Harry had been bucked off the broom and was holding on with both hands. He struggled to cling to the broom as it bucked and flew about hazardously. He looked down at the ground below him. It was a long way down. Maybe someone would catch him? He could only hope.

               What was happening to his broom anyway? Why was it acting like that?

               Harry felt his hands slip and he tightened his hold on them, praying he didn’t fall.

               The broom gave a sudden jerky movement and Harry felt his hands slip. He was falling and then a hard force hit the side of his head and the world went black.

               “I think he’s coming to,” a voice said softly above him.

               Harry groaned as he slowly blinked his eyes open. The bright light around him momentarily blinded him and he shut his eyes tightly again.

               “Harry?” another voice asked. “Can you hear me?”

               Harry blinked his eyes open once more and stared at Hermione, Ron, and the entire Gryffindor team all standing around his bed.

               “And he lives,” Fred smiled at him.

               Harry looked around briefly to see where he was. The white sheets and beds told him the infirmary. He noticed that he was wearing a hospital gown. He looked back at his friends.

               “Do you think he remembers who we are?” George questioned.

               “I don’t know,” Fred said, “that was quite a fall, Harry. Madam Pomfrey says you might have a concussion. Do you know our names?”

               Harry opened his mouth, but his tongue didn’t seem to work, so he settled for nodding.

               “What a relief!” Fred smiled. “But wouldn’t it have been cool to reintroduce ourselves?”

               “We could have completely switched names!” George laughed.

               “Not funny guys,” Oliver snapped.

               “What happened?” Harry finally found his voice. He sat up a bit on the bed, groaning a bit.

               “Your broom went all crazy,” Ron answered.

               “When you fell,” Oliver stepped forward, “a bludger hit you. Thankfully, one of the professors hit it with a stunning spell right before it did, so the impact wasn’t nearly as deadly as it would have been. You kept falling, but George managed to . . .”

               “Fred actually,” George smirked.

               “I can never tell you two apart,” Oliver confessed, “Fred caught you and lowered you to the ground. Madam Hooch rushed you here immediately, putting the game on hiatus.”

               “Who won?”

               “Slytherin’s in the lead, but no one’s won the game. It will resume next Saturday. We may need to find a substitute Seeker if Madam Pomfrey doesn’t deem you fit enough to play the next game.”

               “I’ll be okay,” Harry insisted, trying to sit up more. His head pulsated in pain and he leaned back in his pillow. “Maybe not.”

               “You’ll be fine,” Oliver reassured him. “It’s in a week. You’ll heal up nicely under Madam Pomfrey’s care.”

               “That’s enough visiting time!” Poppy said as she came out of her office, shooing the team away. “Harry needs his rest.”

               Everyone groaned and quickly wished Harry luck and good health before leaving the infirmary. Hermione and Ron lingered, and Harry asked, “Please, madam, can I just talk to Ron and Hermione a bit longer?”

               “You need your rest,” the matron insisted.

               “Just for five minutes? Then I’ll go right to sleep. I’m feeling okay.”

               “Well,” Poppy hesitated, “alright then, dear. If you’re feeling well, but just for five minutes.”

               Poppy left the three be, adjusting the curtains around another bed. Harry glanced curiously at the hidden bed.

               “Who else is here?” Harry asked.

               “Professor Snape,” Hermione answered, sitting on the edge of Harry’s bed. “It looked like he had been attacked. He was a mess.”

               “What happened to him?”

               “No one knows,” Hermione shrugged.

               “The old git probably deserved it,” Ron added.

               “Ronald!” Hermione scolded.

               “What?”

               Harry glanced over at the hidden bed once more. He wasn’t sure what to think of an injured professor, especially Severus Snape. It was odd to think of a professor being attacked and injured in such a way. But his own attack crossed his mind and he looked back at his friends.

               “Do you know what happened? With my broom, I mean.”

               “It was definitely a jinx,” Hermione nodded. “But I couldn’t find the castor. I’m sorry, Harry, this is all my fault.”

