“And you expect me to believe that you have not heard from your son in over a week?”

Narcissa Malfoy was cowering in front of him. He could see her shaking in fear. He was not moved.

“Why did you not bring this to me before?”

“My Lord,” she began, “Draco has left more time between his letters before. It is not unlike him-”

“But not this year.” Voldemort’s voice was cold. Unforgiving.

“No, my Lord.”

There was a moment of silence and Voldemort crossed his legs, leaning back securely in his ornate chair.

“Perhaps all Draco needs a little more… encouragement.” Narcissa’s eyes widened in fear. “He may need a reminder that his mission must be carried through by the end of the year.”

“I… I will send him an owl immediately, my lord.”

“No, not you. Bella?” Voldemort beckoned the woman over from the side of the room where she had been standing with some other Death Eaters. “You will send the letter. He will recognise it is from you?”

“Yes, Master.” Bellatrix hurried forwards to kiss the hem of his robes.

“Good, Draco might understand a little more of the urgency of the situation. If we hear nothing by Tuesday, I will summon Severus for a little chat.” Voldemort pulled out his wand and twirled it in his long fingers for a moment. The two witches watched it warily.

“Of course - we must give Bella something to write about.” The wand was pointed steadily at Narcissa Malfoy who barely had time to brace herself.

“Crucio.”

Narcissa sank almost gracefully to her knees, then to the floor. Only then did she scream out her agony.

Her sister watched her, unflinching while Voldemort merely looked detached, feeling none of the anger or glee he usually experienced when using the curse. 

Voldemort lifted the curse, then frowned. Something wasn’t quite right. After a second, the corner of his mouth twitched slightly. He focussed for a second and everything went fuzzy. Then there was pain, pain building up in the centre of his forehead.

Harry woke up in bed, breathing fast. He made his way to the bathroom quickly to splash cold water on his face to wake himself up. He wondered what he should do now.

Usually his first thoughts would be either to go to Dumbledore or else just forget the dream. But Harry wasn’t sure how Dumbledore would respond. The old man had warned him so many times this year to not get involved with Draco and whatever the boy was up to, that he would probably not listen to this either.

At the same time, Harry felt that the dream was too important to dismiss. It was probably a real vision. Harry was wary of them since- well since Sirius last year. He didn’t have many visions this year though. And when he did, Voldemort usually noticed and threw him out of his mind before anything interesting happened. Harry was more than grateful for that, he never had visions of Voldemort doing anything which was not destructive.

So now Harry had a dilemma about what he should do. He had a strong feeling that Dumbledore would just take no notice of it, but him and Snape at least seemed to be taking more of an interest in whatever Malfoy was up to.

Snape. That was a thought. The man had been almost…tolerant of Harry these last couple of days. And the man definitely cared about Malfoy more than he seemed to care about anyone else. He would probably know what to do about the threat to Malfoy’s mum too. And at least if Snape was mad at him, not much would change.

Harry glanced at his watch, it was 4 o’clock. That was annoying, everyone else in the castle was probably asleep. He reached for yesterday’s jeans which were still lying in a heap on the floor. He pulled the marauder’s map out of the pocket, activating it as he did so.

Looking over the map, he could see that almost everyone was in bed. A few seventh years were in the wrong beds, but Harry skipped over that, giving them a bit of privacy.

To his surprise, the little dot labelled Severus Snape didn’t seem to be staying still. The man seemed to be slowly moving around a little unlabelled room near the rest of the teacher’s quarters. Harry assumed it was where the man lived when he was not teaching, because he had seen him there before when checking the map to sneak out at night.

He dressed quietly, yawning. When he was in some fairly smart clothes, he opened the portrait door.

“Uh, hello?”

The snake was asleep in the tree in the background. Harry knocked on the frame to wake it up.

“Hey!”

It stirred eventually, sleepily slithering into the foreground, getting more detail the closer it got.

“What is it, young sir?”

“I was wondering how early I’m allowed out of here? We used to have quiddich practice at half four, so I can’t have too long to wait.”

The snake yawned, showing off its fangs. “I suppose if you were jolly eager, you might be able to leave at half past four.”

“Good,” Harry said. He showed it his watch, “So you don’t mind if I leave in a few minutes then?”

His portrait guardian turned around without looking and started sleepily back towards the tree. “Go when you like, just do not make too much noise. And do try to not slam me shut. You almost shook me out of my tree once.”

Harry grinned, slipping out into the corridor and closing the door as gently as possible.

