's tower, and the library. Each year the student would be given new maps to introduce new areas but no student had any map that showed every area of Hogwarts.

Ron studied his map, and then jogged down into the dungeons to Snape's office. He did not think Harry had gotten so far ahead of him, but he stuck to his path, and before he knew it he was standing in the torch lit area of the dungeon where the Potions Master's office was.

Trying the door, Ron found the door locked. A sign helpfully appeared in front of his eyes that showed Professor Snape's hours. In picque Ron smacked the sign and was startled when the sign smacked him in the side of the head, and faded away.

"Bloody sign," muttered Ron. Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand to knock, and he squeaked as the door opened sharply to reveal the tall wizard who blended perfectly in the shadows but for slashes of white at his neck and cuffs, and the pale skin of his face and hands.

"Mr. Weasley, what are you seeking down in my dungeons?" asked the awfully tall teacher who did not look at all happy to be disturbed at this hour.

Ron had to crane his neck to look up at Professor Snape but he did not let the man's intimidating mien send him back to Gryffindor. "Professor Snape! Uhm... I came down to find Harry. He left Gryffindor tower and... seemed kind of upset, sir."

"And why, pray tell me, Mr. Weasley, would Mr. Potter venture down into an area he has no business being?" asked Professor Snape with barely controlled civility. He gave no sign that he himself was wondering where the wandering child was.

Ron huffed, and then blurted, "Harry said he was coming down here. So, is he here or not?" A second later he added, "Sir."

Professor Snape's eyes narrowed and his lip curled into a sneer at the redhead's attitude. Summoning his teaching robes, and throwing them over his shoulder he strode out of his office and into the corridor. Without a word to Ron he began his search. For a moment Ron stayed incredulously where he was then he broke into a jog that had him catch up to the decisive, whiptail figure of his teacher.

*****************************

Harry was seated on the cold floor of a corridor down in the dungeons, curled up tight against the cool air. It did not help. The chill had seeped into his bones, and he could swear his blood was freezing. The irrational imperative to get up, and wander, hit him very hard but Harry knew, deep down, that if he moved he had no idea where he was going and if anyone were searching for him they might never find him.

Pulling his robe collar over his head Harry buried himself as deep as he could in his robes. He thought again of Privet Drive #4. It was hardly an ideal place; his uncle yelled, his aunt would hit if he was not such a speedy boy, and Dudley always beat him up. He did not eat a lot, and he was worked to the bone, but he could honestly say that he never froze in his little cupboard beneath the stairs. Whatever Aunt Petunia thought of him, when she did think of her nephew, she washed his blankets and sheets, and pillow. He wore Dudley’s hand-me-downs but at least he had clothes.

No, it was not horrible, awful, or what-not but it was lonely, and here at Hogwarts, if anything he had made two friends; three if you counted Professor Snape. He was an adult, though, and a teacher, so maybe he could not be a friend.

Under cover of his robe Harry's eyes closed, and he breathed the warm air from his mouth onto his hands. Silently he prayed to whomever might be listening to lost little boys that he would be found before he became a popsicle.

*************************

"Sir, I'm tired," complained Ron after an hour of half-jogging and half-running to keep up with the Potions Master. Ron stopped where he was (he thought they could have walked to New Zealand underground by now) and leaned against the wall.

Professor Snape stopped in mid-stride to glare at the whelp behind him. The glare was useless, though, because Ron was looking down at his shoes. He was either going to fall down, or go to sleep where he leaned against the wall. Snape did not care for the position he was in. He knew the dungeons were not safe to wander in, not even for his seasoned Slytherins. Yet, one Gryffindor was down her, definitely lost, and now his redheaded friend was about to give up.

Making his decision, Snape stepped firmly over to the child, picked him up, ignored the yelp he emitted, and cast a Feather-Light Charm on him as he settled the boy upon his hip.

"What are you doing, Snape?!" Ron wriggled and tried to slip out of the older man's grip but could not. Professor Snape had an iron grip!

"I made the mistake of not sending you directly back to Gryffindor tower, Mr. Weasley, thus I am saddled with you, and your erstwhile friend once we find him. When I do find him I shall take him back to my quarters and leave you behind under a Warming Charm. Then, I shall come back for you. In the meantime, I do not want to hear a sound from you. Is all of that clear, Mr. Weasley?"

Ron slumped but eyed his teacher's dark gaze in the flickering yet dim light of the torches in this corridor. He nodded, and said nothing. Professor Snape shifted the child, assured himself he was secure, and then continued his search.

I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 9

Rescued!

Harry awoke to the sound of flames crackling, a soft surface beneath him, and a very thick, very warm, very soft blanket. Harry snuggled into the dream, for it must be a dream. Right?

"Mr. Potter, I know that you are awake."

The familiar voice of Professor Snape seeped into all of Harry's warmth and pushed away at the dreaminess of his sleep. Harry turned slightly to open his eyes, and to blink blearily at the dark smudge of his teacher.

"Sir?" asked Harry muzzily.

"Sit up, Mr. Potter..."

"How come you're not calling me Harry anymore, sir?" he asked. He had gotten used to his teacher calling him by name in the Infirmary. He did not like being 'Mr. Potter' again.

"Harry. Do sit up, please. You need to take your potion," Professor Snape conceded and held out the dark brown bottle that held his Cruciatus After-Effects Relief Potion.

Harry shifted until he was sitting up, and found himself on an old green velvet sofa before the fire of a cosy sitting room. Looking around he saw that the fire cast warm light in front of it, and this light was picked up by oil lanterns interspersed around the sitting room in strategic places.

"This is nice," said Harry as he took the potion from Snape.

"I am pleased you approve, Harry," smirked the wizard with a gentleness Harry had only seen in the Hogwarts Infirmary. "Now." He nodded at the potion. "Drink up."

Harry nodded slowly. He knew that mint had been brewed into the potion for flavour but he was still hesitant. He took a deep breath, plugged his nostrils with his left hand, and as fast as he could he downed the potion.

He coughed. The mint was like a flood of flavour to his tongue and seemed to sparkle up, and through his forehead. He closed his eyes and flopped back against the arm of the couch just as the mint was followed by a taste he could only describe as 'chalky, dead squirrel'.

"Ick!" complained Harry.

Professor Snape chuckled, and took the potion bottle from the boy's hand. "Just imagine what it would have tasted like had I not added the mint."

Harry, who was feeling a touch dizzy, did not open his eyes as he asked, "Sir, I think I should have asked you sooner but what is going to happen now?"

Professor Snape sat down in his chair, and with a wave of his hand the oil lamps all dimmed. "The potion is a 'forceful expurgative' meaning..." He put a pair of dark copper-framed spectacles on the end of his nose, and opened the latest edition of Ars Alchemica. "...the potion will cause any and all after-effects to be expelled from your body. As this is a tiring process, for you, the procedure is three minor doses just before bedtime."

"Why am I here, sir?" asked Harry. A sudden frisson of fear heated his blood, and chilled his spine. His fingers wrapped tightly around the folds of the blanket. He felt a cool hand lower upon one of his.

"I am here because this is not only hard upon your body but frightening. I am here..." Harry, eyes still closed, could hear the slight hesitation in the man's words. He held his own breath. "... for you." Harry felt the professor's hand slip away from his and he heard what he had not before: the rustle of the man's robes, and the squeak of the worn leather of his chair as he settled into it. "Try to sleep, Harry, for now. The rest of our night will be terribly busy."

*************************

"Terribly busy...!" Harry muttered at the two over easy eggs, and three slices of bacon that sat on a table in Professor Snape's quarters before him. Insteading of indulging he let his head drop to his arms.

"Eat, Harry. You need your strength."

"I wanna sleep," Harry's voice mumbled from his arms.

"You are welcome to sleep on my sofa but you will be missing the first day of your classes. Which do you wish, Mr. Potter?" asked Snape. He was not unsympathetic. He was very aware that the expurgation process was an arduous one; Harry had twitched and trembled nearly all night. He had caught him when the trembling had become so rough it tossed the child from the sofa. By six in the morning he fell into an exhausted sleep that only lasted an hour since both had to ready themselves for school. Harry had the additional sense of a hangover-like feeling and there was naught to do but to eat. "Whatever you decide, eat your breakfast."

Harry slowly lifted his head, his fork, and stuck it leadenly into one of the eggs. He took a few bites, and ate a piece of bacon, and felt markedly better. "I'll go to classes, sir. I didn't bring my books, and stuff, though..." Professor Snape merely pointed to a brand new bookbag that sat in the corner by the fireplace. Harry smiled with a shake of his head, and ate another piece of bacon.

****************************

Classes were difficult but nothing that Hermione had not prepared Harry for. He was a month off schedule but every teacher had prepared quizzes and practicals for him to work on when he was not in class. The only class he was woefully unprepared for was Potions.

Harry arrived promptly with his friends, and settled between Hermione and Ron before Potions began. Harry looked around so he could see what the classroom looked like.

The Potions Classroom was dim, lit by a series of sconces that held oil lamps that glowed orange or yellow through their thin, amber shades. All surfaces were clean as though they had been scrubbed to within an inch of their lives. Shelves along nearly all the walls held cauldrons, pipettes, stirrers, and knives, and more that were needed in a classroom situation for brewing potions. There were charts on the walls that were copies of ones that Harry had seen in Professor Snape's private lab.

There was a lecture dais that was ascended by two stone steps that led up to a large, worn desk, and next to that was a tall, wide blackboard filled with script that Harry was already learning to identify as his teacher's.

"Quiet!" the dour, firm voice was underlined by the door to the classroom shutting with an echoing thud. Any low babbling amongst the students vanished.

Professor Snape strode swiftly up towards his desk, and then stopped. With cool malice he turned a quarter so that he could look down the row that held Harry and his friends.

"Ah," sneered Professor Snape as his glittering, black gaze held the emerald innocence of Harry's eyes. "Our. New. Celebrity. Harry Potter." Professor Snape dramatically strolled up the aisle to stop so he could tower over the small boy. His intimidation was met by smug tittering from the Slytherins.

Harry did not smile up at his teacher but the sheer hatred he saw in the man's eyes confused him and worried him. When Professor Snape leaned down over him Harry did his best to shrink down towards the bench.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter, what will I get if I add Powdered Root of Asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood?"

"I don't know, sir," replied Harry softly.

Professor Snape irritatedly motioned for Ron to move away, and he sat down beside the small boy. Harry gulped but faced his teacher, and scanned his eyes hoping for... for what? The Potions Master snapped, "Where would you look if I tell you to find me a Bezoar?"

Harry hesitated, then replied, "I-I don't know."

Professor Snape leaned in even closer causing Harry to push back against Hermione in an attempt to escape. "What is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?"

Harry shook his head. He was now, officially, completely flummoxed, and scared of his teacher.

"I know the answers, Professor Snape!" cried Hermione. She did know. She really did.

Professor Snape glared at the girl, lifted himself from the bench, and strode up to his desk. "Put your hand down you silly, little girl.” He ordered Hermione. Professor Snape then gazed derisively around his classroom. “No one knows? One month of classes, and no one knows the answer?" He turned sharply, and his glare cowed every student in his class including his Slytherins. He raised an eyebrow, sighed, and crossed his arms over his chest. "Powdered root of asphodel infused in Wormwood will create a sleeping potion so powerful that it is known as the Draught of Sleeping Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat. As for Monkshood and Wolfsbane, they are the same and are also known as... aconite." As his dark glare deepened there came a shuffling as all the students bent to their journals to record what their teacher had just told them.

Harry made no move to do anything. He felt frozen. It was only when Hermione pinched his forearm, and hissed at him to get to work, that he pulled out his journal, and began to write his notes.

At the end of a long lecture where Harry heard little as he made plans, once again, to leave Hogwarts, Professor Snape assigned essays on those three questions he asked. He then dismissed his class.

All the students, including the Slytherins, were anxious to leave Potions and to end their day by racing to the Great Hall for dinner. Harry was slow, though, and Ron and Hermione did not hurry him, but tried to wait.

"Leave Miss Granger, and Mr. Weasley. Mr. Potter, sit down. You will not be leaving just yet," order Professor Snape from his desk.

"We'll see you at supper, mate," Ron said quickly to Harry before being yanked out of the classroom by Hermione.

Harry nodded to Ron but only after his friend left. He stayed on his bench and stared at his desk. He was only vaguely aware of the classroom door thudding shut.

"Mr. Potter."

Harry said nothing.

A shadow fell over Harry.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up, and exploded, "YOU HATE ME!"

I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 10

"You hate me!" yelled Harry as he struck out with his fists to hit him.

Professor Snape caught the child's fists before they connected, and he straddled the bench to sit by him. "Harry! Control yourself."

Harry sniffled but he would not cry. He never cried and he would not start now. "You hate me..." he sighed as he tried to yank his hands back. Professor Snape would not let go.

"I do not hate you, Harry," Professor Snape said firmly. "Did I not tell you as we brewed your potion that we could not show ourselves as friends in public?"

Harry gulped back a lump of tears, and nodded. "But, you made me look stupid, and you let everyone laugh at me, and..." he looked up into the man's eyes and saw there the gentleness he had gotten used to. "M-my aunt and uncle hate me, and they look just like... just like... you did." His voice hitched and he turned away since he knew he was not going to be able to hold back his emotions anymore. He was so very confused because what had happened in class was nothing at all like he expected.

Professor Snape let go of Harry's fists and the boy scooted away from him, and put his head down on his arms. He was curled up in the best way he knew how to escape. Snape cringed. It hurt. Deep down inside himself the Potions Master felt pain at witnessing the child's pain.

The last few days Snape had tried to keep his distance from the child; kind but not inviting. Obviously Harry had not seen his actions in the manner he had meant them to be. Harry had not been play-acting to help keep up the falsity that they were enemies; he had truly, and deeply so, been hurt.

"Harry." The boy would not move. Snape softened his voice; the one Harry had known as Professor Snape would read to him late at night in the Infirmary when nightmares woke him. "Harry... please face me."

Slowly Harry raised his head. He was mortified as tears had escaped his control and were now coursing down his cheeks. He refused to look at his teacher.

Snape hissed as he saw the boy's tears, and Harry, mistaking the sound for anger, flinched. "Harry... dear child..." sighed Snape with all the frustration the child's distress had awakened in him. "I truly do not hate you. I never meant for you to feel as you do now. Harry, I..." Professor Snape rolled his eyes skyward. What else was he to do? He rarely had to comfort any of his Snakes because that was a job he gave to the prefects. The first years, though... such small children who had been excited by the day but were met at night with homesickness where they missed parents, little brothers and sisters. The first night was never one that his prefects could entirely handle themselves, and so he often spent that night awake visiting those small first years, and comforting them the only way he could.

It had never occurred to him that Harry, although not one of his Slytherins, was a first year, an eleven year old boy. He had been thrust into a life of excitement that had soured all too quickly and impelled him to seek a way to his family’s home because that offered him something he was accustomed to. It was to the child's misfortune that he left Hogwart's protection, and was discovered by the mad Bellatrix who played with him in her manner of punishment for a crime he had never committed. The only silver lining in that cloud was that the witch had left him for dead, and he was found by Muggles who did their best to take care of him.

Snape hated the sorrow he felt within but he pushed it aside. There was a child before him who was hurting, who might even have become frightened of him. "Harry, would you come here?"

Harry sniffled and watched as his teacher opened his arms in invitation. Harry wanted what was so difficult for the older man to offer but he was hesitant. If he accepted the professor's apology it would open him up as well, and he was always so careful. Harry eyed the man’s open arms but he did not move any closer. With a roll of his eyes Professor Snape enfolded the boy in his arms. He stiffened but he did not move or fight to be free.

The professor had hoped for some weeping but Harry just remained still and quiet. After a too brief moment Harry pulled sharply away.

“Thanks, sir. Hermione and Ron are waiting for me.” Without a by-your-leave Harry grabbed his bookbag and ran out of the classroom.

Snape watched the boy leave, and realised that he ached with the child’s sudden departure. He had comforted other children, his Snakes, but for this one time a child felt right in his arms and he doubted that all he had imparted to Harry was discomfort.

Snape felt an old wound open from his past; he knew he was lost. He could not serve this child as he had intended; not yet, perhaps. Even so, Snape vowed in silence that he would be the one adult Harry could count on; the one adult he could truly trust.

Harry met up with his friends in the Great Hall. Lunch was nearly over but he grabbed an apple and some milk to tide him over until dinner. The last class of the day was History of Magic with a lecture Harry knew he would hear many times over the next seven years. He had smiled then, right in the middle of the ghostly Professor Bins lecture; it was the first time he thought of staying at Hogwarts longer than the rest of the term. He attributed his change of thought to his Potions professor; he understood. Somehow he not only understood Harry but accepted that he was just a boy. Harry decided that if Professor Snape offered to hold him again he would not react the way he had done so that afternoon.

“Harry?” asked Hermione as she glimpsed his smile. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah, Hermione.”

“Good. Listen to the lecture and take notes, now,” she verbally nudged.

Harry chuckled softly, and began to write.

Dinner that evening went as it should, and near the end of the meal a house elf popped up beside him, and handed him a note. He would meet his professor at his private lab to help him brew the second dose of his Cruciatus After-effects Relief Potion.

In the private lab as they brewed Harry dutifully made notes but every once in awhile he slipped and scribbled a doodle in the margin of his journal. One doodle captivated his attention and before he realised it he was taken away by the slight tapping of an inquiring finger upon his shoulder. Harry glanced up at his professor.

“Sorry, sir! I know I should be…”

“What are you drawing, Harry?” Professor Snape glanced into the journal. At some point the boy had gone back over his notes, emphasised areas, and added decorative touches such as 3D looking boxes, or boxes with little animal faces, or were dripping with vines. It was aesthetically charming without taking away what the journal was.

“Uhm… my potion. That’s not too hard but I wanted to get your hands just… well… it’s just a doodle,” he sighed. He wished he had not drawn anything on the pages.

“That is not a doodle just because it is small.” Professor Snape compared his hand to the one Harry had been working over. “You’ve done well.”

“Thank you, sir.” Harry kept his smile small but inside he was jumping and yelling with delight. A grown-up liked his drawing!

“However, while we are here working, please stick to note-taking. Later you may add your… embellishments,” clarified Professor Snape.

“Notes. Yes, sir!” Harry returned to his note taking and listening to his professor. For the remainder of that time both were quiet unless Professor Snape had information to impart.

When the evening was near its end the Potions Master released his student to return to his tower, his friends, and to do his homework. Harry hesitated, though.

After a moment his voice piped up, “Professor Snape can I… would you mind if I… uhm… did my homework in your home before bed?” Harry lifted his chin to bravely meet the older wizard’s implacable gaze. Hopefully he added, “Please, sir? I’ll be very quiet.”

The Potions Master, inwardly, was delighted with the request but he did not let his emotions show. Instead he appeared to be thinking over what the boy had asked. Snape nodded. “It would be more convenient. I will not aid you in your homework, though. Do you understand, Harry?”

Harry nodded, and smiled. “That’s fine, sir. Thank you!”

Curfew ticked over at 10 in the evening. Harry was working diligently on his Charms essay. He was seated on the floor, before the fire, and he had all his notes, parchment, inkwell, quills, and textbooks spread all over the coffee table. Professor Snape was opposite in the sitting room at a smaller version of his classroom desk grading quizzes he had given to his upper level classes. He stopped, to see if Harry needed him, when he heard the boy shuffling. Harry was only removing his school robes since he was warming nicely with the flames in the fireplace at his back.

Harry did not notice the sudden scrutiny of his teacher who was taking in the poor state of the boy's clothing. Jeans and shirt were obviously hand-me-downs as they did not fit Harry. It was then that Snape realised the boy had a general scruffiness to him that Professor Snape had attributed to genes inherited from his equally scruffy father, James. However, this was the affected appearance of a child who had never been given clothing that truly belonged to him, and fitted. Snape also noticed that Harry was squinting through his glasses at his work, and he wore trainers, instead of uniform half-boots, that had seen loftier days. A shoelace was broken, and the rubber side on the other shoe was starting to peel away.

"Harry, did you purchase clothing for school beyond your robes?" Snape suddenly asked.

Harry glanced up from his work. "I only had enough for my books, my wand, and my robes, sir." He then shrugged. “Then it all disappeared. I haven’t been back for anything, yet, and since all my books, and stuff were new…” Harry glanced up with a sudden thought. “Where did all my stuff go?”

“You do not know?” asked Snape. He knew the boy’s wand was gone; it was the first clue he had found in the Forbidden Forest that showed he had been abducted from there because the Potions Master had found the broken wand. There had been nothing else, though.

“Well, to be honest, sir, it was Ron that told me it was all gone. He said a house elf came the second week I was gone and took my trunk. I haven’t been to the dorm since and then you showed me a book bag with all new books, quills, ink, and parchment.”

“Curiouser and curiouser,” muttered Professor Snape. He knew the house elves were overseen by the Headmaster. Had Albus a hand in the disappearance of the trunk?

Snape would speak to the Headmaster later. The more immediate problem were the child’s clothes and his need for a new wand. "Surely your parents left you more money than just your wand and school supplies required?"

Harry stood up. He tentatively walked over to his teacher's desk and then began playing with the nearest corner of it. "The goblin at Gringotts told me I had enough for all my school stuff but that my wand would be the most expensive, and it was. It took all the money I had left. I don’t know if there’s anymore. An’ well, I just didn’t want to bother anyone."

"You do need a new wand," reminded Snape who had let the boy use his as they brewed.

"Yeah. The crazy witch broke it, and then she threw it away. I think she was trying to make me upset about that and when I wasn't she..." Harry rubbed his cheek where the crazy witch had slashed the soft flesh with her dagger. "Professor McGonagall said I'd need a new wand but I don't have any money left for one. Ron told me I could share his." Harry smiled brightly but just for a moment.

Snape shook his head. "Tomorrow afternoon I do not have any classes, Harry. I shall write a note to your teachers for the classes you will miss and we shall get you a new wand, and some suitable clothing."

"But I can't, sir!" protested Harry. "I don't have any money and I'm pretty sure my uncle won't give me any."

"Return to your work, Harry. I believe the Headmaster may have an answer to the problem." Snape put down his quill, made sure that he directed Harry back to his table of work, and then he Floo'd to the Headmaster's office. Harry marvelled at the little bit of travel through green flames but then tamped down that feeling. Magic was really kind of neat but this world was so… complicated.

I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 11

"Severus!" greeted the Headmaster as the younger wizard emerged through the Floo. "How is our Harry doing?"

Snape sneered, and took one of the visitors' chairs near the Headmaster's desk. "'Our Harry' is doing his homework in my sitting room, Albus. In clothing I would not let Fang chew apart."

Albus frowned but the twinkle in his eyes did not diminish. "Play clothes, Severus?"

"Hand-me-downs, Albus. From a cousin twice his size. Clothing such as he has only ever worn. He tells me he did not have enough money to purchase anything beyond what was required for school; new clothing was not on the list." Professor Snape spoke tightly yet did his best to keep his anger beneath the surface of his features.

"I released only the amount of galleons Harry would need for his school supplies. I was not aware that more would be needed. Did his aunt and uncle not..."

Snape interrupted the Headmaster sharply, "His relatives give no consideration to the child beyond what they must, Albus. He wears what he had last been... allotted." Snape waved away the protest that lingered on the older man's lips. Albus closed his mouth, and said nothing. “I am concerned that Harry does not have access to the Potters' estate in Gringotts. Unless my memory is mistaken, James Potter came from a very wealthy family."

"Harry, Severus?" asked Albus with interest that had little to do with what Professor Snape was implying.

Snape's eyes narrowed as he eyed his employer. "Albus, I would like to know why the boy does not have access to what is rightfully his."

"But he does, Severus. Harry need only ask for the key to his family vault," Albus shrugged slightly. "He simply has not asked for it."

"I sincerely doubt the boy knows he has a key, nor that he can ask for it, Albus. Harry does not think of his parents and it appears that it has never crossed his mind that they might have left something for him beyond a dubious family in the Muggle world." Snape rose from his chair. "I should like to rectify this matter of the boy's inheritance. Would you give me his key so that I may pass it on to him?"

“I should like to, Severus, but as the legal guardian to Harry in our world I am not allowed to pass the key onto anyone other than its rightful owner.” His eyes twinkled smugly. “You will bring the boy here, so I may visit with him, and I shall bestow upon him the key to his vault.”

Snape's lips thinned as the twinkle in the old man's baby blue eyes increased; even worse was the small, smug smile that followed. As if the Headmaster had won against a Slytherin.

So it seemed, Albus had. "I shall bring Harry forthwith, Headmaster." Professor Snape bowed deferentially but paused as he held the Floo powder in his hand. “Albus, Harry tells me that his school trunk was taken by an elf the second week he was gone. Did you have anything to do with that?”

The Headmaster rose and walked over to Fawkes. He began to stroke the Phoenix’s feathers. Fawkes began to trill a gentle song to ease the tension between the two wizards. “I was rather certain that Harry had returned home and so I had the trunk returned to the Dursleys. As they said nothing to me, I had assumed…”

Snape’s lips thinned. He felt calmer but Fawkes’ song did not eliminate the anger that was growing inside him. “You… assumed. Did you also assume that a child had the ability to cross the wards around the Forbidden Forest and to return himself to a home that is in Little Whinging in England and we are in Scotland? What were you thinking, Albus?”

“That Harry is the son of James and Lily; inarguably two of the most clever and powerful witch and wizard of the…”

Snape interrupted with a snort. “You were the one to perpetuate that legend, Albus. Who would ever argue with the great Albus Dumbledore?”

“You, it appears,” drawled the Headmaster heatedly. Snape fumed silently. “He is a child of great power, Severus. His magic manifested at the age of five according to a report I received from Arabella Figg who watched over him for me. Furthermore, and shown in the medical scan of past history you had Poppy do on the child he healed his own childhood injuries. Proof that he was well beyond either of his parents in the use of his magic.”

“Instinct, Albus!” shouted Snape. “The wielding of instinctual magic is not an indication of control. We teach this to our first year students. Mothers know of this. Instinctual Magic is as unpredictable as Accidental Magic. Even Squibs are recorded as having reserves of magic that work as Accidental Magic does.” He dropped into a nearby chair. He could feel tension mounting in his head, and he knew it would blossom into a first class migraine; very soon.

He then continued softly since the stubborn, older wizard had said nothing to his tirade. “Harry healed broken bones and numerous scrapes, and burns that Poppy said were more than a child ought to accumulate. His magic had become instinctual as a way of keeping himself safe from a family he has said hated him. Albus, has no one, and I include myself, ever asked Harry why he ran away from Hogwarts?”

“There was no need to ask why he ran, Severus,” replied the Headmaster simply. “Harry was found, and you brought him back to us. It was enough that he told us of Bellatrix Lestrange.”

“I told you of Bellatrix Lestrange, Headmaster,” Snape corrected wearily. “I am certain you recall standing next to me in the Infirmary, with Madame Pomfrey as witness, as I Legilimised the unconscious boy in an effort to learn what had caused the trauma to his body.”

To Professor Snape’s surprise and consternation Albus denied the truth. “I distinctly recall that it was Harry himself who told me about Bellatrix Lestrange. If you insist, I shall show you the very memory.”

Snape shook his head. He could not dispute a memory; even one that had been manufactured by false belief. Not to the wizard that believed otherwise.

“Albus, I do think we ought to consider that Harry ran away from Hogwarts...” Professor Snape began to pace. “Yet, he would choose a questionable home-life over that of Hogwarts. Why?”

“Severus, you have taken the word of a child over an adult who has had the responsibility of babysitting him over the course of eleven years,” he insisted solemnly. The Headmaster tapped his finger tips rhythmically together. “Arabella Figg never said anything about abuse of Harry at the hands of his relatives or even primary school bullies.”

Snape stopped pacing as he took a moment to stare at the Headmaster. How many times as a student had another teacher warned Albus that other students were unfairly bullying Severus Snape? Snape knew -- one. His fondness for Minerva McGonagall came when he learned, through Hogwarts written records, that the Head of Hogwarts had spoken to, and complained, of her students, and students in other classes harassing him. An adult had reported incidents of abuse (never mind those that came to him directly such as a certain incident in the Shrieking Shack in his sixth year) and Albus Dumbledore had routinely ignored them.

If this Arabella Figg had ever said anything to Albus Snape deeply doubted he would do anything about it.

“You met with the boy the night of the Welcoming Feast, Albus. Coincidentally the night he ran away,” Professor Snape stood against the edge of the Headmaster’s desk in an effort to be intimidating. “What did you say to him?”

“Nothing to make the child run, Severus,” Albus defended himself. “I merely spoke to him of his parents. I doubted Petunia ever did since she was prevented in telling Harry the truth of our world. I only wanted Harry to know that James and Lily were important figures in our world and that he should be proud to uphold the work they had done.”

Snape gave him a narrow-eyed glare. “I doubt what you said was so kind-hearted, Albus. It is always about duty and responsibility with you.” Smugly, yet bitterly he added, “This is why you never would have got on in Slytherin, Albus. You think everyone acts and reacts as you do, as a Gryffindor does. You do not know how to read people beyond the surface they show you.”

“And this is why you often give me a headache, Severus,” the Headmaster pinched the bridge of his nose, and removed his spectacles. “Harry ought to know of, and to be proud of, his parents. He is thought highly of in our world, and he needed to understand that he is taking upon the mantle of greatness in this war.”

He’s a CHILD! Albus! Harry is a child.” Snape was once again becoming frustrated with the Headmaster. He glared at the wizard, scooped up a portion of Floo powder and threw it into the flames that waited. “Harry is a little boy, Albus, and you would do well to think of this when you try to burden him with adult ideals and responsibilities.” With a snap of his robes, he stepped into the green flames as he muttered, “Professor Snape’s quarters.” His face wavered greenly as he looked over his shoulder from within the flames. “Mark my words, Albus, Harry will not be your hero.”

After the Potions Master had left his sitting room Harry had watched the green flames fade from that vibrant colour into the warmth emanating red, orange, and yellow. Crossing his arms over his work he dropped his chin onto his forearms. He stared towards the fire but his mind was staring upon a scene he had told no one about that was etched forever within the walls of his mind; being tortured by a mad woman.

Back to the Day Harry Ran Away

Harry had fairly flown through the black trees that made up the Forbidden Forest. He was a boy who was fleet of foot when he needed to be, and his only thought was to get away from Hogwarts, and the world of magic, as quickly as possible. However, most of the running he ever did was from his cousin Dudley and that used to be among the streets that surrounded Privet Drive. The forest consisted of uneven ground, broken twigs and tree limbs fallen, pebbles and rocks, and there were evil vines everywhere that kept reaching for Harry's ankles in an effort to catch him. He had no idea that the vine was a semi-sentient thing known as Devil's Snare.

Devil's Snare to the knowing was a vine of broad leaves and tiny thorns that generally was benign unless it was stirred up by strong, emotional upset. And, of course, Harry was just that.

When he fell the Devil's Snare had wrapped around one foot, and headed for the second as soon as he thumped hard to the floor of the forest. Tears welled up in his eyes but he kept them from falling.

His goal of Privet Drive still uppermost in his mind Harry tried to kick the vine off but only found it crawling inexorably further up his legs. Just as he wanted to panic a wicked laugh tripped through the forest.

"ickle Harry Potter! Expelliarmus!”

Harry felt his wand in his back pocket leave. Frantic he looked around and realised his glasses had fallen off his face when he had fallen. His hands felt around him in a frenzy until he felt the familiar frames. Wrapping his fingers around them he shoved them onto his face, and hoped to see something but there was nothing. Only that thin high-pitched laughter thrumming around him.

"Is the ickle baby all upset? Does baby hero want his deady-dead mummy?" the cackle came so close to Harry's ear that he cried out with a yelp, and tried to scramble away. “No need for this, Potty!”

Harry saw his wand hovering some distance away from him. It bent, snappe, and then fell as though lifeless to the ground. He sensed that the mad spirit that had him wanted him to be upset over the loss of his wand but he had it for such a short time, and had only created sparkles with it, that he had no real connection to it.

Skeletal fingers grabbed Harry by the hair, and he screamed. He shut his mouth when the hand jerked his head painfully, and pulled him over the stony, mossy ground. Another hand met the first, and before he could fully register it Harry was dragged up onto his feet, and something sharp and painful whipped across his cheek. Fetid breath, and black and grey teeth of a terrible witch screeched in his face.

“Pain, little boy! You will suffer for what you did to my master!” For emphasis she screeched at him.

He felt his stomach twist and turn violently and when the sensation of his navel being yanked through his back ended, he retched violently.

