Chapter 14 - Squibs and muggleborn can't detect demons

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Albus Dumbledore sighed. It was only the second evening of the new term and he had already been approached by three of his teachers - well, two teachers and the medi-witch - about having an urgent meeting regarding some new first-years. His staff hadn't been very forthcoming neither about the identity of the first-years in question nor the specific concerns they had. This worried the headmaster... simple cases of homesickness, dissatisfaction about what house someone or someone's friend had been sorted into or applications for an exception of the rule concerning first-years and brooms were normally dealt with by the heads of houses themselves. And there had been no hints from Severus that one of the new Slytherins that came from Death Eater households had been subjected to... unorthodox methods of punishments either. And what could Poppy possibly have to discuss with him already? The first flying-lesson wouldn't be until Wednesday!

Well, he supposed he would find out soon enough, as Minerva was just entering his office and Poppy and Severus were following suit.

"Ah, good evening Minerva, Poppy, Severus... I trust there wasn't any major difficulty in settling in the students?"

Minerva snorted. "I can tell you there was, Albus Dumbledore! You may have noticed that it hasn't happened since the war was in full force that we had to meet on the first evening of classes!?" The transfiguration-professor was rather angry at the twinkling old man sitting in his throne-like chair. Typically for him not to tell the staff anything about Harry Potter in advance! It wasn't that nobody had asked, no. Minerva herself had demanded to know whether there was anything about the boy-who-lived she, as his likeliest head of house, or any of the other teachers needed to know. But the old man had only twinkled at her and said that he didn't expect any difficulties and that Harry should be treated just like any other first-year.

"Perhaps you would enlighten me on which students we are speaking about? And maybe it would be wise if we dealt with one after another instead of all three of them at once...?" Maybe he shouldn't have told each of his employees to meet him at 8 o'clock. The three of them could be somehow... intimidating, even to Albus Dumbledore himself.

"Three of them? We are here to talk about Harry Potter! There aren't any other students that seemed to be of the opinion that they had to swallow some vile poisons each day!"

"Harry...? But there is nothing wrong with the boy, is there? And Severus...?" Why would the potion-master be involved in anything concerning the new Gryffindor? Hadn't it been him who had made snarky comments about "the spoilt brat" every time Minerva had addressed their future student during meetings over the summer? And the medi-witch...? Perhaps the boy had fallen ill? It would be unfortunate for him to miss the first days of classes, yes, but surely it wasn't a reason for a staff meeting, and even less for Severus being involved?
Albus stared at his potion-master, trying to get a hint about what was going on. However, the mental shields of his youngest staff-member were as impenetrable as ever. OK, apparently there was no other way to find out then to listen to the three of them, however angry they may be. He would just make sure to be ready to dodge any hexes Minerva in particular was likely to throw at him when looking as angry as she looked now.

"Perhaps you would like to take a seat...?" He gestured at the purple-and-yellow armchairs in front of his desk.

"No, Albus, I don't want to sit down and I certainly don't want a lemon drop! But you WILL explain how it comes that Harry Potter apparently took some kind of muggle-poisons while living with his relatives-"

"And I would like to now," Severus interrupted Minerva, before the latter one could start one of her endlessly rants, "why your precious boy-who-lived seems to be under some strange sort of restraining- or compulsion spell... and whether you have been aware of this."

"Now... what?!" Albus looked towards Poppy, bewildered.

"Yes, Albus, these," she stepped forward and put a few of the blister packs Harry had given her earlier on the table, "are only a few of the pills the boy thinks he is supposed to take. If you would bother visiting my office you would see a pile of pills that would be enough to sedate the whole school, including Hagrid and his three-headed monster!"

"But Harry isn't ill, is he?" The headmaster blurted out, looking worried. "Hagrid has told me the boy was fine when he visited him on his birthday to do accompany him to Diagon Alley..."

"Do you really want us to believe that you have not known what was going on with Harry while he lived with those muggles? I TOLD you, Albus, I told you that you shouldn't leave him with these people!"

"Headmaster, you mentioned repeatedly that you had installed some sort of guard that would watch the Potter-child for any... inconsistencies that might occur. Now, it's a bit... difficult believe that you don't know anything about the state of the boy, you must admit." Severus said, while carefully watching whether there was any sign that Dumbledore was lying. It would not be the first time the headmaster would purposefully overlook the safety and well-being of a person in favour of the 'greater good'.

