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!!”