The witch laughed and pushed him so hard he fell back on his tailbone. His glasses were askew but he could still see the witch that crouched in front of him. She was clad in a tattered sheath of black that might have been a dress of some worth once upon a day. Dirt smudged her cheeks, hands, and face and she had that hollow look of someone who was barely surviving. Her eyes of deep sapphire held sickness and madness in them and this was only accentuated by a curly bushiness of black upon her head that was tangled with Devil's Snare that had made her hair its symbiotic home.

With her bent wand pointed at him with all the fury of her madness she slowly circled him. "You killed my master... my sweet master... you vile child." She grinned revealing those horrid black and grey teeth, and laughed. "How fortunate that Fate brought ickle Harry Potter, murderer of Lord Voldemort, to me. CRUCIO!"

Harry screamed and writhed as all his nerve ending burst into flames of pain. Again and again she shouted the strange word at him and whipped her wand at him. Each casting brought further pain that twisted him. His feet beat against the earth, his head and neck met the vicious edges of rocks several times.

Then, as if the spell was not enough she scrabbled to him like a spider might. She grabbed his fingers in one of her skeletal hands and squeezed. Harry did not feel the pain as there was fire all over his body but he could hear the fine bones of his fingers snap.

There was more, so much more. He screamed, and cried, and asked for mercy but there was none. A final flash of garish light sent him flying through the muffled sense of space and he fell with a jarring thump back to the ground.

Harry's breathing was horrible, and his throat gurgled with heated copper. Blessed darkness descended, and Harry, the far away child, the very little boy, knew death. He breathed no more.

Professor Snape was angry and thoughtful. Oh, and he was worried, too. This was the first time he had seen an aged wizard who was not the powerful wizard who had impressed and terrified him when he was young.

However, the second he emerged from his Floo into his sitting room he was met by the terrified, frozen stare of Harry Potter sitting at his little coffee table. For just a moment he, too, was frozen but then he swiftly moved over to the child and knelt by him. After comforting the child that afternoon offering such physical succor was getting easier.

"Harry," his voice was gentle, coaxing. When it appeared his voice would not break through whatever vision the little boy was re-living, Snape re-modulated his voice. It was firmer, more like his teaching voice, but it held within it a tether of safety. "Harry..." Something broke in the child as Snape laid a hand tentatively on the child's shoulder. Harry drew in a shuddering, deep breath... and began to weep terribly.

Once Snape knew the vision was broken he caught the child up into his arms, and began to lightly pat the child's back as he enveloped the boy in warmth and comfort. "...shhhh... Harry.... oh my little one.... shhh shush...."

Harry's sobs seemed to sink deeper into a despair he could not seem to reach. Listening to this angered Snape but it tore at him as well. The child's small hands gripped him in such a way that the older man could tell the boy was terrified of letting go.

And, he was.

Harry had never been held, reassured, nor comforted in his short eleven years. He'd had to cough quietly when the flu hit his starving body, he had to suffer on water and crushed baby aspirin when he had the measles... all those times when he hurt physically or deep in his soul and he wanted to crawl into the arms of a sympathetic parent... he could not. A 'freak' was not allowed such consideration.

Although he had not understood his professor's meanness in class, in public, Harry did understand the kindness that his teacher offered in allowing him a place to do his homework, to sleep under the older wizard's watch, and now the acerbic man held him as he cried. A small part of Harry told him that he was too old for such nonsense but the fact was that scary witch had hurt him! She was in his nightmares, and he could hear her laughing at him! All Harry wanted was the enclosure of his cupboard where he could lock out everything including his terrible relatives.

As he held onto his teacher's strong arms, and wept into his dark frock coat this was the one thing Harry did not want to hide away. He did not want to deny that such compassion... towards him... existed.

How wonderful to be hugged, again! Twice in one day!

"I-I-I'm s-s-s-sorry, sir!" Harry hiccuped between sobs.

"Oh hush, child," Snape spoke softly and Harry felt the man's voice rumbling in his chest. "There is nothing to be sorry for."

Harry pushed slightly away in the embrace but one hand still was wrapped in Snape's frock coat. "I got your coat all... yuck..." Harry sniffled, and then let his head fall back against Snape's chest.

Professor Snape smoothed the boy's choppy hair. "'Yuck' is something we Heads of House must deal with from time to time, Harry. Have no worries for the house elves will clean my coat. Now..." Snape pulled the child away from his chest and cupped his cheek. "Will you tell me what held you in such terrible thrall?"

"Th-th-thrall?" asked Harry worriedly.

"What did you see, child?" asked Snape slowly.

Harry surprised Snape by mimicking what the older man was doing with his cheek; the small boy touched Snape's jaw. "HER." He huffed. "She really wanted to kill me, and for a long while I thought she did. And... and she kept calling me a... mur-murder-er. I didn't, sir. I really didn't kill him!"

I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 12

"Come. Let us sit on the sofa, Harry. The floor is too much for this adult." Professor Snape drew the child, who still held like a Tenacious Tentacula to his robes, onto the sofa with him. Snape uncurled the boy's fingers from his robe, and then did a Vanishing Charm over the area of his frock coat the boy had cried upon. Harry touched the now clean area with awe.

"This is how I thought magic was," Harry mused. His features dropped back into fear. His eyes, looking up at Snape, pleaded with the man to ‘make things right’. “Everybody says I’m famous because...” he gingerly touched the scar on his forehead, “because they think I killed HIM. I really didn’t, sir.”

Snape smirked and caught the small fingers in his own. "You in no way are a murderer, Harry. As a babe you could never have killed an adult with magic. You have not the power HE had."

Harry frowned tautly. "Well... that crazy witch said I did, and all the kids here at Hogwarts think I did, too. Even the Headmaster said I killed Voldy."

It was Snape's turn to frown mildly. "Voldy?"

"Voldy," assured Harry. "Ron kept wincing as I said his whole name and I think saying He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is stupid so I'm calling him Voldy." Harry looked up earnestly at his teacher. "Is that okay, sir?"

"Voldy, hm..." mused Snape. "I must admit that the nickname does not bother me. However, had you said his full name I would have flinched because it hurts me when you say it."

Harry was aghast. "No! I'm sorry! Why does his name hurt you, sir?" Harry actually felt a touch sick to his stomach thinking that the professor he was becoming fond of would get hurt every time Voldy's real name was spoken aloud.

"Let me show you." Harry watched with puzzled fascination as Professor Snape unbuttoned the cuff of his left sleeve, and then unbuttoned the cuff of the white, inner shirt. The wizard then rolled up both sleeves, turned his forearm so the skin revealed a dirty grey mark in the form of a skull entwined by a snake. Harry's fingers hovered over the strange mark, and Snape gently pulled the hand of the little boy away before his fingers could connect with the mark.

"What is it?" gasped Harry very softly, and eyes wide with wonder.

"When I was a young, and terribly foolish man I sold my soul to a devil, the Dark Lord that you call Voldy. To show the world that I belonged to him, the Dark Lord burnt his mark into me. It is known as Morsmordre - the Dark Mark of the Death Eaters."

"And this hurts you?" asked Harry with pain for the man beside him in his voice.

Snape felt the snapping, creaking, breaking of old ice around his heart as he heard the child's pain, for him, in his voice. It touched a past so enwrapped in protection that he could not decipher all the emotions that were tumbling through him. He pushed those aside, and put all his attention on Harry. "It does hurt me, Harry. Like a flame to my soul every time the Dark Lord's name is spoken. It is how I know that even though his body is gone his evil spirit lingers."

Harry's mouth became an "O" of sudden understanding. "That's why the Headmaster thinks I'll kill Voldy because he's not really dead!" Harry became agitated, and then swiftly angry. "So he's not dead but everyone thinks I killed him but I was a baby and a baby can't do something like that and you got proof he's not dead but an evil spirit and everyone thinks I'm going to kill him because I got all these super magic POW powers and..."

"Harry! Take a breath!" ordered Professor Snape. "You are hysterical!"

"I-I-I don't get it... I don't... it doesn't make sense.... I'm sorry!" Harry breathed in and did his best to slow his heart and to push his anger away. He knew he was babbling, and not making sense. He was not even making sense to himself, and that was really dumb.

Snape watched as Harry lowered his body and lay his head upon his thigh. The boy tried his best to slow his breathing. To help him Snape lay his cool fingers on the back of the boy's neck.

Harry, his cheek on Professor Snape's thigh, sighed heavily as the wizard himself sighed, and carded his fingers through the child's hair. After several long minutes in which both remained silent yet somehow content in that small moment, Harry's voice broke the silence with a soft plea, "Sir, can I go to sleep, now?"

Professor Snape nodded, although the boy could not see him. Gently he removed himself from under Harry, Summoned a pillow and blanket for the sofa, and then he Summoned the potion they had brewed that afternoon.

Harry plumped up the down pillow, and draped the blanket over himself. When his teacher leaned down to help him take his potion, Harry leaned back after wrapping a restraining hand over his teacher's hand as Snape held the potion. "You'll be here?" Harry's voice was infinitely small, yet hopeful. He had no memory of the night before last other than waking up tired.

Snape removed the child's glasses. "I shall be here the entire night, Harry. Get what sleep you can."

Harry downed the potion, then snuggled down into his pillow and blanket. "You need to sleep, too, sir." Harry yawned as the potion quickly drew him down into sleep.

Snape lay his fingers in the child's forehead. "I will. Do not worry, child."

In another moment Harry was asleep. The Potions Master went to his fireplace, threw Floo powder in, and called for the Headmaster. "Albus, my apologies for taking so long but would you mind coming through and bringing Harry's vault key."

"Of course, Severus. I shall be there momentarily." Minutes later Snape welcomed the Headmaster into his sitting room. Albus frowned as he saw the child he had expected to speak to asleep on the sofa. He directed a silent question at the younger wizard.

Professor Snape stood sentinel between Harry and the Headmaster as he replied, "When I returned I found Harry caught re-living the torture Bellatrix LeStrange put him through. Understandably, he was distraught. As he has a second, difficult night under the Cruciatus After-Effect Relief Potion, I felt it best to administer it now so he may have some rest before greeting the day tomorrow."

Albus nodded. "Yes, I do agree, Severus. I should still like to speak to Harry when it is possible."

"Tomorrow afternoon I should like to take the child to Gringotts to the Potter vault, and then to get a new wand, and some better clothing. Would you leave his vault key here, Albus? I shall not touch the key if that is what you wish."

The twinkle died in the Headmaster's eyes as his direction of the Slytherin failed. He looked down upon the sleeping child, and his lips thinned. Taking a small parchment envelope from a pocket of his robe, Albus handed over the vault key. Snape pocketed the envelope.

"Goodnight, Albus," dismissed the man in black.

The Headmaster approached the Floo, threw in the glittery black Floo powder, and just as he stepped into the green he ordered, bring Mr. Potter to my office when you have his wand, Severus. Good evening."

The green flames whooshed with the vanishment of the Headmaster. Snape sat down in his chair. He had delayed the Headmaster from meeting again with Harry for as long as possible so he knew that at some point his attempts would fail. Touching the envelope in his pocket, a thin grimace of a smile graced his lips. At least he would be able to restore the boy's rightful inheritance.

And, at that moment a moan of pain spiraled up from the child's diaphragm. He began to tremble, then the trembling became great shakes. Snape rose from his chair, erected a ward to keep Harry from falling off the sofa, and he then Summoned a small jar of Essence of Elderberry, Sage, and Yarrow. Expanding the sofa so he had room to sit beside the child the Potions Master began to stroke the soothing essence onto Harry's pulse points, and his forehead.

I Don't Want to be A Hero - Ch. 13

Gringotts

Harry and Professor Snape had spent a very rough night of Harry expelling more tics, tremors and shakes from the Cruciatus Curse. It was not until early morning, near to five of the clock that the effects passed, and both were able to catch a little bit of sleep. Snape made sure Harry was deeply asleep, and then with a yawn, he dropped into his own bed clothed in trousers, socks, and a rather wrinkled and torn linen shirt.

A gentle chime woke them both just before breakfast so it was a mad dash for the loo and the shower, and dressing before Harry darted off to join his friends. Professor Snape would arrive, as he always did, during breakfast. He would speak to one or two Slytherins and go to the Head table where a cup of bitter black coffee awaited him. He would decide upon a sausage or some bacon, and then he would speak to Minerva.

That morning, though, Snape had two notes to write for two of Harry's teachers so that he was properly excused from Beginner Broom Flying, and History of Magic. He also wrote a third note to the nosy, but conscientious Miss Granger who would take notes in History of Magic, and copy them for her friend.

Harry was pleased to see Hermione and Ron, and scoffed at the redhead when he questioned him to make sure Harry was not getting beaten up by the terrible 'Git of the Dungeons'.

Harry took copious notes in Transfiguration and Charms, and did his best not to lock gazes with Professor McGonagall who had a terrible habit of looking down upon him over the rims of her silver spectacles. In Charms he was asked to stay after class before being dismissed for lunch. Obediently Harry packed his book bag, and stayed seated.

"Harry, I hear you are going to get a new wand today, eh?" the small professor smiled.

"Professor Snape is taking me, sir. I won't have to use Ron's wand anymore." He smiled brightly and the little wizard chuckled.

"After you return from Diagon Alley would you come to my office? I would like to evaluate your wand."

Harry nodded. "Okay. I'll bring it to you. Can I go now, sir?"

Professor Flitwick nodded. "Have an enjoyable afternoon, Harry. I shall see you later." With a small wave of his hand he 'shoo'd' the student from his class.

Harry jumped down the stairs skipping a few on his way down. He then hit the corridor and ran; he loved to run and so he hit the Entrance Hall with a clatter, thunderous (for an eleven year old) trainers, and a huge grin.

Harry skidded to a stop that send him falling to his backside. Forward energy propelled him right to the booted feet of his extremely tall, gargantuan scowling Potions professor. Like a huge, black shadow Professor Snape, his arms crossed tightly over his chest in deep disgust, glowered down at the small child on the floor.

"Mr. Potter, apply decorum and lift yourself from that dirty floor before someone sees you."

Although Snape did not raise his voice above a normal timbre to Harry it felt like the man's voice roared through him. Wiping the grin from his face he scrambled to his feet, and began to dust at his robes.

"I'm sorry, sir! I was just worried I was late, and I was really excited...!"

The professor waved his wand, "Evanesco!" Harry watched as the dust lifted from the cloth of his robes and vanished. "Rules, Mr. Potter." Harry lifted his head, and could see by the storm in the wizard's face that he was in trouble. "Life is governed by them. As such, even Hogwarts has its share, and one of those is 'no running in the halls'."

"But I..."

Snape held up a hand to stop the child from protesting. "There is no excuse that will suffice unless Death himself was after you. Were you about to die, Mr. Potter?"

"No, sir," Harry's head fell as he glared at the toes of his trainers.

"Then there was no need to be running, was there?"

"But, Professor Flitwick kept me after class and you told me to be on time! If I didn't run I'd be late. I'm sorry, Professor Snape. I just didn't want to be late." Harry felt awful. His stomach burbled sickly and his arms went over his belly to comfort it.

Snape spied the motion of protection the boy made to himself, and he felt a burning dislike for his own actions bloom deep inside. He knew that two of his more sneaky Slytherins - Pansy Parkinson and a fifth year student - were trying to keep to the shadows as they watched their Head of House. He could not afford to let them know where his loyalty truly lay.

"Twenty-five points, Mr. Potter." Harry's head shot up, and his eyes widened indignantly. "Normally I would take 50 but it is my assumption that you have yet to fully familiarise yourself with the rules of Hogwarts." Very slightly Snape relaxed his stance. "Come, Mr. Potter. The Apparation point is outside the gates."

The great door opened, and Professor Snape stepped through. For a second Harry paused, and then he hurried (without running!) after his teacher.  Outside the gates of Hogwarts Harry felt himself lifted from his feet, and as his teacher spun he threw his arms around the man's neck in order to hang on for dear life.

The Side-Apparation was a short one that deposited Harry (still holding onto his professor with eyes closed, arms around the man's neck, and legs around his waist) and his teacher just at the foot of the steps to Gringotts.

"Harry," whispered Snape into the child's ear soothingly. At the same time he patted the child's back. "That was Apparation. One of the ways in which we travel. It can be disorienting, at first, which is why I held you. Will you now stop acting like a leech? You are about to strangle me."

Harry slowly relaxed and with Snape's help slid down and was righted on the first step to Gringotts. "Sorry, sir. It was kinda scary, but neat. I wish magic was always like that."

"Well, to be honest, Harry, magic is quite... neat... most of the time. It is unfortunate that there are some wizards, and witches, who wield Dark magic." Snape sighed, and with a hand to nudge Harry he directed him up the stone steps. "It is also unfortunate that there are good wizards and witches who hold little boys to unreasonable expectations."

Harry turned on the top step, and Snape paused -- he was eye to eye with the young wizard. "You mean me, sir?"

"Most assuredly, Mr. Potter," Professor Snape pointed at the large doors of ancient, gleaming bronze. "Shall we?"

Before them the closed doors were emblazoned with the words:

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

"I remember when Hagrid brought me here," mused Harry thinking back to that day when it seemed all the blessings in the world were opening doors of wonder for him.

Snape said nothing but watched as the small boy looked upon the warning with infinite sadness. Breaking the melancholy the professor pushed open the door to reveal the interior of Gringotts.

The grand hall of marble, and wood, and copper towered imposingly above and around them. Walking down the centre along a tiled entryway Harry was keenly aware of the beady-eyed stares of dozens of goblins behind tall, barred cages of black iron. Each goblin was seated at a tall desk, and each goblin held a quill of raven feather in his hand.

At the end of the hallway behind a tall podium of cream marble, and a desk of highly polished oak was the manager of the bank, a grizzled looking goblin with a short, grey beard, and spectacles perched on the end of his pointed nose. The manager watched man and boy approach him with the suspicion and distrust that was natural to a goblin.

"Wizard Severus Snape," sneered the old and large goblin as his quill stilled in his hand. The magnificent ostrich feather brushed lightly against the creature's bald head. "What do you want of Gringotts today?"

"I have with me Harry Potter, the heir to the Potter Vault." Snape removed the envelope with the key to the Potter vault and handed it to the goblin who snatched it from him with talons that ended in nasty, razor sharp claws. Harry took a cautious step backwards and felt Professor Snape at his back. He was holding his breath and only let it out when a protective hand rested on his shoulder.

The goblin had taken out the key which was of aged brass that no longer had any gleam to it. "Identification confirmed by the Potter key and its magical signature. Griphook is in charge of the Potter Vault. He will assist."

"This way, Wizards."

Harry gulped as he saw a goblin, no taller than himself, had appeared by the manager's desk. Griphook appeared as surly as the manager, and he took the key he was given, pocketed it, then led the two wizards into a short corridor that led to a black marble arch. Beyond the arch Harry could see an endless, sickening trail of railway and carts that sped on by. In front of the arch one cart of awfully looking old wood waited for them. Another goblin, stockier, and with one tooth that protruded over his lower lip, did not look at him. He had his hand curled around what appeared to be a mining cart braking rod.

Harry watched as Griphook jumped into the cart, and as it creaked with the goblin's weight he was not so certain he wanted to ride in the cart. Professor Snape nudged him firmly from behind so he clambered in. Right behind him was his teacher who directed him to sit on the bench at the end of the cart.

"Drink this, Harry," ordered the Potions Master.

Harry glanced at a small phial in the slim fingers of the wizard's hand. Without asking, and with supreme trust in his teacher (Snape noted) Harry downed the potion just as the cart jerked into motion.

Seconds later Harry did not need to ask what the professor had given him as the cart careened up and down on the rails at such a high speed he knew he would be losing his breakfast without it. As it was, Harry was only merely frightened and gripped his teacher's arm in a death grip. The cart raced faster, and Harry let out little yeeps at every curve.

The Potters had been a very old, Pureblood wizarding family. Over nearly three centuries their wealth had been accumulated from heroic acts in wars and battles where members had nearly all been warriors, soldiers, and in a few cases (that no one spoke of) mercenaries.

James Potter had grown up in this wealth and privilege and although his grandparents mingled with society known Purebloods it was James along with encouragement from his mother after his father died when the boy was very young who allowed him to make the friends he wanted. Sirius Black had become such a friend; rejected by his own family, and a known rule-breaker, James had become fast friends with Sirius.

Until Lily Evans came into his life James Potter was a bit of a wastrel as far as the wealth of the Potter family was concerned. Far too soon James came into control of his family estate, and he and Sirius spent as only teenaged boys might. With the arrival of Lily, James listened to her as she spoke against the growing threat of the Dark wizard known then as Lord Voldemort. It was in their sixth year Lord Voldemort and a group of his Dark Knights (not yet known as Death Eaters) had killed his grandparents and his mother. James would have been killed as well but he had thankfully been at Hogwarts. Lily had comforted James, and it was then that he began to put the Potter wealth to work towards the end of Lord Voldemort and his minions.

The Potter Vault was very far below the main building of Gringotts where it had been for three centuries. When Griphook opened the vault the meagre-looking piles of galleons, knuts, and sickles looked very small in the vast space. There was some antique furniture of decent quality, and a few paintings of Potter ancestors, of nature and landscapes, and of cottages and manors that at one time had been owned by the Potters.

Harry's eyes were wide as he looked into the nearly bare contents of his family's vault. He had never seen such riches before in his life. So awed was he by all that glittered within he did not hear his name being spoken by Griphook.

"Mr. Potter," drawled Professor Snape. "Do pay attention. You are being addressed."

"Oh?" he looked to his teacher who nodded at the goblin banker behind him. Harry gave Griphook his attention.

Griphook held out a scroll that was sealed with the Gringotts sigil, and a small aura of magic. "Mr. Potter, this is a complete accounting of all the contents of your vault. The property has also all been listed with their current market values. I have been assigned as your banker, and if there is anything you want sold I am empowered to act as your broker until or unless you appoint someone else until the day of your majority."

Harry studied the scroll and then looked, almost timidly, into HIS vault. "This is all mine?"

Professor Snape replied, "This is what you inherited from your parents, Mr. Potter."

"Wow....!" gasped Harry. His expression of delight suddenly fell off his face, and he turned fully to his teacher. "Sir, is the Headmaster going to tell my aunt and uncle about this? They'll want it all because freaks like me don't get to have money!"

Snape dropped down to one knee so he could look into the emerald green eyes of the child. "Even if Professor Dumbledore does tell your relatives about your inheritance they will not be able to touch it."

"But Aunt Petunia is always telling me that I'm costing them lots of money..." his voice faded with his worry.

Griphook scowled even darker, and spoke up, "The ownership of a vault is inviolable, Mr. Potter. You are the heir of the Potter vault and therefore it is up to you how anything within it is disbursed."

"In simpler terms, Mr. Potter," translated Snape, "only you have legal ownership over this vault and its contents. No one else does even should they learn of it."

“Mr. Snape,” Griphook addressed the professor. “There is a matter we ought to discuss as you are listed as a guardian of the Potter boy.”

“What is it, Griphook?” asked Snape as he stepped a little way away from Harry. “At 11:37 in the evening Albus Dumbledore rescinded his guardianship of the boy. The wizard is in possession of a magical artifact of some considerable value. I do believe you ought to secure it for Mr. Potter.”

“What is this artifact, Griphook?” he glanced quickly at Harry who had stepped tentatively into his vault.

“An Invisibility Cloak, Mr. Snape. The boy is under-age and should not have access…”

Snape’s lips thinned as he nodded in agreement, “...to something that powerful. I will take care of it, Griphook.”

Harry peered into the open door of the vault. He then looked to his teacher. "There wasn't anything in any of my books about wizarding money, sir. I don't know how much to take for today."

Professor Snape rose to his feet and drew his cloak around himself. "100 galleons should be sufficient."

Harry smiled at his teacher then turned to Griphook. "I'd like 100 galleons, please."

Griphook nodded. The goblin plucked a leather draw-bag purse from his hip, opened it, then waved his fingers in towards the Potter vault. Fascinated Harry gasped as 100 pieces of gold flew from one of the piles of money into the bag that Griphook was holding. When all the galleons had settled the goblin closed the bag, and handed it to Harry.

"Wow!" Harry hefted the small bag as a feeling of wealth spread over him like comfort that could not be taken away.

Harry remained fascinated with the weight of the gold that Professor Snape had shown him how to tie at his waist as the took the harrowing ride up the rails above all the vaults. Snape was relatively quiet as he mused over to two pieces of information Griphook had given him, three if he was now a full guardian as opposed to a temporary guardian to the young Gryffindor.

They left the goblin bank and Professor Snape led him across the street to a small office that was an adjunct office the Ministry. It was cool inside, and they were met by a colourful parrot in shades of blue.

“Just you wait! Just you wait!” squawked the parrot. Harry giggled, and it immediately gravitated towards that source of levity. “Feed me, small wizard!” Demanded the bird.

Harry glanced around until he spied a jar with a hand-written label on it that read, “Chauncey Treats”.

“Can I, sir?” Harry asked politely.

“It is May I, Mr. Potter,” corrected Snape, “And, you may. No more than three treats, though.”

“Hello!” a young woman, seemingly hardly out of her own teens, literally popped into being behind the desk. She was smiling brightly until she saw the scowling features of a very recognisable face. “Oh! Professor Snape… uhm… what may I do for you?”

“Miss Amandine Saint,” he purred in a not so terribly nice way. “I would like an update on the status of my guardianship over Mr. Harry Potter.”

“Yes, sir. One moment.” The young woman popped away and they were left alone in the tiny office with Chauncey the parrot.

“I’ve got an owl named Hedwig,” Harry was speaking softly to Chauncey. “I haven’t seen her in awhile so I hope she’s okay.” He fed Chauncey a treat that he nibbled down, and then he nipped Harry’s finger. Harry giggled. “You know, I go to magic school here and it’s sorta neat…”

“Professor Snape…” the Potions Master turned to the girl and glared at her into silence. He hoped to learn something as Harry spoke to the parrot. Children, he had long since noted, would rather speak to a trusted animal than an adult.

Harry continued as though he was unaware of the adults in the small office. “I got friends… Hermione and Ron. Hermione likes books sorta like I do but I think she’s obsessed over them. Ron’s lazy but he’s a good guy. He’s funny, too. And, nobody beats up on me like my cousin does.” He sighed and gave the parrot another treat. “It’s nice but it’s not what I thought it was all going to be.” He leaned closer to Chauncey and the parrot jumped off his perch to be nearer the boy. “Sometimes I want to go back to the Dursleys.” Sadly he gave Chauncey his last treat, and then stroked his breast.

Amandine saw Harry’s frown, came around the counter and crouched down so she was at his height. “Hi, Harry.”

“Hi,” he replied politely. Cautiously, though, he backed a bit closer to Professor Snape. “I like your parrot.”

“Chauncey’s my familiar,” replied Amandine.

“Are parrots allowed as familiars?” asked Harry.

“The Headmaster didn’t like him but my Head of House convinced Professor Dumbledore to let me keep him.” Even though Professor Snape still glowered Amandine Saint gave him a brilliant smile.

“Cool!” enthused Harry. “Who was your Head of House?”

“Miss Saint was in my House, Mr. Potter,” interjected the wizard.

“I’m in Gryffindor. Professor Snape had to take me to Diagon Alley because the Headmaster told him to. I… uhm… lost my wand.” Harry did his best to show that he did not like his Slytherin teacher.

“Miss Saint? The information I requested, if you please,” he interrupted coldly.

Amandine patted Harry’s head. With a quick aside she stage-whispered, “You can give Chauncey a few more treats. I don’t think he’d mind.” She then moved quickly behind her counter, and held out a scroll to the older wizard. “A copy of the official document, Professor. Albus Dumbledore transferred the complete guardianship of Harry Potter to you late last night.”

Professor Snape frowned as he unrolled the parchment and read it. He was indeed the guardian of the young Potter. It was an action he did not mind but he found it confusing. He would never have guessed from his discussion with Albus last night that he would give up the child. And, certainly not to him.

“Miss Saint?” Professor Snape held up the scroll he was rolling up. “As I did at Hogwarts, I may count on your discretion in this matter?”

Amandine stretched out her hand to pet her familiar. “Because of you, sir, my da’s safe. No one will know of your inquiry.”

Nodding, the Potions Master directed Harry towards the door. Looking over his shoulder, he smiled at the young woman, “Bye!”

Amandine Saint smiled, and she gave Harry a little wave. As man and boy left her office she heard Harry comment, “I like Slytherins, sir.”

The young woman chuckled, and with a wave of her wand she erased all record of her old teacher’s visit to her small office. No one would ever know that Professor Snape, or his ward Harry Potter, were there.

I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 14

Lunch for A Wizard

Professor Snape and his charge for the afternoon, Harry Potter, emerged from the adjunct office of the Ministry for Magic, and walked along the main street of Diagon Alley. It was a typical busy day with dozens of witches and wizards walking here and there to conduct various business transactions. Some of the witches herded their youngest children with them using charms to keep them from wandering.

The street was also populated by a number of street vendors that held business from beneath gaily coloured carts protected from the elements by umbrellas and Impervious spells. The street vendors added such wondrous aromas to the air of meat pasties, fried pastry filled with a variety of fruit jelly, candies, skewered and seasoned meat from chicken to pork. There were also small cafes that added further smells that caused a rumbling in Harry's stomach that reminded him he had left Hogwarts just before lunch.

"Sir," asked Harry, "could we get something to eat?"

Professor Snape glanced down at his student. Normally he only had coffee or tea, depending on the way his classes went. Today, though was different. Snape nodded, "You are a growing boy so I believe we shall let your... stomach... lead the way. What do you fancy, Mr. Potter?"

Harry sniffed the air. "Mmmm meat pasties, fried pastry, honey roasted nuts, caramel popcorn..."

Snape frowned. "Hardly. You have the nutritional sense of a goat. We shall go where you may intersperse something healthy with your desire for sweets."

Harry frowned as he envisioned Aunt Petunia's version of healthy which tended to be limp salad covered in mayonnaise. "But you said...!"

Snape scowled at the whine in the child's voice, and was pleased to see that it ended the moment he showed his disapproval. "That way, Mr. Potter." Snape took long strides that Harry half jogged to in order to keep up. In only a few steps they were walking through a glass fronted door that chimed to announce their arrival. They were met by a comely looking witch who ushered them to a round wooden table.

"'ave you gentlemen anythin' in mind?" she asked.

Professor Snape promptly ordered, "For the boy 8 ounces of milk, roast beef sandwich..."

"No mayonnaise!" interrupted Harry.

Snape frowned but continued, "No mayonnaise on the sandwich, a small salad with dressing on the side, small bowl of cut fruit, and I should like the same sans the milk. I will be having coffee, no milk, cream or sugar."

The waitress smiled, and curtseyed. "It'll be just 12 minutes, gentlemen!" She scurried away.

"I like how the waitress is so nice," commented Harry as his head bobbed back and forth as he took in the sights and sounds of the busy cafe.

"I am certain she is only so polite because she anticipates a generous tip," remarked Snape rather negatively.

Harry ignored the jibe. "That's okay. I like her. We'll give her a nice tip, okay, sir?"

Snape nodded. "As you wish, Mr. Potter."

"Harry."

"Hm?" The professor eyed the boy in puzzlement.

"Harry, um... would you call me Harry instead of Mr. Potter? I kinda feel like you don't quite like me when you say my last name like that." Realising he had forgotten some of his manners, he added, "Sir?"

Professor Snape was quiet a moment as he studied the boy. It was odd how the more time he spent with the child the less he was reminded of James Potter as a boy, and more of what he recalled the child's mother had been like. Harry Potter was less the student whom he disliked, and more like Harry, the little boy who was... endearing.

"You do realise that I must call you by your surname, and foster an air of dislike between us, do you not? Harry?" Snape spoke carefully. Immediately he wondered at that. As guardian to the Boy-Who-Lived would Albus still desire him to be a spy? It would be impossible, of course, but...

Harry interrupted wistfully, "Because a lot of people think you hated my family, right... or you really hated James." Snape nodded slowly. "Did you really hate him, sir?"

"I hardly think a discussion of my scholastic time at Hogwarts with your father..."

Harry interrupted his teacher, "It's okay, sir. I'm just a freak and you're smarter than me so you don't have to tell me nothing."

"Harry, no…” There was that word ‘freak’ again. It more than disturbed him, it angered him. Perhaps some of his history would not be bad to relate. Drumming his fingers upon the table, he began, “It was a difficult time for me, and your father and his friends did not make it easy. I was… an awkward and poor half-blood."

“Did you grow up in the… uhm… Muggle world, sir?” Harry gave his attention to his teacher.