"Yes, of course I set up a guard! I wouldn't leave the little boy with his relatives only relying on the blood-wards! Mind you, these are the best protection possible, of course, but you can never be careful enough... but she never told me anything! I mean, I haven't been in touch with her for quite some time, but she knows how to contact me if anything happens, and she was a loyal order member, she would have told me if Harry had been in danger or... something." Albus broke of. He couldn't really remember the last time he had spoken to Arabella Figg. During the first few month, he had firecalled her regularly, but everything seemed to be fine, there had been no signs of Death Eater who searched for the boy or any other threats. And then, well, he had been rather busy, all the death eater trials, he simply had told her to contact him if anything unusual happened.
After he hadn't heard from Mrs Figg for almost a year, he had visited her for tea one evening, but everything had been fine! She had told him that she hadn't seen Harry very often, apparently Petunia was still a bit worried that the little boy might be in danger if he left the house. He had briefly considered writing her again to assure her that it was all right for Harry to leave the house, that the blood-wards would remain active as long as he could call Privet Drive his home. But then, he had known all along that Lily's sister wasn't overly fond of wizards, and he didn't want to disturb the peace of the young family even further. And surely it couldn't hurt if she protected the boy a bit more than strictly necessary, could it? On the contrary, Dumbledore had been rather glad that Petunia apparently took her duty seriously and didn't project her dislike for magic on her nephew.

He had visited Mrs Figg again after a few years, and had flooed her at least once a every two years, but she had never mentioned any problems . OK, there had been the incident when Harry had been brought to hospital and had to stay for quite some time, but when Dumbledore's watchdog had casually asked Mrs Dursley whether the boy was all right she had been answered that it was nothing serious but that the doctors wanted to observe him because he had continuously complained about headaches. Then... well, Dumbledore had to admit that he hadn't been in touch with the only squib of the Order of the Phoenix very regularly during the last two years, after all, the boy would soon come to Hogwarts anyway and there really wasn't any need to worry, was there? Briefly, he thought about the only firecall he had ever received by Arabella, but every boy would some times have a growth spurt and become skinny as a result. The fact that he hadn't reacted to the squibs repeated attempts to invite him to tea meant only that Harry was a stubborn little boy who perhaps lacked of manners.

Well, but perhaps he, and Arabella, had indeed overlooked something? Otherwise, his three colleagues wouldn't standing in front of his desk glaring daggers at him, would they?

"So, you are sure your guard told you everything that was going on? That he didn't leave out some very important facts?"

"Well, yes, Arabella-"

"You left it to Arabella Figg to look after Harry Potter?!" Professor McGonagall was livid. "You could as well have set Cornelius Fudge up as a guard, what were you thinking you meddling old coot?!" Everyone present knew what Minerva thought about the current Minister of Magic and that comparing someone to the bowler-wearing man was, for her, the worst insult possible.

"But Minerva, you know Araballa and she-"

Again, the headmaster was interrupted by his deputy. "That exactly is the problem, Albus! I know her, and she can't even tell cats and kneazles apart! She wouldn't have noticed something was wrong if Harry had been brought to hospital half-dead and the muggle-aurors would have investigated the matter! Hell, she asked Severus about where he had gotten his interesting tattoo during one of the last order-meetings!"

"OK, well, but she's the only squib I know and..., well, perhaps you could tell me what exactly the boy has done that the three of you are nearly destroying my office?" Albus asked, noticing that some of his more delicate instruments had started to tremble.

"It isn't something he has done, headmaster," the medi-witch, who had put her hand on the shoulder of one of her oldest friends in order to sooth the transfiguration-professor (who seemed to be ready to make an exception to her no-dark-curses rule just now), said. "The boy has taken very strong medicine for a very long time. Minerva brought him to my office before classes started. He had a nasty bump on his forehead, but didn't even seemed to be aware of it. He handed over muggle-medication I have never heard of before, well, apart from these pills," she indicated towards the blister packs still lying on the desk, "and this is a very strong sedative. I have never heard of a child who had to take it before, it is only prescribed in sever cases of aggression, or violent behaviour... or when a person is at risk of harming himself..."