According to the map, Snape’s rooms were on the fourth floor. Harry made use of a passageway through a fake wall so that he didn’t have to take the grand staircase. This way he didn’t risk being called out by hundreds of talking portraits (they never appreciated being woken up early).

It wasn’t until Harry was sneaking up towards the teacher’s rooms that he really thought about what he was doing. Any professor he woke up now was sure to be furious with him. Voldemort really did pick his moments.

Harry was glad McGonagall in particular slept in a different part of the castle – she was a notoriously light sleeper as he had discovered more than once at the cost of a few hours detention.

He checked the map quickly. As he had expected, there was still nobody patrolling the school. The teachers on duty tended to go to bed just after midnight, and then the school was quiet until seven the next morning.

Snape was still in the same room, the entrance to his suite was still a couple of doors down and Harry checked which one it was exactly, he didn’t want to get the wrong one.

He deactivated the map and stuffed it back into his pocket, proceeding slowly along the corridor. He had discovered ages ago that if you were careful, only one of the candles in the sconces would light at a time. That meant that you didn’t get the sudden rush of light when a whole corridor suddenly brightened.

Harry almost had a heart attack when a hand grabbed him by his shirt collar.

“Shi-“

“Language, Potter.”

He was pulled sideways through one of the walls lining the corridor. It became solid again in front of him before he was released. Harry spun around to see a thoroughly disgruntled Snape.

Harry was confused. Snape seemed to have come straight through an invisible wall which didn’t exist on the map. He knew certain parts of Hogwarts weren’t marked, but those were very few and he hardly ever came across them.

The room he found himself in was a small sitting room. It looked fairly cosy, with a large fireplace and bookcases lining the walls. There was a large, cushy armchair as well as a low couch. From what Harry could work out, it looked like Snape had been marking essays from the armchair.

 “So?”

Harry turned to Snape. The man had his arms crossed, and looked angry. The first thought that came into his head was that Snape even managed to find a black dressing gown and slippers.

He managed to not say that.

“I needed to talk to you, Sir.”

“How did you get here, Potter? Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“It’s about half past four isn’t it, Professor? And I, uh, just knew where to find you?”

“That was a rhetorical question, I was asking why you are not currently asleep in your bed as you are supposed to be. And why you were sneaking around the staff quarters at this hour. It also begs the question of how you knew to even find me here, as Heads of House have their quarters near their respective common rooms- as you are well aware.”

Snape glared at Harry for a long moment, daring the boy to answer any of those questions to his satisfaction.

“I had a vision!” Harry blurted.

Snape merely raised an eyebrow. Harry was starting to feel quite foolish. Maybe it had been a bad decision to come to Snape after all.

“And, um, I know I’m not supposed to be having them, but I did. So I thought I’d better tell someone. And, well, you’re someone. Of course you’re someone what I mean is, you know everything – well, not everything obviously, but-“

“Potter, stop!” Snape sighed deeply, “You are rambling. Is somebody in imminent danger?”

“Well, no Sir.”

“Is anybody injured? Did you see anybody die?”

“Just Mrs Malfoy.”

Snape looked alarmed, “Narcissa is dead?”

“What? No! Voldemort Crucio’d her, but she’s fine.”

Professor Snape rubbed his face with both hands for a few moments, as if he was gathering some strength. He leaned against the arm of the couch, so that Harry was standing directly in front of him. Snape was still more than a head taller.

“You and I have very different definitions of ‘fine’.”

Harry gave a weak smile, “Well, she’s better than dead anyway.”

“Tell me about it then. Concisely, if you would.”

Harry retold the story. Including everything he could remember of what he saw and heard as well as enough of Voldemort’s emotions to make Snape look slightly uneasy. He finished off by telling Snape about how Voldemort had noticed Harry’s presence.

When he had finished listening, Snape nodded his head.

“And you believe this to be a truthful vision? It could not be a mere dream because of your dislike for Mr Malfoy?”

“No! I can tell the difference.”

Snape eyed him closely. Suddenly Harry knew that he was thinking of the dreams Voldemort had planted about the chamber of mysteries.

“This isn’t the same as that!”

“I don’t believe I referred to anything, Mr Potter.”

“Don’t be like that! You know what you were suggesting.”

“Do not shout at me Potter. Or this conversation is over.” Snape hissed sternly.

Harry deflated, embarrassed. “Sorry, Professor. But I mean it, you can look for yourself if you want.”

Snape tilted his head to the side, considering. “And what exactly do you mean by that?”