Snape nodded. “My mother was a witch but my father was a Muggle; a factory worker in Cokeworth.”

“That’s not far from Little Whinging. Aunt Petunia wanted to stay near where her parents lived. I never met them either.” He began to lightly swing his legs under his chair since he was just a touch short.

“Are your grandparents alive?” asked Snape.

Harry shrugged.

“Speak up, Harry. I do not interpret shrugs,” chided Snape.

“Sorry, sir,” he apologised softly. “I know Dudley met my grandmother but I think my grandfather was already dead. Aunt Petunia seemed real upset after that visit, and Uncle Vernon drank a lot that night. He was kinda scary.”

Snape nodded in sympathy. “Alcohol is not gentle to anyone, Harry. Did your uncle ever strike you when he was drinking?”

Harry blushed, and stared down at the table. He was quiet for such a long time that Snape thought he might have been a little too free with his questions. Before he could say anything Harry spoke up quietly, “Uncle Vernon just always yelled. I think even Dudley got scared when Uncle Vernon yelled because sometimes he’d have me sit in his room so we could both escape my uncle. Aunt Petunia hits, though. She’s even hit Dudley, and she loves him.”

The resentment in the boy’s voice was thick, and Professor Snape was glad of the reprieve when the waitress arrived with their lunch. Harry's stomach growled with appreciation at sight of the large roast beef sandwich and after a look at his teacher, who gave him a nod to eat, the small boy dove in with gusto.

All the food was quickly eaten but Harry had turned down a dessert in favour of a basket of chips. He was munching on those salty pieces of fried potatoes as Snape indulged in a second cup of coffee.

"Harry, I have heard you refer to yourself as a freak a few times now. Might I ask why?" asked Snape.

Harry stuffed a chip in his mouth so he did not have to answer right away. After a minute when he knew the question would not be withdrawn he took a sip of his milk, and replied tersely, "It's what I am. My aunt and uncle have told me that for like forever. I'm a freak. I'm not human. They're stuck with me because of my 'foolish mother' who should have done the right thing and ‘borted me."

Professor Snape was not appalled, he was in shock. Harry had suddenly lost his appetite so he pushed the remains of his chips away. He slumped in his seat so he could stare down at his toes.

"Harry, your aunt and uncle are despicable. They are wrong. You are human, and you are certainly no freak. You are a thoughtful little boy whom I know was very much loved by his parents. I can also tell you that your mother, Lily, was no fool."

"Yeah?" Harry glared down at his shoes. "Then why'd she and James go and get killed? My aunt and uncle always told me they got killed because James was a drunk but then Hagrid told me Voldy killed them. Doesn't matter how it was done they got killed and left me with the Dursleys, and now everyone 'spects me to be some stupid hero, and I'm not because I'm a freak that should never have been born!"

Harry pushed himself away from the table. He tried to stomp past his teacher but Snape caught him by the upper arm. Harry tried to yank himself away but when the professor would not let go Harry gave up, and just stood where he had been caught.

Professor Snape turned so he could better face the angry child. He then held onto Harry by his upper arms. His voice was low as he spoke, "I understand your anger, Harry, but it is not necessary to run away from me. Now... lift your chin... look at me, child." Slowly Harry lifted his chin, and Snape felt a jab to his heart as he took in the green eyes that glittered with anger, and tears. Removing one hand he took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away the child's tears. He then held the linen to Harry's nose. "Blow." Harry obeyed, and Snape deftly wiped his nose and vanished the soiled cloth. "Listen to me, Harry. The Dursleys are the worst sort of people to have told you such awful things that were untrue. The child I have come to know is just that, a child. Not a freak."

Harry began to fiddle with the buttons on the cuff of Professor Snape's frock coat. After a very long minute he asked timidly, "If I'm not a freak... does that mean I have to be everyone's hero?"

"You are a little, eleven year old child..." Harry's hand ghosted up to his scar but Snape caught his hand. "That scar means that you were injured in a terrible fight that took your mother's life, and destroyed the Dark Lord's body. It does not define who you are nor what you must become in life, Harry. You, like all the first years that come to Hogwarts, are allowed to choose what you want to be... when you grow up."

Harry leaned closer to his teacher so he could whisper, "But who's going to kill Voldy if it's not me, sir?"

Snape whispered back, "That is a task for the adults, Mr. Potter." The Potions Master stood and beckoned the child to follow him.

Harry raced to join his long-legged teacher. He hoped that his teacher was right. He had enough trouble with homework. The last thing he wanted to worry about was killing some spirit who did not know better that he should have stayed dead.

I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 15

The Wand Chooses the Wizard

The next stop was the dusty old wand shop, Ollivander's. Harry recalled going in there for his first wand, and he recalled not being entirely happy with the old wizard's ominous pronouncement about his wand.

"Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember.... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr Potter.... After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great."

He would not say to anyone but he was rather glad that crazy witch had broken his wand.

"Harry Potter!" mused Ollivander. "And, Severus Snape." He nodded his head politely to the dark guardian with Harry. His moon-eyed gaze slid back to Harry and his features fell into that of concern. "I have heard that your original wand met with an... unfortunate accident, Mr. Potter."

"I need a new one," piped up Harry.

"Indeed you do! Let me see what I have," he squinted at Harry, and then spun sharply to dive into the many shelves of wands that he had. Harry and Professor Snape heard shuffling, muttering, and when the old wandmaker began to curse Snape cupped his hands over Harry's ears.

Ollivander returned with three boxes that he laid out upon his counter. Two were in non-descript royal blue boxes, the other was in dark grey. Ollivander chose a wand from one of the royal blue boxes.

"Birch. 13 inches firm with Ashwinder dust." He reverently handed it towards Harry.

Harry reached for the wand, and then snatched his hand back as it seemed to explode with fire. "NO!" declared Harry.

"Changes... changes..." muttered Ollivander as he put that wand back in its box. He then revealed the wand in the other royal blue box. It was very dark. "Ironwood. Nine inches and rather inflexible. The core is a talon from the Ironwood Dragon of Iceland."

Harry could feel a strange animosity vibrating from the wand and with wariness he stepped back until his teacher was directly behind him. Harry shook his head. "Nuh uh. No. Please I don't even want to touch it."

Ollivander frowned. He put the wand back in its box and slowly removed the lid of the gray box. "I try to believe six impossible things before breakfast," muttered Ollivander. "And, this does appear… impossible?" Ollivander glanced up at Snape, frowned, then smiled. "Do take this one in hand, Mr. Potter." He pulled out a long stick that resembled more a twig that had been cut from the long limb of a tree branch. It twisted naturally and did not look at all carved. The colour was gray as if dried out.

Harry took the wand and felt it warm in his hand. "What is it?"

"Cypress. 14 inches - brittle - but in your hands it will become flexible. It has no core as it was as it looks, a twig cut from a branch. However it was blessed by a unicorn." Ollivander leaned over his counter. "Give it a wave, boy."

Harry drew the wand through the air. Instead of sparks a swath of ghostly light was cut along the path of the wand. Ollivander smiled. Professor Snape frowned. Harry simply glowed.

"This will perform magic for you quite easily, Mr. Potter, but the wand has a purpose, only one. Once that is done the wand will simply crumble to dust."

Harry almost asked why but felt he should not. Instead, he asked the price, dug into his bag of galleons, and paid for it. Professor Snape ushered the boy out the door but then he slipped back into the shop.

"Ollivander." The old wizard looked up from the counting of his galleons. "That wand is from the Grave Tree. Why did you sell it to Harry?"

"The wand chooses the wizard, Severus. The wand knows that the boy will need it someday for that one task."

"And, what is that task?" Snape asked suspiciously.

Ollivander shrugged. "The wand was blessed by a unicorn, Severus. You know, as well as I, the significance." The old wandmaker smiled knowingly, and the Potions Master turned away.

With his black robes whipping the air behind him in indignant frustration Professor Snape left the wandmaker's shop and found Harry seated on the on the pavement examining his wand.

"I really like my wand, Professor Snape, but I don't know where to carry it," said Harry as he stood.

"Let me show you a trick I impart to all my Slytherins, Harry," smirked Snape. He then proceeded to show Harry how to tuck his wand into the sleeve of his robe, and how to 'snap' it into his hand when it is needed.

Harry practised the maneuver several times, and was entirely delighted. "This is cool!"

"And, on that note it is time to get you properly outfitted. Come along, Harry."

Harry followed behind his teacher, just barely keeping an eye on the wizard's boots; he was busy tucking away his wand, and then snapping it into his hand.

Professor Snape had to admit, to himself at least, that it was good hearing the child giggle with such delight over something of magic.

In The Headmaster's Office

Harry had been properly outfitted head to toe at Twilfit & Tattinger's - a shop of good yet affordable clothing. He had shirts, trousers, shorts, pants, socks, and two new pairs of shoes - one a pair of trainers for the weekends that glowed as he walked, and then a pair of brown patent leather shoes to wear with his school robes.

And, after all of that he had a handful of knuts and sickles left over so Professor Snape took him to a wondrous shop of candy where he bought a varied bag of assorted chocolates and hard candies to share with Ron and Hermione.

Man and student now stood in front of the huge gryphon that guarded the entryway to the Headmaster's tower. Professor Snape muttered a password that sounded like 'fizzing whizzbees' and the gryphon then slid aside to reveal the moving, spiral staircase. They both ascended and Snape noted that Harry had become very quiet, and close to his teacher.

"Ah! Severus and Harry! So good to see you both returned to Hogwarts." The Headmaster, smiling and his eyes twinkling, drew Harry reluctantly from his teacher's side (from safety) and had him sit down close to him at his desk. He left Severus to a chair that was clearly far from them both. "I hear you have a new wand? May I see it?"

"Sure," Harry said slowly. He did not use the 'trick' Professor Snape showed him. He just removed the wand from his sleeve and began to hand it over.

Albus waved his hand to indicate that Harry should just hold his wand forth. He then peered at it, and frowned in concern. "Severus, isn't this from the gr..."

Snape interrupted, "It is, Headmaster but it has been blessed by a unicorn."

"Indeed." Albus was suitably impressed. He then looked to the small boy. "You have a remarkable wand, Harry. What do you think of it?"

Harry tucked the wand into his sleeve. "I like it.” He glanced up warily at the old wizard. “It's mine."

"Some tea? Severus? Harry?" asked the Headmaster. He knew that Severus would refuse; the young wizard had stopped accepting anything to drink since that one time Albus had laced the Potions Master's tea with a sleeping draught early in his spying career. It was Harry's refusal of tea, and evident distrust that was bothersome.

"Waiting upon supper I suppose," he smiled. "Well, Harry, you have had a day and a half of classes. Not much to make a judgement on but how do you like your classes?"

Harry glanced only quick enough to receive a very slight nod from Professor Snape to answer the Headmaster. He shifted in his chair, then replied, "I like 'em, Professor, but Professor Quirrell is creepy." His shoulders drooped. "Sorry."

"Quite all right, my boy. Why don't you like Professor Quirrell?" asked Albus with sincerity.

"Well," began Harry, "he seems like he's timid but he's not. He's mean and he's already hurt some students. The day I had him he kept... demonstrating... on me." Harry scowled in remembrance. Quirrell had used him as a guinea pig to show everyone what some of the basic defence spells were. Mostly blocking spells but he kept getting knocked off his feet into desks and chairs.

"Ah but one cannot learn without a few bruises, Harry," commented Albus. Simultaneously both Professor Snape and Harry snorted in derision. "I guess that would make Defence your least favourite class. Do you have a favourite, yet?"

Harry smiled brilliantly, "I like flying!"

"Well then! So much like your father, Harry." Albus clapped his hands once together, and did not notice the fleeting glance of suspicion that Professor Snape sent his way.

"James liked to fly, professor?" asked Harry.

"He did, Harry. Your father was a Chaser for Gryffindor at Quidditch. In 1971 he won an award, too."

Harry was not interested in what his father had done but he wanted to know more about... "What's Quidditch?"

"An amazing sport played on brooms. Professor Hooch told me that you have a natural affinity for flying, as did your father. I think you ought to try out for the team."

Professor Snape sat up sharply, "No! Albus, he's a first year! They are not allowed to play Quidditch."

"Oh, Severus," and the Headmaster tutted.

"Mr. Potter may be a natural at flying but he does not have the control of his magic he will have in his second year. It will be too dangerous," protested Snape.

"I'd like to try," Harry posited quietly. He walked over to his teacher. “May I, sir?”

Professor Snape stared at the boy, then narrowed his eyes. A more arrogant child would throw his warning out the window... perhaps, the man wondered, Harry will show more intelligence. He nodded to the boy. "As you wish, Mr. Potter."

"I suppose that is that. Harry, if you would wait for your teacher, I would like a moment with Professor Snape."

Harry slipped from his chair. "Sure, sir." He walked to the door, and stepped out into the small antechamber. He started as the office door closed behind him.

"That wand is entirely inappropriate, Severus," began Albus sharply. "How is he to defeat Voldemort..." Snape flinched and caught at his left forearm. "...with a wand as brittle as that. Voldemort will break it, and then Harry."

"You still believe Harry will kill the Dark Lord, Albus?" Snape asked caustically as he rubbed at the Dark Mark underneath his sleeve on his left forearm. The Headmaster knew that Voldemort's name caused him pain yet still, in Snape's presence, he referred to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as Voldemort. In front of others he used the Dark wizard's birth name, Tom Riddle.

"I know that he will, Severus. And, with that wand he will die."

"Harry," he emphasised using the child's birth name, "will not be your hero, Albus. No child should fight in a war begun by adults. The fact that you are here to recruit soldiers sickens me every time I think of it." He began to stride away when the Headmaster stopped the Potions Master in his tracks.

"The Stone is gone from Gringotts, Severus." He did not smile but his eyes twinkled damnedly with the satisfaction that any colour in the younger wizard's cheeks had drained away. "Voldemort will try to steal it. Our traps may work, they may not. Should Harry seek to protect the Stone you must aid him."

“Dementia, I thought,” growled the younger man as he glared filthy daggers at the Headmaster. “But, no… you are mad, Albus. Mad.”

“But, Severus, Harry will not be at risk…”

“No, Albus. You gave him… to me. To. Me! Harry is now legally my responsibility. I cannot fathom why you rescinded your guardianship but be assured I will not do the same,” Snape was nearly frothing with anger. “Harry deserves someone who believes in him, and cares about him. I. Will. Be. That. Person.”

Professor Snape clamped his lips tightly shut. The old man was mad, for certain, and never did Snape know that supposition as true more than now. Turning away, he opened the door, caught Harry by the hand, and led him down the spiral staircase.

I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 16

A Third Friend

Harry had gone to supper from Professor Snape's quarters. He had left the wizard staring hard into his empty fireplace. Supper was almost like an escape for Harry but also a brief bout of happiness as he related the day to his friends, and then showed them his wand. Hermione seemed to know a lot about his wand but she said nothing and Harry had to almost tug his wand from her fingers. At that point Hermione had excused herself with an explanation of 'a lot of studying to do'. She, of course, left Harry with notes from the classes he had missed.

Harry then spoke quietly to Ron about his strange visit with the Headmaster.

"Professor Dumbledore made a big deal about my parents again," huffed Harry as he took a sip of his pumpkin juice. "Told me that James was a Chaser on the Quidditch team. I asked what it was but neither told me. Then Professor Dumbledore told me I could try out for the Gryffindor team."

"What?" Ron gawped, swallowed his potatoes, and repeated himself. "Harry, that's so cool! First years never get to try out for Quidditch. Are you going to?"

Harry shrugged. "I wasn't but then Professor Snape made a big deal about me not having enough magic for it. So, I think I will try out. But, what IS Quidditch?"

Oliver Wood, the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team heard Harry's question and so for the rest of the meal he told Harry all about Quidditch and how much it meant to everyone at school. Oliver downplayed the inherent danger and by the time supper ended Harry was anxious to try out for the team. He did not think much of the Chaser position and was dazzled by the Keeper position. He hoped to get that.

As they were leaving the Great Hall Harry started to head towards the entrance to the dungeons but was stopped by Professor Flitwick.

"I've been looking forward to seeing your new wand, Mr. Potter. Would you come to the Charms classroom so I may evaluate it?" asked the small wizard.

"Sure." Harry said goodnight to his friend and then followed his Charms professor to his classroom.

Once in the classroom Harry snapped his wand from his sleeve (he was proud of that trick) and handed over his wand to his teacher. Professor Flitwick took the wand reverently. His breath was like a whisper over it.

"Remarkable wand, Mr. Potter. I've only seen one other like it in all my years as a teacher. Are you familiar with the legend of the Grave Tree?"

Harry shook his head. "I didn't hear anyone say Grave Tree, Professor." He shuddered. "What's the Grave Tree?"

"Legend aside it is the largest cypress known to anyone in our world. It was possibly old when Merlin was young," replied the Charms professor. "The tree exists on the Druid's Island, Anglesey, in a forest that backs up to the ocean crashing several miles beneath. The Grave Tree got its name from the fact that the tree itself, and all the ground along its network of roots is arid. Nothing grows there. It would seem that the tree ought not to grow but it does despite the fact that it never has leaves, and its bark is grey or black along its twisting branches and resembles a ghost."

"What's the legend, Professor?"

"The legend says that the Emperor of Rome, Tacitus, sent his general Gaius Suetonius Paulinus to Anglesey to wipe out all the Druids whom the Romans thought all lived on the island. This was a great battle in AD 60 called the Menai Massacre. A terribly large number of Druids lost their lives during that battle, and it was such an awful blow that the Druids did not recover. Those that did survive became small groups, fringe tribes. It is said that all wizardry traces their lineage back to Anglesey and the Druids of that time."

"Wow!" whispered Harry. "What does the tree have to do with the battle, sir?"

"The legend goes on to say that a Druid woman who had barely survived the battle, and who had lost husband, sons, father and brothers to the battle had crawled to the edge of the cliff in the forest to give her blood to Nature so that she might join her family; so great was her grief. However, she was very pregnant with her last child, and even though she gave her blood her birthing began. As she passed unto Nature her son was born, and he was called the Last Druid, the Merlin of our myths. In her honour, and to mark the battle, the Grave Tree burst forth from her blood. As her son, the Last Druid thrived so also did the tree. However, the tree remained looking as a ghost and the land around it died."

Harry could not vocalise a 'wow' any longer. He was stunned into silence. Professor Flitwick always enjoyed an audience even if it was of one, and so he continued his lecture, "It is a grim name but the Grave Tree is considered one of great magic and every several decades it will give a twig to be blessed by the unicorn and made into a wand." Professor Flitwick ran his short fingers along the twists of the wand and then handed it back to his student.

"What truly makes this wand powerful is that it will wield with ease all protection and healing magic. Dueling will be a bit more difficult but in your hands the wand will obey you. Each wand made from the Grave Tree has a purpose, though, and that purpose is to retrieve one that you care for deeply from beyond the Veil. Once this task is completed the wand will become dust."

"So I could bring back one of my parents?" asked Harry cautiously.

"Do you care for either your mother or father?" asked Professor Flitwick seriously. "Do you want Lily or James back in your life?"

Harry squirmed uneasily. "I ought to," he whispered uncomfortably.

"But?" he drawled. Professor Flitwick watched the child with brown eyes that glittered with the intelligence many forgot the small wizard had.

"Th-they're my parents, sir, but..." Harry gulped in a deep breath. "I never knew Lily or James. I know that they loved me, and I know they were heroes. I think, though, to care about someone, to love them, you have to know them. I want to protect Hermione and Ron 'cause I know them; they're my friends and... and I really care about them." His head dropped. The professor touched the boy's chin. "Does this make me bad, sir?"

Professor Flitwick smiled. "No, Harry, no it doesn't. Someday you will love your parents but that will come as you learn more about them. However, their days are past. It would be wise to leave them beyond the Veil, and someday when you are old with many children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren behind you, then you shall all be re-united." The professor laid his hand over the hands of the small wizard, and his smile held the wisdom of his age. "Your wand is meant for another, young Harry. Do not worry about who that might be. You will know when the time is right." Professor Flitwick beamed, and clapped his hands. "Now, let's take an hour and try some of the charms we have been working with in class and see how your wand works!"

An hour later Harry practically ran down the corridor to Professor Snape's dungeon quarters with delight. He had done all of Professor Flitwick's exercises and he and his new wand had done very well! He wanted to tell the professor, and maybe even to show him, everything he could do. He turned the corner, and skidded to a sudden stop. In front of him was Draco Malfoy and his two goons (Vincent) Crabbe and (Gregory) Goyle.

"Potter!" sneered Draco. "What are you doing in our dungeons?"

Harry had met the little tow-headed, spoiled brat twice. The first time was when he was buying his school robes at Madame Malkins in Diagon Alley. Harry had hoped to make a friend but the superior snootiness of the child reminded him too much of his Aunt Petunia who tended to look down upon everyone that was not her. The second time had been the night of the Welcoming Feast right before the Sorting Ceremony. Harry had already made friends with Ron, and Draco had insulted the redhead, and told Harry that he needed to make friends that were worth his future.

From dealing with his bullying cousin Dudley Harry had learned that it was not wise to make enemies. He did not particularly like Draco, and frankly his bookends, Crabbe and Goyle, looked dumb but big enough to squash anyone they rolled over. In that moment, Harry made a decision that he knew Ron would get mad about, later.

"Draco! Am I glad to see you!" Harry smiled openly and was pleased that his reaction caused the Slytherin boy to falter in whatever he originally had planned for the Gryffindor. "I think I'm lost. Professor Snape told me to go to his quarters after supper but I forgot where his quarters are. Would you show me?"

Draco had been prepared to cement his enmity of the Gryffindor but he recalled the meeting that his father had held with him in his study at the Manor before taking him to the train station.

"Draco, tell me what happened when you met Harry Potter in Diagon Alley?" asked the Pureblood wizard towering over his small son.

"He got snotty with me, father," Draco replied quickly.

Lucius frowned, and Draco knew his answer had been wrong. "You embarrassed yourself," riposted Lucius with a sneer. "I have told you before that you must temper your superiority, and what was the first thing you did?"

"I only told him that Slytherins were great, father, and they are!" Draco protested with an angry whine.

"Did I not tell you that he has lived away from our world, and that his mother was Muggle-born? Approaching Harry Potter in order to make an ally of him requires humility of which you refuse to cultivate."

"But you don't..." Draco quailed as his father frowned darkly.

"I swear, Draco, if you do not put into practice what I have tried to teach you I will be forced to hex you," Lucius growled. "Listen to me, boy, the Malfoys need the Boy-Who-Lived as an ally to our family or we will be mired in the Darkness when the Dark Lord rises. Swallow your damn, Pureblood pride that your mother preaches to you, and befriend Harry Potter. If you do not, I shall be... severely disappointed in you."

Draco had dashed away the tears that threatened. He truly wanted his father to be proud of him but it was so hard when he also had to do what his mother said he had to do. He nodded, and then in a very small voice he asked tremulously, "Will you hate me if I fail, father?"

For a long, and trembling moment, Lucius looked down upon his son with a hard, icy gaze. The salvation of the Malfoy family rested squarely upon his son's shoulders, and he never seemed to understand that. If his son failed then all that Lucius had done since the fall of the Dark Lord would be for naught. Yet, to see his child worried at losing all of his father's regard... his love... hurt.

Wearily, Lucius sat down in the chair to his desk facing his son. "Dragon, I shall never stop loving you.” Lucius stretched out a hand that now held a handkerchief he used to wipe away his child’s tears. “I may become disappointed but no matter what is to happen I shall never hate my son.” Draco smiled water-ly at his father. “It is important... to our family... to not make Harry Potter an enemy. Make him your friend. Bring him in as our ally."

"I'll try father. I will," vowed Draco. When his father caught him up in a rare embrace he breathed a sigh of relief.

Draco saw the olive branch that Potter was extending, and though it was hard not to laugh, or insult the Gryffindor, he pushed that down. "You say Professor Snape is expecting you, Pot... uhm... Harry?"

Harry nodded. "Do you know where his quarters are?"

Draco forced a smile, and realised for a tiny moment that it was not that difficult to smile. "Yeah. Come on, Harry. I'll show you."

Neither Crabbe nor Goyle understood the change in Draco but with a shrug of their shoulders they followed after the two boys.

I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 17

Homework

Severus Snape, in all his years as a student, a teacher, and then a spy always seemed to be at a loss when dealing with Albus Dumbledore. He was an old man, and Severus admitted to a childish desire that the old man would live forever because, contrary to popular belief he did care for the man. He would not say that he loved Albus like a father; there were many times when he simply despised the man, but when he had needed Albus Dumbledore, truly needed him in order to get away from evil, the old wizard had been there. Make no mistake, Albus had been hard on Severus, condescending, manipulative, and disappointed in him, but it was Albus that had pulled him from the Dark into the Light.

Over the years there had been many times when the two men disagreed, old prejudices between Gryffindor and Slytherin had come up, and Albus had even hurt him. Despite all of that Severus cared for Albus and these last few weeks had troubled the younger man greatly.

Of all the wizards and witches in the wizarding world Albus was undeniably the oldest wizard alive. Severus feared that Dementia, a known Muggle disease of the elderly, had found its way to Albus.

Albus held a very strong place of power in their world. He held great influence with the Ministry and the Wizengamot, and he was also the power behind the Order of the Phoenix. It worried Severus that Albus was making decisions based on a prophecy that the old wizard himself had declared as foolish nearly 20 years ago.

Severus could kick himself in that these bad decisions had begun with the tragic deaths of the Potters. He, and the other members in the Order had understood that Albus had hidden the Potter boy simply to keep him safe from the many followers, and Death Eaters that had escaped justice. Nothing had even been intimated at there might be a prophecy, and Severus was not the one to have overheard part of that prophecy; it had been the sensitive Regulus Black. Regulus who had been trying to find a way to get away from the Dark Lord and knew that Voldemort had a strong belief in prophecy hoped that the prophecy would hold a key that he could exploit for his freedom. It was during a meeting of the Dark Lord and his elite Death Eaters when Regulus had related the scrap of prophecy he had overheard.

That fateful night had sealed the disappearance of Regulus, and the deaths of the Potters including their young son that Voldemort believed would someday kill him.

Now it seemed Albus had bought into the prophecy, and possibly longer than the few weeks Severus had thought; Albus may have believed those damned words as far back as when Harry parents met their deaths.

Severus leaned over so his elbows rested on his knees as he firmly massaged his temples. Harry. Harry was caught in the path of a derailed train, or a mind not as sharp as it once was. Harry was in danger.

The chiming ward to his corridor door touched his thoughts and drew Professor Snape away from the turmoil of his mind. Seconds later Harry’s polite knock sounded on the door. He roused himself, and opened the door with the expectation of seeing Harry but with him was Draco Malfoy. Puzzled, he ushered both boys in, and wondered where the two lumbering bookends, Crabbe and Goyle were.

"Good evening, Professor Snape," greeted Malfoy. "I sent Crabbe and Goyle back to the common room after Harry invited me to do homework with him."

"Invited you, Mr. Malfoy?" The Slytherin Head of House inquired silkily.

Harry nodded. "I sort of got lost and ran into Draco so I asked him to help me find you. Then, well... I was sort of hoping he could do homework with me until I have to take my potion."

You were not lost, Mr. Potter, mused the wizard to himself. Harry had been to his home twice, and he knew precisely where to find his teacher. And now, he seemed quite friendly to the most influential Pureblood child in Slytherin. What a clever, and devious boy. Whatever are you up to, Mr. Potter?

"Two hours for homework, Misters Potter and Malfoy, and then the both of you will assist in brewing the Cruciatus After-Effects Relief Potion."

Harry glanced at Draco and smiled, "See? Told you that name was too long."

Draco giggled. Actually giggled as he replied, "Just saying the name and you'd be spewing tremors."

"Hmph," grunted Professor Snape. Both boys looked up at him, their smiles and giggles gone; at least temporarily. "Get to work. And, might I remind you, Mr. Malfoy, you have yet to do the essay on your wand. I suggest you work on it this evening."

"Yes, sir," nodded Draco. He allowed Harry to tug him towards the coffee table where the Boy-Who-Lived-Reluctantly dropped his notes from Hermione. Professor Snape sent parchment, ink and quills to the table. A moment later followed Harry's text books. Lastly Professor Snape ordered tea from an elf who popped in momentarily.

"What essay, Draco?" asked Harry quietly as he unrolled Hermione's thorough notes.

"On my wand," he replied just as quietly. "Professor Snape has all of us first years do an essay on our wands so we know what the wood, the core means, and what it can do. Does McGonagall make you do anything like that?" Draco leaned forward for a quill, an ink bottle, and parchment.

Harry shook his head. "Not that I've heard. Professor Flitwick told me a really interesting story about my wand. It would be neat to know more."

Draco took out his wand. "Well, why don't you do an essay and give it to Professor Snape?"

Harry turned to view his teacher. "Can I do that, sir?"

"May you do what, Mr. Potter?" corrected, and asked Professor Snape as he perused the small bookshelf in his sitting room.

"May I do an essay for you on my wand like Draco's doing on his? Sir?"

"You may, if you wish, Mr. Potter. However, your reading for Transfiguration, Potions, and for History of Magic must take precedence." Harry smiled as he looked forward to learning more about his wand. The teacher selected two books from his library, and brought them to the two boys. "Mr. Malfoy, I believe you will find this helpful in learning about your wand," he handed the slim volume to the Slytherin. "Mr. Potter, I suggest you pay attention to chapters 13 and 24 for more information on the Grave Tree, and on Unicorn Blessings. Tea will arrive forthwith so begin reading."

Professor Snape retired to his comfortable chair as both boys quieted themselves, and worked. Once in awhile he heard the scratching of quill to parchment. When tea arrived he sent cups of golden tea laced with basil to clarify the mind for work, and a touch of honey to sweeten it. Each boy also received one, small treacle tart.

Two hours went by, swiftly it seemed for both boys, and Professor Snape was telling them to put their work away, and then to follow him to the lab. All three worked on the potion until Draco finally broke the silence.

"Harry, my father told me it was my insane Aunt Bellatrix that hurt you."

Harry looked up in shock at his new friend. "The crazy witch is related to you?"

Draco nodded miserably. He did think Purebloods were superior because his mother Narcissa had told him that it was so. And, a small part of him thought he ought to believe Voldemort, but then there was Aunt Bellatrix who always wanted to hurt people. She was from a VERY long, Pureblood line of… crazy people. At first he thought his father might be happy that Bellatrix tortured the Boy-Who-Lived but then he realised that his father had been angry that Bellatrix, who had been on the run since the fall of the Dark Lord, had kidnapped Harry. It made Draco feel a bit sick when he had the epiphany that the Cruciatus After-Effects Relief Potion was for Harry BECAUSE he had been tortured with the Cruciatus Curse by his mad aunt.

"I'm sorry about that, Harry," he tried not to show any tears but a sniffle did escape him.

Harry stopped what he was doing. "Draco! That wasn't your fault so don't apologise. I've got a crazy aunt, too, and thank goodness she doesn't know magic!"

"Why?" asked Draco guilelessly.

Harry lowered his voice, "My Aunt Petunia hates me and she hits me a lot. Not even my Uncle Vernon or my cousin Dudley hits me."

"Well," brightened Draco. "You got a wand now so you can hex her!"

Harry smiled. Magic could be good for him.

Just before 10 of the clock Harry was preparing for bed. Professor Snape had tried to send Draco back to his common room but he was being particularly stubborn.

"What's the potion do?" asked Draco. There was a slight tinge of worry in his tone. This sudden concern for someone he had only met a few hours ago puzzled Snape. Still, Draco did want to know what the potion did, and if Harry would be all right.

"It accelerates the process to rid the body of all of the Cruciatus after-effects so that Harry will not suffer from them when he is older. It is a hard process and so I have Harry near me so that I may monitor, and be certain, that all progresses as it should." Harry climbed into his makeshift bed on the sofa and drew the covers up to his ear. Professor Snape touched the boy’s messy haired head. "He will be fine."

“I really will,” echoed Harry. “I’ve done this two nights before.” He stuck his head out from under the soft blankets. "Professor Snape and Iare having breakfast here tomorrow. Would you have breakfast with us, Draco?" invited Harry.

Draco liked the idea, but would his teacher permit such a thing? "I... uhm... Professor Snape?"

"We shall celebrate with breakfast here... in my quarters," nodded the elder wizard. "I think, though, that your other two friends ought to be invited, Mr. Potter so that they, too, may embrace Mr. Malfoy as a friend."

Both Harry and Draco held their breaths for a second. Harry then replied, "Hermione might be okay, but I think Ron just might go spare."

"Yeah," sighed Draco with heavy reserve. "Malfoys and the Weasleys have never really liked each other."

