Harry sat down in the stands and spent the next hour watching the Weasley siblings practice, laughing at their antics and giving directions every now and then. The anger from earlier had abated and he tried to enjoy the warmth of the setting sun on his skin and the soft tickling of the breeze through his hair.
He watched as Ginny tricked her brother into believing she would go for the left goalpost and swerved her broom at the last minute to throw the Quaffle in the right goalpost. His eyes felt heavy and he had to work to keep them open to see her throwing her hands in the air in mock celebration. His eyelids seemed to suddenly be made of lead and he felt them close, Ginny's laughter sounding far away.
Drops of blood trickled down a deadly pale arm. The arm hung loosely off a table and the fingertips almost reached the red puddle on the floor. The room was cold, dark and empty save for the person on the table and two people on the far side of the room.
Harry looked up at the face of the woman he had just killed. Her eyes were opened in wide surprise and there was an X-shaped cut across her torso. Even though the life left her body minutes ago, she still bled freely. Harry was disgusted by it.
"Clean up this mess," Harry said with a high-pitched voice.
When the two people didn't move fast enough, a surge of fury overcame him.
"Now!" He yelled in outrage and a push of wild magic made the table fall over and the woman's body rolled off towards the men. They looked at in utter fear and scrambled to do as they were told.
Harry turned away and wiped his wand on a cloth to clean off the filthy blood. Someone walked up to him, Harry could feel the mix of trepidation and admiration emanate off of her.
"Bring me the next one, Bella," he demanded. As she bowed low and took her leave, he looked up at a long and dusty mirror. His red eyes looked back at him and he broke into a piercing, malicious laugh.
"Harry!"
Harry opened his eyes and saw Ron and Ginny's face hovering over him. He groaned and shut his eyes quickly to fend off the blinding light that aimed to pierce his skull. Ron helped him sit upright and he felt his stomach lurch at the movement. He took a few slow and steadying breaths before trying to open his eyes again.
He saw his friends' concerned looks and brought a hand up to his forehead, partly to massage his throbbing scar and partly to avoid their eyes.
"What happened?" He asked to get them talking while he steadied himself.
"You passed out mate," Ron said. "And then when we got to you, you started... laughing."
"Did you see anything?" Ginny asked, making Harry wonder again if she could read minds.
"No," he lied, "He was just really... happy."
They helped him back up and made their way back to the castle. Harry felt unsteady on his feet and he shoved his hands in his pockets to hide their tremble. He did not want to tell Ron and Ginny what he had seen because it made him feel sick to his stomach. He wiped his hands on the insides of his pockets in an attempt to rid them of the dirty feeling of having blood on ones hands. A cold sweat broke out along his back which made him feel feverish.
They had arrived at the Entrance Hall and realised it was dinner time already. The smell of food entered his nostrils and he felt a wave of nausea come over him. He swallowed a thick and sour lump in his throat.
"Are you okay mate? You look ill," Ron said.
"I'll be fine but I think I'm going to go lay down for a bit."
Ron glanced at the Great Hall. "You sure?"
"Positive."
Harry left them and trudged slowly up the stairs. Though he truly was exhausted he did not want to think about falling asleep in the empty dormitory. Drops of cold sweat tickled his forehead and he wiped them away as he made his way to one of the bathrooms. Just as he reached the bathroom door, Hermione came around the corner.
"Harry! There you are, I've been looking all over for you. I just came from the Library," she said.
Harry wanted to point out that she was mad for thinking she would find him in the Library after such a stressful day, but said nothing as his stomach lurched again.
"That was totally unfair of Snape," Hermione continued, oblivious to Harry's condition. "You should tell McGonagall."
"No Hermione, I'm not going to run to McGonagall for this. I'm not giving him the satisfaction," Harry replied as a surge of anger flared up again. He welcomed it as it distracted him from his shock.
"Then you're just as stubborn as he is! What are you trying to prove? Who-"
She stilled as she looked at him, really looked at him for the first time.
"What's wrong?" she said suddenly concerned.
Harry shrugged and tried to make it look indifferent. "Just my scar. No big deal. I told Ron to go ahead to dinner, you should go to."