"Wait, I wouldn't go this far," the potion-professor stated, "Potter has already proved himself rather unpredictable and even aggressive, even if he hasn't - yet - shown a tendency to attack people. The way he shouted at me while I was only trying to determine why he wasn't sitting down in the Great Hall like everybody else... well, and even if most of you don't really care of recent developments in the muggle world," here Snape raised his voice so that the headmaster, who had been about to argue that point, decided it would be the best to keep quiet, "I have read several articles about new treatments for children with learning difficulties, hyperactive behaviour or problems to stay focused on one thing for more than two seconds. I don't see why Potter shouldn't be one of these children. He is the son of James Potter, after all!" He all but spat the last sentence.

"But Severus, you saw all that medicine yourself! Surely there must be something more seriously wrong with Harry than just weak concentration?"

"Perhaps... however, I wouldn't pass a judgement until we know more about the whole matter. Headmaster, you surely agree with us that this situation needs further investigation?"

"Yes, of course, Severus, it's no question..."

"Than you would surely be willing spend some money on some of the more complicated potions the hospital wing needs new supply of? After all, I will be busy researching on behalf of your precious saviour."

"Can't Poppy do the research?"

"Albus, I may be a medi-witch but I don't know half as much about muggle medicine and treatment of typical muggle-illnesses as Severus does. If you don't want to risk the boy's health you will do what Severus said!"

"But why would it risk the boy's health if the research would take a little bit longer?"

"Albus, are you completely dense? The boy has taken some unknown substances for maybe years, and we can't just keep dosing him with this stuff! But neither can we just continue to give him glucose-drops, after all, there might be something wrong with him! Yes, the scan I cast on him didn't show any hints of an illness or injury, but you know very well that the basic scans can only show so much! And there has not yet been invented a scanning-spell that would just produce a list of every injury, disease and malady the patient in question ever had! So you will persuade the governors that these expenses are necessary!" Poppy began to feel as exasperated as Minerva looked. The headmaster might be a genius, but sometimes he could be very naïve.

"And as most of the research necessary will have to be done in the evenings and at the weekend, you certainly won't mind taking over my nightly patrols for at least the upcoming week, won't you, Albus?"

"I- all right, all right." Severus glare was enough to convince the headmaster that arguing would be a very bad idea. Well, it couldn't hurt to do a few of the patrols for himself, could it? Not with Fluffy and four houses of curious students in one castle.

Harry felt frustrated. No matter how hard he tried, the stupid feather just wouldn't float, or even quiver, for that matter. Even Neville had managed the charm about half an hour ago, and Ron could do it each and every time he tried. It seemed that Harry was the only one who wouldn't be able to show Professor Flitwick a successfully cast levitating-charm when they would have Charms again the following morning. The bushy-haired girl had tried to help him, but it seemed that Harry just couldn't get the hang of it.

Transfiguration was even worse. Surely, not everyone had managed to change the matchstick into a needle, but most Gryffindors had at least altered either the colour or the shape of the matchsticks Professor McGonagall had given them to practice with. Harry's matchstick, however, remained unchanged. And while he became increasingly desperate that he seemed to be pants in not only one but two subjects he couldn't help to feel somehow relieved, too. He couldn't be that freakish if he had trouble with doing freakish stuff, could he?

Well, at least in herbology he would do fine, Harry supposed. They had had their first lesson this afternoon, and it had been very reminiscent of all the gardening he had done at the Dursley's. And while Aunt Petunia had complained a lot that he was working too slow or sometimes overlooked weeds, Harry thought that he was rather good in caring for plants. He really liked plants. They were much easier to deal with then people. They didn't shout at you, they didn't try to hurt you, and, most importantly, they were predictable. If you forget watering a plant, it would wilt, and if you made sure that it got enough sunlight it would grow really fast. Plants were soo different from Uncle Vernon, whose rapid mood-swings and violent outburst were completely unpredictable, from the nurses on the ward who never left him alone but constantly supervised him whether he was going crazy again, and, of course, from the demon, who just hurt you whenever he felt like doing it.
Yes, Harry really liked plants. And the professor who taught the subject was nice, too. She had even smiled at Harry and awarded him points when he been the first one who had repotted a funny-looking flower.