"Nevertheless," declared their teacher with decision, "Mr. Malfoy, you and Mr. Weasley will learn the merits of the cessation of hostilities. You will become... allies." Professor Snape touched the tow-headed boy's back. "Come along, Mr. Malfoy. Allow me to escort you to Slytherin House." They both turned to the door that led out into the corridor. "Harry, I shall not be gone long. Go to sleep if you feel the need to."

"Okay, sir. G'night, Draco!" Harry called happily. He had succeeded in making a third friend.

I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 18

Hermione and Ron were diverted from breakfast the next morning by Professor McGonagall who informed them they had been summoned to Professor Snape's quarters. They were given a map but no reason for the summons. Consequently, on the way down, Ron was busy speculating on the reason.

"Snape's going to mesmerise us and drink our blood for breakfast..." Ron theorised.

"Professor Snape isn't a vampire, Ron," huffed Hermione. "Besides, he was nice to you just a few nights ago."

"It doesn't mean he's not up to something, Hermione," argued Ron. "The villain always fools the good guys by throwing them off-balance."

"But, he's being nice to Harry..."

"Except he totally embarrassed Harry in class the other day!" Ron exclaimed in triumph. "What's the good of being nice to a person if nobody else sees you doing that?"

"He does that to all Gryffindors, Ron," she said with exasperation.

"That's because he's a git," stated Ron flatly.

A door that was hidden in the dimness of the dungeon corridor opened silently. A dark voice from within purred, "Git, am I, Mr. Weasley?"

"Professor Snape!" gulped Ron with garish imaginings of detention covered in tree frog innards assailing his mind.

"If I had not invited you to breakfast... with your friend Mr. Potter... your insult would have merited a loss of points, and detention." Snape smiled evilly, and his dark gaze glittered. "De-boning... tree... frogs."

The sepulchrally charged atmosphere was abruptly broken as Harry stuck his head out from behind a drape of his teacher's robes. "Hi, Ron! Morning, Hermione! Come on in...! This is the coolest place ever!" Harry tugged Ron and Hermione past their teacher by their sleeves.

Coolest? Hm, not... too terrible, as far as compliments go, mused Snape to himself. What's cool about my quarters?

Professor Snape had the answer to his internal question as he closed his quarters door, and turned to look into his sitting room. Hermione was perusing the fraction of his vast library with wonder-filled eyes while Harry and Ron were at the double windows (drapes closed in the evening to keep out the wandering eyes of nosy mermaids) that looked out upon the glittering city of the Mer People beneath the Black Lake. Ron let out a gasp as the giant squid swam elegantly past the window.

Unseen by either of the two additional Gryffindors was a polite, very quiet, trying to be unobtrusive, Draco Malfoy who had scampered to a corner of the sitting room by his teacher’s desk to sit. Draco was observing Hermione and Ron, but there was a pinched look to his face of a boy who did not want to be left out of the wonders of Professor Snape's sparse sitting room.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, as loathe as I am to disturb either of your... picayune explorations of my room, before breakfast, I believe that Mr. Potter wished his two best friends to... meet... his new friend." Hermione tore her attention away from a small section of herbology books, and Ron and Harry turned away from the view of the Mer City.

"Who?" demanded Ron with a belligerence Snape would not permit in the privacy of his quarters.

Hermione spoke before their teacher, though, as she admonished, "Ron! Don't be rude. Who is it, Professor Snape?"

Harry had moved away from Ron who saw Harry move over to a dark, enrobed shape seated in a ladderback chair by the desk. Then he saw that it was a someone, and he was shocked at who it was. "MALFOY! He's not your friend, Harry! He's a snake!" Ron sneered as his fists curled, ready for a fight.

Professor Snape was glad that none of the three had the instinct to reach for their wands. He had previously removed Draco's knowing that his father had trained him to treat his wand as something akin to breathing. Draco though had jumped up from his chair, and had strode with malice towards the redhead.

The teacher stepped between the two boys before a fight could begin. "I can still take points, and assign detention," Snape warned. "Mr. Potter, if you would?"

"Sure. Uhm, Ron, Hermione, Draco's my friend so no threatening him. I want us all to be friends," said Harry hopefully.

"No way!" exclaimed Ron.

Hermione stepped up. She held out her hand to Draco. "I'm okay being friends. Hi, Draco."

Draco stared at the little girl's welcoming hand. He had known accepting Harry as his friend meant he would have to accept his friends but his mother had taught him that all Muggle-borns were inferior to Purebloods. He was reluctant... and then Professor Snape nudged his shoulder sharply.

"Manners, Mr. Malfoy," the tall wizard warned with a hiss.

Draco swallowed, and stuck his hand out, and grabbed Hermione's hand nearly expecting tentacles or poison barbs to hit him. Nothing did. Hermione's hand was warm, dry, and not at all bad. Not like that clammy sucker-fish Pansy Parkinson who had not left him alone since he had been Sorted into Slytherin. He gave the witch a tentative smile. "Hi, Grang... I mean... Hermione."

She smiled at him so brilliantly that Draco felt his heart fall with a thud to his feet. Ron saw the exchange, and fumed.

"Manners, Mr. Weasley, or I will... take... points," Professor Snape reiterated to the Gryffindor.

Ron let out a huff of annoyance, walked up to Hermione, pushed her aside, and stuck out his hand towards Draco. "Fine."

"Fine," Draco drawled in a passable imitation of his Head of House. He stepped past Ron, smiled oil-ly, and tucked Hermione's hand over his forearm. "Hungry, Hermione?" he asked solicitously.

"Famished!" replied Hermione.

Harry decided that all was well and ushered everyone over to a small table that Professor Snape had conjured for the Trio that was soon to become a Quartet.

"Now," began Professor Snape as he seated himself between Draco and Hermione. "You may eat whatever you wish for breakfast as long as your juice is Cranberry or Orange, you include a bowl of fruit, and nothing that requires..." he grimaced, "...maple syrup."

Ron's face fell to disappointed depths; he always had waffles or pancakes or crepes with maple syrup! Every morning. He was gonna die!!

Breakfast was over, and the day began with Charms.  Draco discovered he was in the midst of a dilemma; how was he to act around the Gryffindor Trio? Thankfully, Ron, still unsure of Draco, just decided to ignore him. Hermione was a one-woman witch with all the right answers so she was busy being a know-it-all swot. Harry was studious but also delighted to have his own wand to use in class.

Draco was, for the most part, left alone to his thoughts. He was ignoring Pansy Parkinson who was acting melodramatically insulted for all the Slytherins to see.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Draco looked up in alarm at Professor Flitwick. "Are you with us today?"

"Sir?" he asked in bewilderment. All the Gryffindors that were not the Trio were snickering, and a few Slytherins joined in lamely.

"I was saying, Mr. Malfoy, if you have decided to join us, would you demonstrate the charm for producing water?" Professor Flitwick did not appear angry but his voice was firm with its underlying reprimand of 'pay attention!'

"Of course, sir!" Draco scrambled up from his desk and to the front of the room. He snapped his wand out from his sleeve (Harry was delighted to see the same action that Professor Snape taught him) and he incanted, "Aguamenti!" The water shot from the end of his wand, and promptly into Professor Flitwick's face.

The Charms teacher spluttered with indignation. He growled, "Ten points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy!"

"You lost points, Malfoy," snarled a Slytherin first year that pushed sharply past Draco after hitting his shoulder.

"Wait until your father hears about this!" teased a first year girl. At that Draco winced. Maybe he had been saying that particular phrase a bit much.

"You’re useless..." Pansy smacked the back of his head, "Malfoy lost our House ten points. Git!" she hissed at him. Draco recoiled, and found himself doing so right into Ron Weasley.

"Don't worry about it, Mal... uhm... Draco," said Ron patting the shorter boy's back. "Your Quidditch team will make back the ten points easily!"

Draco smiled wanly. "My father's still not going to be happy about it."

"But you did the charm right, Draco," encouraged Harry. For him, it was funny that Professor Flitwick got drenched but the end result meant that the Slytherin performed the water charm perfectly!

Draco's smile was a bit brighter, "Yeah, I did, didn't I?"

Hermione had to add her two cents, "It was just points, though. Not detention." She smiled, something Draco did not intend to reflect but then she slipped her fingers into his, and well, he HAD to smile at that!

Two hours of Potions followed Charms and it was with a bit of running that the Quartet made it into the classroom before their teacher's blustery entrance. Draco slipped between Crabbe and Goyle, Harry and Ron sat together, and Hermione sat down beside Neville.

Seconds later Professor Snape arrived. The slamming of his classroom door underlined his arrival as he swept up the two step dais to where a podium stood next to his desk. He appeared to consult something on the podium before looking up, and blistering every student with his thunderous gaze.

"I do not care for this seating arrangement," he drawled. Leaving the podium he drew his billowing robes about himself, and stalked slowly down the aisle that separated Slytherin House from Gryffindor House. He waved his hands at all the rows of students. "Against the walls. Now."

Once the benches were all empty. He began to call out pairs of names in which he united Slytherin to Gryffindor.

"Miss Parkinson and Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Longbottom and..." he paused as he assessed the Slytherins that were left. The smallest first year was also one of the smartest. "You, Mr. Tarkanian. You and Mr. Longbottom." There were two more pairs, and then he announced the last pair, "Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter. In front of my desk, if you please."

Each boy grimaced across the room at each other but both hurried to the front desk that was right in front of their teacher's desk.

"Today we are working on the very simple Boil Cure that is to cure the presence of... boils." He eyed each of the new and uncomfortable pairs of students. His gaze settling uncomfortably upon Neville Longbottom. "I trust that everyone read the chapter I assigned last class?" He smiled darkly and answered his own question. Neville paled under the dagger-like stare of the professor. "Very good." His smile was thin, and decidedly dark. "From now on the one you are paired with is..." he moved swiftly to his podium, and turned sharply, "...your permanent partner. There will be no substitutions, no... tearful... pleas for a new, and thus, more companionable partner. You and your partner will share in points gained and lost, and detentions." He chuckled softly as he slowly turned away to wave his  wand at his chalk board where the recipe was appearing. "Also, and do not any of you forget this, if ONE of you fails, the other does, too. No matter how adequate one potion is, if the other is useless, smelly, sludge... expect a zero. Begin."

The two-hour class was mostly quiet especially considering the Gryffindor-Slytherin pairings. Murmuring was a hush, except for a raised hiss from Neville's partner, Antonius Tarkanian, as Neville's nerves were making his potion the worse for wear. As Professor Snape strolled around the classroom observing the student work being done he heard the aforementioned Tarkanian sigh in exasperation.

"You do realise, Longbottom, that we're going to get a zero today for your hideous work. No! You diced the aloe instead of slicing! Don't put it...!" There was a pouf, an emanation of smoke, and both boys looked at the grey-ish black mess that was Neville's potion.

"A zero, gentlemen," drawled the professor dryly. "Mr. Longbottom, pack up everything, and once your table is clear you may return to your common room. Mr. Tarkanian, you have 47 minutes of class left to finish your potion." As soon as he passed the two boys, Tarkanian grabbed Neville's collar and yanked him down eye to eye.

"After dinner... we're studying Potions, Longbottom. This isn't going to happen again." With whitened lips Tarkanian continued to work.

"Crush the snake fang, you lunk-head," grumbled Ron just as Professor Snape ghosted by the two boys, Ron Weasley and Vincent Crabbe.

Vincent Crabbe, who looked like he ought to get mad at his partner just from his size alone did not. "You sure, Weasley?"

"Course I am," sighed Ron. "Says so right here." He looked at the bowl of snake fangs Vincent had. "You got too many fangs."

Vincent squinted his eyes at the page of his book listing the recipe. "Where does it say how many you're supposed to have?"

Ron stared at Vincent with annoyance, "Read it, and you'll find out, dummy. You gotta have some bit of brain in that small head of yours."

Vincent's eyes flared with anger. He picked up his bowl of snake fangs and threw them at Ron. Ron yelped but then pushed Vincent. Vincent immediately punched Ron in the eye, and yelled, "Don't call me a dummy, you ugly weasel!"

In a flash Professor Snape had caught both boys by the collars of their robes and held them tight before either could cause a worse mess than a spilled bowl of brittle snake fangs.

"Zeroes for you both," he snapped without raising his voice. "A loss of 25 points for disturbing the class, and an additional ten points for fighting." The professor let them go after a sharp jerk for each boy. "Mr. Crabbe, escort Mr. Weasley to the Infirmary. I will consult with Madame Pomfrey to make sure you made it. If I hear of one further infraction from either of you, there will be a points loss of 50 points added to what you have both already lost."

Professor Snape moved back into the aisle to further keep an eye on his students while both Ron and Vincent glared at each other, cleaned up their area, and packed their book bags. Just before they reached the door of the classroom, Snape added, "Seven o'clock, detention. Now, get out."

Pansy and Hermione had nearly worked in perfect silence. Pansy, though, kept muttering under her breath little barbs towards her partner.

"Shut it, Parkinson," Hermione hissed.

"Am I annoying you, Granger? Making you lose count of your stirs?" Pansy sneered.

"I can count just fine when someone whines at me, Parkinson. Don't you forget to add your porcupine quills." Hermione, seemingly composed, continued to stir her potion, and then dropped in four horned slugs. Without looking at Pansy who was stirring her potion, then glaring at her Gryffindor partner, did not let the girl unnerve her.

"Miss Parkinson, you are stirring a delicate potion," murmured Professor Snape as he stopped at their table. "not whipping eggs for breakfast."

"Sorry, sir," mumbled Pansy. Once her teacher was further down the aisle Pansy glared at Hermione. Hermione did not bother to look at the pug-nosed Slytherin.

Harry and Draco had their heads bent over Draco's book although Harry's book lay open in front of his cauldron. Both had crushed the right amount of snake fangs, added them, and were now working on the four horned slugs.

"It just says to drop the slugs in, Draco," whispered Harry.

"I know but when Uncle... I mean Professor Snape would come to the manor he taught me this potion and he always sliced the horns off of the slugs, and then sliced the bodies," explained Draco.

"Uncle?" asked Harry as he glommed onto that slip of the tongue.

"I am Mr. Malfoy's... godfather, Mr. Potter," Harry jumped and glanced behind him at his teacher. Harry wondered where he had come from. "Slicing allows you to add more of your magic to the slug, thus making it more efficacious to the end result."

"More zits get popped!" said Draco with obvious relish.

"Poor jest, Mr. Malfoy," riposted Snape. "And, it is incorrect. Boil Cure does nothing to acne." He glanced at the little Gryffindor who was watching the teacher speak to his Slytherin. "Mr. Potter, I know you read the chapter on Boil Cure. Tell me, what does it do?" He stood straight. "Speak loud enough for everyone to hear, Mr. Potter."

Harry suppressed a scowl towards Professor Snape. He did not like this oily git that slipped around the class putting the fear of dark things into everyone. But then, Professor Snape HAD paired him with Draco; why?

Taking a deep breath, and ignoring Hermione who raised her hand with the obvious answer, he replied, "Boil Cure will reduce the inflammation of the boil so it can be safely cleaned, or removed, if needed."

"Textbook answer, Mr. Potter, but correct. Five points for Slytherin and Gryffindor." Professor Snape continued his supervising, and left the two new friends.

"Slice the slugs?" asked Draco.

Harry nodded. "Slice'em."

By the end of the class there were only two absolutely perfect Boil Cure Potions. Hermione's failed when Pansy slipped an extra dash of crushed snake fang into hers. They both received a zero for the day. Pansy really did not believe her Head of House would give her a zero, but she was wrong.

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?

I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 20

The Trouble With Quidditch - Saturday, 19 October 1991

The Headmaster said nothing about a tryout on Saturday so consequently practically everyone knew about it. Oliver Wood, the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team had arranged a practice game with the main team, their seconds, and Harry Potter. The stands were full of students who were curious about seeing the Boy-Who-Lived flying, and the teachers stand was filled with all the teachers.

Professor Snape normally would not deign to come out for a practice game, or tryouts, but he felt he needed to be nearby in case Harry showed any trouble. He mentally chastised himself for getting into a disagreement regarding the tryout with the Headmaster in front of Harry. Despite subsequent caution from the Potions Master to the boy about the dangers of Quidditch for a wizard not yet entirely in control of his powers Harry had been determined to tryout for the team.

Harry had been appropriately outfitted in an extra uniform meant for a second year. Percy Weasley, the Gryffindor prefect, had sized the uniform to better fit Harry. Even so the other players all seemed to tower over him.

"Awfully small isn't he?" commented Pomona Sprout to Filius Flitwick.

"Stature means nothing in the grand scheme of things, Pomona," said the Charms professor without condemnation. "Harry's magic, though..."

"Mr. Potter is the child of a powerful wizard and witch, Filius, and Madame Hooch has mentioned that he flew in class like a natural," Minerva smiled proudly. "I think he'll prove to be exceptional."

Snape snorted. Minerva glanced at him. "Worried about Slytherin's chances for the House Cup, Severus?" she teased.

"It amazes me that everyone has such high expectations for the brat, yet he has shown a consistent mediocrity in all his classes," sneered the stubborn looking dark clothed wizard.

Filius chuckled, "He's a first year, Severus! All first years are mediocre in the control of their magic."

"Precisely," said Severus. "Mr. Potter's control, despite a natural talent for flying, is questionable. Should he get in trouble that high above the ground do none of you think he will have the skill in the control of his magic to lessen, or avoid injury?" No one replied, and his lip sneered into a satisfied smug smirk. "As I thought."

With a critical eye Professor Snape watched as Oliver Wood directed Harry to the secondary Gryffindor team, spoke to him about something the professor could not hear, and then patted him on the back. Harry trotted over with a school broom to his team. His grin beamed for all to see and appeared more prominent than the reflection off his glasses.

A very cool wind twisted around the stands and the Potions Master pulled his cloak tighter. He glanced up at the sky to see clouds moving in. He shivered feeling a premonition of something not being right. He looked for Harry and watched as he flew a spiral route with his team up high into the sky.

“He is so small,” Snape muttered to himself worriedly.

Rolanda Hooch flew between the two assembled teams. Her voice, enhanced by the Sonorous spell shouted out, “This is a practice game! Points will be calculated but they will not count towards the House cup. Therefore, feel free to cheer on whomever you wish!” Madame Hooch was greeted by applause and cheers. “This game will have a 500 points limit. Let’s begin!” More applause and excited cheers followed the Snitch as it was thrown into the air, and Madame Hooch blew her whistle to begin the game.

Professor Snape cringed. Madame Hooch might call the boy a natural at flying but what he saw was a child on a broom that was tackling the air with the reckless abandon one might employ running down a street without caring that traffic is speeding past. It made him ill and more alert for trouble.

And, trouble was nearby. As Harry spied the tiny snitch he dove after it. His broom was suddenly and viciously yanked as if by a giant hand in the sky. Up in the air Harry did not cry out but he grabbed onto the broom with both arms and legs. That did not stop the shaking.

Professor Snape heard the murmur behind him; a sibilant chanting of a spell to bring Harry down from the air as quickly, and as hard as possible. Snape did not break his gaze, and began his own chant that fought against the invisible assailant. He paid no attention to the cries and shouts of students and teachers.

Only minutes later a sweat broke out on his forehead with the exertion of his magic. Harry was now dangling from the shaking broom, and hanging on for dear life. Beneath him flew both Gryffindor teams in preparation to catch him should he fall.

Just when Professor Snape thought he might be getting the child safely down from the air he smelled smoke. He tried to ignore it but then he yelped, and jerked in pain. Not only had his foot been burned but flames were climbing up his robes. He fell back, taking his eyes from the small flyer in distress. He hit Professor Quirrell just behind him, and Minerva McGonagall beside him. All three fell to the floor of the box while the other teachers threw water from Aguamenti from their wands.

In the air the two Gryffindor teams converged just as the school broom was viciously yanked from the last of his grip. Harry began to fall an impressive, and terrifying distance equal to 30 stories to the hard ground below. He fell into Fred and George Weasley. Fred's nose was broken, and George was forced into a spin as Harry bounced into him hard. Harry was thrown into a spin and his head was now aimed for the ground. He began to scream in stark terror as the ground sped up to meet him.

Professor Snape pushed all the teachers that were hovering around him in a suffocating manner. He could hear Harry screaming, "Daddy! Daddy! Help!"

With all his magic focussed on the falling child, Professor Snape thrust out his hand, and shouted, "RETARDO!!"

Harry's fall slowed drastically, and just before he hit the ground Professor Snape threw a wide Cushioning Charm beneath the boy. He then pushed aside teachers and student in order to get out of the teacher’s box and down to the ground.

Despite the slowing of his fall, and the Cushioning Charm (which burst when Harry hit) his body still thumped heavily. Harry's breath was knocked from his lungs, and his lips were turning blue as he struggled to start breathing.

Madame Hooch was pounding on his back, all of Gryffindor including both Quidditch teams were surrounding him. Professor Snape shoved through them and pushed aside Madame Hooch.

"Harry! I am here!" said the Potions Master as he cast a quick medical Diagnostic Charm over the child. Harry was still struggling to draw in breath and he focussed his frightened green gaze upon his teacher. His hands scratched frantically at his throat.

“He’s not breathing!” Hermione cried as she dropped to her knees beside him.

Normally the dreary teacher would make a caustic remark in regards to the silly girl vocalising the obvious but Harry was growing more terrified as the seconds passed. Tapping Harry’s chest with his wand he murmured a spell to start his lungs to breathing.

Harry drew in a deep, fresh, and welcome, life-giving breath, and promptly fell unconscious. Ignoring the outrage of the Gryffindors nearby, and several startled looks, Professor Snape scooped the child into his arms, and ran to the castle, and to the Hogwarts Infirmary.

Draco turned to scowl at the Gryffindor girl he had latched onto. "You were wrong, Hermione!"

"But he was staring at Harry, and chanting a spell!" she blustered.

"That doesn't mean Snape was trying to kill Harry!" Draco snapped away, and ran towards the castle.

Ron, not far from Hermione, shrugged when she turned to stare at him. "He's got a point, 'Mione."

"You're useless, Ron!" Hermione scathed and stomped after the throng that was now wending its way to the castle.

Much later after Harry had recovered from his scare, and everyone in Gryffindor brought him a treasure in treats, the Headmaster ambled in. Harry, with Hermione, Ron, and Draco all seated on the other side of his bed, glanced warily at the Headmaster.

"Ah, Harry. Recovered, are we from that tumble?" asked Professor Dumbledore with infinite servility.

"That were no tumble," grumbled Ron darkly.

"Harry would have died if it weren't for Professor Snape," defended Draco sharply. Hermione hung her head. She had yet to confess to the surly Potions Master that she had set fire to his foot and robes because she thought he was harming her friend.

"And thank Merlin for our Professor Snape," sighed the Headmaster. "Well, Harry, other than the mistake…”

Draco interrupted tautly, “It wasn’t a mistake. Harry was attacked.”

“That is rather an assumptive leap, Mr. Malfoy,” chided the Headmaster. “We really do not know what happened. It may have simply been that Harry did not have the magical control needed, as Professor Snape noted, and it was an accident.”

“It wasn’t an accident,” Ron repeated stubbornly.

“No it wasn’t,” interjected Hermione before the Headmaster could continue his excuses. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, sir, but you weren’t at the game. You didn’t see what happened.”

Draco continued, “Harry’s flying was great, and then something tried to yank Harry’s broom right out from under him. If Professor Snape wasn’t working a counter-charm he would have been killed!”

Albus Dumbledore was disconcerted by the trio of distrusting looks that the three first years were giving him. Add it to Harry’s frank expression of fear -- of him -- and he felt suddenly off-kilter. The old wizard did his best to get control of the situation, “It is something that will be investigated I can assure each of you. That aside, though, I’m told by Madame Hooch that you flew well, Harry. I’m sure that must have been enjoyable.”

"I suppose it was okay," conceded Harry.

The Headmaster beamed as he studied all the cards of 'Get Well' and sweets. "I do believe that Mr. Wood would be acceptable to giving you the position as Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team."

"They already have a Seeker," said Harry.

"Considering how well your father flew I think you might be better, Harry," Professor Dumbledore smiled at Harry as though he ought to be grateful for such a vote of confidence.

"Katie Bell is the Seeker," Harry informed the Headmaster stubbornly. "I don't want her put off the team."

"You need not concern yourself with that, Harry. I’m certain that Mr. Wood could work something out. Perhaps Miss Bell could be one of the valuable seconds." He conjured an overstuffed chair with a tapestry that clashed with his red velvet robes trimmed in ermine fur.

Harry shook his head. "That's okay, sir. Katie doesn't have to change positions. I don't want to play."

The Headmaster held onto the chocolate drop in his fingers. "But your father played, Harry."

"I just want to fly, sir," said Harry strongly.

The Headmaster popped the chocolate drop into his mouth. "James was quite the champion. I do believe he even earned an award for one game." He gave Harry a certain, and indulgent smile. "I'm sure you'd like to play Quidditch just as your father did."

"I don't want to play Quidditch, sir,” insisted Harry with a scowl. “It's too dangerous. I'd just like to fly." Harry crossed his arms over his thin chest.

The Headmaster looked over his silver spectacles at the boy as if he did not know what he was refusing. "The only way to fly at Hogwarts is while playing Quidditch, Harry. With a father as a hero no doubt you'd like to be just like him." His smile was affable but there was an underlying tone to his voice that was compelling.

Harry felt a wave come over him that pressed around him and convinced him that the Headmaster was making sense. Harry shook himself. It was weird to him how the Headmaster sounded like Uncle Vernon when he was trying to be reasonable and get Harry to do something that was unpleasant. He closed his eyes and shook away that odd feeling.  

"No, sir. I'm not James and I don't want to be a hero. And, Quidditch isn't the only place to fly. Professor Snape said he'd take me someplace where no one could hurt me and I could fly... even with my friends if I want." Suddenly the Headmaster stood from his chair and towered over him but Harry tried not to flinch. He did not like what the Headmaster kept telling him he had to do, and how much his father was a hero. Harry did not want to be his father, some hero in a stupid war they fought long before he was born.

"You are throwing away an opportunity for greatness, Harry. If you change your mind..." he turned away and walked to the Infirmary door. "Let me know."

The Quartet watched as the old wizard disappeared through the door. Oddly, it was Hermione who voiced what they were all thinking, "He's creepy!"

I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 21

The Lure - Sunday, 20 Oct. 1991

Harry was released from the Infirmary early in the morning. He ate breakfast with Ron, and Hermione, and then joined Draco to do some exploring of the castle. They met outside of the Great Hall and Draco appeared to be bursting with some news.

"Did you guys hear about the robbery?" Draco asked.

"Oh! I read about it a few weeks ago," declared Hermione. "Have the goblins caught someone?"

Draco shook his head and showed his friends the morning Daily Prophet. "The goblins are mad. They want the head of whoever took something from one of their vaults!"

"Literally?" asked Harry.

"Yep," said Ron. "They're blood-thirsty blokes."

Harry grimaced. After a few moments he asked Draco, "What was taken?"

"Something belonging to Nicholas Flamel," replied Draco.

"Who's Nicholas Flamel?" asked Harry and Ron at the same time.

Hermione chipped in, "I read up on him when I first read about the robbery. He was a very famous alchemist that lived about 600 years ago. In fact, there's a rumour that he's still alive!"

"Really?" asked Draco. "I've heard of him but I thought he was dead. It would be cool if he were still alive."

Ron nodded, "Yeah, it would be but how could he live that long?"

"The Philosopher's Stone," informed Hermione. "Look here." Hermione dug around in her book bag then pulled out a Chocolate Frog card. "When I was looking for more information on him I found this while I was eating a chocolate frog Draco gave me."

They all stopped to look at the card. Nicholas Flamel waved at the students, and Ron waved back. Harry read aloud, "Nicholas Flamel was a well-known alchemist and only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary substance with incredible powers. He was a close friend and partner with Hogwarts School Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. He owed his considerable age to the Elixir of Life which he and his wife, Perenelle, created using the Stone. They are currently aged six hundred sixty-five and six hundred fifty-eight, respectively."

"Woahhhhh!" breathed Ron.

"That can't be true, though," scoffed Hermione. "Can it?"

Ron replied, "It's a chocolate frog card, 'Mione! If you can't trust the cards for the right information... well, what can you trust?"

"Books," said Hermione definitively.

"You trust books too much, Hermione," commented Harry. "They aren't infallible because they are written by people... who are fallible."

Hermione frowned darkly. Draco chuckled, "He's right."

"He sounds like Snape," snorted Ron.

They all broke into laughter as Harry blushed. "Do not," he mumbled. Inwardly he thought it might not be a bad thing to sound like Professor Snape.

In that moment Draco slipped his hand into the door handle of the wooden door they faced, and pulled it open. A cacophonous barking of thunderous proportions had all four children screaming in terror.

"Look out, Draco!" screamed Ron as he tried to pull his friend Harry from the slavering jaws of drool, teeth, and spit that swept down at him from above.

Hermione had grabbed onto Draco's robes but screeched as she was dislodged by a huge nose that lifted her up into the air and threw her across the corridor. Draco was already screaming, and if anything, he did so louder as he felt his forearm where his hand was trapped in the door handle, was bitten. The bone crunched as the flesh cried with spurting blood.

Hermione was dazed but not enough to stay where she was when Draco was being hurt. She pushed to her feet, wobbled quickly over, and caught the hem of Draco's robe just as a giant maw lifted him up into the air. Harry pulled away from Ron, jumped up, and caught Draco's feet. Ron shouted at the three heads that appeared like a nightmare version of Hagrid's dog, Fang. When that seemed to do nothing he did the foolishly brave thing and dove for a wrinkle of big, black skin and sank his teeth into it.

The dog yowled in pain from two of its heads, the third head let go of Draco and Harry, Hermione, and Draco fell to the ground. Ron dashed away from the nightmare dog, took out his wand, and zapped it with the Stinging Hex Fred had been trying to show him. The nightmare dog yelped again and stepped back to get away from what was causing it pain. Ron grabbed the door and tried to slam it shut. Harry, recovered from the drop, scrambled to his feet and added his weight to the door. Finally, it slammed shut. Behind the door the 3-headed dog barked angrily.

"Harry! Ron!" shouted Hermione. "I can't stop the bleeding! We've got to get Draco to the Infirmary!"

Severus Snape was in his sitting room, in his favourite chair trying to read but he was thinking about Harry again. A subject that took up a great deal of his time these days. When his Floo flames whooshed from orange to green he looked up to hear, "Permission to come through, Severus!"

"Come, Lucius," replied the Potions Master.

The Pureblooded wizard stepped smoothly through the green flames. With his wand he Vanished the soot that had fallen on his clothing. He then nodded to his host.

"Severus, by Draco's letter am I to understand that... things have been busy in the castle?" Lucius seated himself in a chair that was the mirror to Severus' chair.

"I gather that Draco sent you a missive that has discussed more than his new circle of friends, Lucius," drawled Severus.

"Making Harry Potter his friend was... well, unexpected as I was afraid Draco's inherent... snobbishness had destroyed that avenue. However, he quite surprised me. Then I read he has also befriended the youngest Weasley. Impressive." Lucius had pulled off his gloves, and tucked them into his waistcoat.

"Have you begun sealing the rift between yourself and Arthur?"

Lucius nodded. "It has not been the easiest task. Arthur is not... the pushover I long thought him to be. He is a shrewd man who understands the difficulties we face, yet he is also mindful of the fact that I wish to keep my family safe."

"And, how is Narcissa taking this?" Severus closed his book, tapped the coffee table, where Harry wanted to keep doing his homework, with his wand to order tea to be sent up from the kitchen.

"Stubborn. She does not want to embrace the changes in our world but she values her son, and her marriage to me." Lucius smiled genially. "It will take time but she will see the merit of what I do."

"Perhaps," murmured Severus. "Narcissa is a Black, though, and she comes from very staunch Dark roots."

Lucius sneered, "Say what you mean, Severus."

He lifted his eyes from the book still in his lap. Finally he spoke, "Narcissa has never blanched in promoting the tenets of the Dark Lord. She has been outspoken about Pureblood superiority, and despite the obvious degenerative madness of Bellatrix, that is the sister she chose over Andromeda." Severus tapped his lower lip, as if remembering something. "Ah, yes. If I am not mistaken it was Narcissa who hired a wizard to kill Theodore Tonks after he married her sister, was it not?" Lucius only glared, and Severus smirked.

"Narcissa is my wife..." began Lucius.

