When Snape had told Harry that there were unpleasant side effects to the potion he’d poured in Harry’s palm he had not been exaggerating. But Harry hadn’t been expecting torture such as this; he’d been expecting something mild, like sleepiness or a bad case of gas. Not the feverish agony that he was suffering with now.

Harry wished that Snape had had the patience to explain the consequences of taking the potion over the food. Harry wondered, had Snape explained things, would he have believed? On second thought he knew that it probably would not have made a difference.

His fingernails seemed to ache and even the hair on his head felt tender. His head was pounding in time to the jackhammer rhythm of his heart. His stomach clenched and churned as if he’d eaten spoiled food. Just the thought of eating again made it feel worse, but he could n’t think of anything else. If I had listened to him, this would not have happened.

Tiny drops of sweat collected on his forehead, and he wanted to take in gasping breaths through his teeth, but he could not unclench his jaw. Instead he had to try and steady his breathing through his nose, and that became the center of his focus. Just breathe in, and let it go. Nothing else is important. Not Snape, not the Dursleys. Not even pain. All that matters is to breathe. The rest will come later.

He was calm now. The pain was still in the background, reminding him that he was still not totally in control. He ignored the urge to want to scream. That was not what was important. He inhaled through his nose and then let it go. A finger twitched, but he didn’t notice.

Had he fallen asleep? He couldn’t recall. Tiredly he uncurled from the little coil of blanket and sheet to go use the bathroom. He was halfway across the room when he froze. I moved! Had Snape set him loose? Perhaps . . . or maybe Harry had released himself.

He smiled as he looked in the bathroom mirror after rinsing his face. He did feel a lot stronger, so perhaps the potion that Snape had given him had helped.

**********

Snape entered Harry’s room. He was fully expecting the boy to still be frozen to the bed, but instead Potter was sitting on the mess of bedding with a little amused expression on his face. Snape raised an eyebrow in surprise. He certainly hadn’t been expecting Potter to find the willpower to break the spell.

“Pleasant night, Potter?” Snape asked, smoothly covering his surprise with a glare of disdain.

At the thought of what he’d been through last night Harry shuddered.

“I trust that now you will think about the consequences before behaving like a stubborn fool.”

Harry did not answer, and the amusement that had been on his face had faded.

**********

Snape escorted Harry to the kitchen. While the room was very beautiful, it wasn’t as grand as Harry had been expecting. He’d had an image in his mind of something that would rival the Great Hall at Hogwarts. The table was rather small and only had two chairs. It wasn’t possible to see the type of wood the table was made from because of the white table cloth covering it, but Harry was sure it matched the cherry-wood chairs perfectly. Harry wondered if Snape had a grander dining room for formal occasions, but then Snape probably wasn’t one who enjoyed a lot of company.

Harry took a seat when Snape told him to, and watched as the man waved his wand and a spread of several breakfast items appeared. A pot of hot tea, a large bowl of creamy, white porridge, and a plate of French toast. A few smaller items appeared as well. Powdered sugar, regular sugar, butter, milk and some ripe strawberries.

Harry didn’t want porridge. He was so sick of eating goo. French toast would’ve been much more appetizing. He watched with a silent grumble of protest as Snape scooped him a fair amount of porridge and placed it in front of Harry.

“Eat up, Potter. You still look quite pasty.”

Harry nearly snorted. He looked pasty! Perhaps you ought to have a look in the mirror, Professor!

Harry watched enviously as Snape speared several pieces of French toast and put them onto a plate for himself. Harry looked down at his porridge and stirred it absently. Why couldn’t they both eat the same things? Harry’s thoughts began to sort through the different reasons why Snape would feed him something completely different from what he served to himself. Perhaps he just doesn’t like porridge, but I don’t care for it either. Maybe he knows that. Or maybe he did something to it, like he did to my cider. I can’t eat this! Snape glared at Harry as the boy distracted him from the important task of buttering his French toast.

“What is it, Potter?” Snape snapped impatiently.

“Nothing, Sir. It’s really quite silly,” Harry mumbled.

Snape slammed his butter knife down on the table cloth, and Harry started. “I do not have the time nor the patience for mind games, Mr. Potter.”

Harry swallowed. “Well, it’s just that. I don’t want to eat something that’s different from what you’re having.”

“And you’d rather eat my French toast. Is that it, Potter?” Snape growled.

Harry looked at the toast and then to his bowl of white mush. Toast would be much more appetizing. Harry gave a tiny nod.

Snape made a low grumbling noise. “Absolutely not, Potter. French toast would be rough on your stomach. It would make you ill. You will eat what I’ve given you until I decide you’re ready to move onto something else.”

Harry nodded, and returned to stirring his cereal forlornly.