"Uhm, mate, perhaps you should stop practising for now? It's rather late and I don't think you'll manage the charm if you are tiered..." Ron interrupted the musings of his friends. He had observed Harry the whole time since he had managed the charm himself, and couldn't help worrying for him. Again. Ron knew that it wasn't unusual for pupils not to manage the levitating-charm during the first lesson, but he had never heard of anyone who hadn't been able to cast the charm successfully after several hours of practising. After all, this was the reason it was the first charm taught to first-years, it was almost impossible to botch! Well, at least if you pronounced it right. Ron had to admit that the bossy girl had - perhaps! - been right in her advice to stress the 'o' instead of the 'a'. Not that he would ever tell her this, of course!

"But Professor Flitwick- we have to show him that we have practised it!" Harry argued.

"Yeah, but I don't think he will be cross if you can't do it. I mean, we have seen you trying it almost the whole evening! And-"

"He is right, you know," Hermione Granger, who had already established her reputation as being the best in probably every class they had, interrupted the red-head sitting in the armchair next to the desk she - and several books - currently occupied. Ron and Harry exchanged a look. They hadn't noticed that the witch was paying attention to them. "Yes, it isn't that you will manage the charm if you have completely exhausted your magic, you know. No, better to wait until you can ask Professor Flitwick about what you are doing wrong. Perhaps you haven't grasped some of the basics about casting charms he told us before we started with levitating the feather? You might want to read the first five chapters of our textbook, they are really helpful and interesting, I'm sure you'll do much better if you know all the important concepts about charms in general!"

"Uhm, Hermione, I don't think reading the textbook will be much help..." Ron tried to argue.

"But Ronald, aren't you aware of how unusual it is for someone not to levitate the feather after hours and hours of practising? I mean, it is even mentioned in 'A Relatively Short Introduction to Charms' - I thought it would be a good idea to read some background material, since I'm muggleborn and all - it's just not normal for someone not to manage the charm! And if Harry doesn't manage this charm he will never be able to cope with the more advanced stuff, not to mention the OWLs! No, Harry," and she turned to the other boy who had listened in silence to the argument about the best course of action for him to finally do is first bit of magic; "I think you should read as much books as you can, and then speak to Professor Flitwick in the morning. Yes, I'm sure once you have really understood what you are doing wrong you won't have any problems. I can borrow you some of my books, if you want to... I have several texts about charms, and transfiguration, too, since you have yet to transform your matchstick!"

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And so it was that Harry didn't get much sleep that night but rather tried to figure out how the different theories about what charm-casting entailed, what branches of charms there were and what area of one's magic one had to access in order to successfully cast a charm could help him with getting the floating-spell right. Around 3 o'clock in the morning he fell asleep nevertheless and the next morning, Ron had to call him at least for two minutes until he woke up.

"Sorry mate, it's time to get up if you don't want to miss breakfast!" The read-head said, lying on the floor next to Harry's bed in order to see the other boy, who had, again, slept under his bed.

"Oh. All right. ' coming." Harry crawled out from under his bed, stood up, only to loose his balance and fall down again.

"Uh, you all right?"

"Yes, 'm sorry, only a bit dizzy. Happens sometimes." Harry mumbled, trying hard to see his friend through all the black stars that were dancing in front of his eyes. He wasn't unfamiliar with getting dizzy when getting up in the morning, it was the medicine, it sometimes caused circulation problems, but it hadn't happened for quite some time now. Dr Green had explained this was because his body had become used to the medicine. It was strange that it happened again, now, he hadn't even taken additional pills the days before. Well, perhaps it was only because all the stuff that was happening, going to school again everything else, Harry thought, and shrugged it off.

"Hey Harry, say, why do you sleep under your bed?" One of the other boy's (Harry couldn't remember his name) asked. "I mean, it must be awfully uncomfortable and all!"

"I don't like beds." Harry replied. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? Hadn't they already asked the same question yesterday? But no, that boy had already left the dormitory when Ron had asked him exactly the same, Harry remembered.

"You don't like beds? But why? These beds are great! I have never slept in a bed this big and fancy!"

"I don't like them!" Harry said, tersely. He didn't want to discuss his sleeping habits with the boys!

"Ah well... perhaps they aren't good enough for the great Harry Potter?" The boy sneered.