"Of whom you have deceived with your execrable paramours since. Your marriage was a political maneuver that the Dark Lord orchestrated between Abraxas Malfoy and Orion Black; two of the wealthiest families in our world, and two of the Dark Lord's most powerful allies," growled Severus tautly. "If the Dark Lord truly comes back into power, and you are not supporting him financially, it is YOUR WIFE who will betray you, and you will be a dead man. All of this you know, Lucius. Other than Draco, what loyalty has she to you?"

"What do you expect me to do, Severus?" Lucius shouted. In that moment he showed not just his frustration but his fear. "I must do whatever I can to make my son safe!"

"And that is to make an ally of the Boy-Who-Lived?" spat Severus.

"He killed..."

Severus cut across the beginning of the wizard's argument. "Do not tell me you believe that insanity, Lucius," growled the younger wizard. "Harry Potter is an 11 year old boy with the magic any child his age has. And, you know as well as I he did not kill the Dark Lord."

Lucius nodded miserably. "That aside, Severus, to be a friend of the Boy-Who-Lived would not be a trivial thing."

"Notoriety is a shaky thing to rest your son's life upon, Lucius..." Severus shook his head. "No... you have more cunning than this. The Department of Mysteries, the UnSpeakables determined that the Killing Curse rebounded off the shield that Lily's Magical Sacrifice created to save her son. It separated spirit from body, and it was you and I that burned that fiend's body so that his spirit would not return."

Lucius gave the younger man an appraising look. "You, my friend... are up to... something."

Severus' slow smile was a near mirror of his dangerous drawl that he often used in class. His black eyes underlined his smile with sharp intent, and Lucius nearly flinched. "The Dark Lord is a spirit, Lucius. A disconnected, discarnate creature in search of a body. I have no doubt that HE is here, and Dumbledore knows it. Albus has set into motion an absolutely dim plan that will lead to the dis-corporeal becoming corporeal; in other words a living creature for his... hero... to kill."

Lucius was aghast and for once he did not withhold the shock he felt. "Your Headmaster is a mad-man, Severus." Lucius shook his head, rose from his chair and began to pace angrily. "A spirit can be dealt with, and Merlin knows we have been working to do so, but this. Albus is seriously attempting to bring the spirit back into flesh?"

"Harry revealed to me that in Defence Against the Dark Arts a curious thing happened to him; he heard the Dark Lord speak to him. I used my Legilimens to see the event in his mind... Lucius... there is no doubt. The accidents that have occurred make sense now... the children are being cruelly played with... Quirrell must be harboring the Dark Lord, and Harry somehow connected with the spirit." Severus' lips thinned. "And, fool that I am I had thought the child was the lure, something I had expected was certain when it was discovered your dear sister-in-law captured Harry, and nearly killed him." Severus' gaze narrowed into the dark depths of anger, "It is not the boy that is the lure for the spirit but the Philosopher's Stone."

I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 22

Injuries & Confrontations

Hermione had bruises including a bruised third rib. Ron had several dozen scratches, a few bruises, and on his arm there were suspicious teeth marks when one of the dog heads had tried to bite him. Ron had not been gotten; completely, but it still was not a nice scrape. Harry suffered numerous bruises, and at the same time Ron had been snatched at, Harry had been snatched as well; his right shoulder had been torn all the way through his robes, and his shirt.

Draco had suffered the worst. His left forearm had been crushed in the massive dogs maw. He had been shaken like a rag doll which had caused whiplash, and a dozen bruises around his head and torso as he had been slammed against door and wall. Draco had been sedated by Madame Pomfrey which would help as the crushed bones in his forearm were either re-grown or repaired with Skele-Gro as the potion determined.

The Trio of Harry, Ron, and Hermione all sat near Draco's bed, each sporting appropriate bandages, or shiny, yellowish-grey bruise paste.

Professor Snape had been called by Madame Pomfrey, and Lucius had followed the moment he heard his son had been harmed. Ron had tried to relate the story of what had happened but he embellished too much. Hermione took over the telling while Snape checked over Harry. Lucius sat beside Draco, and simply worried for him since there was nothing else for him to do.

Once he was finished with Harry, who did not hesitate in hugging him strongly in relief, Professor Snape drew the Healer aside, and spoke softly to her. "Has Headmaster Dumbledore been apprised of the situation, Madame Pomfrey?"

"I sent the report of injuries along with the story to the Headmaster's office." The Healer grimaced as she glanced at the still unconscious Draco. "He wanted to know, 'why was Mr. Malfoy with Harry and his friends? Did he cause the attack?'"

Professor Snape's eyes widened in anger. He thinned his lips, then growled, "Let me guess, he will not deign to visit, will he?"

"No, Severus." she shook her head disapprovingly. After a moment she added, "I plan to release Hermione, Ron, and Harry this evening right before dinner. Draco will need to stay at least one more day." Madame Pomfrey clucked her tongue as she looked to the young Slytherin. "That dear child... He is so very lucky to be alive."

Professor Snape moved away from the Healer and back to the children. He dropped his hand on Harry's unhurt shoulder, and then he impulsively stroked a hand through his messy hair.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, to your beds," directed their teacher. "Madame Pomfrey plans to release the three of you before dinner but I would like all of you to rest before then.

Hermione and Ron climbed into their beds but Harry hesitated. He glanced up at his teacher. "Where are you going, sir?"

"I have a meeting with the Headmaster, Harry. Do you wish me to return?" Harry nodded shyly as he jumped into bed. Professor Snape smiled thinly. "So I shall return. Sleep now." He tucked Harry in... paused, rolled his eyes, and then did the same to Ron and Hermione. "Speak of this to no one," he muttered to the latter half of the Trio, "or it will be 100 points lost. Understood?" Hermione smiled but nodded, Ron just nodded and yanked his blanket up to beneath his nose.

Lucius rose to his feet. "I shall accompany you, Severus." The Potions Master nodded his head, and together they left.

"Albus! I cannot believe you brought Fluffy into the castle!" shouted Professor Snape as he pushed through the door into the tower office.

Lucius halted and stared at his friend, "Fluffy? Who calls a Cerberus Fluffy?"

The Headmaster replied, "Severus. Lucius. Do sit, please. If you recall I did warn the students to stay away from that particular corridor during the Welcoming Feast."

Lucius seated himself but Snape, in high dudgeon, did not. He glared at the Headmaster. "A corridor that is lacking in wards so that any wandering student can find himself there,” he fumed. “Albus, are you aware that that bloody dog nearly killed Draco?"

Albus smiled from his desk, "Ah, but Fluffy did not. A few bruises, a broken bone. He will be fine, Severus."

Lucius leaned forward in his chair, "That is my son you are speaking of so blithely, Dumbledore," growled Lucius. "Do you care that little for him? He was shaken like a 'rag doll'!"

"As Mr. Potter described it," interjected Snape. He leaned over the Headmaster's desk, and ignored the warning squawk from the older wizard's familiar the Phoenix Fawkes. "That aside, Headmaster, you allowed a dangerous magical creature into the school in an area not properly warded against wandering students, and it hurt them; all of them. Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, and Mr. Malfoy, whom I might emphasise, is friends with all three but most especially Mr. Potter. Does it not sink into your... pointed, bearded, skull... that what you have done is criminal? Shall I notify the Aurors?"

"Don't threaten me, Severus," spoke the Headmaster. He did not raise his voice but his friendly twinkle was gone, and the Potions Master took only one step back. "Our problem is much more than Fluffy..."

Snape interrupted, "So you are correct, Albus. We have a teacher that is harming our students. We have a student who heard the voice of the Dark Lord coming from that same teacher. The situation is dire and should not at all be left up to children."

"It is not left up to children," the Headmaster spoke with even authority. "Harry Potter is most powerful and it is up to him..."

"NO!" thundered Severus with dark authority that caused the older wizard to blanche in his chair. "Harry Potter is not some damned Saviour of yours! He is a little boy with no more power than a gnat, Albus. You have brought danger to this school in the form of a possessed teacher, a Cerberus, and the Philosopher's Stone! All of this you base on trust of some legend, some ridiculous prophecy, that Harry Potter is our Saviour?"

"Dumbledore... you will be brought up on charges of severe endangerment. I shall see to it," threatened Lucius.

Albus Dumbledore was clearly angry at the younger wizard. "You reveal all our secrets to the enemy, Severus!" Albus stood up from his chair. Fawkes trilled worriedly, but again no one paid the bird any mind. "Are you traitor after all?"

"Enemy?!" cried Lucius in indignation.

At the same moment Lucius cried out Severus growled, "Do not, Old Man," his wand dropped surreptitiously from his sleeve into his hand. "I gave you my vow to protect Harry Potter, and I have gone so far as to take him under my wing. I never thought to have to keep him safe from your madness." He slammed his fist upon Dumbledore's desk and was not surprised to find that Lucius had drawn his wand, and both were dangerously pointed at the Headmaster. "You... you dare to call me a traitor after all I have risked, and done upon your orders?"

"STUPEFY!" cried Professor Snape.

"Liga amet!" shouted Lucius.

Snape spun to face his friend, "You bound his powers?"

Lucius nodded. "Dumbledore is a powerful wizard with or without a wand, Severus. We cannot take the chance."

Fawkes took that moment to swoop off of his perch into the air, and he flew around the heads of each wizard. They ducked. Lucius was about to hex the Phoenix but Severus held his hand. Before the younger man could say anything Fawkes gripped his wizard by the ermine collar of his robe, and then with a clap of thunder both had vanished.

"What did that bird just do, Severus?" asked Lucius as he stared at the spot where the Headmaster had been.

"Curious. I wonder if Fawkes thought we meant harm to the old man and took him to safety," mused Severus.

"Then Albus Dumbledore is one less problem for us to deal with. We need to take care of Quirrell, and determine if he is indeed harboring the spirit of the Dark Lord."

"I think you both had better explain yourselves," interrupted the voice of the Deputy Headmistress with suitable warning, "or you shall both discover how quickly I can... un-man each of you with one spell."

I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 23

Sunday 20 Oct. 1991

Ron had fallen quickly asleep. Hermione had watched Draco for a bit before sleep drew her down. Harry, on his side in his infirmary bed, could not sleep.

A Cerberus. He knew what one of those was. He had seen a drawing of one in the Greek myths storybook Dudley had thrown aside on Christmas. It figures here they were real. And, they were murderous, scary beasts!

This was the dark side to magic that he hated. It had begun with a feeling of others expectations for him to be something he was not that had so weighed upon him that it made him run from Hogwarts. His running would have been fine but he ran into that stupid forest, and right into the arms of that crazy witch who tortured him.

His stomach cramped with the echo of that pain. Professor Snape's potion had removed the tremors but it could not remove the memory of the pain, and the fear, and the helplessness he had felt. The attack by the Cerberus had been more of the same.

Harry curled up tight on his bed, and squeezed his eyes shut tight. He tried to imagine his dusty, cobwebby cupboard beneath the stairs at #4 Privet Drive. It was not the ideal place but when he had wanted to tune out his family, their meals, their loud television, and evil Aunt Marge, he had been able to do so there. He brought up memories of all those days he had spent in Aunt Petunia's garden and making it perfect. There were also memories of when he cooked for his fat cousin, and his aunt and uncle, and when he was the one to cook he always got to eat... later... some of what he cooked.

And, he was a good cook! That had been a source of pride for him. He was also a very good gardener. Both tasks, though hard, made him feel good inside because he had conquered them, and made those tasks his.

The small boy sniffled. He was hurt, not just physically, but mentally. He was also angry at himself. How stupid of him was it to be to want something that was just as bad as Hogwarts was to him?

Was he ever going to grow up and have a normal life where he was loved, and cared for? Someplace where he did not have to think about Aunt Petunia's voice screeching at him, or trying to hit him, or his Uncle Vernon telling him over and over what a freak, and a waste of space he was.

Harry closed his eyes so he could imagine the place he always ran to in his dreams; the ocean. There was wind but it was not sharp, cool, crisp, and it smelled like the sea. The beach was perfectly white sand where he could pick up all sorts of treasures the ocean would wash up. Large boulders hid wonderful tide pools that held crabs, sea anemone, shells, and more wonders. His place of sanctuary had a little hut on the beach and right from the patio he could fish. Harry had never fished but he was patient so he knew he would be good at it.

Harry's hut would be neat as a pin. He might not have a garden in the sand but maybe he would have lots of planters and pots with all sorts of flowers, and maybe he would also grow vegetables. He would cook for himself, and eat every last bite, and not share it with anyone. Well he would share it with Hedwig and his friends, and even Professor Snape.

As he flew over the ocean and his little hut with his friends Harry finally drifted off into a restful sleep.

A Reckoning With the Deputy Headmistress

Minerva McGonagall sat at the Headmaster's desk as she regarded the two wizards before her. Both had explained to her everything that had occurred since Bellatrix had captured Harry to kill him (thank Merlin she failed) to the sabotage of Harry's Quidditch tryout to an unfortunate encounter with the Cerberus, Fluffy.

"And, then you both stunned the Headmaster," concluded Minerva.

Severus corrected, "I stunned the Headmaster, Lucius bound his magic."

Minerva glared at Lucius who just barely managed not to cringe under her sharp gaze. "You... bound the Headmaster's magic, Lucius?!"

"Albus Dumbledore is an undisputed powerful wizard, madame. It appeared prudent to bind his magic so that he could not retaliate..." he frowned as his hands shifted imperceptibly over his lap, "...and remove something valued."

Minerva rolled her eyes. With a sigh she then asked, "And, so neither of you know where Fawkes took the Headmaster?"

Both wizards shook their heads in the negative.

"We need to find him," she concluded. "Remus Lupin is good at finding things and is a mite more honest than that sticky-fingered Mundungus Fletcher is," the witch said with a slight grimace. "I'll take care of that but, Severus, what you mentioned about Professor Quirrell adds to my own concerns. There have now been four accidents in his classes, and add to that what Harry heard in his class..." her lips thinned. "I heard Riddle speak once after he styled himself the Dark Lord." Minerva shivered. "I cannot say what Albus is playing at with Harry, and those traps he had us devise, or..." she shook her head. "The Philosopher's Stone? The Headmaster actually brought that into the school?" Her shoulders slumped as the weight of everything seemed to draw her down to the earth. "What a bloody mess this is."

“Minerva,” Severus began as he watched the older woman start to pace behind the desk. “I am concerned that Albus is not of… the sound mind that he was when we were all younger.” Minerva turned to look at her colleague. He adjusted his collar as she peered over the rims of her glasses as if she were judging him. “He has as much as said that a prophecy showed him that Harry is the Saviour. But then…”

“Then what, Severus,” she spoke softly. “Continue, please.”

“Albus had given me temporary guardianship over the boy since I had to travel to the Muggle world. However, at the end of September he rescinded his guardianship of Harry Potter to… well, to me.” Severus looked away from Minerva’s hard expression and right into Lucius’ own which reflected the aristocrat’s astonishment.

“Why did Dumbledore do that, Severus?” asked Lucius.

“I believe that a part of Albus realises that something is wrong with him, and he knows that I will do everything in my power to keep Harry safe.” He shook his head and his hands clasped tightly over his abdomen. “But then… this. Minerva, you were with Albus when he took the babe to his aunt and uncle in the Muggle world. Did he ever…?”

Minerva shook her head. “No, Severus. As Albus later told all of us in the Order, and you were there, he had taken the boy to his relatives so he could set up Blood Wards to keep Harry safe from those followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named that had escaped justice following his death. Nothing was said of Harry being a Saviour. In fact, Albus told me that night that UnSpeakables were at Godric’s Hollow in order to discover exactly what happened.”

Lucius spoke up, “Madame, do you believe the legend of the Boy-Who-Lived?”

Minerva chuckled darkly. “Of course not, Lucius. Daily Prophet poppycock! I read the UnSpeakables report on the Potters deaths. I also know that there has never been a child with fully developed magic that could defeat a full grown wizard.”

“Harry is a good student,” remarked Severus, “but he is like any first year that is getting used to controlling his magic.”

“He has not had many classes since you found him, has he, Severus?” asked Lucius.

“Not many. He is three weeks behind the other first years, and he also did not have a wand until about a week ago,” replied Severus. “Today was the end of four weeks of classes for him.”

Minerva tapped the surface of Albus desk and it was at that moment she noticed something she had not seen before. “Albus journal.”

Severus jumped up beside the Deputy Headmistress. He picked up the journal. “This is a health journal. Albus does not write in it. It is charmed to make notations of his health so that Madame Pomfrey can keep watch upon his health - mental and physical.” He glanced up at Minerva. “This is, essentially, a private document and no one would be able to see it unless they were a Healer.”

“We can see it,” noted Minerva.

The Floo took all of their attention as the orange flames whooshed into the familiar green and Poppy Pomfrey stepped forth. “You can see the journal, Minerva, because the Headmaster’s dementia has reached a crisis level.” She walked over and took the journal from the Potions Master’s hand. “Albus does not know of this journal. I set it up for him when I began noticing during the summer that Albus was suffering from bouts of extreme moods, and forgetfulness. The journal is supposed to make itself known when the Headmaster has come to a crisis that affects his position here at Hogwarts.”

“Wait,” said Lucius. “You have known that Dumbledore is sick and you said nothing?”

Poppy faced Lucius and did not back away from his taller, more intimidating stature, “It was not my place to do so, Mr. Malfoy. Only Albus Dumbledore can speak to others about his health. I must keep such knowledge confidential.”

“But I am on the Board of Governors, Madame Pomfrey! We should know if the Headmaster’s health is compromised,” said Lucius indignantly.

“So now you do, Mr. Malfoy,” replied Poppy stiffly. “Albus Dumbledore is hereby formally diagnosed as non compis mentis due to Dementia brought on by advanced age.. Minerva, until the Board of Governors decides otherwise, you are now the Headmistress of Hogwarts.” Poppy returned to the fireplace and threw in the Floo powder. “Mr. Malfoy, I shall send a medical report to the Board of Governors.” She vanished into the green flames.

“Well,” said Minerva gingerly sitting in the chair that was now, by default, hers. She steepled her fingers on the surface of the desk. “Severus, I will contact Remus and have him begin looking for wherever the Headmaster ended up. As for Hogwarts, something must be done about Quirinus Quirrell beyond simply firing him.” She glanced pointedly at both wizards.

Neither one said anything but both looked to her for an indication of what must be done next.

The older woman sighed. Part of her did not want the responsibility the Headmaster had inadvertently left her with, but she would not pass it on to anyone else. "Severus, correct me if I am wrong but IF Quirinus has a connection to the spirit of Riddle we need to destroy it. Have you any idea how we might do so?"

"I have been researching ways to destroy spirits since the death of… his body. The Muggles exorcise an evil spirit but it will not destroy it," grimaced Professor Snape.

“Then you will continue your research, and keep Harry safe. Since you are his guardian, and as you were publicly outed during your trial as a spy, that shall be ended.” Severus nodded in agreement. Minerva looked over the rim of her spectacles at him, and he knew he was about to hear something he did not wish to. “That means, Severus, take care of your House as you will but enough with the favouritism in your class. I am not asking for a reduction in points or detentions but I expect to hear that your Slytherins are equally held accountable for their infractions.”

“And what of the favouritism of other teachers towards my Snakes… Headmistress?” drawled Severus darkly.

“I shall meet with the other teachers to let them know that Albus is gone, that I am temporary Headmistress, and that favouritism shall no longer be tolerated.”

“Very well,” nodded Severus.

"In the meantime, Lucius, as you are a member of the Board of Governors you are in a position to monitor Professor Quirrell's classes." Lucius frowned in puzzlement. The Headmistress clarified, "I do not want anymore students hurt until we can deal properly with Professor Quirrell without alerting him as to what is planned."

"And, what is planned, Minerva?" asked Severus carefully.

The witch captured his gaze, "We will end this, Severus. Here and now." Severus smiled thinly in agreement.

I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 24

Wednesday 30 Oct. 1991

Harry had moved back to Gryffindor tower the day he and his friends had been released from the Infirmary. The next morning, the day Draco was released from the Infirmary, Deputy Headmistress revealed at breakfast in the Great Hall that Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was on medical leave until the end of the term. Until his resignation, which her tone implied was expected, Minerva McGonagall would be the new Headmistress. Lucius Malfoy had also been introduced to all the students as a monitor for the Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Professor Quirrell had appeared tense at that announcement but he said nothing against it.

Wednesday was Defence Against the Dark Arts for the Gryffindor and Slytherin first years. Harry and Hermione were both wary of just attending the class. Draco was skittish because his father would be in the class.

The students filed in and all of them glanced over at the elegant looking gentleman with his long white hair braided into a thin braid wrapped with a spiral of leather strips at the nape of his neck. Lucius did not wear his usual jacket over a vest and blouse. For class he wore black teaching robes that he had borrowed from Professor Snape. Beneath his robes he wore a white shirt, with a quilted waistcoat of blue velvet. Professor Quirrell stood at the head of his class and tried not to ‘see’ Lucius. The aristocrat was not going to settle quietly and when the class was broken up into teams to practice basic shielding spells he was in the midst of the class offering help, and showing students how to move their wands, or to stand. It was Professor Quirrell who was relegated to his desk where he sat, and drummed his fingers annoyingly on the arm of his chair.

Harry was trying to cast a shield spell he’d had moderate success at but this time it was eluding him and he was getting frustrated. Lucius stepped up behind Harry, and held up his wand to keep Pansy Parkinson from casting any spells. Knowing it was foolish to even try, Pansy sneered.

“First of all you need to relax, Mr. Potter. Shield spells are the easiest to cast simply due to the fact that the wand movements do not matter as much as one’s intent does. If you are frustrated then that means you have no intent to truly protect yourself.”

“Protego!” Harry shouted. There was a spark but no shield.

“One moment…” Lucius looked towards Pansy. “Miss Parkinson, do you know any hexes?”

“A few,” she huffed. She figured she knew quite a lot. She had two older brothers who liked to practise on her.

“A Jelly Legs hex, then, on my mark.” The girl nodded and prepared to hex her opponent. Suddenly Lucius levitated Harry’s glasses, and covered his eyes.

“Hey! I can’t see!” he yelled. Professor Quirrell stopped the drumming of his fingers and watched the proceeding with a hawk-like gaze.

“So you cannot. Now, take a moment… draw in a few deep breaths…” he leaned over and whispered, “Know where your opponent is, and that she moves.” Lucius gestured for Pansy to take a few steps sideways. “Think of your shield and that you want the most protection to be where your opponent’s hex will hit.”

Lucius then nodded to Pansy and she shouted, “Crura gelata!”

At nearly the same moment Harry successfully cast his shield. Unfortunately he was only a few inches off the mark of where the hex hit, and he was thrown backwards.

Lucius caught Harry. “Very good, Mr. Potter! Again!” He set the boy on his feet, and Harry’s second shield was perfect. It blocked the Jelly Legs Hex and it was strong enough to send it right back to Pansy. Pansy fell with an outraged cry. Draco had turned away from his practise along with several other students to watch, and he laughed.

Lucius scowled at those giggling. “Gentlemen never laugh at young women. Mr. Crabbe, assist Miss Parkinson.” The boy hesitated. “Now!”

The class ended well, and needless to say it was enjoyable for the students. Lucius allowed Quirrell to lecture to the class about anything he wished but Lucius took over when the work dealt with magic.

The dinner hour arrived and the Quartet settled themselves at the Gryffindor table. It was not a smart move.

“What’s he doing here?” sneered Lavender Brown.

“I said Draco could sit with us,” Harry glared at the snooty girl.

Seamus Finnigan looked up from his stew and stated, “He’s a Slytherin, Potter. What’chu want with one o’ him, ‘Arry?”

“He’s my friend,” muttered Harry.

“And mine,” declared Ron sharply. Draco glanced in surprise at the redhead. He had expected the Gryffindor to bow to popular opinion.

“Draco’s my friend, too,” glared Hermione.

Percy the prefect stepped in, “They’re right, Harry. Draco’s got to sit with his House…”

Fred Weasley interrupted, “No they’re not right!” He moved to and squished himself right beside Draco.

George followed his twin and settled beside Harry. “There’s no rules that says Draco can’t sit here so shut your pie-hole, Perc.”

Blushing with humiliation and anger, Percy shouted at his brother, “No he can’t sit here! He’s a bleeding Slytherin!”

A hush fell over the Great Hall and suddenly mortified Percy dropped heavily onto the bench.

“Prefect Weasley, whatever has you in such a snit that you feel it necessary to shout it to everyone in the Great Hall?” Professor McGonagall had arrived in total silence. She glared darkly at Percy over the rims of her spectacles, and then raked her gaze over the rest of her Lions.

“Draco shouldn’t sit here, ma’am,” said Percy as he blushed even darker.

“Habit has dictated mealtime, Prefect Weasley.” Minerva raised her voice so everyone could hear, “Houses need only sit together during the Feasts, and any meetings that are called. During mealtimes friends are encouraged to sit anywhere they wish.” She smiled down at the first year Slytherin. “You are welcome to sit here with your friends during any meal you wish, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco smiled fetchingly, “Thank you, Headmistress.” The moment Minerva walked away Draco cast a more smug smile at Percy, then returned his attention to his friends.

Meals arrived and Ron, who had ordered beef with lots of mashed potatoes and gravy, and sweet pumpkin juice, looked askance at the vegetables that appeared rather huge to him on Draco’s plate next to his roast beef. “That’s a lot of veg, Draco. Do you like ‘em?”

“Not especially,” he replied as he speared a baby carrot, and popped it in his mouth.

“Then why are you eating them?” asked Harry. He had some vegetables, and his juice was orange juice rather than the pumpkin which was too sweet for him.

“Professor Snape tailors all our meals because he says the elves serve too many sweets and fatty foods,” replied Draco with a knowing air. “Of course, I think he drinks too much of that awful coffee.”

Hermione intervened, “I think that’s a great idea! I think I’m the only Gryffindor to ever eat salad.”

“That’s cuz you’re a rabbit, ‘Mione!” smirked Ron.

“And you’re a pig, Ronald,” she snapped back, and stabbed at a slice of small tomato.

“Yeah, chew with your mouth closed, you barbarian,” chuckled Draco.

Ron swallowed his big mouthful of mash and gravy, then scowled, “Shut it, ferret-face.”

“Make me, oink oink!” challenged Draco. Harry giggled but it was cut off as a spoonful of Ron’s mashed potatoes flew across the table and hit Draco’s cheek.

All was silent at the Gryffindor table until Draco picked up a piece of broccoli and threw it at Ron. It would have been a terrible fight but Draco had giggled at the last second before the flying broccoli hit Ron in the forehead. Ron instantly retaliated with a wet spoonful of gravy. Draco ducked this time but Ron’s aim was off and it hit Harry. Harry looked appalled but then grinned and picked up a piece of squash and threw it at Ron. That was all it took; the food fight erupted and soon the entire house of Gryffindor was flinging food at each other. The other Houses watched from their tables and either laughed or cheered on the mayhem.

“HOLD!” roared Professor McGonagall from the teacher’s dais. “If anyone throws another piece of food everyone in Gryffindor will lose ten points!” Without her having to say so every Gryffindor student knew that that many points would drop their House points into the negative.

“Mr. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter,” said Professor Snape darkly, “To the Headmistress’s office this second.” He turned to vanish through the thin door the teacher’s used.

The Headmistress glared one last time in disappointment at her House. “Clean that mess, and then everyone go to the common room. Dinner is over for all of you.” She then swept away from the teacher’s table and through the door Professor Snape had slipped through.

Professor Snape stood in front of the Headmistress’ desk while she stood behind it. As the transgressors came through the door into the office he silently counted, one… two… three. Four.

“Miss Granger,” noted Snape. “You were not summoned to the Headmistress’ office. What are you doing here?”

“They’re my friends, sir,” she replied as bravely as possible.

“Ah. So that gives you carte blanche to participate in any activity they deem necessary to initiate,” he purred darkly, “and to evenly partake in any retribution that is imparted to their… unruly… carcasses.”

Hermione glanced uneasily at each of her friends. Ron grimaced, and hissed, “Don’t look at me, ‘Mione. I don’t even know what he said.”

Draco hissed, “I told you to stay.”

Hermione glared indignantly at Draco, “I’m not a dog, you… ferret!”

“Stop calling Draco a ferret!” huffed Harry.

“She called me a pig!” retorted Ron.

All four fell into a shouting match that devolved into a bout of name-calling. Snape observed that Harry tried to stop the argument, and also stood a bit away from his friends.

“Enough!” declared Minerva. “And, be silent. Miss Granger, unless you desire points loss and a detention I suggest that you take your leave now.”

Hermione blanched. “Go on, Hermione,” said Harry quietly. “We’ll be okay. Professor Snape is here.”

Hermione nodded in agreement. She looked at each of her friends, and then left the office.

Percy had removed thrown food, and stains from the boys so they would look marginally presentable. Likely he hoped the points loss would not be too bad.

Professor Snape glared at each of the boys. Harry seemed to shrink beneath his teacher’s disapproval. He startled Snape as he stepped towards the tall man, and looked up at him. “Mr. Potter?”

“Sir,” said Harry with all the politeness he had, “please don’t hit us.”

Ron leaned worriedly towards Draco, “Is Snape gonna hit us?”

“Quiet, weasel,” hissed Draco.

“Mr. Potter,” replied Snape carefully as he weighed Harry’s request with what he knew of the child’s home life. “No student ever gets hit, or spanked at Hogwarts. And I,” he captured the boy’s wide, green-eyed gaze, “will never have cause to strike you, or any child.” He lowered his voice. “Now, go stand with your friends.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied with a bit of relief. He was worried that Professor Snape had looked so angry with them that he would hit all three of them. He moved swiftly back to stand between Ron and Draco.

“Normally I would inquire as to what precipitated this war waged with food products,” began Snape, “but in this particular case a food fight’s conception does not even begin to matter. Fighting is never allowed at Hogwarts. There is no excuse… ever. Each of you ought to know this by now.” He was met by three affirmative answers that were bare whispers of ‘yes, Professor Snape.’ “In order to make certain that neither of you forget this simple rule you will each lose 30 points, and none of you will be allowed to attend the Halloween Feast since you will all be busy in my classroom writing an essay.”

Harry and Draco who knew of the Halloween Feast by reputation so each gasped, and dropped their jaws in their incredible disappointment. Harry knew nothing about the well-known feast of delicious foods and abundance of sweets and pastries. He had also never taken part of the Muggle holiday since he was always locked into his cupboard on that night.

To him, a 30 point loss was almost fair (and even though he had not started it or even thrown any food - which he was definitely not going point out now), and as to the essay? Well, that would be in Professor Snape’s class and his teacher would be there. That would not be bad at all.

They were dismissed and sent to their common rooms.

“Dragon.”

“Father?” Draco glanced in fear at his father who had been waiting for him near the gargoyle that blocked the stairs the the Head’s tower.

“A food fight,” Lucius dropped with disappointment that fell on Draco’s heart like lead.

“Yes, sir?” Draco shuffled a bit closer to Harry.

“You are a Malfoy, young man. Your mother and I raised you better than to take part in such mischief,” Lucius’ voice purred with malice as he strolled closer to the three young boys. “Were you aware that whilst I am here I am able to take points, and to set detentions?” Draco shook his head woefully. “20 points from Slytherin added to whatever Professor Snape gave you.” He then glared at Ron and Harry who both cringed towards Draco. “As for you two miscreants. I expect you both to clean the owlery this saturday. Dragon, Professor Snape will provide you with an additional detention while they clean.” He then nodded. “Good day, gentlemen.”

“No Halloween and working on saturday?” moaned Ron. “That’s so unfair!”

“I think I’d rather clean than do a second detention with Professor Snape. He’s probably going to have me gut snails,” Draco grimaced.

Harry said nothing. Again, cleaning an owlery was probably no worse than cleaning Dudley’s toilet every saturday. At least he would finally get a visit with Hedwig.

I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 25

warning: excessively long chapter ahead.

Halloween was the most boring holiday in the world as Harry, Ron, and Draco all sat in the Potions classroom working on essays that Professor Snape had assigned to them. He had given them each an essay that dealt with a subject neither could share with their friends. Ron’s essay was on the Five Properties of the Scarab Beetle in Skin Potions, Draco’s essay was on the Six Bases For Healing Potions & The Different Cauldrons to Make Them Efficacious, and Harry’s essay was on The Luna Moth & Why it is an Ingredient Harvested at Night.

Harry was a bit disappointed that Professor Snape remained in his office and only checked on them and their progress until curfew at ten. At that hour, finished or not, they handed in their essays, and returned to their common rooms.