               “It’s not your fault,” Harry said. “I just wonder who may have wanted to sabotage the game.”

               “What if it wasn’t about the game?” Hermione said. “What if it was to try and harm you – maybe even . . . kill you?”

               “You don’t think someone would try to do that, do you?” Harry frowned.

               “I don’t know. But I checked the teacher’s stand, but I didn’t see anyone who could be performing the jinx. You have to maintain eye contact, that’s a must. But a few professors were looking right at you when your broom started acting up. No one’s mouths were moving, though so I couldn’t really tell if any of the professors were wordlessly casting anything. Besides, why would it be a professor anyway . . .”

               “Not all professors are good, Hermione,” Ron said. “I bet it was Snape. He was nowhere to be seen and then he gets attacked? I bet he was cursing Harry’s brooms on the side where we couldn’t see him, and someone saw and attacked him. I bet that big mutt of Hagrid’s did it. You owe him a big bone, Harry.”

               “We don’t know that for sure!” Hermione glared at Ron. “And I didn’t see Professor Snape at all this morning and neither did you. I don’t think he was at the game. I looked at the other stands where the students were, but everyone was too busy focused on the game. A couple students pointed you out but I couldn’t find anyone who may have . . . there were just so many people who could have been casting it.”

               “I still think it was Snape,” Ron muttered, crossing his arms. “It would make sense. He’s sneaky and could have been under the stands for all we know.”

               “What professors were at the game?” Harry asked.

               “Almost everyone except the headmaster and Professor Snape,” Hermione answered, tapping her chin as she thought. “We could do a process of elimination. Let’s see, from what I remember, Professor Flitwick, Professor Quirrell, and Professor McGonagall kept eye contact on you the entire time your broom was acting up. No students I can think of that I saw really stared at you the entire time. And unless there was someone on the side, those are our three culprits.”

               “And they’re not very good, either,” Ron said. “Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall like Harry. I mean, McGonagall bought Harry the broom! And Quirrell? That man couldn’t look a gnome dead in the eyes. I doubt he’d ever dare curse Harry’s broom or attack anyone . . .”

               “But,” Hermione interrupted, a finger curled around her chin in thought, “he would be the one to know of a broom hex like that, out of all the professors. He is the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.”

               “Wouldn’t that mean he would know how to stop it?”

               “Yes. But in order to know how to stop a hex, you have to know how to start one.”

               “Hermione’s got a point,” Harry added. “But so does Ron. I mean, really, this is Quirrell we’re talking about. He nearly fainted at the sight of that mountain troll.”

               “He arrived with Snape,” Ron remembered, his eyes widening. “What if he works for Snape? You said Snape was trying to get past the three-headed dog, right? He was limping because Fluffy bit him! I bet Quirrell was with him because they were both going to steal whatever it’s guarding.”

               “That’s a bit farfetched,” Hermione frowned.

               “Come on, Hermione! Think about it! Snape wasn’t at the game. He knew he wouldn’t be at the game and he also knows Harry saw him limping! He wants to get rid of Harry now and he decided to ask Professor Quirrell to do the job at the game because he wouldn’t be there. They clearly are a team!”

               “Oh, please, Ron . . .”

               “It all makes sense! And no one would ever suspect Quirrell! Snape must know this. That greasy Slytherin . . .”

               “Ron, stop! I don’t think Professor Snape and Professor Quirrell are a “team.” They might both be after whatever is beyond that trap door, but I doubt they are working together. Professor Quirrell would be my first guess based on what I observed at the game, but I didn’t see Professor Snape and he could have been hiding somewhere. I just don’t know, Harry.”

               “That’s okay,” Harry smiled. “At least it was a failed attempt.”

               “You’ll need to be careful. We’ll have to keep our eyes out for any suspicious behaviors from anyone. Especially Professor Snape and Professor Quirrell.”

               “Professor Snape’s behavior is always suspicious,” Ron said.