"Just leave him alone! If he don't want to sleep in the bed it's not your problem, Finnigan!" Ron yelled. Couldn't the other see that Harry didn't want to talk about it?

Harry looked up, completely taken aback. Why was Ron defending him? This was... strange. But then, perhaps it was because they were friends? It seemed to have helped, though, because the boy - Finnigan - left, and the other two followed him after a few awkward moments. Harry stared at the door where the boys had just disappeared through and than smiled at Ron, briefly and unsure whether he was right and the other boy had actually wanted to help him or whether he had other, darker motives. Ron, however, seemed to be relieved when he saw Harry's smile and grinned back.

Five minutes later, the two boys left their dormitory in a rather good mood.

Harry's high-spirits, however, evaporated when Professor Flitwick asked him to perform the feather-floating charm. He tried, of course, but without real hope that he would succeed. And sure enough, the feather remained as motionless as it had all the other times he had pointed his sti- wand at it and exclaimed "Wingardium Leviosa".
He almost didn't dare to look up. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the same boy that had asked him why he wasn't sleeping in his bed like everyone else whispering something into his neighbour's ear, apparently snickering. Harry hoped they weren't making fun of him, but he didn't have much hope. After all, why shouldn't they? He was the only one who hadn't managed the charm. Perhaps he just didn't have magic, despite being a freak?

He was so immersed in his thoughts that he didn't notice the thoughtful glances the Professor was giving him.

Filius Flitwick was indeed worried. He had been teaching charms for almost forty years by now and had never encountered a student who hadn't been able to levitate the feather on the second day of classes. It didn't ease his mind that one of the other Gryffindor first-years, Hermione Granger, had come to see him before she left for lunch and told him that Harry may needed special instructions because although he had practised several hours during the previous evening, and apparently had even started to read some of the books the girl (who had only ended up in Gryffindor because the sorting hat must have been completely out of his mind, Filius was sure of this) had borrowed him, hadn't managed to get at least some reaction when casting the spell.

Perhaps he should speak to Minerva? She was the boy's head of house, after all, and if there was something wrong with his magic, she needed to know anyway. But what could possibly be wrong with Harry's magic that rendered him unable to perform a simple charm? Filius had never heard of anything that could cause something like this. Well, of course, if someone had completely exhausted his magic it was possible that something like this happened, but they would have noticed immediately if this had been the case as it would result in Harry sleeping constantly, unable to wake up.

Of course, if someone couldn't cast a charm one of the most obvious explanations was that the person didn't have any magic. However, this was Harry Potter. And not only had the boy survived the unsurvivable, his name had been in the book of future Hogwarts students since he had been born, and only magical children ever appeared in this book. Then, he could obviously see the castle and move around freely, another thing a muggle - or squib - would not be able to do, well, at least not without special charms in place.
Yes, he would speak to Minerva when he saw the witch at lunch. That was, if he survived his next class, third-years Hufflepuff and Gryffindors that included Fred and George Weasley.

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To Harry's enormous relief, his pills appeared next to his plate as soon as he sat down. Ignoring the pumpkin-juice, he reached for the water and swallowed the medicine, oblivious to the doubtful look Ron was giving him. He couldn't overhear the bushy-haired witch's - Hermione's - question, though.

"Why do you have to take medicine? Are you ill? And aren't there potions that could cure it? I have read about potions, you know, and it's incredible! Several diseases muggles can't do anything about can be cured by only one potion! Or healing-spell, for that matter, well, sometimes it's even necessary to combine these two, but wouldn't it be fantastic if wizards worked in muggle-hospitals? They could save so many life... well, of course I know it's not possible, not with the statue of secrecy and everything, but you, you could just go to Madame Pomfrey - it's the healer of Hogwarts, you know, like the nurses in muggel schools, I have read it in the information booklet all muggleborns got - well, you could just ask her whether there is a potion or spell, than you wouldn't have to take those pills anymore! What are they, anyway?"

"Uh..." Harry was slightly flabbergasted that someone could talk so much, "my doctor said I have to take the pills. Yes. And I've already told Madame Pomfrey that I need to take the pills."

"Really? But didn't she suggest a spell or potion? And did she even knew about muggle-medicine? I don't know, but sometimes it seems that wizards don't really bother to learn anything about the things muggles have achieved during the last decades! Imagine, knowing nothing about TVs or telephones! I wonder whether they actually know about vaccinations... But anyway, what kind of medicine is this? What illness do you have?"