Hermione had escaped punishment for the food fight but she had not forgotten her friends. She had collected a treacle tart for each of them along with a bag full of sweets that included sugar quills, licorice ink, edible cinnamon parchment (upon which she wrote them each notes in licorice ink), chocolate frogs, Berties Bott’s Every Flavour Jelly Bean, fizzing whizzbees, Glacial Snow Flakes, Chocoballs, Exploding Bon Bons, Tooth-flossing string mints, Spindle’s Lick o’Rish spiders (but not for Ron - he’d already let everyone know he hated spiders) and white chocolate ice mice. The boys found these delicious treasures under their pillows when they went to bed.

Wonderful Hermione!

Cleaning the Owlery - 2 Nov. 1991

Draco was firmly inundated with a barrel of frogs livers he had to liberate from dead frogs, and then add to a solution that would pickle them. Ron and Harry ascended the outer staircase that led to the very top of the Owlery in order to clean it.

“This is gross,” complained Ron.

“This is just a mess, Ron,” said Harry who was looking for Hedwig. “You want gross? Go clean my cousin’s bathroom.” Harry grimaced at the memory.

A hoot and a coo alerted Harry that his owl was near. He grinned when Hedwig flew down from the perches and right next to her boy. She rubbed her head against his elbow.

“Hedwig! It’s been forever since I saw you last. I’m sorry about that.” Hedwig cooed forgivingly and nipped his fingers as he fed her a treat.

“That’s your owl, Harry?” asked Ron as he crouched down in front of Harry and Hedwig.

“Hagrid gave her to me for my birthday. Hedwig, this is my friend Ron.” Hedwig cooed at Ron, and he smiled, and scratched her head.

“I get Percy’s rat when he leaves Hogwarts at the end of this term,” said Ron slightly sadly.

“A rat?” asked Harry. “Doesn’t seem like a great pet… uhm… familiar.”

“Yeah, Scabbers is kinda grungy. And, he runs away a lot. I saw him the night of the Welcoming Feast and no one’s seen him since.”

“You know, I heard Hagrid’s got a bunch of Krup puppies that he found. Maybe he’d give you one then you wouldn’t have to have your brother’s rat,” suggested Harry.

Ron glanced up, “How’d you learn of that. Have you visited Hagrid?”

Harry shook his head. “Draco told me. Let’s all go tomorrow. We can visit and see if Hagrid has those puppies.”

“Yeah!” agreed Ron.

Harry looked down at Hedwig and fed her the last treat he had. “Me and Ron gotta clean the owlery now, Hedwig. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Ron rose to his feet, glared at all the owl droppings and the feathers of dozens of different colors, and slapped his hands to his hips. “This is impossible!”

Harry watched as Hedwig flew through one of the open air arches, and then he stood and walked over to his friend. “Nah, this is easy, Ron. We’ll sweep all the feathers up first then scrub off the old owl droppings. C’mon.”

It took all day to clean the owlery but it was done. Ron raced to get a bite of dinner but Harry, not at all hungry, decided to sit in the Entrance Hall. Argus Filch, the irascible caretaker, was there mopping the floor. He spied the first year, and sneered at him.

“Ain’t you s’posed to be eating, boy?” he demanded.

“I’m not really hungry, sir,” Harry informed him. “Do you need some help, Mr. Filch?”

Filch gave him a look that wondered at the boy’s state of mind. “Nobody helps me. You tryin’ to prank me, you little snot?”

“No, sir!” Harry sat up and held up his hands. “I really do mean to offer help. If you take care of this whole castle by yourself you should have some help now and then don’t you think?”

“Spec so,” mused Filch. It intrigued him that the boy had not stopped talking to him, insulted him, hexed him, or even run away. That was what students usually did to him. “Headmaster jus’ always told me I wuz strong enough ta do it meself. I got Mrs. Norris. She’s a good ol’ girl.”

“Who’s Mrs. Norris, sir?” asked Harry as he walked over and took the mop from the caretaker. He began to mop the floor.

Filch watched the boy amazed as he took his mop, and began to work it against the floor. “Yer an odd boy. Mrs. Norris is me cat. Nobody likes her ‘cept Professor Snape.”

“I like Professor Snape,” grinned Harry.

“No student likes, Professor Snape,” he grumbled in puzzlement.

“I do,” insisted Harry. “He rescued me, and he brewed an anti-Cruciatus potion for me, and he’s been nice to me.”

Filch had heard the story of Bellatrix Lestrange finding Harry Potter and nearly killing him. “Yer that Potter kid. How come you talkin’ to me? I ‘spect you’d be with all your Gryffindor buddies and up to some pranks to make my life hell.” Filch glared at him, and snatched his mop back. He was not going to take a chance that the boy might hex it.

“I don’t do pranks,” Harry defended himself tautly. “Neither do my friends Ron, Hermione, and Draco. We aren’t bullies.”

“Wizards ain’t kind to Squibs, Potter,” muttered Filch.

“I don’t know what a Squib is,” replied Harry. He really wanted to make this man a friend. He could see that he had been insulted and bullied for years, and he needed someone, a student since it appeared Filch did not much like them, to be on his side.

“I’m a Squib, yer a wizard. I only got enough magic in me that it don’t do nuthin’ but sit there,” he snarled as if to hurt the boy before he managed to hurt him. “You don’t know much do ye, ye daft dim boy.”

“Nope,” Harry sighed. “I think you’re lucky to not have magic.” Filch scowled at him, and leaned forward, his mop supporting him. “Well, you just get to live, and you got a cat. I’m supposed to kill a wizard that’s already dead.”

“That’s daft,” commented Filch.

“Yeah, it is.”

Both studied each other for a moment, and then Harry walked over to Filch. He saw a scrub brush in the bucket so he bent to pick it up. “I’d really like to help, sir. Is that okay?”

Filch’s lips thinned, and then he lifted the mop, splashed it into the bucket, and slapped it on the flagstone floor. “Only for a few minutes afore curfew. I gotta give you detention after then, ya understand.”

Harry smiled at Filch as the man pointed him towards a corner of the floor of the Entrance Hall to scrub. “Can I meet your cat some time, Mr. Filch?” asked Harry.

“Spec so, Mr. Potter.” Filch leaned over and scrubbed the floor with the mop. His smirk was half a smile. Generally he was suspicious of the little witches and wizards who were just flat out insulting to him. He liked this Potter boy, and he hoped he was really being polite.

Fifteen minutes later Harry was washing the slim windows in the Entrance Hall with the Squib caretaker Filch. Hard work never really bothered him since he had been doing it so long. It was much more bearable to work with someone. Ron had been working in the Owlery with him and even though his friend complained a lot, it still went fast. Argus Filch was quieter but he was efficient, too.

“Mr. Potter! What are you doing?”

Harry turned, then smiled. “Hello, Professor Snape! I’m helping Mr. Filch wash windows.”

“I see that. Why?” Snape was genuinely puzzled. Had not the boy already had a detention?

“Mr. Filch needed some help so I told him I could. He’s going to introduce me to his cat, Mrs. Norris. She bites students,” he chuckled.

“Is this a detention, Mr. Filch?” he truly hoped that Harry had not earned a second detention for saturday.

“No, professor. Mr. Potter jus’ wanted to help.” He took the soapy sponge from the boy. “You ain’t had dinner, Potter. Best get some afore it’s too late.”

“Okay, Mr. Filch. Just don’t forget I’ll help you any time. Good night, sir.” Harry trotted over to the Potions Master. “Are you going into dinner, Professor Snape?”

“Sunday is lasagna, something I am partial to,” replied Snape.

“I’ve cooked lasagna,” remarked Harry.

“You have cooked, Mr. Potter?”

Harry nodded. “I’m a really good cook. Aunt Petunia will cook for guests but for every other time she makes me cook,” he beamed proudly, “and I get to eat some of the food, too!”

Professor Snape noted that Harry was becoming more relaxed around him, and he continued to reveal information about his erstwhile home life. It was good to hear that Harry was proud of something but he sounded equally proud of being able to eat what he cooked. Was he fed at all at other times? The boy was small, and skinny; he doubted it. “Your aunt taught you how to cook, did she?”

Harry snorted softly, “No, sir. Aunt Petunia thinks she can cook but she puts garlic and pepper in everything! I taught myself.”

“You… taught… yourself,” Snape repeated drily.

“Yep!” Harry broke away from him as soon as he spied his friends. Professor Snape was left with questions that all centered upon the Dursleys. He had known Petunia as a child and she had been a spiteful, and cruel thing that tended to bully her younger, and prettier sister Lily. He doubted she had changed at all.

Severus Snape was taking his evening ease in his quarters. He had poured himself a firewhiskey and was contemplating whether to read a Potions periodical or something more indulgent in fiction. He was disturbed from the perusal of his bookcase in his sitting room as a polite knock tripped across his door.

Knowing instinctively that his late night visitor was Harry, he was prepared to dock points for him being out several hours after curfew. As he opened his door to a small, rumpled little boy who had forgotten robe, and slippers, and had a terribly worried look upon his face, he said nothing, and ushered Harry into his sitting room.

Snape sat Harry down upon the sofa in front of the fire, then tucked a quilt around him. Lastly he dosed him with a half-dose of Calming Potion. Finally, he seated himself beside the child.

“You have not slept, Harry,” observed Snape. Harry nodded in the affirmative. “What has been keeping you awake then?” Snape envisioned it might be a quiz, or a practical, or even a potion in his class. He was dumbfounded when Harry spoke quietly of a nightmare.

“I had the most awful dream,” shivered Harry.

“Can you tell me about it?” asked Snape gently. When the boy shook his head, mostly in fear, the wizard pulled him into his side. A far distant part of himself marvelled at how easy such an offer of comfort was becoming. “Try, Harry. Nothing can hurt you here.”

“Well, it started nice enough. I was visiting Hedwig and feeding her treats. I thought it was really pretty with all the stars and I could see all of Hogsmeade glittering way, way below me. I then looked towards the Forbidden Forest... next thing I knew there’s blood everywhere… owls are hooting… and what’s really weird is that I feel so calm… careless, really.” Harry took a deep breath and frowned as he recalled the dream that had awakened him. “It’s like I don’t care that I’m going to die. And, just when I think I am going to die, I see you.” Harry looked away from the flames and up at Professor Snape as if to be sure it was him beside him.

“Was I angry with you?”

Harry shook his head. “No. You were relieved, I think. That’s when I tried to talk… to warn you but I couldn’t. And, he’s really mad at you. He just wants to kill me but…” Harry’s lips thinned as he tried to interpret his dream. “Sir, I think he wants to hurt you. Really awfully and then he wants to kill you.”

Snape swallowed nervously. “Who is HE, Harry?” The wizard was certain who HE was, but he had to hear it from Harry.

“A monster,” Harry replied in a hush. “With evil eyes.”

Harry did not cry, although he was sure he ought to but he was getting older and he wanted to show his teacher that he did not cry at everything. It was dumb, and he was sure Professor Snape did not like dumb people. The dream had terrified him which is why he had jumped from bed and raced down to the dungeons. All he had wanted was to get to his dad… to Professor Snape. He knew that the professor would keep him safe. To that end he pressed tighter against his teacher’s side.

Snape tightened his grip on Harry. He would keep Harry safe. The boy was his ward now. Even as he thought that, though, Snape knew it was not just because of the guardianship. Harry had become something more than Albus’ little puppet to protect; he was a child that needed an adult… him. And, the Potions Master who had long ago learned that no one would ever care about him, or hold him when he was afraid, found that compassion in Harry. In Harry’s words as he related the nightmare, it had scared him, but even more it terrified him that something, a monster, not only would take his teacher away, but hurt him.

Someone cared about Severus Snape.

Monday - 4 Nov. 1991

Tea & Krups

Lunchtime did not come quick enough but when it did the Quartet of Harry, Draco, Hermione, and Ron ran down the sloping hill past the miniature Callanish Stones and towards Hagrid’s hut. Ron and Hermione had visited once but Harry and Draco had never been. As the sloping hill even out they were all stopped by a huge boarhound that came running towards them.

“That’s Fang,” said Ron. “He’s okay.”

“Just slobbery,” smiled Hermione.

Fang instantly knocked Ron over, snuffled him, gave his cheek a slobbery kiss, then got up, kissed Hermione’s arm just as sloppily, and then regarded the two new smells. Draco, who was wary of animals in general but mostly dogs since their encounter with Fluffy, backed away.

Ron had gotten up, and was wiping his cheek with the hem of his robe. “Fang’s okay, Draco. He doesn’t bite.”

Draco did his best to hold his ground but just in case he grasped Hermione’s hand. Fang snuffled Draco, and when he was done and approved of the boy, he licked his cheek.

“Yagh!” Draco yelped. “That’s gross! Eurgh.” He wiped at his offended cheek.

Fang ignored it and checked out Harry. He snuffled him, and suddenly realised that this little wizard had additional smell he recognised. Fang woofed in delight as he smelled the tall, black wizard, and then licked Harry’s cheek and entire face to let him know how great he was.

As Harry laughed, and wiped the drool off his face, Fang gamboled away, and barked to let Hagrid know he had visitors. Hagrid came lumbering around the corner and at his elbow was Professor Snape.

Professor Snape was enthusiastically greeted as was Hagrid. He ushered everyone into his hut, and began pouring mugs of tea. He handed out rock cakes. Ron whispered to Harry who was near him, “Careful, Harry. I think these are made with real rocks.”

“Don’t think ah’ve ever had so many guests at once,” grinned Hagrid. “Ye all’re most welcome, though.”

“Thanks, Hagrid,” replied Hermione. “We just got caught up in school but then we heard you had some Krups.”

“Did you see them, sir?” Harry asked of Professor Snape.

He nodded as he sipped his tea. It was weak, and very sweet. He said nothing, though, as he never did. It was impolite.

“Hagrid,” piped up Ron, “do you think I could have a Krup?”

“Sure, Ron!” agreed the large man. “Gotta wean ‘em first, though. Just found the pups, not their mum. The perfessor here came to give ‘em all a few potions.”

Draco asked in puzzlement, “What sort of potions do puppies need?”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “You know very well, Mr. Malfoy, that animals are in need of potions just as witches or wizards. Have you not seen your father distribute potions I make to his peacocks.”

“Th’ Krup pups is just little ‘uns, Draco, so’s I gotta make sure fleas an’ ticks don’t bother them. Since they’re mum wasn’t anywhere round the perfessor made a strengthening potion to add to their pablum. Make those mites right healthy, twill.”

Draco nodded at Hagrid, and gave his Head of House a quick glance. “I just wondered, sir.”

“Do not be embarrassed for asking, Mr. Malfoy. To ask questions is to gain knowledge,” elucidated the Potions Master. Draco smiled shyly at him. He always liked to know when he had done something right. Harry caught the looks between the two Slytherins, and frowned. He had the sudden, and irrational feeling, that Professor Snape was HIS, nobody else’s.

Professor Snape caught Harry’s frown and the glitter of jealousy in his green eyes. “Mr. Potter? Is something the matter?”

Harry shook his head and pushed away his tea. “Hagrid, can we see the puppies?”

“Sure, ‘Arry. Let’s all go!”

Ron chose a Krup - the smallest that had red fur - and they continued to visit until Professor Snape escorted them up to the castle. He did not seem at all in a hurry to let go of Harry’s hand. Hermione noted this and could not help herself from asking the question that was burning inside of her…

“Professor Snape, you and Harry are going to be seen. Doesn’t that concern you?” She glanced pointedly at Harry’s fingers entwined in Snape’s.

“Circumstances have changed, Miss Granger,” Professor Snape squeezed Harry’s hand. Minerva had made him aware that the Daily Prophet had taken particular glee in announcing for that afternoon’s edition that ‘a certain teacher who teaches Potions has taken over guardianship of the Boy-Who-Lived in the wake of the Headmaster’s mysterious illness’. The Quartet had gone to visit Hagrid so by now every student who subscribed to that vicious rag knew of his and Harry’s changed circumstances.

Truthfully, Professor Snape was not concerned about the students learning of his ward, he was worried that Quirrell might learn, and that could lead to unwarranted danger.

The Gryffindor common room had been rife with gossip over Harry’s new guardian. He had stayed for a few questions but when the jokes and the insults had begun he had slipped away. He was not as sneaky as he had hoped. Harry ran straight into the Weasley twins.

“Need a break, Harry?” asked Fred.

“Bit noisy in there, isn’t it?” asked George.

“A bit,” Harry agreed quietly. He glanced between the twins. He doubted that he would be able to tell either apart if he knew them for the rest of his life. He smiled wryly. “Nobody likes Professor Snape do they?”

“Snape’s been a git for awhile, Harry,” sighed Fred.

“I think he just hates kids,” said George.

“But, that’s not true. Professor Snape has been good to me,” Harry did not mention that the professor had also held him a few times when he had gotten upset. That was ever so much more than his relatives had ever done. He recalled being four years old with measles and he had spent a terrible two weeks in his cupboard with fever and chills. He was certain that had Professor Snape been there he would have been taken care of properly, and maybe even given ice pops when his throat got sore.

“Professor Snape is complicated, Harry,” smiled Fred.

“It’s okay if he doesn’t like any one in Gryffindor,” said George patting Harry’s back. “What matters to us, and I mean me and Gred…”

“Thanks, Forge,” smirked Fred.

George smirked back. “What matters, young Harry, is that our irascible Potions Master likes you.”

Harry sighed with relief. He had not known he was that worried about what everyone else thought of his guardian.

“Why don’t you go and visit with Hedwig,” suggested Fred.

“We’ll get everyone to bed,” finished George. He nudged Harry towards the stairs that led outside, and to an outer balcony that spilled out onto the stairs that took visitors to the Owlery.

Harry grinned, and broke into a run heading right for the Owlery. Fred and George would take care of everything.

“Hi, Hedwig!” Harry called and the snowy owl cooed to him from the rafters. Hedwig then flew down to perch on the window-sill of one of open-arched windows and rubbed her head against Harry’s arm.

“Ron has a familiar now and it’s a Krup,” said Harry as he lightly scratched Hedwig’s head. “It’s a puppy so Hagrid’s going to keep him until they’re weaned. Can I tell you a secret that’s not so secret?” Harry smiled as Hedwig nipped his fingers for treats. Harry chuckled and pulled a few out of his pocket. He gave her one and she quickly nibbled it down. “Professor Snape is my guardian.” He beamed and gave his familiar another treat. “He told me in class today and said we didn’t have to pretend to hate each other in front of people. That’s nice. It’s like having a real…” he bent towards the owl and whispered, “a dad.” He giggled, then stopped himself. “I keep forgetting that I have to go back to the Dursleys. I don’t want to now. I mean…” he paused and gave Hedwig another treat as he looked out at the stars. “There’s still a dead guy that wants to kill me, and people still think I’m some sort of silly Saviour.” Hedwig hooted softly in understanding. “I want to stay with Professor Snape. Is that dumb of me?”

Hedwig hooted, rubbed her head against Harry’s arm, and cooed several times. Lastly, as if to complete her argument, she flapped her wings and let out a soft, long hoot. Harry smiled and gave Hedwig the last treat he had. He smiled brightly. “Thanks, Hedwig. I’m glad you make lots of sense.”

Hedwig butted her boy’s arm, then flew off into the night towards the Forbidden Forest. Harry leaned on the window-sill and watched as his beautiful owl became one of the twinkling stars in the sky.

A light!

Harry squinted down at the Forbidden Forest. It WAS a light. A single lantern that a shadowy figure held aloft as if whoever it was did not have magic to float it in front of them.

"Hagrid doesn't see it," Harry whispered to no one. "HEDWIG!" Harry shouted but his owl was too far away to hear. She was likely hunting some little mouse or rat for dinner.

An owl of uncommonly black feathers drifted silently down from the deep shadows of the Owlery. It bit Harry's arm to pull his attention momentarily away from the light that was wavering as the figure was being swallowed by the forest.

"Ouch!" Harry ripped his eyes away, and then had to blink since all he could see were luminous yellow eyes. He studied the curious owl, and then his gaze widened. "You belong to Professor Snape, don't you?" The owl hooted once. "Please, get him? I don't know why but I have to go after that light... please? Can you get Professor Snape?"

With one last, mournful hoot the bird flew, and as if the hounds of hell (or a Cerberus named Fluffy) were after him Harry ran as fast he could down the Owlery stairs, down to the Entrance Hall, and out the doors. He kept running as he searched for the lantern light that had vanished from his sight. Without thought he dashed into the Forbidden Forest.

Deep in Harry's mind, though, a compelling susurration of chanting drew him into the heart of danger, and death.

"Helios, have you an owl for me?" he asked as he dipped the head of one slim bottle into hot wax the colour of deep forest green.

Helios spread his wings, flapped them, and even managed a convincing stomp of one clawed foot. The Potions Master stared in puzzlement at his owl, and then it screeched alarmingly at him.

"Harry!" Professor Snape gasped in understanding. "Where is he?"

Helios screeched again, and then vanished through his dark egress. Professor Snape rose to his feet, and ran from his private lab. He met his owl again outside of the Entrance Hall upon the large, marble porch. Helios was in the night sky, a fast-moving shade amongst the stars.

"Where is Harry, Helios?!" shouted Snape.

Once more Helios let out a long screech as he flew in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. Professor Snape ran keeping one eye upon the dark trees, and one eye upon his owl. For that vigilance he ran right into the groundskeeper, Hagrid.

"Easy, there, Perfessor!" Hagrid caught the wizard before he bounced back onto his bum indecorously. "Wut's got up yer nose this evenin'?"

"Harry!" blurted the concerned wizard. "He's gone into the Forbidden Forest."

Hagrid caught the professor before he dove into the dangerous thicket. "No, sir." He blanched at the dark man's glower. "I'm not sayin' ye can't, perfessor, jus' that ye oughta go with me an' Fang. There's been some terrible strange things goin' on in them woods, and murder's been done, too."

Snape stopped trying to yank his arm from the grip of the half-giant. "Murder? Of what? What are you talking about, Hagrid?"

"Unicorns is what, perfessor. Haven't you been a-told by Headmaster Dumbledore? Three unicorns, all male, dead from the loss of their blood." Hagrid shook his shaggy head. "Awful terrible. Been trying to find the beast what do such a hideous thing but I haven't seen a thing."

"Three unicorns are dead?"

"Drained of all their blood," Hagrid confirmed morosely. "Headmaster’s not spoken ta me in a few days, too. FANG! C'mere boy!"

An overly large boarhound bounded from the rear of the hut, saw Professor Snape, and wagged his tail enthusiastically. Fang loved the irascible wizard but he had learned not to kiss the man as he would anyone else. His loss, of course, but Fang did not mind too much since he still got hard biscuits to chew on from the 'Growly One'.

A far away yet assured screech came from the air, and Professor Snape looked up to see his owl circling an area over the Forbidden Forest.

"Helios!" cried Snape. "He's found Harry! Come along, Hagrid! Fang, you too!"

Hagrid grabbed a lantern that sat on his little porch to his hut and with Fang leading the way in silence, they ran after the boarhound.

Harry ran across the border and into the Forbidden Forest chanting to himself, "Stupid, stupid, stupid!"

Deep down he knew he should have just waited until the black owl told Professor Snape where to find him but something he could not control was not just luring him forth, but pulling at him as hard as he could resist. On the edges of Harry's consciousness was this haze of tranquility such as he was certain he had never known before. He wanted to fall into it, to let it take him over completely.

Harry could not do that, though. He was a survivor because he was always aware of everything around him. Attacks could come from something as derisive as a frowning face to Aunt Petunia blind-siding him with a smack from her hand. And, all of that had been in the world he had grown up in. This place had magic, and Harry was fast learning that as neat as some of it was there was a lot more that was worse!

He had no idea that he was resisting the total control of an Imperius Curse.

He had learned in a short time that there were jinxes and hexes that forced people to laugh or dance silly or have tons of bogies. There were living nightmares like the Crazy Witch, and Fluffy (Harry was still trying to swallow the insanity of such a dumb name for a killer dog) and then there was a murderer with magic, who was probably crazier than the Crazy Witch, who killed his parents, and wanted him to be dead, too.

And, deep down where he was cursing his folly at running after a lump carrying a lantern, and his mind was fighting at keeping that tranquility at bay... Harry was losing.

Harry stumbled over a tree root that grabbed at his foot. His mental attention was stripped away just as the pain registered in his system: pain to his ankle, pain to an elbow where he first fell, then to both knees. To his horror, or rather to a simple benevolence of just not caring about anything, the tranquility drifted over him, and swallowed him whole. He still hurt but he did not care anymore.

A voice in that sweet haze crooned to him, "Harrrrry my dear boy! Come... come... your minddddd musssst be sssssoooooo tired of fighting. Come... follow my voiccccccce and sssssup with me. Come child... up you go... there you are... a fffffine dinner isssss awaiting usssss and I ssssshhhhallllll share it with you... sssssweet little boyyyy..."

Harry sighed, smiled at the darkness, and rose to his feet. It did not matter that his ankle was twisted, or that he had torn his trousers at the knee, and now both knees had the skin torn, and were bleeding. He felt hungry for whatever the kind, snakey voice was offering him. No longer running, and hiding, he walked happily to his death.

Inside, though, where that cursing of himself had come from, Harry was fighting again. This time he knew he was not fighting awful stares, or insults, or Aunt Petunia, not even a Crazy Witch. Something else called to him, and that tiny survivor in him was screaming at him to stop, to hide, to quit listening to that voice.

The spectre of Death stopped Harry's body from moving and pushed him down behind the trunk of a large fallen tree. Before him was a clearing where the moon shone down in a perfect beam to reveal a scene of such maniacal carnage as no child, no kind person should ever have to see; a unicorn that had not been simply killed but slaughtered... torn apart with the deepest of anger. That lantern now sat upon the ground and illuminated for Harry the lump of shadow that was not revealed by the moon; a malformation of horror that stuck hands and head fully into the ravaged belly of the unicorn. Everywhere could be seen a silvery liquid that Harry instinctively knew was blood.

'Run!' the survivor shouted within.

But, that thing heard his Survivor, and it turned red eyes upon him that were filled with such hatred that Harry almost wanted to wilt into the fear that spread through him. When a heat from inside him spilled forth, and down his torn trousers, the Survivor in him rose up. A ghost taller than he was, a man, an adult who wavered between little Harry cowering behind the tree trunk and the wet of his soiled clothing.

Death, the Spectre, the skeletal creature that had saved him so many times on #4 Privet Drive, screamed at the child. 'Run, Harry! Run son! Severus is right behind you! Run to him!'

The monster let out a roar, and tried to burst through the phantom, and could not. Harry stumbled from his hideaway, scrambling away from ghost and monster. Once turned away from both he ran as fast he had ever run in his life, not knowing that another Survivor within him was picking him up into a twist of the world around him so that he flew through the atmosphere until he was thrown to the ground.

"Harry!"

Instantly arms that the boy knew were around him, picking him up. Harry's fingers clutched onto the folds of cloth, and gasped, "Run, daddy! Run! The monster's coming!"

Professor Snape had soon gotten ahead of Hagrid who, for a half-giant, was a swift man, but adrenaline had flooded Snape's body as he feared the worst for Harry. He ground to a sudden halt when something came out of the air right at him, and struck the ground at his feet. In seconds he knew the small projectile was Harry, and he knelt down to draw the boy who trembled with absolute terror into his arms.

An acrid smell from the child's clothing assaulted his nose, and though he quickly identified what it was Snape ignored it as the child caught onto him, and rasped with a ragged voice, "Run, daddy! Run! The monster's coming!"

Severus Snape was a survivor, too, and without questioning the boy, he yanked him up into his arms, and broke into a run.

"Hagrid! Back to Hogwarts! Now! Hurry!!!!" Shouted Snape.

"Sssssseverusssss Snape! You ffffffoul TRAITOR!!!!"

"TRAITOR!!!"

Harry screamed in Professor Snape's arms as he lifted his head to look over the shoulder of his teacher. Behind them was a thing monstrous of face, a malformed, unfinished thing of half-melted features, and red eyes. As those eyes latched onto Harry's he buried his head between Snape's neck and shoulders, and tried to scramble closer to him for protection.

As for Snape he imagined hot breath on his heels as the thing behind him roared of betrayal, calling him a traitor, and promising to drink his blood, and to rip Harry to shreds. The older wizard's body was so infinitely tired, and all his muscles burned with the punishment he was forcing it to endure. His heart thumped near to bursting, and his blood sang like flame in his veins.

Severus Snape wanted to fall to the earth. He felt close to giving up, and usually he would, but he would not let that viperous beast get his child. Hearing the creature's jaws snap behind him forced the last of his will and magic to run harder, and faster through the forest.

A crack of thunder that shook the ground threw Snape off to the side. Still holding Harry he rolled protectively around him taking the bruises that would otherwise have been the child's. Snape tried to get to his feet, and with horror realised that his fall had either broken or twisted his foot. He could not stand. As the forest lit up with the force of strong magic Snape scooted, and wriggled himself towards the nearest possible protection; a small grouping of boulders nestled amongst a thick carpet of moss and a fallen tree now desiccated nearly into the earth, and prettily festooned with tiny white flowers.

"Stupefy!" Severus glanced up to see not just Minerva to their rescue but Lucius as well. They had both cast the Stunning Spell that threw their opponent backwards. It did not, unfortunately, knock the creature senseless, but it turned, and ran, quickly vanishing into the trees.

"Severus!" cried Lucius as he ran towards his friend.

Minerva was right behind Lucius and she knelt on the moss and began to run a Diagnostic Spell over Harry and Severus. She then conjured a stretcher that floated right beside their small group.

Minerva spoke decisively, "Severus, your ankle is twisted. We can't carry you so I am putting you on the stretcher. Let Lucius take Harry."

"No," declared Snape firmly. Harry was trembling with terror in his arms, and also had a death grip on him. The wizard would not admit it but he had a death grip on the boy, too.

Minerva nodded at the Potions Master's determination, and then she looked to Lucius. "Help me, Lucius. We have to get them out of here in case that thing comes back."

Draco, sensing something was wrong, had left Slytherin and met his father, Professor Snape with Harry on a stretcher, and Professor McGonagall directing them. Draco did not interrupt or make himself known; he just followed.

They all arrived in the Infirmary, and the efficient Poppy Pomfrey helped them get settled, and then she began to work on Professor Snape and Harry.

Lucius knew his son had found them. Without saying a word he pulled his son onto a bed, and draped an arm around him. Draco relished the contact, but Lucius had been frightened by the awful vision of the creature he had seen, and he needed the simple comfort of his son. Both kept up a silent watch as Madame Pomfrey looked over Professor Snape. Harry was safe but exhausted from the night's event. He still held onto his teacher, who held onto him, but he was on his side and curled up against his teacher fast asleep. Madame Pomfrey had cleaned both man and boy, and dressed them in fresh pyjamas.

"Minerva, how did you know?" asked Snape quietly.

"Helios," she smiled. "Your owl is a resourceful one, Severus." The Deputy Headmistress sat upon a chair between Draco and his Head of House.

"Your magic was... impressive, Madame McGonagall," complimented Lucius. Severus gave a slight nod.

The older woman smirked. "You both seem to forget that I was your teacher, and although I am not Albus Dumbledore, I have powers only he can wish for." She then sighed. "I know that was Professor Quirrell that killed the unicorn, and tried to kill Harry. I just don't know what that was on his... head."

"The Dark Lord," Professor Snape informed them. Lucius' lips thinned as he nodded. Minerva grimaced, and hissed.

"Will Quirinus know it was us?" asked the witch. "That we came after Harry?" Minerva leaned over and smoothed a stray curl of his fringe off his forehead.

"Doubtful," grimaced Snape with a care towards whispering so as to not waken the child that slept beside him. His long fingers drew the Futhark Runes over and over in a Zen-like slowness on his back to soothe Harry in his sleep. "The... wholesale ingestion of the blood of the male unicorn is intoxicating even as it destroys one's life span by half."

"Both would be drunk?" asked Lucius in a low voice.

The Potions Master nodded. "Had the unicorn been a mare his clarity... their clarity... would have remained. However, the benefit the Dark Lord seeks would not have been in the female, but the male. And," he smiled thinly, "therein also lies the weakness... we need."

"Explain, Severus," demanded the Deputy Headmistress.

Professor Snape shook his head once, and turned his head just enough to quickly brush a kiss to Harry's head. He might be teased, chided even for his odd devotion, but the moment Harry was safe in his arms he had made a decision that Harry might like, and most assuredly everyone else would hate.

"Later, Minerva. I am far too weary to speak anymore. I just want to sleep." Snape closed his eyes, and turned his head just enough to touch his chin to the crown of Harry's head. A soft snore told both Minerva and Lucius that Professor Snape had succumbed quickly to sleep.

"Father?" Draco's small voice alerted the two adults that he had heard everything. Lucius smoothed back the tousled blond hair, and he leaned over to kiss the smooth forehead.