“Anything, a pensieve if you want. Or you could just use Occlumency.”

“Legillimency,” Snape corrected automatically. “And I returned the pensieve to Professor Dumbledore after our lessons ended.”

“Well, then go ahead.” Harry challenged. “It’s not like you haven’t done it before. It didn’t seem to bother you when you were looking for that book.”

The black eyes narrowed. “Do not remind me of that book. I cannot believe even you were foolish enough to use it.”

“Yeah, I know, are you going to check it or not?”

“Not.”

Harry was astounded. “What do you mean, ‘not’? You said it might be another plot from Voldemort!”

“Actually, you will recall I merely asked you how you knew it was a real vision. Anyway, this is not an urgent matter. We have a few days to decide what might need to be done. You will see Professor Dumbledore tomorrow, and he can trawl through your shambolic mind if he wishes.”

Harry’s heart sank. “I have to tell Dumbledore?”

Snape rolled his eyes, “Of course. Or did you imagine I was the one in charge of the Order of the Phoenix? Frankly I am amazed you came to me in the first place. Unless this whole ordeal is an elaborate lie to disguise why you were sneaking around this early in the morning. I would have expected you to go straight to Professor McGonagall, if you are still too afraid to speak to the headmaster.”

“I’m not afraid to talk to him!”

“Of course you aren’t.” Snape smirked. “Either way, it is far too early for you to be wandering the corridors. You may sleep in here until morning. We will see the headmaster at 8 o’clock.”

Harry just stared at his teacher. The conversation had taken a totally unexpected turn. Harry had expected to tell his Professor everything before springing into action, but the man didn’t seem too bothered by the whole thing. Now, he was speaking with a portrait of a very disgruntled Phineas Nigellus Black.

“Inform Professor Dumbledore that we will be present in his office after breakfast. Let him know that I have Potter here with me.”

“You should put the boy in detention until morning, Severus. He deserves it. The audacity of disturbing a professor at this hour!”

“Thank you, Phineas.” He gave Harry a meaningful look. “I will take that under advisement.”

The Slytherin headmaster slipped out of his frame, presumably to wait for Dumbledore to wake up.

“Don’t look so alarmed, Mr Potter.” Snape said to him. “I am not going to chop you into potions ingredients quite yet.”

Snape drew his wand from somewhere in his dressing gown and used it to summon a pillow and a tartan blanket, throwing them to Harry.

Harry looked at the blanket. It was mostly red and gold, not exactly what Harry would expect the head of Slytherin house to own.

“It was a present from the Depute Headmistress. She believes it is amusing to give me these for my birthday.”

“It’s pretty nice.” Harry said, admiring it

Snape just snorted, turning to leave.

“There is a bathroom on the right outside this door,” he said. “Do not go wandering. I expect you to go no further than these two rooms. Try to not make too much noise, you have kept me from my bed long enough already.”

“Yes Professor, sorry.”

Snape left, extinguishing the lights as he went. Harry, left in the dark, slipped off his shoes and jumper and lay down on the couch.

Harry wasn’t sure what he had expected to get from taking this to Snape. Somehow he felt like the man wouldn’t make him talk to Dumbledore. Not that Harry was scared… he just really didn’t want to.

The vision had been strange though, he supposed.  Usually Harry had problems trying to remember what he dreamed about but this was really clear. It didn’t even seem to be particularly significant of anything.

Apart from Draco. That was the main take-home message Harry had received. Draco was doing a job for Voldemort. In the boy’s defence, it did seem to have something to do with protecting his mother. But Draco still had a mission to complete at Hogwarts before the summer started, and that couldn’t be a good thing.

He curled up, pulling the blanket over himself. It was warm and soft and Harry vaguely wished he had one like it himself. Since there wasn’t anything Harry could do until morning- well actual morning - he might as well sleep.

“Wake up.”

Harry rolled over, pulling his blanket with him.

“G’way Ron”

“Would you get out of bed?”

“Sshh…” Harry was warm and comfortable and sleepy.

There was a sigh of annoyance which barely penetrated Harry’s consciousness.

“Fine Potter, you asked for it.”

Harry’s comfortable bed was suddenly very wet and very cold. The boy was on his feet in seconds.

“What?!”

Snape was standing there fully dressed, complete with a smirk.

“Ugh!”

“That’s ‘ugh, Sir’, Potter.”

Harry just scowled back, rubbing his arms to try to warm them up.

“You were much more enthusiastic a few hours ago, Mr Potter. What has happened? A short nap should have invigorated you for the day.”