"Will you come too?"
"Not sure yet, maybe I'll lay down for a bit," Harry lied again.
"Harry... maybe you should go see Madam Pomfrey," Hermione suggested with worry.
"No, really, I'm fine Hermione. I just need a moment to recollect myself."
Hermione pursed her lips and for a moment Harry thought she would continue to persuade him, but she relented.
"Shall I walk you to the Common Room?"
"I can walk you know," Harry said with a smile to reassure her. "Don't worry, I can find my way around the castle."
Hermione nodded reluctantly and waited until he was inside the bathroom before making her way to the Great Hall.
Harry sighed in relief and went to the sink. He turned on the tap and held his wrists under the amazingly cold and refreshing water. He filled his cupped hands with water and splashed it onto his face. He looked up in the mirror and saw his pale reflection looking back at him, water dripping from his chin. The image of a pale face in the mirror and the slow dripping of a liquid brought back a wave of nausea and he reached the toilet just in time to empty his stomach of its contents. His throat burned and his eyes watered from the physical force his body exerted.
He sat on the cold bathroom floor for a long time, trying to empty his mind of all thoughts and feelings. He focused on his wet hands, the hard floor beneath him and the sharp jab in his back where a brick in the wall stuck out.
He could have sat there for hours but he glanced out the window and he could see the sun had not fully set yet so it must not be that late. With a jolt he realised he had detention with Snape and had no idea what time it was. For a brief moment he considered not going at all, but he did not particularly feel up to increasing Snape's wrath even more. Snape would have his hide if he didn't show up.
With a heaviness in his limbs he pushed himself up and made his way grudgingly towards the dungeons. At Snape's office door he hesitated as he glanced down at himself. He probably looked a right mess. He tugged at his tie to try and make it look neat but gave up seconds later. He raised his hand and knocked before opening the door.
Snape sat at his desk, his curtain of black hair obscuring his face as he was bent over, stacks of parchment lining the tabletop. He did not look up and continued writing with a dark coloured quill.
"Close the door behind you and sit down," came the terse voice.
Harry did as he was told and sat down in the chair across from the desk. Snape did not continue and kept his eyes on his parchment. Harry thought it would be an odd detention indeed if Snape just sat there the entire time, demanding nothing but silence. In absence of further instructions, Harry took in the dark office and its shuddering familiarity. Shelves lined the walls and they held a large quantity of bottles and jars, each one containing the most disgusting looking ingredients. The last time he was here one of those jars was flung towards his head... His eyes involuntarily found the cabinet which had held the Pensieve last year and a feeling of shame crept up on him.
The scraping sound of Snape's quill had stopped and he realised the professor had been watching him. Remembering his words in their occlumency lessons, he quickly averted his eyes.
"You are late," Snape's voice cut through the silence. Harry said nothing.
"Is the concept of time so foreign to you that you have trouble being on time, like any normal person?"
"No sir," Harry said evenly.
"Yet you decided to arrive here twenty minutes past the appointed time."
Harry furrowed his brow. He hadn't realised he had tarried in the bathroom for that long.
"And you lack the decency to present yourself properly, instead opting to strut around, arrogantly flaunting this dishevelled and disordered appearance."
Harry felt that familiar anger rise up within him and he welcomed it with open arms.
"I do not strut," he said balling his fists, trying not to lash out.
Snape leaned forward over his desk, his face looking ominous in the candle-lit room.
"Oh yes you do, just like your father. Showing off his complete disregard for decorum."
"You're one to talk of decorum," Harry spat, "You knew exactly why I did not have my supplies today, McGonagall told you beforehand. The only reason I'm here right now is because you couldn't pass up the opportunity to see me be miserable."
"Don't flatter yourself," Snape said pitilessly. "The only one to blame for your punishment is yourself. Had you not disregarded all of the Order's efforts to keeping you safely detained, you would not have missed your letters and would have had ample time to get everything you need, like any other student." Snape slowly walked around his desk, glinting eyes never leaving Harry's face.