               “That’s true,” Harry smiled despite Hermione glare at Ron.

               “Your five minutes are up,” Poppy announced, coming back to the trio. “Out with you two, now. Harry needs to rest.”

               “We’ll see you later, Harry,” Hermione smiled, standing. “Sleep is the best medicine.”

               “Yeah,” Ron added, “we’ll see you soon.”

               After his friends left, Harry rolled onto his side and allowed Poppy to angle the bed and adjust his pillow. He closed his eyes and drifted off into the dream world.

               Later, Harry found himself wanting to get out of bed for a while. Poppy insisted that he ate dinner in the infirmary, but Harry was more eager to see his friends again and eat in the Great Hall. He assured her that he felt fine, but Poppy told him all the possibilities that could happen with a concussion and why it was imperative that he spend the night, so she could monitor him. It was annoying really, but Harry realized he never really had anyone care about his health in such a way. It was kind of . . . nice.   

               “Please, Madam Pomfrey,” he pleaded. “I’ll come straight back, I promise.”

               “You have a concussion,” Poppy said. “You can’t just go traipsing around the castle.”

               “It’s just to the Great Hall and back. I’ll walk really slow and if I feel sick at all, I’ll come right back.”

               Poppy seemed to have an internal debate with herself before huffing and saying, “Fine, but you better come right back after dinner. And if you feel sick at all, even the slightest twinge in you head, you will inform someone and have them walk you back. In fact, I’ll walk you down to the hall.”

               “Yes, ma’am.”

               Poppy gave Harry his clothes to change into. Harry would have much rather walk down alone to the Great Hall, but any deal was agreeable at this point. He was glad when he was allowed to enter the hall alone and join his friends.

               “Harry!” Ron greeted. “Hey, mate, did Pomfrey let you out already?”

               “No,” Harry said, sitting down next to Ron. “She walked me down here to eat dinner and then I’m to go straight back to the infirmary.”

               “Oh, well, it’s nice she let you join us.”

               “We should really discuss your safety while you’re here,” Hermione said, serving herself a salad. “I paid close attention to what the teachers did today. It was rather tricky once everyone disappeared into their offices, but I didn’t pick up on any suspicious behaviors. It’s frustrating really.”

               “At least you tried,” Harry said, serving himself some food. Ron was already eating a plateful of sandwiches and pastries. “Any news on the game next Saturday? Wouldn’t finishing the game from today delay the other games?”

               “We’ll just get an extra weekend of Quidditch,” Ron said happily. “And that is fine with me.”

               “Of course, it is,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “It’s all figured out, Harry. And you’ll just pick up right where you left off. Hopefully you can find the snitch quickly.”

               “Don’t rush him, Hermione! You take your time, Harry. Just catch it before Slytherin does.”

               Harry smirked at his friends. He was glad Poppy had given him permission to join them, they always lifted his spirits. Their conversations changed from the next Quidditch match to what homework was due to what fun activities they could do in their spare time. As dinner came to an end. Harry thought about his meets with Ajax. The centaur would surely be expecting him tonight. He had to go see him! Maybe he could quickly sneak out and explain to Ajax why he couldn’t stay long and get back into the castle before Poppy even knew he had left.

               Once everyone was piling out of the Great Hall, Harry and his friends stood.

               “You guys go on ahead,” Harry encouraged. “I’m just going to go right back to the hospital wing.”

               “We could walk you back if you’d like,” Hermione suggested.

               “That’s okay. I’d like to take a detour, you know, to give myself some time out of bed before Madam Pomfrey forces me to lay in one until classes tomorrow.”

               “Okay, well, goodnight Harry,” Hermione smiled.

               “Night, mate,” Ron said, leaving with the other Gryffindors.

               Harry left the Great Hall and made his way quickly to the front entrance. He was just pushing the door open when . . .

               “And where do you think you’re going?” Poppy exclaimed, her hands on her hips as she marched over to Harry.