He kept glaring.

Snape rolled his eyes and passed Harry a towel.

“There is some food in the kitchen if you would like to eat. Professor Dumbledore is expecting us in half an hour and we may be there for some time.” Snape turned left through the door to his rooms.

Harry stood where he was, bleary eyed for a few moments. He looked longingly at the couch, but now that it was wet he supposed it would be far less comfortable. He just hoped he’d have the opportunity to have a nap sometime soon.

“You had better not have gone back to bed!” Snape warned from wherever he was. “It won’t be water I throw at you next time.”

Using the towel, Harry dried off his hair, which seemed to be where most of the water had landed. He found his glasses and his wand on the floor next to him.

The ‘kitchen’ appeared to be little more than an old-fashioned stove, a sink and a plain table and chairs. Snape was already sitting there with a large mug of coffee and a copy of the Quibbler, which he was eyeing with disdain.

There was a box of Pixie Puffs and a rack of toast set out and Harry helped himself to a little of both. Snape pushed a cup of coffee across the table to Harry, who grimaced before adding about half a jug of milk and 4 spoons of sugar to it.

“That is sacrilege.”

Harry looked up, “Are you kidding? You drink this stuff strong enough to blow someone’s head off.”

“Oh, you can use words? I was beginning to think you had lost all powers of speech. And there is nothing wrong with my coffee, I should not be held to account if everyone else drinks it too weak.”

Harry ignored that and they sat without speaking for a few minutes. The only sounds the clinking of Harry’s spoon and the occasional page being turned. When the last crust had been eaten, Snape stretched and stood up.

“Come along then. It is time to see the headmaster.”

This time they left through the door to the apartment, which turned out to be through the kitchen. Harry scrutinised the wall he had been pulled through that morning, but there was nothing to suggest it was the slightest out of the ordinary. He supposed he must have just been unlucky.

“Why are you here this morning, gentlemen?”

Dumbledore was hard to read. He looked blank, honestly. Not angry, nor tired, nor curious. Just blank.

Harry found that he didn’t have any words. Dumbledore watched him for a minute in anticipation, before turning to Snape for enlightenment.

Snape looked exasperated. “Potter believes he had a vision last night. The information was not urgent so we waited until now to inform you.”

“And what time were you informed, Severus?”

“About three hours ago.”

Dumbledore turned back to Harry, who was fidgeting.

“Do you understand why we have a curfew in place, Mr Potter?”

“Yes Sir.” Harry coughed to clear his throat. “I thought this was more important.”

“And yet you didn’t come straight to my office?”

He looked down at the floor, avoiding the headmaster’s gaze.

“Apparently the Dark Lord mentioned me in this dream,” Snape said. “Or perhaps he came to me because I was closer?”

Dumbledore frowned, “Harry did not go through the dungeons?”

“No, he came the other way.”

They both gave him a strange look, which Harry returned. Why was it strange to look for a teacher in the part of the school where the professors all lived?

“So what about this dream? Severus, you believe it was not a vision?”

“It may well have been. Mr Potter did offer to let me use Legilimency to see for myself, but I believed that was more your role.”

Dumbledore considered this. Harry gulped quietly. He didn’t really want Dumbledore digging around in his mind. Sure, the old man had seen some of Harry’s memories when they had been having Occlumency lessons. But Dumbledore had been far gentler than Snape. He barely skimmed the surface and seemed to take far more care over his privacy. He was happiest with Dumbledore not seeing his childhood memories.

“Professor?” Harry said, “You could use a pensieve instead? If you do want to see it, that is.”

Dumbledore nodded swiftly, whirling off to the side of the room where the great, stone basin was kept. He pulled the doors open wide and then carefully brought the pensieve over to his desk. He beckoned to Harry.

“I need you to focus on that memory. Go through it in your head first, think of how it started and what the room looked like, and what was said. We need you to remember as clearly as possible so we can get a full picture of what happened.”

The two men watched Harry closely for a minute. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to recall everything. It was difficult as he kept getting sidetracked by his thoughts about what had happened, rather than the events themselves.

When Harry opened his eyes, Dumbledore already had his wand out. There was a long strand of silvery light stretched between the wand and Harry’s temple. Harry panicked for a moment and the strand began to shake.

“You are perfectly alright. This is how the memory extraction works. You will not forget it when it is removed, so do not worry.”

Harry nodded gently just as the strand broke free. Dumbledore pulled it lightly across, letting it pool into the memories already in the basin.