"But of course, you don't want to be like any other student, do you? You crave that special attention and being fawned over by half the world. That much was obvious to me when I heard you decided on a whim to leave your relatives house, in complete disregard of the safety measures that a lot of people have worked hard on to keep in place. And then in a brainless act of ignorance you decided to travel with that infernal bus. Have you any idea what sort of people board that thing nowadays?"
"Well what would you have me do then? I had no ways of communication and my aunt threw me out."
"Your aunt was instructed to keep you there."
"Yeah, well my aunt didn't care."
"So, naturally the next best option was to abandon the house with no announcement whatsoever, ignoring all the adults alerted to your absence and forsake everything we fight for? Tell me Potter, do you want to get yourself killed? Because I can assure you there are far more inventive ways to achieve that."
"You don't know anything about me, so stop acting like you care," Harry seethed.
Snape stopped in front of him, leaning so close that they almost touched noses. But Harry did not shrink away from him, wouldn't allow him that power, and met his eyes defiantly.
"I know all about you," Snape said in a menacingly soft voice.
"I seriously doubt that," Harry replied.
Snape's black eyes bored into his and Harry felt trapped in those dark orbs. He reluctantly looked away to protect his mind from invasion.
Snape's lip curled contemptuously.
"I see you haven't forgotten. But there is no need for Legilimency, you wear it all on your sleeve. Arrogance, rebellion, anger, fear," his voice was reduced to a whisper now, "guilt."
Harry winced. Snape smiled cruelly.
"You cannot hide from me. Remember that, if nothing else." Snape straightened and turned to sit back at his desk. He pointed at a table to the side of the office where a cauldron was waiting along with some jars and containers.
"You will prepare the potion we covered in today's lesson. No interruptions this time. A list of instructions is on the table. Let's see if the luck you had in your OWL exam persists."
Harry glanced at the workbench and grimaced. It would take him over two hours.
"Yes Potter, the task might seem daunting to your feeble mind. But unlike your Head of House, I will not coddle you and I will not mistake your obnoxiousness for laziness. Begin."
It was well past ten thirty when Snape finally let him go. Brewing the Wound-cleaning potion had been hopeless as Harry was distracted by the turmoil of emotions on the inside, and Snape's heavy presence on the outside. Snape had made a disparaging comment on his Potion-making skills and had promised him he would have all week to try again.
Harry quickly made his way back to Gryffindor Tower, not wanting to earn himself another detention for wandering the castle after curfew. He was pleasantly surprised to see that Ron and Hermione were waiting for him when he arrived. He plumped down on the sofa and told them all about the evil Potions Master, glad they were both understanding for once.
"It's getting late, I'm off to bed," Harry finally said and he got up to leave for the dormitory, but stopped when he saw the two of them glance at each other in concern. He sighed inwardly.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Ron told me what happened this afternoon," Hermione said tentatively.
"And?"
"And I think you should tell someone."
Harry sighed out loud and gripped the back of the sofa he had just vacated. "Like who?"
"Anyone! McGonagall, Dumbledore!"
"I'm not going to run off to them for every little thing. Besides, I've had worse."
"Why are you being so stubborn?" Hermione said exasperated. "Why is it so hard for you to ask for help? Think of what happened last year! Ouch!"
Ron elbowed Hermione hard in the ribs and looked at her imploringly before glancing at Harry to see his reaction.
Harry looked away, buried feelings of shame and guilt resurfacing.
"I know Hermione. Truly I do." He looked back at his friends and for once the raw concern in their eyes did not make him feel cold inside. "And if it gets any worse, I promise I will tell someone. Just... let me figure it out on my own pace. I have asked for help before and it didn't really do any good so... I just need time to figure it all out for myself."
Hermione's eyes glistened and she nodded. "Just promise you won't keep us in the dark, okay? You know we'll be there for you, whatever you do."
Ron nodded and Harry smiled at them. He truly had the best friends.
"I promise."
The three of them smiled at each other for a while until the silence became a little too awkward.
"Now I really am going to bed," Harry said mirthfully.