Snape groaned and conjured a second empty bowl. He scooped out a portion of porridge and his toast disappeared. He gave Harry a glare. “Better now, Potter?”

Harry swallowed. “Well, sir . . . it’s just that.” Harry looked at Snape, and then at Snape’s porridge.

Snape gave the boy a look of exasperation. “Oh, really now, Potter! Do grow up! You watched me spoon both bowls!”

“I know but . . . ”

“Never mind, if it will make you feel better. We can swap,” Snape said snatching Harry’s bowl and replacing it with his own.

Harry watched Snape. He wanted to see Snape begin to eat before he started in on his own portion. He watched Snape spoon a little cereal into his mouth with a less than happy expression on his face. Harry glanced down into his own bowl. Why was he still worried? Snape had scooped the stuff from the same big bowl, and he’d even traded bowls with Harry. There wasn’t any reason to still be suspicious, but he found that he couldn’t help it.

“It’s going to get cold if you keep dissecting it, Potter,” Snape said as he spooned himself another bite of cereal.

“Right,” Harry mumbled. He looked at the spoon that he’d stirred up the porridge that Snape was eating now. With a sickly look he wiped his spoon on the table cloth drawing a wondering stare from the Potions Master. After a few bites Harry poured himself a cup of tea and sipped it rather greedily.

“Don’t just fill up on tea, Potter,” Snape warned glancing at the cereal that Harry was attempting to ignore. Snape poured his own cup of tea and took a little sip and then continued to eat his cereal.

When at last Snape allowed Harry to leave the table he was uncomfortably full. He rubbed his stomach through his robes, willing it to digest the stuff quickly so that he wouldn’t be miserable for too long. Snape was guiding Harry through the halls, and with each step Harry suppressed a groan of misery. If they didn’t stop soon, he was going to puke. Why oh why did he drink all that blasted tea?

The door that Snape led him to looked thick enough to be fit for a fortress. It was covered in scroll work, an ancient language that Harry didn’t totally understand. He could only pick out a few words that looked like a type of Latin. Friends and Family Beyond and Within, at least that’s what he understood, but he wasn’t willing to ask about it. Harry thought that the door would be next to impossible to open because it appeared to be so heavy, but Snape didn’t seem to have any trouble with it.

As Snape pulled open the door, Harry could almost smell the sunshine. He could hear birds, and smell the different scents from the outside. The sunlight was bright enough to nearly blind him, but he didn’t mind it that much. It only took a few moments for his eyesight to adjust.

“Potter,” Snape said. Harry snapped to attention and realized that Snape was holding a cloak. Harry’s cloak. When did he get that? Snape shoved the cloak into Harry’s hands and glared at the boy. “I expect this to be worn while you are outdoors. You are free to roam the courtyard as long as you like, but I expect you to return before sunset.” Snape placed something else in Harry’s hands, a small brown, suede leather knapsack. “Provisions, should you become hungry while you are outside.”

Harry thanked the man in a half stutter and threw his cloak over his shoulders and the knapsack over the cloak. He stumbled past the door and tripped down the set of three steps that led to the heavy door that Snape was standing by. He was too busy looking about to pay attention and realize that he had needed to step down. He recovered and gave a backward glance toward Snape. The door was closing! Snape was going to actually leave him alone in this place! Harry felt excitement ripple through him, and he smiled. Maybe there was a way out of this place.

The courtyard was cool despite the sunlight that shone through the large trees, and Harry was grateful for his cloak. The place was huge. It would probably take several days to explore the whole yard. There had to be a secret way out, a door, a tunnel, something that would provide an escape from this place. Harry wandered taking in the various flowers and trees, the tender grass squishing under the soft soles of his boots.

Harry stopped under a large tree to take a brief rest. He felt like he’d been traveling for miles, and as he looked around he realized that he’d lost sight of the house. How did that happen? The house was huge, and not an easy thing to miss. Harry shrugged and decided to worry about it later. He pulled the knapsack that Snape had given to him close and lifted the flap that covered the opening. Inside he found several items. The first was a scroll of paper. A note from Snape. Carefully Harry unrolled the scroll to read the letter.

Mr. Potter,

I hope that you are enjoying yourself. Do not bother to look for a way out of the courtyard, because as far as you’re concerned there aren’t any. Please take care and do not become disoriented. It will be very difficult to find your way back once you’ve become lost. I expect you to return before the sun sets.

--Severus Snape

Harry groaned. Well, maybe he wasn’t totally lost yet. He dug further into the bag and pulled out a warm leather flask of something to drink. He popped the cork and gave it a sniff. Tea. He tasted a bit of it, and found it to be rather good. No funny aftertaste, so it seemed safe. He drank some more and then replaced his cap. There was a small loaf of bread wrapped in a piece of cheese cloth, a little wheel of a yellow cheese that was wrapped in the same stuff and much to Harry’s surprise, a chocolate frog. The chocolate must’ve been a mistake. It had to be.