“Dragon, you ought not to be here. Should you not be in your dorm, in your bed?” asked Lucius in a whisper only for Draco to hear.

“I don’t want to go back,” he looked to the sleeping professor, and Harry. “Can I stay?”

Lucius nodded, pulled back to blankets of the bed they sat on, and encouraged Draco to slip under the covers. "Go to sleep, Dragon. I shall be here in the morning," soothed Lucius.

"But, Quirrell, and... and... is the Dark Lord here?" Draco clutched his father's fingers nervously.

Gently Lucius pushed his son down back into his bed. "We have it in hand, Dragon. You need not be afraid. See how deeply Harry sleeps? You ought to as well."

"Stay with me? Please, father? Just until I sleep?" Draco's silvery grey eyes, so like his father's furthered his plea.

Minerva tapped Lucius' shoulder and indicated her chair. The aristocrat moved from the bed to the chair, and seated himself. "I shall stay, then. Now, close your eyes. Think of the world of Clouds we created when you were younger. There is safety there." Lucius watched with satisfaction as Draco breathed in and out evenly.

Minerva leaned over, "Bring Severus with you before breakfast tomorrow, Lucius. I want to know what this half-life is, and if Quirinus can threaten us."

Lucius nodded. "We shall be there. Goodnight, Madame McGonagall."

"A house elf will be here momentarily to show you to your quarters for your stay. Goodnight, Lucius." With a grace that not even Albus Dumbledore could aspire to Minerva McGonagall left the Infirmary doubting she would get any sleep this night.

The Next Morning -- 5 Oct. 1991 -- The Infirmary

"... and Quirrell is hiding the Dark Lord..." Draco ended his tale with all the spookiness he could put into his voice.

"Quirrell is a slimy git!" snorted Ron. "He ain't no 'Dark Lord'.... oooOOOOOooooo!"

"I didn't say Quirrell WAS the Dark Lord, you moron," glared Draco. "I said the adults think Quirrell's been hiding him."

"An' he's all monsterish and gross and lumpy," added Harry.

"Awww, yickle baby Harry speaks!" taunted Draco. Ron giggled.

"Am not!" exploded Harry.

"Are too!" retorted Draco. "I saw you all curled up against Snape like he was your dada!"

Hermione pushed Draco who rolled back onto his bed. The little Pureblood yelped, and gave Hermione a 'you wounded me' look. She rolled her eyes. "Stuff it, Draco. You’re being a baby now." He glared, then pouted. "And, Harry, it doesn't matter how you slept next to Professor Snape. We all need parents in our lives that care for us." She crossed her arms over her thin chest and glared at the blond, and the redhead. "Don't tell me you two never want to be next to your daddies when the world's all going to end. Hm?"

Draco and Ron glared 'manly-like' at each other, but then looked away and blushed. Both admitted, only to themselves, that 'daddy was the best protector in the world' and they had both cuddled up to their fathers when things just got too crazy.

All of them fell into an awkward silence that Harry broke, "Draco, if Quirrell's hiding the monster, what's he want here... well, besides to kill me?"

"Well, just a few days after the robbery at Gringotts was in the paper, and this was just a week before you came back, Harry, the Headmaster came to the Slytherin common room.” Harry leaned forward to listen raptly to Draco as he related a visit no one but Slytherins knew about. “He never comes so just that was weird. The other thing was that Professor Snape wasn’t with him. He wasn’t saying much just wandering around looking at our common room, and us, and then he said that it would be a terrible thing if it had been the Philosopher’s Stone that went missing at Gringotts."

“Did you tell Snape?” asked Ron.

“Of course I did. No one else was going to but this was so suspicious that I had to tell him. It seemed like he was trying to accuse one of us of stealing the Stone,” replied Ron.

“But you’re kids!” scoffed Harry. “How’s a kid going to rob Gringotts when it’s more secure than a… uhm…”

“Snape’s ingredients cabinet,” snickered Ron.

Harry glanced at Ron incredulously. “It’s not that secure, is it?”

Ron nodded. “In their second year Fred and George tried to get into Snape’s cabinet and they both wound up with boils on their hands, and temporary blindness.”

Harry’s eyes widened. Hermione gaped. “He didn’t!” Ron nodded solemnly.

Draco smirked, “He probably did, Hermione. Everyone knows that his ingredients cabinet is warded with all sorts of terrible wards. Nothing that will kill you but you will wind up in the Infirmary.”

“Why did Professor Dumbledore tell you guys that about the Philosopher’s Stone?” asked Harry.

Draco shrugged, “Probably because Voldy was a Slytherin and he thought maybe we had some way to tell him about it.”

Harry’s mouth tightened angrily. Ron stepped in and asked, “What's He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named want with the Stone?"

"Life," answered Draco positively. "And, that lumpy creature Harry saw last night? I bet he wants the Philosopher's Stone to make his body perfect."

"The Philosopher's Stone is a myth," Hermione declared snootily.

Draco playfully tapped her nose. "We're not in the Muggle World, Hermione."

"Yeah," agreed Ron. "It says so on the back of the Headmaster’s frog card that Dumbledore helped his friend Nicholas Flamel create the Philosopher's Stone."

"That's impossible, Ron!" retorted Hermione hotly. "Nicholas Flamel died over 600 years ago! Professor Dumbledore is old but not THAT old!"

"Flamel’s not dead, Hermione," corrected Draco. "The Philosopher's Stone has made it possible for Nicholas and his wife Perenelle to live for centuries."

Hermione's mouth rounded into an "0" and she shook her head. "That's... not... uhm, I have to go to the library!" the witch nearly ran out of the Infirmary but Draco grabbed her school robe.

Ron chuckled. "Little swot's gonna check her books!"

"I am not a swot!" glared Hermione.

Harry and Draco both frowned at Ron for making fun of their friend. Neither found his remark funny. Ron huffed at the disapproval, and grimaced his smile off his face.

"Maybe we ought to get the Stone before Quirrell does," offered Harry.

"We don't know where it's hid!" cried Ron.

"Yeah we do," insisted Draco. "What do you think Fluffy's guarding?"

Sudden understanding widened Ron's eyes. "How do we get past Fluffy, though?"

"Music," said Harry with inspiration. "I read in a book of Greek myths that you could charm a beast to sleep with music. We'll just play something for Fluffy, he'll go to sleep, and we can see what he's guarding."

Ron laughed sharply, then glared, "That's daft, Harry. Fluffy almost killed us and you want us to trust some music to keep him from doing so again? Maybe this time he'll smash us to jelly!"

"Ron!" Hissed Hermione. "Calm down. Someone'll hear us. Besides, if they catch us on the third floor corridor they’ll expel us before Fluffy can kill us."

“I don’t mind being expelled,” muttered Ron crossley.

"That is kind of dim, Harry," Draco slowly agreed with Ron the hothead. “If we had a magic harp that didn't stop playing..." he began.

Ron nodded and grinned, "We could get the Stone before Quirrell does! Then the monster stays as he is, and the adults can get him."

"And we'll get expelled," Hermione harrumphed with all the enthusiasm of a rainstorm drowning a Quidditch game. “Let’s just tell a teacher and let them handle,” urged Hermione.

Ron sighed, “We probably should. I mean there’s Fluffy, and who knows what we might encounter after that Cerberus.”

“This could all be a trap for Voldy,” added Draco. “We could get killed.” He shook his head at that. “Let’s tell Professor Snape!”

"No. I'm done with this place," groused Harry. "Magic's all well and good but Draco's aunt almost killed me, Quirrell almost killed me on my broom, Fluffy almost killed me, and now that monster has tried to kill me." Harry's fists thumped the bed he sat on. "Everything is trying to kill me including the Headmaster, and I never did anything except live!" He jumped off his bed and stomped to the Infirmary door.

"Harry!" called Hermione.

The other three jumped off Draco's bed and ran after their friend. "Harry," said Hermione again. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to get that Stone. You guys should just stay here. You can be safe..." and he glanced wryly at Hermione, "and not get expelled."

"No way!" declared Draco and Ron at the same time.

"You're not going by yourself, Harry," insisted Ron. "You'll need us to help."

"We can't go anywhere," interjected Hermione stubbornly. "We don't even have a magic harp!"

"Sure we do," said Harry simply. They frowned at him in question. "The Fat Lady!"

"Our portrait door on Gryffindor tower?" asked Ron.

Harry nodded emphatically. "Yeah. She's got a harp and the people in the portraits can move to other ones. I see them do it all the time. And, there are several paintings on the third floor corridor. She'll just get in one, we'll take the painting down and put it where Fluffy can hear her play, and then we'll get the Stone."

"She won't do that, Harry," sighed Hermione.

"Sure she will," he smirked darkly, a bit too much like Professor Snape. "Draco will talk her into it."

With that Harry left the Infirmary. Ron, Hermione, and Draco did not move immediately, but then they all ran after him.

“But, The Fat Lady doesn’t like Slytherins!” called Draco. “Harry!!”

I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 26

The 3rd Floor Corridor & Fluffy - 5 Nov. 1991

The Quartet were on the third floor corridor. Draco and Hermione were near the door where the Cerberus was behind. Ron and Draco watched the four paintings that were on the wall of the corridor. One was a pastoral scene populated by grazing sheep, a second was a Medieval dance, the third was a gruesome beheading, and the fourth was a Grecian garden. It was this fourth one that a familiar figure popped up with her lyre, The Fat Lady.

The Grecian garden was a wide painting; as wide as The Fat Lady's own portrait was tall. Both Ron and Draco hefted the painting off of the corridor wall, and then propped it up so it leaned against the wall right next to the door where Fluffy was.

The Fat Lady began to strum her lyre with a bit more talent than any of the children expected.

Hermione leaned toward Harry and asked quietly, "What did Draco say to get her to do this for us?"

"Well, it wasn't so much what Draco said, Hermione. It was that he was sincere, and charming," replied Harry with abundant alacrity.

Hermione's eyes narrowed dubiously. Draco stepped close to Hermione, put his arm across her shoulders, and spoke into her ear, "I told her that if she didn't help us, my father would hear about it, and hex her permanently cross-eyed." He smirked, and chuckled when Ron, then Harry also smiled their amusement at Draco's bombast.

Hermione glared at the Three Twits, shrugged off Draco’s arm, and tried the door. It was locked. Aiming her wand she quietly said, "Alohamora." The lock clicked, and the witch then carefully opened the door just wide enough to peer into the room. She gulped at the intimidating enormity of the Cerberus. She could hear the lyre being played by The Fat Lady, and she could see Fluffy settling down for a long nap. Hermione then saw part of a door with an iron ring on it beneath one of beast's forepaws as part of the floor.

"There's a door!" hissed Hermione over her shoulder.

"A door?" queried Harry.

"I better not get drooled on again," remarked Draco.

"Is Fluffy asleep?" asked Ron. He pushed against Hermione's back so he could peer over her shoulder.

Hermione shoved back at Ron with her elbow. He fell backwards with an 'oof'. "Yes he's asleep. Come on, we've got to go through that door."

Hermione, all of a sudden the leader and apparently braver than the three boys, pushed through the door with her friends directly behind her. She crept over to the door in the floor, and then grimaced at the huge forepaw that lay over part of the door.

Fluffy burped... loudly. Ron and Draco nearest the effluence grimaced.

"Hey," pointed Draco. "There's a bolt."

"Hermione," whispered Harry, "do you have a spell...?"

"No, Harry. Just yank the bolt," she gave him a push towards the door.

"This is really stupid," muttered Harry to himself as he took a cautious step towards the door, and the enormous forepaw. With a quick look at the snoring, huffing Cerberus he bent down, knelt on both knees, and yanked out the bolt, and rolled away.

The door fell open downwards, and luckily did not slam. Draco pushed Ron through the open door, he yelped, and Harry returned the favour by pushing a grinning Draco through the door. His yelp was muffled as was his odd, soft, thud. Harry, not even thinking twice (well, he did but both times he pushed away any and all objections) jumped. Hermione followed just as the lyre playing stopped. Fluffy woke, one head caught sight of Hermione's bushy hair, and all threw heads took to mad barking and slobbering.

"Headmaster! Headmaster! Help!" screamed The Fat Lady. She vanished from the painting and ran through another dozen before bumping one of past Heads of Hogwarts from his painting. "Headmaster! Help! Fluffy's killing the children!"

The meeting with Minerva boringly recounted the attack from the Dark Lord/Quirrell. Minerva had hoped they might have weakened them since Quirrell was not at breakfast that morning. Lucius informed Professor Snape and the acting Headmistress that Quirrell had come by to speak to him about that day’s classes.

“What was he like, Lucius?” inquired Minerva.

“He did not stutter once,” replied Lucius. “Unnerving, to say the least, but he gave no indication that something occurred last night. Could you Legilimise him, Severus?”

“I could but there is every chance the Dark Lord would discover me.”

Minerva huffed slightly, “I suppose there is nothing to do but to watch him until we are able to deal with him.”

“We need the Philosopher’s Stone,” grumbled Severus. “As long as it is here in the castle he will seek it if he is not already doing so.”

“Where would Dumbledore have hidden the Stone?” asked Lucius.

“The attics, the dungeons, the Black Lake…” Severus shook his head. “It could be anywhere.”

“Not anywhere,” smiled Minerva grimly. “The Trials, Severus. What if Albus did not mean those as an addition to the NEWTs but wanted us to create the Trials as a way to protect the hiding place of the Stone?”

"What Trials?" asked Lucius.

Snape explained, "On the third floor corridor that has been forbidden to students there is entrance to a tunnel that snakes its way through the dungeons. Fluffy, a full grown Cerberus, and one of Hagrid's beloved pets, guards the entrance. At the beginning of the year Albus informed myself, Minerva, Quirrell, Pomona, and Filius to devise a magical obstacle course to test our seventh year students at the end of the year. The grade any student received would be added to their NEWTs."

"An admirable test," Minerva commented.

"Indeed," nodded Severus. "Furthermore my Snakes brought to my attention that the Headmaster made an unsolicited visit to their common room the night after the robbery at Gringotts was in the paper. How convenient that he let them know about the Philosopher’s Stone.”

"He told the students in Slytherin?" asked Lucius with mounting fury.

Snape clasped his hands loosely over his lap, and nodded. “My Snakes arrived with representatives from each year that had been present. The pervading sense was that as the Dark Lord was a Slytherin one of them might let slip to their parents that the Philosopher’s Stone was at Hogwarts.”

“Uncommon loyalty,” Minerva huffed.

“My Snakes can be devious and keep their secrets close but we are a family, and no one ever... betrays... family,” he grimaced. Suddenly a change came over the Potions Master’s features as he realised some, “That barmy, old bastard!” Severus rose to his feet angrily. “The Trials are not a test. Albus set up a trap for the Dark Lord so that Harry could fight him!” He smacked his fists on the arms of his chair, “The night of the Welcoming Feast when he warned all the students away from the 3rd Floor corridor!”

“And then Dumbledore went to Slytherin,” muttered Lucius darkly.

“Albus not only told him that he had the Philosopher’s Stone, but where to look. Bloody Merlin!!”

Professor Snape strode across the office in order to leave but was stopped by frantic shouting from the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black, "Headmaster! Help! Fluffy's killing the children!"

With The Fat Lady's terrified announcement the meeting was quickly broken up. Minerva stepped up to face the crying woman in the portrait of late Headmaster Nigellus Phineas Black. He now stood behind the woman, arms crossed, and glowering for all his paint was worth.

"What is going on?" Minerva began to ask.

"We don't have time for an interrogation, Minerva!" shouted Professor Snape. "Come on!"

Professor Snape ran from the tower office behind Lucius who had left the second The Fat Lady had screamed her terror. Minerva paused only a second, then she lifted the hem of her robes, and ran after Professor Snape.

Pomona Sprout’s Trial

Draco, Harry, Ron and Hermione had all fallen onto a soft, tangled nest of Devil's Snare. Hermione, who had paid attention in her Herbology lessons with Professor Sprout, knew what the Devil's Snare was and so she relaxed her body and slid right through and dropped into a bare chamber.

"Relax!" yelled Hermione. All three of the boys were fighting, squirming, and tugging at the vines that were writhing and winding tighter around each of them.

"Relax?!" cried Ron as a vine circled his middle and made him regret breakfast of a few hours before. "How are we supposed to... mph murgle nelph!!" The Devil Snare overwhelmed the boy and drew him under.

Harry and Draco were trying to relax but both were nervous with the vines running all over them. Relaxation was a bit tough.

Down below Hermione stared up at the writhing mass of vines. "Oh gosh! Silly me! I forgot… I’m a witch!" Taking out her wand she pointed it at the Devil's Snare and shouted, "Maximus Lumos!"

Light burst forth from her wand, and the resultant burst of overly amped magic sent Hermione crashing back into the nearby wall, the music above stopped. Above them Fluffy barked, snarled, and growled. Drool splashed down onto the Devil’s Snare and Draco cried out as he was side-swiped by Cerberus-slime. One, two, three Ron, Draco, and finally Harry all dropped through the Devil's Snare as it wilted and curled away from the bright light.

None of them were concerned with Fluffy now (although Draco knew a cleaning spell that got rid of the drool on his shoulder). Harry and Ron were examining the small, featureless room they were in as Draco walked over to where Hermione had been thrown and helped her up.

"You okay, Hermione?" asked Draco solicitously.

Hermione took Draco's hand and felt the back of her head. "I'm okay, Draco. That burst of light was just unexpected."

"Guys," said Harry, "C'mon there's kind of a doorway here."

Minerva McGonagall’s Trial

A narrow, arched doorway led into a gloomy chamber. They each squeezed through the tight doorway and were startled when torches along the walls burst into flame. The Quartet moved slowly, hyper aware of anything that might jump out at them. The torchlight added little real illumination to the chamber but it was enough light to reveal a giant chessboard.

"Wizard's chess," breathed Ron.

Both Hermione and Harry had seen Ron playing the violent little game of strategy against his brothers in Gryffindor tower. He was obsessed with the game, and never went an evening without playing, or discussing chess moves with the game pieces of the wizard's chess game in the tower.

"Would these players be like the ones in Gryffindor tower... your chess game, Ron?" asked Harry worriedly.

Ron spun slowly as he looked at the huge pieces critically. "These look exactly like the pieces from Groban Hugo's book The Origins of Wizarding Chess."

"Are they dangerous?" asked Draco as he slipped his hand into Hermione's.

Ron nodded. "At this size, yeah. I mean, in wizarding chess the pieces fight to the death so at this size it'd be like a miniature battle."

Hermione, near the White Queen, lifted her chin, higher and higher in order to see the playing piece's features. "What do we do here?"

Harry had spied a small door across the chessboard behind the two rows of the Black chess pieces. They were between them and the door. He moved towards the Black chess pieces, and found himself suddenly threatened by a Bishop with a cudgel.

Draco saw what Harry was doing, and he tried. For his troubles the White Queen crouched down and caught him by his shoulders. Her fingers were tipped by claws that were razor sharp. The White Queen let go and he backed up right into Hermione.

"We have to play a game," Ron said decisively. "We have to get the White side over to the Black side." Immediately in charge he pointed, "Each of us will take a knight. They tend to fight less so we should be safest with them."

Ron and Harry took the White Knights while Draco and Hermione climbed on to the Black horses (the two Knights). All four were bare of riders for the horses.

"Everybody ready?" shouted Ron. As each of his friends yelled that they were ready Ron called out the opening move.

Two pawns (one White and one Black) came together and smashed alarmingly into a fight. Ball maces were used until the White pawn was victorious. Its opponent lay as rubble around its feet.

Draco called out the next move and two more players settled on their squares but did not fight. For several moves Ron and Draco moved the giant pieces until Draco stared with horror at the board. He had little choice; either fight Ron's White Knight with his Black Rook, or his Black King would be in check.

"You have to do it, Draco!" shouted Ron. "The White Queen is almost on the other side."

Draco swallowed then shouted out the direction that sent the Black Rook stomping towards the White Knight with his sword raised. Other than his horse Ron did not have any weapon so he tried to get his horse to attack the Black Rook with its hooves. The Black Rook was quicker and with one slice its sword cleanly cut the knight in half. Ron screamed as he went flying. It was a sickening thing to watch but Hermione shouted to Harry.

"Move the White Queen, Harry! We're almost there!"

With a shouted direction Harry moved the White Queen to put the Black King into checkmate. He then jumped off the horse for the White Knight and ran for the small door.

Hermione tried to go to Ron but she was blocked by a Black Bishop and a White Rook that prodded her towards the small door. Draco grabbed her hand.

"I saw him move, Hermione. He should be all right. Let's go!" Hermione nodded at Draco and they both ran past the White Queen and to the small door.

It was small, very much so. An older wizard might use an Expanding Spell to make the doorway taller and wider, but they were first years and did not know of such a charm. They had no choice but to crawl through. With a few grunts and wiggles the remaining three were through and into the next chamber.

They only had a second to breathe as a huge club came crashing down amongst them.

Hermione screamed.

Harry gaped.

Draco shouted, "TROLL!"

I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 27

Quirinus Quirrell’s Trial

“TROLL!!” screamed Draco.

The club wielded by the absolutely gigantic mountain troll slammed down to the floor, just missing Harry and Draco. All three students scattered to the three of the four corners of the room.

Hermione let out a terrific scream, and that caught the attention of the troll. Once more he swung his club and it crashed into the wall above her head. Cement and plaster fell and Hermione ran from the devastation towards Harry. Harry pointed his wand, and shouted a spell that did nothing to stop the troll.

Again, the huge club came down against the wall above Hermione and Harry.

"Draco!" shouted Harry and waved the Slytherin over. Draco waited a moment when the troll was not looking at him, and ran. Draco then grabbed Hermione by her robes and yanked her toward the corner she had run from.

Harry was now behind the troll. Draco from the side of the troll sent a vicious Bolo Hex his father had taught him at the troll's ankles. The stone weighted leather wrapped around both the troll's ankles and he began to fall; right towards a shadow near the floor that could be a door.

"Jinxes and hexes!" shouted Draco. "Only those work!"

"I don't know any!" Harry shouted.

"Slash your wand towards wherever... you want to hit him... and say 'Athan'!" directed Draco with a shout.

"The Bolo Hex," Hermione said breathlessly. "I know that one."

"Use it then!" growled Draco.

Meanwhile, Harry watched the troll fall and as soon as the gigantic body hit the floor he jumped up, and ran onto the creature's shoulder. Beside him both Draco and Hermione yelled, 'Athan!' and two bolos flew from their wands towards the downed troll. Draco's bolo smacked hard into the beast's forehead, and Hermione's cracked sharply into the troll's eye.

With the only weapon he had Harry jammed his wand into the troll's ear. The creature howled in pain and jerked mightily. Harry was thrown off, fell to the floor, and pulled himself into a roll to reduce injury.

Two more Bolo Hexes from Hermione and Draco hit the troll in the forehead and its cheek. Its' eyes glazed over. Even so it tried to raise the massive club.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" shouted Hermione with her wand pointed at the club. The club was ripped from the creature's hand and she moved it over his head, and dropped it. The club fell heavily to the point that it managed to crack the creature's skull. Draco threw a few more Bolo Hexes and wrapped up the creature's legs, and arms until he could not even groan properly.

"This way!" shouted Harry. He had found the small door. He pushed it open, dropped to the floor, and wriggled through. Hermione followed, and then Draco. Draco took a half a minute to throw a large Bolo Hex right at the beast's head. Without waiting to see the result, he dove through the small door, and the door not only slammed behind him but vanished.

Filius Flitwick’s Trial

The room buzzed and chimed oddly with the busy activity of dozens of curious little fairy-like things flying about the room. The door this time was easy enough to find as it was tall and wide, except for a very small keyhole in the center of the door.

"Keys," declared Draco looking up at the flying things as he swatted at one that kept touching his cheeks. "They're all keys with wings!"

Harry frowned as he swatted away two that kept circling his head. "Yeah they are but which one do we catch?"

"What happens if we catch the wrong one?" asked Hermione worriedly.

Harry snatched at random flying keys but they flitted just above him. "How are we even supposed to get close enough to do that?"

"This!" Hermione had found a ragged looking broom and held it up.

Draco took a step towards the broom but was suddenly swarmed by dozens of keys. Hermione dropped the broom and ran to Draco. Draco was screeching as he and Hermione both swatted at the flying keys. Harry ran towards the broom, mounted it, and flew up amongst the keys.

He could grab any key he wanted but instinctively he knew he should not. He needed the right key so his eyes darted here and there. He soon saw one key that was gold where all the others were silver. He dove the broom towards the gold key. Harry's hand shot out and he snatched the key. It struggled furiously in his hand but he clutched it tightly and aimed the broom for the door. Once he hopped off he shoved the key into the keyhole, turned it, and pushed the door open.

The remaining keys dove for Draco again; not to attack but to surround him. "Go, Hermione! The door is closing!" Hermione's head snapped to the slowly closing door, and then at Draco. "GO!!"

Hermione turned and ran through the door. Seconds later it slammed, and clicked shut.

Severus Snape’s Trial

A whoosh alerted both Harry and Hermione to a change. The door they had come through vanished and was replaced by flickering purple flames. At the same moment the wall opposite morphed into black flames.

The sixth room was sparsely decorated: a heavy black marble table held seven bottles that held colourful liquids. Harry had found a parchment scroll next to the bottles and he unrolled it, and read what was written there:

Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,

Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,

One among us seven will let you move ahead,

Another will transport the drinker back instead,

Two among our number hold only nettle-wine,

Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line

Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore

To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:

First, however slyly the poison tries to hide

You will always find some on nettle wine's left side

Second, different are those who stand at either end

But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;

Third as you see clearly, all are different size

Neither dwarf nor giant hold death in their insides;

Fourth, the second left and the second on the right

Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.

"Is this a spell?" asked Harry.

Hermione snatched the scroll from Harry. "Ohhh, this is brilliant! Harry, this isn't magic... it's a logic puzzle!"

"That's good?"

"Of course! My dad and I used to play with logic puzzles when I was younger. I know how to solve this." Hermione began to study the riddle, reciting it under her breath. She then studied the potion bottles, and recited the riddle again.

Harry had hoped for a faster resolution but Hermione continued to study both riddle and potions, and he was simply getting tired. Just when he thought he might fall asleep on his feet he heard Hermione whoop with triumph.

"I've got it, Harry!"

"Are you sure?" he asked dubiously.

Hermione glared but then huffed. "Yes, Harry, I am sure. This potion will allow you to travel through the black flames into the last chamber."

"What about you?" he asked as she handed him the right potion -- the one she was sure was right.

"There's only enough for one and I'm going back to get help for Ron and Draco. You get the Philosopher's Stone." Hermione grabbed a potion that Harry hoped was not really poison, and she quickly drank it. She then nodded for him to drink his.

Going to the black flames he faced them, then muttered darkly, "This is really moronic." He swallowed the potion, turned to say goodbye to Hermione but she was gone. Shrugging, Harry stepped through.

I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 28

The Philosopher's Stone & The Mirror of Erised

The last chamber was unlike all the others. Harry could tell he was in a tower simply from the open arched window views onto the sky. If he went closer to a window and looked down no doubt the grounds of Hogwarts would be below. The rest of the room descended down several steps into a sunken pit where a tall, and ornate mirror sat in the center of the pit.

Harry felt the overwhelming error in coming after the Philosopher's Stone. That's what friends do, he decided, they talk you into things that make sense when they're all around but when it's just you...

"I wish you were here, dad," Harry's hands clutched spasmodically to his robes; his eyes darting around the room warily. He had the sinking feeling that Dudley might jump out at him from the shadows... or maybe that crazy witch would appear again.

Harry was sweating. His student robes felt like a cumbersome burden. He shrugged them off his shoulders.

Taking a breath Harry ventured down the steps towards the mirror slowly and methodically. When he reached the mirror there was his expected reflection but there were others behind him. He looked over his shoulder hoping Hermione had sent someone to help him but there was no one. He turned back to the ghostly images.

"Magic mirror," he nodded with a slight sneer. Harry touched the surface and one blurry image came into focus; it was Professor Snape. Harry let out a long sigh of relief. "Hi."

To his delight the Potions Master in the mirror gave him a tiny smile and draped an arm over his shoulder, and across his chest. Harry raised his hand to touch that arm but felt nothing. A wave of disappointment drifted over him.

"Dad,"  he whispered. "Uhm... Professor Snape, I mean. I don't think you'd like if I called you 'dad' but you've been like one, you know? You found me, you watch over me, and you're the only adult who ever believed me. My Aunt Petunia calls me an 'incurable liar'. It's always Dudley, though, that makes up stories, and gets me in trouble." Harry sighed and in frustration ran his hand through his hair. He glared at his reflection, and the mess of his hair. He hated that it just never seemed to go anywhere he wanted.

"I don't like it here, dad... sir." Harry's eyes darted left and right away from the reflection. "It feels like I'm being watched. And, there's no stone here. Draco, Ron, and Hermione all think I probably have it now, and Quirrell doesn't. He's got a monster, dad," Harry's voice dropped to a faint whisper. "It's lumpy, and looks diseased, and its got evil eyes that are like blood. It wants to eat me, probably."

Harry stepped away from the mirror and scrutinised the room he was in again. There were no corners, no shadows to hide something. No cabinet, no strange boxes. He stepped back to the mirror.

Professor Snape was solid but behind him were two, floating, vague shapes. Harry was not afraid of them, and they did not worry him either. He wondered if one was that ghost that appeared to him in the forest and called him ‘son’. He'd seen another ghost, too, when he lay in that park where the crazy witch had left him to die. The ghost woman had sat next to him and told him to hold on when all he wanted to do was sink into the blackness that was beckoning to him. He recalled her words...

"Harry, it's not your time, yet," the ghost had whispered. As she shimmered behind the blurriness of pain she smiled at him and he felt the warmth of love washing over him like cool, refreshing water. "A friend of mine is coming for you, Harry. He'll take care of you for us."

The ghostly figures wavered and Harry could make out their features. "You're both the ghosts!" Harry cried with recognition. "Are you my parents?"

Both the ghosts nodded. Harry let out a relieved sigh of breath. "You were there. You were both there." The ghosts of James and Lily Potter nodded, and smiled. His smile faded as his reflected self stepped closer to the reflection of Professor Snape. He then glowered angrily at his parents.

"This is your fault!" The smiles on the ghosts faces faltered. "There's a monster trying to kill me because of you two! And, you both left me with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon! They hate me!" Lily ghost's face appeared appalled that he was with her awful sister. James ghost frowned and his ghostly fingers gripped Professor Snape's right forearm. "Because of you I gotta stop a monster from getting the Philosopher's Stone an' I don't even know what it looks like!!"

His fists crashed against the glass of the mirror, and he slid down it until he was on the floor leaning against the mirror. "Everybody thinks I'm some stupid hero an' I'm not," he muttered as tears began to drip down his cheeks. He sniffled. "Dad said he was gonna take me flying where nobody would hurt me. I got friends. Draco, Ron, and Hermione. Magic's neat except for all the terrible stuff. And, the Headmaster thinks I should be happy to be some all-powerful Saviour. I don't want to be a hero. I want to be me. Just a kid. And, I want to find that dumb Philosopher's Stone so the monster won't kill me."

Reflection Professor Snape knelt down by the small boy. James ghost crouched as Lily ghost tried to float closer to her son. She was unable to do so since there was not enough mirror surface.

Harry felt strong arms wrap around him gently, and a voice he knew all too well spoke softly into his ear, "Check your pockets, Harry."

Harry did not immediately check his pockets but turned and gratefully curled into those comforting arms. "I'm sorry I called you 'dad', sir. You probably hate it."

"Harry, hush. I do not hate being called... dad." Professor Snape had arrived via another, more direct route that led upward to the tower that held the Mirror of Erised. He glanced warily up at the mirror and saw the child's vision of his ghostly parents, and his own, very solid, reflection. James Potter gave him a very serious look, then nodded. Lily smiled radiantly, and then she touched the reflection of Snape. He then lowered his gaze to the small boy in his arms. "Harry, please, would you check your pockets for me?"

Harry nodded, pulled slightly away, and checked both his trouser pockets. In the second one he felt an irregular, hard lump. He pulled it forth. The jewel was fiery red even without light touching it. "Is this it?" he asked Professor Snape.

"I'll take the Stone, Mr. Potter," both Snape and Harry looked as Professor Quirrell stepped from behind the mirror.

"How did you get here, Quirrell?" demanded Snape as he stood yet still kept Harry at his side.