“Shall we?” Dumbledore asked, motioning them both forward.

Inside the pensieve, the first thing Harry noticed was that the memory was a bit dim. He smirked at his choice of words – Snape would say that Harry the one that was a bit dim. Everything was moving sort of in slow motion too, and Harry didn’t really have any recollection of what was happening.

Then the scene focussed suddenly, and Harry was able to get a slightly better look at the room they were in. He supposed he must have perceived everything the first time without really taking much notice.

Voldemort was sitting on a high seat at the head of the room, he was dressed fairly well in high quality robes and looked comfortable. There were a few death eaters at the sides of the hall, standing talking in small groups, or watching the scene of the two sisters and Voldemort unfold.

Harry watched Dumbledore as well. The headmaster seemed to be taking everything in. He was watching Voldemort closely and trying to analyse Narcissa and Bellatrix’s reactions.

Harry noticed that when Narcissa screamed, barely anyone even looked up. They seemed to have been expecting it.

Snape was standing so impassively that Harry had to look at him twice. It almost looked like Snape was one of the death eaters in the room rather than viewing it with them. Snape seemed to feel Harry’s stare though and turned to look at him briefly, reassuring Harry.

After Voldemort lifted the torture curse, he started to look different. Confused at first, then a hint of anger and finally amusement. Just as he smiled with satisfaction, the scene ended. Snape disappeared first, then Dumbledore took Harry’s arm and they both resurfaced into the office above.

“Thank you, Mr Potter. We will see you at lunch in the Great Hall. You should have enough classwork to get on with until then.”

Harry blinked at the headmaster in confusion. “Sir?”

“Thank you for providing us with this. We will review it and act or not as we see fit.”

So that was it, Harry thought. He knew Dumbledore wouldn’t listen to him. This was exactly why he had gone to Snape in the first place. He had hoped that they might include him at least a little in whatever they were going to discuss. Harry turned to leave, disappointed.

“Potter.”

“Professor Snape?”

“You will keep this to yourself? If we believe the vision to be authentic then we will take action. If it is not, then the account of it could be damaging and potentially dangerous. You understand?”

Harry bit his lip. So they didn’t want him to go and tell everyone that his suspicions about Malfoy were true. That was ridiculous! What if Malfoy caused some real harm to somebody at Hogwarts? Harry was already convinced that he was behind Katie’s attack earlier in the year. What if somebody wound up dead?

He grit his teeth together before answering as politely as possible.

“Of course, Professor.”

There was a pause where neither of the professors challenged him. He could tell that they didn’t trust him entirely. But who did they expect him to tell? Ron and Hermione still hadn’t made any attempt to speak to him. Harry had had better conversations with the Slytherins and younger students than any of his friends!

“Good.”

Harry left the room, closing the door firmly behind himself. In the past he might have been tempted to attempt to eavesdrop, but there didn’t seem much point. Neither of them seemed to trust him, so one or the other would probably check he had gone and put up some privacy spells before they mentioned anything interesting.

Harry stormed down the Grand Staircase, ignoring everyone around him. There were a couple of students still making their way down to a late Sunday breakfast and he pushed past them, eager to get back to his room.

“Hey!” Someone shouted.

“Perfect Potter. Thinks he has more rights to the stairs than everyone else too.”

“Huh, watch this-“

Somehow this filtered through into the front of Harry’s thoughts. But not fast enough for him to register what was happening. A blindfold appeared over his eyes, and he felt something push him from behind.

He couldn’t catch himself, and fell headfirst down the stairs, still spinning from his attempt to turn around. His shoulder collided first, and then he was rolling. Pain erupted every time he hit the cold stone. He didn’t slow at all – if anything speeding up as he approached the next landing. He must have missed the last few steps, flying straight into the wall at the end.

Everything hurt. Harry lay still, aching and blind. Footsteps approached and Harry shied away. There was a laugh, and a sharp, new pain in his side before the sounds of people moved away.

Harry cursed himself for not taking more notice of whoever it was. He didn’t even recognise their voices. He managed to reach up with one arm – the other was trapped underneath him- to pull the blindfold away from his face. His hair was already sticky with blood, and there was more oozing out of cuts on his arms.

He didn’t think he could move much more if he tried. So he didn’t. He stayed there, hoping his strength would eventually build enough for him to get up and make his way to the Hospital Wing. It wasn’t that far. Only one floor of stairs and a couple of corridors. Surely he could manage that.

“What on earth have you done to yourself this time, Potter?”