"Uh, I don't know the names... are really funny-sounding names, and they keep changing my medicine, if it doesn't work or makes me feel too sick. They are against the demon..." Uh oh. Harry hadn't meant to say this. He didn't want his classmates know about the demon.

"What demon?" Hermione asked, blankly.

"Nothing. Don't want to- no, nothing. Just... please, I don't want to talk about it. Really, it's nothing important! - Ron?" And Harry, eager to change the topic of conversation, turned to the boy who had listened with rapt attention to their conversion, although he hadn't understood half of it. Perhaps he should take muggle-studies as an elective once he had reached third-year? Before Ron could properly comprehend anything that was going on, though, not to mention react to Harry's unasked question, Hermione interrupted.

"But why... what do you mean, demon? Do you mean like being possessed by devil or something like this? But-"

"JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!" Harry yelled. He had enough. First the other boy teased him about sleeping under his bed, then he wasn't able to perform a single spell, no matter how easy it seemed to be each time he looked at Ron doing it, and then this girl just didn't stop asking questions he couldn't and didn't want to answer. It had been wrong to come here. He should have fought his Aunt harder. Perhaps he could phone Dr Green and convince him that he had to tell his Aunt that Harry couldn't stay at this school? But he had never seen a phone in this castle...
Deciding that he wasn't really hungry anyway and feeling the urgent need to run, he jumped to his feet and ran to the doors that led out of the Great Hall.

"HARRY! Hey Harry, come back, it's lunch..." But Ron's call was futile, Harry didn't seem to care about lunch, and this was perhaps the most extraordinary thing Ron had discovered so far about the boy-who-lived. "Why couldn't you just leave him be? Now he won't get lunch and will starve because of you!" He snapped at Hermione, who was sitting on the opposite side of the table, agape.

Harry had just exited the Great Hall, making a sharp bend to the right in order to leave the castle when he collided with something solid. Or rather, someone solid.

"Potter! What do you think you're doing?! It's not allowed to run in the castle!"An angry potion-master snapped.

Severus had just been on his way to have lunch when suddenly he had almost been knocked of his feet by a tiny thing that had swooshed out of the Great Hall with a speed normally reserved for Quidditch-players. Only a quick grip to the wall had prevented him from falling over. When he looked at the thing that had run him over he was taken by surprise. He had expected it to be a house-elf that, for incomprehensible reasons, had chosen the human way of travelling, not the very first-year he had spent his entire morning thinking about. To be fair, Harry didn't seem to be much heavier than the average house-elf, though he was slightly taller.

"' sor'y pro'fsor!" the boy panted, obviously exhausted due to his mad dash. Nevertheless, he tried to scramble back to his feet as fast as possible, apparently set on continuing his flight.

"Potter, you will apologise! And detention for running over a professor! Eight o'clock , my potion-lab! Or no-" he hesitated. He wouldn't be able to supervise the brat's detention, not with him being busy researching. "No, you'll better join Mr Filch. Yes, I'm sure he'll find a task unpleasant enough to bring home the fact that this is a school, not a gymnasium! - I SAID NO RUNNING YOU ILL-BRED CHILD!" Snape barely managed to grab the boy by the collar of his robe before he could flee. Honestly, never before had he encountered a student that misbehaved! Even the boy's father's conduct paled in comparison with that of his son!

"LET ME GO!" Harry shouted, fighting whoever was preventing him from keep running. "LEAVE ME ALONE YOU STUPID BASTARD! DON'T TOUCH ME! I WANT TO GO NOW! LET ME GO!"

"Mr Potter! I won't tolerate you yelling at me like mad! What's the matter with you, boy?" Severus barely managed not to shout. Why couldn't Potter act normally for once and allow him to have a quite, undisturbed lunch? Hell, he would spend his entire evening in a library because of the brat, but apparently this wasn't enough, no, he had to play baby-sitter during lunch-break, too!