"I simply followed you, Snape. You’re… affection for that stupid child was not as hidden as you thought. I watched you, and knew that you would lead me to Potter. And, now that he has the Philosopher’s Stone he can give it to me. As for you, traitor..." The last word was scathing and filled with hatred. “you will die for my Master.”

Harry felt a bristling in his blood. His teacher was trying to protect him but Harry wanted to protect his teacher from Professor Quirrell's anger.

To both their surprise Quirrell turned around at some hissing noise, and he began to unwrap his smelly turban. Harry gasped, and Snape grimaced as both saw the face of Voldemort on the back of Quirrell's head. The face looked angrily at Snape then smiled evilly at Harry.

"Missssster Potterrrrrr. At lasssst we meet faccccce tooooooooo faccccce," purred Voldemort like a snake. "Quirrell, dispose of the traitor."

"Leave my daddy alone!!" shouted Harry jumping in front of his teacher. In the same moment, with unbelievable speed, Quirrell spun, cast the Killing Curse, and blew Snape head over heels until his head cracked against the far wall of the pit. For only a moment Harry stared at the crumpled form of the Potions Master. With an anger that burned inside of him he launched himself at Quirrell. "You killed my daddy!!!"

Quirrell screamed as the boy's hands connected with the skin of his face. He was burning. He tried to pull away, but Harry gripped his head tighter. Quirrell screamed in agony. His head turned to ashes as his body burst into flame. Harry fell backwards and tripped over the legs of his teacher. A wind picked up, and an unearthly howling filled the chamber. Harry pushed into Snape's side and put his hands over his ears. A huge wraith rose from the destroyed body of Quirrell and just as Harry glanced up he saw the red, blood eyes of a demon.

The wraith smiled menacingly and swirled towards Harry with dangerous intent. In that moment the ghost of James Potter wrapped his arms around the wraith. The monster let out a terrible screech. The ghost Lily Potter arose beside her husband, and she pushed her hands right through the wraith. Again it screeched, and swam sickeningly about the room as it fought with the two ghosts. With a last effort it swept towards Harry. A third ghost rose up like a dark angel and kept the wraith from Harry. When the monster wove closer the dark angel caught the wraith by its head, and squeezed with super-ghostly strength.

The wraith screamed and screamed again as the two ghosts of Harry’s parents, and the ghost of Severus Snape held the beast in their insubstantial hands. Voldemort’s spirit fought, shaking the tower, stones were dislodged and plaster fell... two columns cracked and a third fell right onto the mirror shattering it in an explosion of glass.

Instinctively Harry rolled up as tightly as possible to escape the flying glass. Above him his parents still held the wraith as it bucked and screamed. It, too, began to burn and a sanguine fluid of bluish and grey flame burst forth from its amorphous body. Harry felt the heat from the burning ghost, and then he felt someone throw a heavy draping of his teacher's cloak over him. He did not know that the Potions cloak was inundated with spells and potions to protect the cloth even from the hottest heat source, and the most caustic substances and potion ingredients.

A moment later the horrible screams faded away but flames still burned within the tower. A gentle voice touched Harry's soul.

"Stay there, love,” the ghostly fingers of Lily felt like a gentle, cool breeze in the heat of the fire above him. “Don't move and you shall be safe. I covered you in Severus' remarkable cloak, and your father will make sure the flames do not touch his body." Harry felt a cool whisper of a breeze stroke his forehead.

"He's dead," Harry whimpered as he also felt the body he huddled against fast decreasing in temperature.

Another voice, deeper and with an inexplicable smile in it, touched Harry's soul. "Touch your wand to Severus, son."

"Why?" asked Harry who sniffled as his cheek pressed against his teacher's silent chest.

"Remember what your wand can do?" whispered James as unseen fingers ruffled Harry’s hair. "Touch your wand to Severus and tell him to come back. Your mum and I want someone to take care of you."

"To love you, Harry, since dada and I can't always be with you," Lily's hand, like tendrils of a breeze stroked his hand.

"But he doesn't," whimpered Harry.

"Ohhhh he's a prickly one, our Severus, dear Harry," chuckled Lily and her laughter sounded like tiny bells chiming amongst the stars. "But believe me, he loves you with all of his heart and soul." He felt his soul swell with the warmth of his mum and dada's love. It almost hurt it felt so beautiful!

Harry removed his wand from his sleeve and touched it to his teacher's chest. "Professor Snape?" he lowered his voice from a whisper to a breath, "Dad? Please... come back. I need you."

A whirlwind swept through the tower and around the wizard and the small boy. It was so strong that it blew the fire to a few scattered embers. Harry, afraid, screamed and threw his arms over Professor Snape. A blackness came down, almost crushing in its density. Harry's cries faded, and the darkness took him down, down... and down.

a/n: Folks I did a rewrite on Chapter 21 to fix not a plot gap but plot stumble. It is not necessary to read it, but if you wish to, please do so. On another note - I do not use a beta. I go over chapters several times before posting but still I miss something. If you do catch something let me know what chapter the problem is in, and quote a sentence so I can find it. Usually I can find it but sometimes I cannot. Lastly, please watch your language when leaving a review. Thank you.

I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 29

The Aftermath

Harry felt muzzy. A hazy muzziness inundated him and he crawled up, and away from it. Finally he opened his eyes. He blinked at the sunshine spilling through the tall, thin arched windows, until someone dimmed the light. Everything was blurry until someone carefully placed his glasses over his eyes; it was Mr. Malfoy.

"Good afternoon, Harry. How do you feel?" asked Lucius.

Harry managed to smile wearily.

"Hello, Mr. Potter. It’s very good to see you," declared Professor McGonagall. "How are you?"

Harry looked at the two adults and felt a sinking in his stomach; disappointment. He was hoping to see another, rather pallid face. His dear teacher, the one who meant the world to him was nowhere to be seen. He sighed heavily. Maybe his wand just could not do what was promised. Raising the dead was silly anyway.

"What happened?" he asked as he tried not to think of Professor Snape.

"You killed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," said Professor McGonagall with triumph.

"I. Did. NOT!" Harry replied sharply. "My parents & Professor Snape did!"

Lucius looked to Minerva and they both frowned at each other. Lucius spoke up, "Child, that is imposs..."

"They were ghosts!" Harry insisted. "So was that thing on Quirrell's head. It came out of his body after I torched his head." Harry started to put his hands over his head but Lucius handed him a piece of chocolate. He took it questioningly, then bit into it. It did make him feel just a little calmer and not so angry.

"Tell us about the ghosts, Harry," coaxed Lucius gently.

"Well the ghost that was in Professor Quirrell was first. He shook the tower as he was roaring. He also had red eyes. Then, my parents were there but the ghost in Quirrell was too strong then there was Professor Snape…” he gulped and wiped at a tear then continued his recitation, “the first ghost with the red eyes screamed so much he made the tower rumble and a column broke and smashed that mirror." He turned to the Deputy Headmistress. "I'm sorry about your magic mirror, ma'am."

Professor McGonagall tutted. "Quite all right, my boy. The Mirror of Erised is a terrible magical artifact, and I, for one, am rather glad it was destroyed. So, James and Lily truly killed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

Harry nodded. "...and Professor Snape, ma’am. He helped my parents. I'm really sorry that Quirrell killed Professor Snape."

Lucius frowned delicately, "What do you mean, 'killed Professor Snape'? He's in class right now and..."

"He's alive?" Harry practically bounced from bed. Before anyone could stop him he broke into a run.

"Whatever is the matter with that child?" demanded Professor McGonagall.

Harry kept running; past the Entrance Hall and down the dungeon corridor that led to his teacher's classroom. He did not care that class was in session or even what year class it was. He had to see for himself if what Mr. Malfoy had said was true; Professor Snape was alive! Was he truly?

Professor Snape was slowly pacing up and down the main aisle as he watched his students, only a handful of seventh year NEWTs. He answered questions as they were politely asked. To his surprise the door to his classroom slammed open and a small boy with messy black hair, round-horn rimmed glasses, brilliant green eyes, bare feet, and striped Infirmary pyjamas ran up the aisle towards him.

"DAD!!" cried Harry with relief as he threw his arms around the tall man. Professor Snape did not hesitate as he drew the child up into his embrace to securely hold him. He hugged him tight as Harry kissed his cheek, then nuzzled it.

"Harry," said Snape in a gravelly voice that betrayed his relief that Harry was in his arms. "I did not realise you were awake else I would have been there."

"S'ok," Harry sighed into his ear. "You're here now. I love you. Don't ever die again, okay?"

Snape hesitated at the declaration. It warmed his soul. He had fallen for this child. He had not said anything to anyone although he was certain some had guessed about his change in attitude towards the boy. He had been uncertain that Harry wanted him in his life and he did not want his own heart to break should the child refuse him. However, each time he heard the boy call him 'dad' made his heart soar.

"Not any time soon, Harry. I’ll do my best not to die." He dared a quick kiss to the child's forehead. He then turned his dark glare on his students. "Well? Get out of here!" he ordered.

There was a sudden scramble as chairs moved away from benches, notes and quills rustled, and book bags were opened then closed. In just a few moment the class was empty.

Harry leaned back in his teacher's arms. He wished he were smaller and even easier to hold. It felt good to be where he was. "Da... uhm..."

"It's all right, Harry. I quite like it when you call me dad.”

Harry whispered into his teacher’s ear with a slight smile, “Dad.”

“Let me show you something." He carried the child to his classroom desk, opened the top drawer, and pulled out an official looking form. He gave it to Harry to read. "I have been thinking... but, I was not sure. Lily... your mother was there." Snape smiled briefly, "Only a moment but she, and even your father, gave me their blessing. Would you really like me to... adopt you, Harry."

"That would make you really my dad?" asked Harry with a shy smile.

"It would indeed, Harry."

"Then yes, yes, ten thousand times yes!" He held the form out towards his teacher... soon, his father. "Can we fill this out now?"

Snape kissed the crown of his head, set him down, and frowned at the lack of slippers, and dressing gown. "I will forgive this oversight once, Harry, but from now on please remember your slippers, and your dressing gown." Harry glanced down at his toes, and curled them against the cold floor. Snape waved his wand, and the boy's bare feet were encased in velvet quilted black slippers, and a robe of the same material drifted over his shoulder. He then nudged Harry up to his desk. "Let us fill that out, shall we?"

I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 30

Summer on Prince Lighthouse Island - 30 July, 1992

Prince Lighthouse Island was all that remained of the once extensive Prince holdings in Greece near the island Skopelos. Not too far away was a more hidden area, a large island for a small wizarding village. Once known simply as Prince Island, it had been renamed Port Murem (door mouse it translated to Severus had informed them).

Severus had explained Port Murem and the lighthouse had all been part of a very large estate that was once owned by his mother's family, the Princes, who had been as affluent as the Malfoys. The Prince family fortune had been squandered by Severus’ great-grandfather Terrance Prince through his outrageous addiction to gambling. The village and surrounding land had been sold to pay his many debts after an untimely death (a duel). The lighthouse had been kept by Eileen Prince’s mother Plantena who wanted her daughter to have something of her family after she was married. Eileen, although she knew of the island, never visited it. She had given up her magic for her husband Tobias. It was not until Severus gave his house at Spinner’s End a much needed cleaning that he had found the deed to Prince Island.

The lighthouse existed on its very own island, a massive rock out in the ocean. A long, wide plateau of long grass and wildflowers held the two story house. Unattached, further away from the house, and overlooking the crashing sea below was the lighthouse. The cliffs hid a treacherous looking (but magically secured) zig-zagging staircase that led down to a secluded cove protected from direct sunlight, and harsh winds.

The ocean rolled lazily into the cove and over a number of water worn boulders, and stones, and pebbles. There were hundreds of tidepools to explore, and a great swath of white sand for creating fantasies.

Each of the boys wore shorts, and short-sleeved cotton shirts. None wore shoes although all the shoes sat in a neat row beside Severus. Hermione had her hair braided in two pigtails, and she wore a pretty white dress with yellow polka dots. Her shoes were a pair of cute white sandals that sat with the others.

Harry and Ron crouched over a large tidepool. They watched as a small crab strode across the sand at the bottom, and numerous small fish glided above it. They were both barefoot, and as the water from the ocean crawled up the beach and over the rocks it tickled their toes.

“I think Draco’s sweet on ‘Mione,” mused Ron as he dipped a short stick into the tidepool.

“Ya think?” chuckled Harry. “He’s been all mushy towards her all year.”

“Well I didn’t see it, Harry. Like you’ve been so observant,” scoffed Ron.

Harry shrugged his shoulders and dipped his fingers into the tidepool to slowly uncover a glistening shell. “Draco said he was worried his mum was going to bee-troth him to Pansy Parkinson.”

Ron glanced up, appalled. “Isn’t he kinda young for a wife?”

“That’s what his family did for almost forever. He said his mum and dad were bee-trothed at age seven,” informed Harry.

“At least they like each other,” replied Ron with a nod. “Pansy’s a leech.”

Harry nodded in agreement. “What if Draco and Hermione get married someday?” asked Harry.

“S’ok with me,” replied Ron. “I’m going to be a professional Quidditch player for the Chudley Cannons. What do you want to do?”

Harry glanced up to see his father. He waved at Severus Snape who nodded once in acknowledgement to him. “It might be neat to do what dad does,” speculated Harry. It was wonderful to think he had a father in whose footsteps he could follow.

“Pffft,” Ron gave his opinion of that. Harry pushed him and Ron fell onto his bottom on the wet sand. “Potions are boring, Harry!” giggled Ron as he returned to his crouch.

“When I went to Primary school I kind of liked Chemistry. Potions are a lot more interesting, and you don’t need a wand to do potions.”

“Are you getting a new wand this summer?” Ron dipped a finger into the tidepool and waved it at the crab.

“Dad said we’d get one on my birthday.”

“I think it’s cool that Draco’s dad bought us all brooms. They’re wicked fast,” commented Ron. “When is your birthday, Harry?”

“Thirty-first of July. I’ll be 12. Dad says I get to have a birthday and I’m going to invite you guys, Draco’s dad and mum, and maybe the Headmistress.” Harry picked the wet shell out of the sand and discovered that there was a Hermit Crab within the shell. He showed it to Ron.

“Ouch!” Ron yanked his finger out of the tidepool just as the crab in the water pinched it. Harry laughed, and dropped his Hermit crab back into the tide pool. Ron knocked Harry onto his bottom, and they both broke into gales of laughter.

A little further up the beach were Draco and Hermione gathering sand in buckets and building an elaborate sand castle. Draco employed a touch of magic now and then to stick sand where it refused to stay.

“I’m going to have my own castle someday,” boasted Draco.

“Is it going to have a library?” asked Hermione.

“Sure. You’re going to be my wife so if you want one I’ll build you the biggest and best library ever,” declared Draco.

“What if I don’t want you as my husband,” teased Hermione.

Draco gaped at her. “Of course you do, Hermione!”

“You’re only saying that because I’m better than Pansy Parkinson,” she giggled softly.

“Hippogriff turds are better than Pansy,” Draco muttered.

“Draco!” gasped Hermione. “That’s gross!” still, she chuckled. “But, she is sort of.”

“Aguamenti,” said Draco softly and water spilled from his wand to the moat. He was not supposed to be doing magic but he was in the presence of an adult so it was permissible. “Hermione, would I make a terrible husband?”

Hermione peered up at Draco. “I don’t know, would you?”

“Of course not,” he scoffed softly. “My father says if I stop being snotty…”

Hermione giggled, “It’s snooty, silly. You’re arrogant.”

“No, I’m not,” he denied sullenly.

Hermione smiled and patted his forearm, “Well, you are getting better.” She tapped sand on one of the many towers of their castle. “If you want me to be your wife I guess I can be, Draco.”

Draco smiled with smug triumph. “Let’s get Uncle Severus to look at our castle.”

Lastly, up even further on the beach sat Severus in a low lounger with his legs stretched out in front of him. But for a vest, a shirt, and trousers, he was barefoot. A wide umbrella behind him kept most of the sun off his skin. Like each of the children, he had used Sun-Resist Potion to prevent burning.

Severus read the latest Ars Alchemica periodical and looked up every few minutes to make certain the children were doing well. At one point he was interrupted by Hermione and Draco running up to him, and then both of them dragging him (a hand for each) to their sand castle for his inspection.

“Professor Snape!” called Hermione running beside Draco.

“Uncle Severus!” called Draco at the same time. “Come see!”

When the two children had dragged Professor Snape back to the castle, Draco and Hermione dropped to their knees on either side of the sandy structure.

“Draco, you used magic,” declared Snape stonily.

“Did not,” muttered Draco in denial.

“Yes you did,” countered Hermione. You made the sand stick, and you filled the moat, Draco.”

“What did I say about magic, Mr. Malfoy?” demanded Snape with his hand out towards the boy.

“If we did magic we’d have to turn over our wands to you,” he replied glumly as he handed his wand to his godfather, and then quickly stuck his tongue out at Hermione. “You don’t get to be my wife now!”

Hermione shrugged. She then glanced upward at her teacher, and shielded her eyes. “It’s Hogwarts, sir!”

Snape studied the castle as he slipped Draco’s wand into his shirt sleeve. "Why does it have nine towers?" asked Severus with a critical eye.

"That's Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and I moved the Slytherins into their own tower," boasted Draco.

"That is four towers out of nine," Severus pointed out. "What about the other five?"

Hermione clarified, "That one is for Hagrid, you get this one which is next to Slytherin, the Headmistress is here, Professor Flitwick gets the one next to Ravenclaw, and the last one is for Professor Dumbledore to retire in because he doesn't want to leave Hogwarts." She smiled at Draco. Both turned hopeful looks to Severus in hopes he might approve.

"You put a moat around your castle. Hogwarts does not have a moat," he again pointed out.

"Well it needs one!" declared Draco hotly. He was getting annoyed with all the criticism Professor Snape was handing them.

Severus tapped his chin. "So it does. I shall mention that to our new Headmaster. Does yours have the Giant Squid in it?"

Hermione shook her head. "Look over there, sir," she pointed to an area to the left side of the sand castle by Draco’s left foot that resembled a tiny tide pool surrounded by small pebbles. "That's Black Lake. I think the Giant Squid ought to stay there. Our moat will have lots and lots of crabs that will be trained to attack anyone not allowed in the castle. What do you think, sir?"

"Impressive," nodded Severus. "You both did well." Hermione beamed and Draco gave a yelp of joy, and then ran down to the tide pools to join Ron and Harry.

"What are you reading, sir?" asked Hermione.

"Ars Alchemica for July. I could Summon a book from the library for you if you wish to read something else, Hermione."

"Please, sir? Maybe a Potions textbook?" she asked eagerly.

"I think not." He had turned to return to his umbrella so he did not see her quick pout. "I have a book of folk tales you might enjoy, though." Sitting down Severus Summoned the large book, patted an area on the sand beside him, and caught the book Summoned as it sailed down to them from the house above.

Hermione settled with her book, and discovered that it was filled with ancient folklore stories that held her interest. She never heard when Harry came up from the tidepools to ask if they could play three-man Quidditch.

Harry flew free up into the sky! Draco followed with a whoop of joy, and Ron laughed. Draco threw the Snitch and all three began chasing after it. Ron caught it first, threw it back into play, and then Harry caught the Snitch. He threw the Snitch back into play and for ten minutes they loop, spiralled, and dove through the air, over the ocean. A near collision between Draco and Harry, Draco being more daring, had the tow-headed boy snatching the Snitch from the air with a triumphant shout.

Severus had tried to continue reading but he knew that was futile. He began to watch the game without showing any worry but all three boys were inveterate daredevils as far as flying went. The near collision between Draco and Harry was enough for his heart to jump a beat. He cursed, forgetting that there was a young girl behind him.

"Harry's really good, sir," piped up Hermione behind him.

Snape turned to face the young Gryffindor. "He is a maniacal risk taker," growled Snape. "He is reckless."

"When we arrived here you spent a half hour inspecting all the brooms and putting all sorts of wards on them," she reminded. She smiled. He did not. Draco's father had bought them all new brooms to fly around Prince Lighthouse island. They were the fastest and best made. Of course Severus was going to inspect each of them to the nines!

"Do not get cheeky with me, Miss Granger or I shall throw you into the ocean,” he threatened.

The little witch let out an indignant harraumph. Hermione glared at him, mumbled under her breath, and returned to her book.

Severus turned away from the girl as he heard a piercing cry in the sky. As he peered worriedly up at Harry, the boy laughed, swooped his broom into a dive, and headed straight for his father. Just as the boy swooped past...

"HARRY POTTER SNAPE!! Get your numbskull arse down here!" Shouted Severus tautly.

Harry aimed for near his father. "I'm sorry, dad," began Harry as he jumped off his broom.

"Get in the house," snarled Snape. Harry's shoulders drooped. With a sigh Snape relented a small bit, "You may fly up to the house if you do not wish to use the stairs." As Draco and then Ron alighted by their friend he added, "Put your brooms away, and wash up for dinner."

"You too, Miss Granger. It is near time for dinner." The wizard levitated the book from her hands.

"Hey!" Hermione scrambled to her feet, and jumped up for the book that was hovering too high above her.

"Dinner, Miss Granger. To the house. Now." She glowered at her teacher, even though it was Summer and he was not her teacher now. With a yellow-polka dotted flounce Hermione stomped off the beach and began the trek up a long staircase to the house.

Harry mounted his broom. "C'mon! Dad said we didn't have to use the stairs!" With a laugh he darted up into the air, to the plateau to where the lighthouse and its attached house stood.

Ron jumped onto his broom, and flew up after Harry. Draco had stayed back. He addressed his teacher, "Professor, I... uhm... thanks for saving my father from going back to Voldy."

Snape, sensing that the child needed the formality they were cloaked in at Hogwarts, nodded. "You are most welcome, Mr. Malfoy. How has your mother fared since the arrest of your Aunt Bellatrix?"

Draco smiled softly, "Better. She seems a bit happier since Aunt Bellatrix was sent to Siberia. I think she and father are kind of liking each other better, too."

"Very good.” Liking indeed, he thought. Lucius had already written to him that Draco was to have a brother or sister. “Would you do a favour for me, Draco?"

"Sure, Uncle Severus!"

Snape glanced at the figure of the small witch not even half of the way up the long, zig-zagging steps to the plateau of the island. "Give Miss… I forget that Harry has asked me to use your given names. Give Hermione a lift to the plateau, would you? I shall meet you at the house for dinner."

"Okay!" Draco ran, mounted his broom, and flew up to where Hermione was. Snape watched as there appeared to be a bit of argument, and then the boy persuaded the girl to climb onto his broom. As Draco sailed out into the air, and upward, Hermione let out a scream that made the air shiver.

Snape chuckled quietly. That witch really hated flying.

With a short spin, he had Apparated from the beach and to the house above. He was met by Harry who came running out of the house, and greeted him with a strong hug to his abdomen. Snape ruffled the boy's hair, which was taming itself as it grew longer.

"Are you hungry, Harry?" asked Snape.

"Starved!"

"Then let us go and eat," Snape turned the boy to face the house but then the boy quickly turned back.

"Dad?" Harry reached up to begin playing with the watch fob chain on Snape's vest that stretched from a button to the pocket where his old pocket watch was.

"What is it, Harry?"

"Draco and I were talking about school next year, and he's going to try out for the Slytherin Quidditch team. Would it be alright if I try out, too?" Harry glanced up hopefully into his father's eyes. "For Gryffindor, I mean."

"Are you certain of this desire?" Snape asked carefully.

Harry shrugged nervously, and then withdrew the watch from his father's pocket. The watch was old, and pitted, and had been the only heirloom Tobias Snape had ever given to his son. Snape lifted his hand, and stroked Harry's small fingers over the watch.

"Harry? What are you worried about?"

"Him." Harry shuddered as he recalled the brief glimpse he'd had back in the tower where the Mirror of Erised was. That vision of the ghosts of his parents, and his dead teacher, fighting Voldemort still haunted his nightmares. "Will next year be safe? From him?"

Snape knelt down on one knee to bring him level with Harry's gaze. He cupped Harry's head between his hands. "Child, Lucius and I both showed you that our Dark Marks are not just faded but gone. They vanished with the final death of... of Voldemort. He has no body but even better he has no spirit left. He will never return."

"I'm a normal boy," sighed Harry.

"You're an annoying welp that is as normal as little boys come, Harry. You have my permission to try out for Quidditch but do not expect me to sit idly by as you so cavalierly sail in the air. I am going to try and keep you safe while reducing any white hair I might accumulate," Severus rose to his feet, gave his son a quick glare, and then smiled gently. He held out his hand, "Come along, son. Let us join your friends for dinner."

THE END

Oh Wait!

But What About… Albus Dumbledore?

The plane was flying smoothly across the Atlantic from the United States to England. Two rather strange passengers: an elderly man with an impossibly long beard and wearing a garish, plaid suit, and a much younger man with sandy brown hair, and odd scars on his face sat in first class. Both were polite but the stewardess kept hearing odd words or phrases: things like 'Muggles', 'Quidditch' and 'Voldemort'.

Lucy, the stewardess, a young woman of Asian descent born in California was in charge of the few passengers in first class, and she found the elderly gentleman amusing, and the younger man charming.

"Lucy," asked the older man, "might I have some more of those delightful packages of peanuts, and a fizzy drink? I rather liked the root beer."

Lucy smiled indulgently. "I thought you might enjoy the root beer better than the ginger ale, Mr. Dumbledore." She gave a brighter smile to the young man who blushed, "Mr. Lupin, is there anything you'd like?"

"Chocolate?" asked Remus a little gruffly.

"I have a few different kinds," Lucy replied. "Shall I pick something out for you?"

"If you would, please. I think I'd like some more root beer, too."

Lucy turned away and headed back down the aisle. Albus leaned towards Remus. "A remarkable way to travel, my boy. So you've flown in an aeroplane a few times?"

"I'm a dab hand, Albus. I've gone to New Zealand, Greece, and even Egypt via plane," replied Remus leaning back in his seat.

"In search of a cure?" asked Albus softly.

Remus nodded. "I've picked up a lot of information but the one who would be most knowledgeable in making sense of what I have..." he sighed sadly, "he won't speak to me."

"Severus," nodded Albus. "We were both unfair to the boy, Remus. Myself moreso for not listening to him more. It still amazes me that he adopted Harry."

"And Lucius Malfoy witnessed for him," Remus chuckled and smiled.

“An unexpected development.” He glanced sideways at the younger wizard. “Perhaps Severus might reconsider speaking to you.”

“All things change,” the werewolf observed wistfully.

"I suppose you feel I was wrong, too, about Harry?" asked Albus sadly.

"I think you put too much faith upon a child's shoulders, Albus, when you should have listened to the adults who had proven their loyalty long before Riddle rose to power. You read the same report from the Department of Mysteries that we in the Order of the Phoenix read; it was Lily's magic that killed Riddle, not Harry."

"But Sybil prophesied..." began the older wizard.

“Sybil is not her grandmother Cassandra,” Remus interrupted, "And you never told anyone about a prophecy." Remus gave him a severe look. "How do you expect any of us to be of any help when you are keeping secrets from us, Albus?” He turned sharply in his seat and eyed the old wizard darkly, “You put Harry into the hands of Petunia and even I, who never met the woman, knew of her from what both James and Lily told me about Petunia. She was awful, Albus!” Remus shook his head. “How can Harry ever trust you? I cannot believe what you’ve done to him..." Remus sighed in frustration. "And what you allowed happen to Sirius." Just thinking of his old friend and what Minerva had discovered and relayed to him via Floo last night angered him. Sirius Black had been sent to Azkaban on charges that had never been investigated.

Both men faced away from each other. Each were thinking as the plane engines rumbled soothingly beneath them.

It annoyed Albus that he had erred so terribly. He felt he had been doing what needed to be done, and each day that had passed for him it all made sense. However, he had bumbled... and badly. He had hurt Severus, whom he truly did care for, it chilled him to realise that without knowing he had sent poor Sirius to Azkaban for nearly ten years, and Harry... those relatives of his...! He had only ever known Petunia from a letter she had sent to him as a child pleading with him to let her attend Hogwarts with her sister. Truly, he had thought that the Muggle woman would look upon Harry with love as she had her own sister. Instead, he learned from Minerva that the child had been hated, neglected, and was unwanted. Albus had been nothing but an untrustworthy burden to Harry.

Albus stared out the plane window at the world that was so tiny beneath it, and a tear slipped down his cheek. He had been an old man when Tom Riddle had come to power. Still spry, and he had built a strong force to oppose him and his followers; the Order of the Phoenix. Albus had gone on rescues, fought battles, and had inducted, and then led the members in a concerted effort to thwart the Dark Wizard. All of that had changed when Sybil had had that prophecy of hers. He had thought it was Severus had overheard it, and passed on what he heard to Riddle. It was actually Regulus Black who had overheard the prophecy, and he had disappeared not long after. Albus knew that Riddle was one to attend to portents and omens and prophecies -- a great weakness that Albus could have used to bring down Riddle. Instead, Albus had chosen to follow Riddle onto a path of vagueries that precipitated the disappearance of Regulus, the murder of the Potters, the possible unjust imprisonment of Sirius, and injury to the young Harry Potter.

At least Severus was trying to do the right thing by Harry, and perhaps by Harry's mother. He doubted that James was in the young Slytherin's thoughts at all. Perhaps there was a silver lining in that having adopted the boy Severus would return to the world of the living, and continue on with his life.

Albus smiled with plans. He could see the dour Potions Master with an adoring wife, a house full of children, and he, Albus, would dote upon each and every child.

However, he would need to create a new bridge of trust with Harry, and he hoped the child would allow him into his heart.

Albus turned to speak to Remus who was still not speaking to him. "Once we return home, Remus, we must join Minerva's efforts to get Sirius released. I shall then tender my resignation at Hogwarts. Perhaps Minerva might like to take over..."

"Malfoy would," Remus sneered half-heartedly. He knew the aristocrat had proven himself, and was on the Board of Governors, now nearly 9 years. Still his retort was not serious.

"Perhaps. The only other Slytherin Headmaster was Phineas Nigellus Black and I am certain he'd like to see a fellow Slytherin as Headmaster."

"I was joking, Albus!" Remus said appalled.

"I was not," Albus replied serenely. "Hm. Yes. Lucius could be quite good for Hogwarts."

Remus' jaw dropped open. Lucy the stewardess arrived at that moment, "More peanuts, Mr. Dumbledore, and your root beer." She boldly tapped Remus' chin. He closed his mouth. Lucy then handed him a blue and gold package. "Chocolate. Cadbury Giant Buttons. Very popular amongst the kids right now, Mr. Lupin. I think you'll enjoy them."

Remus decided to ignore Albus in favour of his chocolate. He opened the package, took out one of the buttons, and popped it in his mouth. "Oh! This is wonderful! Thank you, Lucy!" He smiled brightly at the stewardess who beamed as she put his root beer on his tray.

Lucy started to move away when Albus leaned over in front of Remus, and stopped her with his hand on hers. "Lucy, we've so enjoyed your company so far. Perhaps, when you take a break you will join us?"

Lucy smiled uncertainly as she glanced at the old man, then at Remus who was frowning in puzzlement at Albus. "I... well, how generous, Mr. Dumbledore. I have a break in ten minutes." With a sudden extra bounce in her step Lucy continued down the aisle to dole out drinks and snacks to her other first class passengers.

"Albus, are you playing matchmaker?" asked Remus.

"I have to do something, Remus, since I won't be a Headmaster any longer." He chuckled and looked out the plane window. "Do you think Lucius will un-bind my magic when we get home?"

Remus popped another chocolate button into his mouth, crossed his arms over his chest, and glowered at the seat in front of him. "Merlin, I hope not," he muttered.

Now tis the end

a/n: Thank you to everyone who read my little story, and especially to everyone who took time to comment, to favourite the story, or add it to a story community. I dearly enjoyed entertaining all of you.

~Jayne d’Arcy

I Don’t Want to be a Hero - Part II - the second year 1992

I am already writing part II but it is not far enough along to post. At ten chapters I would begin posting. In this Part II we would learn about Harry’s new wand, the tragedy of Sirius, who the new Headmaster or Headmistress is, who is the new DADA teacher, whether or not Severus will continue teaching, and whatever happened to the Invisibility Cloak that Griphook mentioned to Severus, and whether or not Draco has a sibling.

My tentative storyline would bring back Bellatrix LeStrange, a retired Albus Dumbledore, and a possible sweetheart duel between newcomers to Hogwarts: Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood. I am considering keeping Remus Lupin but he would remain as Albus’ caretaker and he will be a bit more strong in personality than he was in the books.

I am also considering a division between the Quartet after Hermione gets attacked; at fault is Ron.

Opinions are welcome so feel free to leave a review of PM me.

Thank you!