               “Oh!” Harry quickly let the door shut. “Just . . . err, I was . . .”

               “Looking for trouble, as usual,” Poppy supplied. “I knew I should have made you stay in the infirmary. I’m glad I came down as soon as I heard dinner was over. Well, you can head right back there, this instant! You need rest to completely heal. Come.”

               Harry sighed and followed Poppy back to the infirmary. He was upset that he wouldn’t get a chance to see Ajax tonight. He hoped Ajax wouldn’t be angry about him missing their appointment. He would explain everything tomorrow. Once back in the infirmary, Poppy had him change back into the gown and he was in bed once more. He glanced over at Snape’s bed, but the curtain remained around him, although the space it surrounded seemed to have grown. Perhaps the man wanted more space to himself?  

               Harry didn’t think much of it. The Professor had a right to privacy and Harry simply rolled over, facing away from Snape’s bed, and closed his eyes. He quickly fell into a dream landscape . . .        

               He was flying on his broom around Hogwarts. He loved to fly. He loved to be in the air and feel the wind in his hair. If he could just live in the sky, he would be satisfied. There was nothing to worry about – the world seemed so small from up here; it didn’t seem so scary. Suddenly, something touched his shoulder and shook him. The movement pushed him off his broom and he was falling! Yet, his shoulder kept shaking . . .

               Harry jumped as his eyes flew open, the touch on his shoulder now gone.

               “Hey, easy,” a voice whispered. “It’s just me.”

               Harry’s eyes widened as he stared up at his centaur friend.

               “Ajax!”

               “Shh,” Ajax shushed.

               Harry sat up on his bed and looked around the room to see if anyone else was around. Poppy’s quarters weren’t that far away, and she usually had monitor spells around. How was Ajax even here? What if Poppy walked in and panicked and tried to curse Ajax? Harry looked up at the centaur.

               “How did you get in here?”

               “I have my ways. I needed to talk to you, but you didn’t show up tonight. So, here I am.”

               Harry felt bad for not showing up but there hadn’t been anything he could do. Poppy practically dragged him back to the infirmary. A warmth spread in Harry’s chest at the fact that Ajax had really wanted to see Harry that he entered the castle to come find him. What a great friend he had found.

               “What did you want to talk about?”

               “I’m . . . leaving the area for a while. I won’t be back for a couple weeks.”

               Harry’s mouth dropped open. Ajax was leaving? But . . . he’d miss him! What would he do at night without his meetings? They were like second nature now. He loved having Ajax to talk to about his days. He could tell Ajax things he didn’t even tell Ron or Hermione. He wasn’t sure why, but perhaps it was the fact that Ajax wasn’t exactly human and more animal. It was . . . therapeutic in a sense.  

               “What? Really? Why?”

               “That is none of your concern.”

               Harry guessed Ajax had a point. The centaur had a life, too, a private one that was none of Harry’s business. Harry sighed.

               “Will I ever see you again?”

               “I . . . will let you know when I return.”

               “How?” Harry asked with a frown.

               “I’ll find a way. But do not come to our meeting spot. I will not be there and if anything happens, I will not be able to protect you. Do you understand?”

               “Yes, Ajax,” Harry agreed, trying his best not to cry. But he really was going to miss his friend. Without giving it much thought, Harry sat up more and wrapped his arms around Ajax’s torso. It was easier to reach more of the centaur when standing up slightly on a bed. “I’ll miss you.”

               Ajax didn’t return the hug, instead, he froze altogether. Harry figured it just wasn’t centaur custom to hug. It was a new thing to the centaur and Ajax probably felt uncomfortable. Harry pulled away and sat back down on the bed. He was glad it was dark so Ajax couldn’t see his cheeks redden.

               “Sorry.”

               “It’s . . . fine. Heed me, alright? Do not go out at night until I return.”

               But how will I know you’ve returned? Harry couldn’t help but think. But he sighed reluctantly and nodded.

               “Yes, Ajax.”