Still feeling very full from breakfast Harry tucked his items back into the bag and sat running his hand over the tips of the dark green blades of wild grass that seemed to engulf the entire courtyard. He sat like that for several more minutes before finally deciding that it was time to move on. Harry stood up carefully and stretched his back with a little yawn. He reached down for his knapsack and lifted it to his shoulder to resume his journey through the vast courtyard.

In the course of his wandering journey Harry came across several creatures; though none of them were magical he still found them interesting. Small grey field rabbits, a red fox, several different types of birds, and even a small hedgehog. He hadn’t found what he was looking for, in spite of searching for several hours. Harry had yet to even find a gate or a wall to orient himself as to the perimeter of the yard.

It occurred to Harry that he ought to try and make the journey back toward the house when he estimated that he only had about two hours before the sun set. He turned to find the direction from which he had come and was faintly alarmed to see that nearly every tree and stone looked alike. He hadn’t thought to mark anything to make a trail for himself, and had he thought of that what was he to use for markers? Cloth from his cloak? Certainly not . . .

He searched for footprints to try and backtrack and found that the grass he’d been walking through had recovered from being stepped on rather quickly, and because of his soft boots he had left hardly anything to follow. With a determined breath he refused to admit to himself that he was lost just yet. It was far too early for that.

Snape should have given him a map, Harry decided as he passed a large tree for what felt like the hundredth time. He kicked at a small stone and yelped as it turned out to be a small part of a large boulder that was covered in grass, dirt and moss. He resisted the urge to cradle his sore toe and limped forward until the sharp pain faded away. Was he going the right direction? Well, maybe if he went one direction long enough he’d run into something that was familiar besides the rocks and trees that all seemed to be alike anyway.

After going in what he thought was the right direction long enough to trip over several hidden tree roots and disguised rocks, Harry knew that he wasn’t going to make it back before sunset. He wasn’t even sure he’d make it back on his own. This wandering about searching only for an escape hadn’t been a very good idea, and he almost wished that he had asked Snape to familiarize him with the place before setting him loose. Better yet he wished that he had paid attention to the way that he had been going in the first place, instead of wandering aimlessly.

Harry stopped to rest under a large willow to eat part of his little meal of bread and cheese while the sun set. He wondered what Snape would say if he came out looking for him. What would Snape do? Call him a foolish boy, a dunderhead? Well, that would be nothing new, in fact he’d be glad to hear it. He’d tell Snape that had he warned Harry before he’d wandered off he would have been careful not to get turned around easily. That this wasn’t entirely his fault. Yeah, that’s exactly what he’d say. Well, probably not, but he could think it without any repercussion.

What he didn’t finish of the bread and cheese, he stashed in his knapsack. He knew that there wasn’t any point to traveling any further now that the sun had set. He’d tripped over enough roots and rocks in the daylight to tell him that night travel would be even more unpleasant. He pulled his cloak a little tighter around his body and leaned back into the tree he was resting against. Well, at least he wasn’t locked up inside the house.

*********

He could feel something warm on his cheek. For a moment he thought it was the warmth of flames from a hearth, but then he was screwing up his face in response to bright light. He blinked his eyes open. It was morning! He looked around. He was still sitting under the large willow that had shaded all but his face from the morning sun. A few bare branches in the right places allowed the sun to rouse him rather rudely. Snape had left him outside all night!

Like Harry’s body, Harry’s thoughts also began to wander. Perhaps Snape had looked for him for a while and gotten so angry that he’d given up and gone back inside. He could have never come out to look for him in the first place, after all the man didn’t really favor Harry at all. Maybe he’d just leave Harry to wander about until he found his way back on his own, and once he made it back Snape would never let him back out again. The possibilities were as endless as his imagination, and the more he thought about it the worse the scenarios began to become.

He stood and stretched in spite of the nervous feeling enveloping his entire body. He picked up his knapsack and fully intended to continue in the direction that he’d been traveling the night before. As he looked around Harry discovered that he couldn’t remember which way he’d been going. He was going to get even more lost this way! He circled his tree for anything to point him in the right direction, but didn’t find anything. Finally Harry decided to sit back down under the willow. He couldn’t find his way if he was all worked up. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Come on, I know the way back! I can’t be lost in this place forever!

He opened his eyes expecting to see a way back, but all that was there were trees, rocks and silence. Frustration rippled through him, taking his body in an unwelcome, cold embrace. He snatched his knapsack and rifled though it for the letter Snape had written to him.