"NOTHING 'S MATTER JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Noticing that more and more students, attracted by Harry's vocal exclamations of discontent, gathered in the Entrance Hall, Snape decided the only reasonable thing to do would be to bring the boy somewhere quiet in order to find out what had happened this time. He hadn't forgotten the incident that had occurred the previous day during lunch, and you could never know, perhaps the boy did not only take an appalling amount of muggle-drugs but was also affected by these newly invented things muggles called "computer" or so. He had heard of those, and that it had become fashionable for muggles to have one of these things in their houses and even let their children play with it!
Snape had read an interesting article in one of the few magazines that sometimes dealt with issues from the muggle-world and how it might affect wizards, and it had said that there had even been cases where muggles had started to behave weird and foolish because of these things, so Merlin knew how a wizard might react to being exposed to such a devilish thing!

"Come with me, Potter!" He snapped, and to his equal surprise and relief the boy did as he was told. Well, once he had led go of his robes, that was.

He couldn't know that Harry, after he had recognized the man he had run into, had calmed down considerably. This was the very man that had made the doctor-witch give him his medicine the day before, and this man hadn't locked him up although Harry had acted all crazy and mad and shouted and even kicked at him yesterday! So perhaps the man would do something nice again? Like showing him how this stick worked perhaps?

"So, Potter," Snape demanded, once he had led the boy into a deserted corridor, "would you care to explain what was the matter this time?"

"Can you show me how to make stuff with that stick?"

"I- what?" Snape asked, taken aback. What was the brat talking about?

"Oh, I mean wand. Yes, it looks like a stick but it's a wand, I keep forgetting. Sorry. But do you help me?"

"Potter, stop this babbling and explain yourself!"

"Uhm, you know... we are supposed to make stuff happen with that wand. We have to wave it and say funny words and Ron and all the other can do it, their feathers, they floated, but my wouldn't. I have tried really hard, I promise, but I just can't do it. So are you going to help me?"

"Potter," Snape was getting frustrated. So the boy was useless at magic? Who would have thought this... the boy-who-lived unable to perform a simple spell? Yes, he would need tutoring if he wanted to stay alive for more than two seconds once the Dark Lord had returned. Not to mention defeat the vilest wizard in recent history. "Yes, Potter, I will help you. But only," he raised his voice when Harry started to speak, "only if you answer my questions to my satisfaction. And don't think I won't notice if you lie to me, boy!"

"Yes professor!"

"Ok. So what happened during lunch that caused you to leave the Great Hall in such a hurry that you ran over a teacher?"

"Um, I'm sorry..."

"Potter, I don't want to hear your feeble excuses, I want to have an explanation! And the truth, if you please!"

"Uh, I only wanted to go away... this girl - Hermione - she kept asking me stupid questions. And the other boy teased me about not sleeping in my bed. Well, this was in the morning, but everything went wrong. And I don't think I want to stay. No. Perhaps I could phone my Aunt? Or Dr Green? He told me I could phone him if something went wrong..."

"Who is Dr Green? And where did you sleep if not in your bed? You'd better not outside the tower, Potter!" Snape didn't ask who the question-asking girl had been. He had already heard from the other heads of houses about that annoying Gryffindor-girl that was unable to restrain herself and he had planned to teach the girl a lesson if she didn't keep quiet in potions.

"Um, well, there isn't a cupboard, only wardrobes and they are too small to sleep in, and it's really uncomfortable to lean on the wall, and well, I figured I could sleep under the bed since there is so much space and it's really nice and all... I don't like beds. I'm sorry if it's not allowed to sleep under them, I didn't know... "

"But why didn't you sleep in the bed like everyone else?!"

"Oh no, I don't sleep in beds. No. I don't like them, I can't sleep in one. No. Please don't make me! Do you?" Harry asked, worried. "Oh and Dr Green is my doctor. Yes. He prescribed the medicine I take."

"Your doctor. Then you are ill, Potter?"

"Uhm, yes. They say so. Will you make me sleep in the bed?"

"You can sleep wherever you want to as long as you don't leave Gryffindor-tower, but I assure you that it is much more comfortable to sleep in a bed instead of underneath it! Now, what kind of doctor it this Dr Green that he dares to prescribe a mere child all these drugs?!"

"A psychiatrist. Yes. It's a really difficult name, isn't it? But my Uncle made me say it until I got it right! 'I have to go to a psychiatrist because I'm a mad freak.' It was really nice of him to teach me, wasn't it?"

All the potion-master could do was not to choke.