Harry lifted his eyes as far as he could. It was Snape. Of course it was.

He tried to talk but only managed to make a faint groaning noise. Snape sighed and conjured a stretcher underneath him.

“You do have a talent for this.”

Harry coughed.

“Mr Potter, You do realise it has been less than a day since you were last in here?”

“S’rry.”

Harry thought he might have bitten his tongue at some point, It definitely hurt to speak.

Madam Pomfrey was fussing over him, clearing away the blood and healing cuts. She pulled his head to one side to look at a wound which stretched around behind his ear. Snape walked up from the office looking unimpressed. He handed Harry a tub of what turned out to be Bruise Balm.

Harry’s right arm was still refusing to move enough for him to unscrew the lid and Pomfrey decided it was dislocated at the shoulder. She cast a spell which wrenched it back into position, making Harry grunt in pain. He heard a sympathetic gasp.

Harry looked up to see Colin Creevey watching, wide-eyed from a few beds down. Harry gave him a friendly smile and waved with the arm that hurt least. Madame Pomfrey impatiently pulled a privacy screen across, blocking the Gryffindor from view.

Now able to move both arms, Harry could begin to apply the balm, watching as the bruises disappeared before his eyes.

“How many flights did you fall down?” Pomfrey asked, still inspecting his head.

Harry held up one finger. The matron took a double take, shifting his head so that she could look at his pupils instead. She lit her wand and shone it into each eye.

“That’s normal. Potter, let me look in your ears. Do you feel dizzy, nauseous?” Harry shook his head. “Do you have a headache?”

Harry just fixed her with a look. Of course he had a headache. Snape snorted in the background.

 “Can you remember what happened before you fell?” A nod. “And how you got here?” Harry paused for a second, then shook his head slowly.

How could he have forgotten? He remembered lying there on the landing, then Snape had appeared, then what? He drew a blank.

“Yes, you must have a concussion. Severus, could you fetch the potion?”

She took a look in Harry’s mouth, making him feel a bit like a farm animal. Luckily she noticed the blood in his mouth and had his tongue healed in an instant.

Snape returned moments later with a potion which looked like thin, yellow porridge. Harry choked it down as fast as he could, grateful when Madam Pomfrey handed him a glass of pumpkin juice to follow it down.

“You’ll have to stay here for a few hours, Mr Potter. I don’t want you disappearing off to sleep Merlin-knows-where, with memory loss no less.” Pomfrey bustled away to tidy up the mess she had made healing Harry.

“So what happened?” Snape asked, taking a seat next to the bed.

“Someone just pushed me down the stairs.” Harry said, still trying to believe it himself.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Harry snapped. “I’m not a total idiot. And they put a blindfold on me, actually, if you want proof.”

Harry fished around on the stretcher next to him, luckily finding the strip of cloth. He had still had it clutched in his hand when Snape arrived, so he must have brought it with him. It still had some of his blood on it.

Snape took it from him carefully.

“Do you remember anything else? Who it was would be helpful? Their house or year?”

Harry shook his head, “No, I pushed past them on the stairs but I didn’t really look. They were older students and at least one was a guy. There was only a couple of them but they seemed pretty mad at me. One of them kicked me too, I think.”

Snape made a humming noise, “If you remember anything else, let me know. I will ask a few people to see if they saw anything. Perhaps one of the portraits was paying attention. Madame Pomfrey!”

The last was called through to the office at the back of the wing. The matron stuck her head out.

“Potter may have injuries to his side, it appears he was kicked too.”

Harry frowned at Snape, but the man ignored him, sweeping out through the double doors instead. He collapsed back into his pillows as Pomfrey came back over to examine him more closely.

Snape returned rather unexpectedly about half an hour later with Harry’s schoolbag and some extra Latin texts, as well as a book titled ‘Protecting Your Home – Siege Advice for the Wily Wizard’. Harry was surprised that Snape would do such a menial task, but it did allow him to be productive by planning some lessons and finishing work for his professors. As this was what he was going to do anyway, completing his work in the hospital wing wasn’t too irritating.

The extra book looked particularly helpful for his Second Years’ homework assignment. It included lots of fairly simple protective enchantments which could prove useful in an emergency and it had an entire section on dark creatures as well, which was exactly what he was covering.

At lunch time, Madame Pomfrey let him go with a warning to be careful, as well as instructions to come straight back if he experienced any of a wide range of random symptoms. Harry packed all of his things away and spoke understandingly to a melancholic Colin on his way out.

He hoped he could at least make it downstairs this time.