               “Good. Now go back to sleep.”

               “Now?” Harry asked curiously. But I have so many questions! Please stay longer, Ajax.   

               “Yes. You are tired.”

               Harry laid back down and rested his head on his pillow. Ajax’s expectant look told him to close his eyes and he did. Then, he heard soft clanks of hooves on the ground. Ajax was leaving. Harry opened his eyes and looked at Ajax.

               “Sleep,” Ajax frowned at him.  

               Admitting defeat, Harry closed his eyes again and tried to ignore the centaur’s presence. He wanted Ajax to stay longer and talk to him more before he left and didn’t come back for a while. The room was silent, and Harry figured Ajax was waiting until he did fall asleep. Harry tried to relax his mind and he thought about his earlier dream of flying. Slowly, he drifted back into the world of dreams.  

               The next morning, Severus opened his eyes just as the first rays of sunlight graced itself on the castle. He hissed as his body shifted and morphed back into his human self, once more tearing and opening his wounds. At this rate, it would take him forever to heal. He found himself collapsing in the hay he had been lying on, breathing harshly.

               Poppy quickly appeared, offering him a gown as she respectfully averted her eyes. Severus slid it on as gently as he could, accepting a pain reliever Poppy handed him next. He remained in the hay as Poppy summoned what she needed to stitch the wounds back up again, applying more topical healing potions to the wounds on Severus’s back.

               “I heard you last night,” Poppy suddenly said.

               “Heard what, exactly?” Severus questioned.

               “Your talk with Harry. I take it you must have met Harry as your centaur self.”

               “Indeed. He does not know who I am, and I’d like it to remain that way.”

               “Why? That boy could use a supportive male figure in his life. And he’s clearly attached to you – or, at least . . . what do you call yourself again?”

               “Ajax.”

               “That’s right. I feel as though you’d be a great influence on him. That boy has already been quite the influence on you.”

               “Who I am and what I become must remain a secret.”

               “Severus . . .”

               “No. Know one else is to know.”

               “Alright, I’ll respect that. Does anyone, besides myself, know?”

               “The headmaster knows.” Severus didn’t bother mentioning the Dark Lord.

               “Ah, yes, he would know, wouldn’t he?”

               Poppy applied more healing potion to Severus’s back. She frowned at how severe the wounds still remained after the treatment she had already given Severus.

               “I don’t understand why these potions seem to be taking so long to heal you. These wounds look as they did the first day. Perhaps I need a stronger potency . . .”

               “It’s not the potions. I am the hunted outcast . . . so I must bear the pain as such. The curse renders most potions useless if the wounds are inflicted in my cursed form.”

               “This is terrible, Severus. And completely unfair. I do feel sorry for you.”

               “I don’t need your pity.”

               Poppy said nothing. She finished healing Severus’s back and stood, aiding the man to his feet and to the bed before banishing the hay pile and fixing the curtain around Severus.

               “Where is Potter?” Severus asked.

               “He left for breakfast and then classes. I take it you’d like your classes cancelled?”

               “I guess it’s necessary. At least until I can manage on my own two feet again.”

               “I’ll inform Albus.”

               Severus lay in the bed with an arm draped over his eyes. Everywhere still hurt. And it probably would for a while. His thoughts strayed to Harry and he hoped the boy listened to him.

               Harry tiptoes out of the castle. Yes, Ajax had said that he wouldn’t show tonight, but could there be a chance the centaur would be near? Harry made his way slowly to their usual spot and sat down in the grass. He pulled at some blades, listening to the sounds of the night: owls hooting, crickets chirping, and the soft, cold breeze blowing. Harry enjoyed the peaceful sounds and his body relaxed as he waited. He knew he shouldn’t get his hopes up, but he couldn’t help but feel somewhat hopeful each time he heard a soft rustling in the trees. He also knew he should be wary. So far, no Ajax. Harry waited a few more minutes before standing and dejectedly walking back to the castle.

               He was going to miss Ajax.