“Take care and do not become disoriented! It will be very difficult to find your way back once you’ve become lost!” Harry angrily snarled the words in his best imitation of Professor Snape’s deep voice. He then proceeded to shred the letter into little tiny bits and allowed the fragments of fine parchment to cast to the wind. He watched the lost pieces flutter about with a bit of satisfaction; he felt better seeing the Professor’s script fly randomly through the cool breeze that seemed to whisper constantly through the courtyard.

“Never could follow simple instructions, could you, Potter?” Harry whirled about at the sound of the familiar, smooth tone.

Harry stood watching Snape; he wondered how long the man had been standing there watching him. Snape glared at Harry for a moment and then with a swish of his robes began to stalk away in the complete opposite direction of where Harry had thought of walking. Harry hurried to keep up, not wanting to be lost in the courtyard forever.

Snape had a long, easy stride, and Harry had to fight simply to keep up with the man. It didn’t take long for Harry to become winded from the tedious, silent journey. When they had walked for a considerable distance Snape paused to allow Harry to drink the last of the tea from his bag. Snape leaned against a thick tree, he was watching the clear sky. He was resting without seeming to rest. Harry was sitting cross legged in the lush grass, and he wondered if the man was attempting to summon rain clouds to dampen the mood of the weather.

“Let me see your bag,” Snape commanded. Harry offered it immediately. Snape opened the bag and rifled through it. “You left the chocolate. Hmm. Your loss I suppose, Potter.” Snape tossed the bag back to Harry who replaced his tea flask without a second thought. He wasn’t in the mood for chocolate right now anyway, even if Snape’s presence was a bit like a dementor at times.

Snape stepped away from the tree and brushed his robes off seconds before resuming his tireless pace. Harry stood with a weary groan and rushed to catch up before he fell too far behind.

Harry had never thought he would be glad to be going back inside of Snape’s home, but he was. Harry was ready for a rest. He would be glad to stay in his room for a few hours after such a interesting trip outdoors. He wearily followed after Snape into the house and toward his bedroom.

“Clean up, Potter. I shall bring you something to eat in two hours time. Next time you go outdoors it would be wise to go through everything that I give you.” Snape said softly before closing the bedroom door behind him.

Harry didn’t try to figure out what Snape had meant. All he really cared about now was a warm bath, clean robes and a long nap.

He remembered cleaning himself up and changing into fresh robes. He’d decided to sit down on the bed until Snape came into the room, but he didn’t remember falling asleep. He grumbled when he felt a hand on his shoulder, trying to rouse him. He shooed the hand. Get Lost, Ron! Suddenly Harry recalled that he wasn’t staying at Hogwarts yet, so there was no way that Ron could be trying to wake him. Stupidly, he rubbed the sleepy confusion from his face and took a moment to gather his wits.

By the time he had recovered some sense Snape had dropped off the offering of food and slipped out of the room. Harry yawned and stretched before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He looked at the food that Snape had given to him. It looked like things to make a sandwich. Some type of roasted meat, a few slices of cheese, a small roll, a jar of grainy looking mustard, and a butter knife. With only a few seconds of hesitation Harry made short work of the meal. The drink that Snape had brought to him was something he was not going to trust. He took the goblet of mysterious dark liquid into the bathroom and poured the contents into the sink.

Harry satisfied his thirst by drinking water from the tap. He didn’t rinse the goblet, for fear that Snape might check it for a residue of some kind. He set the goblet on the tray that rested on the night stand and looked at a familiar little package sitting on the tray that he had not noticed while he was eating.

It was the chocolate frog that he had left in the knapsack. Why was Snape so keen on him opening it? He picked up the little package and stared at it. He was almost afraid to open it. After all chocolate was an odd thing to receive from someone like Snape. There must have been something wrong with it.

Harry screwed up his courage and opened the little package. The chocolate frog inside leapt out at him, as he’d expected it would, but he still jumped back from it as if it were on fire. He let it drop to the floor, because he’d never had any intentions of eating the thing and looked at what remained inside the small blue box. The Wizard Card. He looked at it and felt a little chill run down his spine. It wasn’t possible, but he was looking at his own face. He pulled out the card to be sure it was real and gaped as the healthy card verison of himself smiled and gave a friendly wave.

He set the card on the bed and regarded it as if it were a snake coiled and ready to strike him. It was several moments before he noticed that there was something else in the frog box. A little folded note. He jerked it from the box and unfolded it.

Mr. Potter,

This wizard card has been specially made for you during your stay here. Should you lose your way in the courtyard, or simply wish to return to your room speak the words “Safe Return,” and you will find yourself back in your room within moments. Take care not to lose it as there are not any duplicates.

--Severus Snape

Harry gingerly picked up the card by its corners. The Harry in the card was grinning at him happily and he wondered how long it had been since he’d felt happiness like that for real. It had been a while he supposed. Harry gaped at the card in wonder; Snape had given him quite a gift. Certainly not what Harry had been anticipating.