The next few days went by relatively well. He had not had any more visions, but his nightmares had taken over again. This he could handle, he decided. It was, after all, something he had gotten used to over the years and if they got any worse he could always ask Madam Pomfrey to give him some Dreamless Sleep Potion.
His detentions with Snape were rather dull compared to the first one, for which Harry was overjoyed. The less words he and Snape exchanged, the better. On Wednesday he had managed to brew the Wound cleaning potion with only a few flaws and the result was only slightly off-colour. He considered this a personal victory and hoped it would make Snape's hackles rise. In good spirits he booked the Quidditch Pitch for Saturday morning to hold tryouts.
Thursday morning marked their first Defence against the Dark Arts class and Professor Braden was already waiting for them just outside the classroom, giving them all a warm handshake before they entered. Harry raised his eyebrows at Ron and knew they both thought it was a bit much. No one could be this amicable.
"Get settled everyone, we have much to go over," Braden called over the sounds of scraping chairs and talking students.
When the room had quieted down, Braden moved in front of the students and threw his arms wide.
"Welcome!"
Harry saw Malfoy nudging Crabbe and stifling a laugh.
"I have been informed that your Defence against the Dark Arts teachers over the past years have left much to be desired, which means you have experienced an instability in you educational career. To be honest, I was surprised when I saw how many of you would be attending this class, cause it meant that you have scraped together an OWL for a subject in which you've had little to none instruction."
Harry kept his eyes forward and focused on the blackboard behind Professor Braden, as he knew his classmates were staring at him. Last year they had the worst Defence teacher ever, and Harry had taken it upon himself to teach what he knew. It had made a difference to some, who had otherwise not been able to pass their OWL.
"I'm afraid I have bad news for those who only barely made it into this class," Braden continued. "The curriculum for your NEWTs is going to be even more tough and, as we will need to revise a lot from earlier years, it will require an astronomical amount of determination. But seeing as you got here, against all odds, I feel you will succeed in this as well."
"Without further ado, please open your textbooks on page 55. The key-word this year is Nonverbal magic, and this goes for defensive spells as well. Since last year seems to have been nothing short of disastrous in terms of defensive spells, I want to see where you all stand on those."
They reviewed the theory on the shield and disarming charm, both of which Harry already mastered. Then Professor Braden made them form pairs to practice them on each other. None of the students had any problem casting the spells and soon Braden called them to attention.
"Excellent! Now, on to Nonverbal casting. Gather round."
When the students were gathered in a circle around him, Braden gave a silent wave of his wand and Pansy Parkinson suddenly broke out in giggles and jumped up as if invisible hands were poking her ribs. Braden lifted the Tickling charm and Pansy glared at him, cheeks reddened in embarrassment.
"Performing spells non-verbally is extremely difficult and it requires a good deal of practice, concentration and mental discipline."
Harry groaned inwardly, knowing he shared Ron's mental capacity of a teaspoon.
"Once you are able to perform nonverbal spells, you will notice that they are lower in power and less effective than they normally are with a spoken incantation. It takes a very powerful wizard, who's had years of practice, to put the same power behind a nonverbal spell as with a verbal spell. Bear that in mind when practicing this type of magic and don't let any setbacks discourage you."
"With regards to defence, what would be the advantage of using nonverbal spells in a duel?"
Hermione's hand shot up.
"Yes, miss...?"
"Granger, sir. Nonverbal spells are useful in duels because your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you're about to perform, giving you, the caster, a split-second advantage."
"You're absolutely correct miss Granger, five points to Gryffindor." Hermione beamed at him.
"Not giving away what you are about to do will definitely give you an advantage. It is therefore crucial that you not only learn to perform nonverbal spells, but how to perform them with enough stealth to fool your opponent."
This proved to be a right struggle when they went on to practice in pairs. Harry stood with his wand at the ready, waiting for Ron to perform the Tickling charm so that he could protect himself with a shield, but for ten minutes, nothing happened.
Harry laughed at Ron's face, which looked like he was trying desperately to pass a bowel movement.
"You try it then," Ron shot at him.
Harry nodded and concentrated. He worried about the mental discipline it would take to perform a nonverbal spell, after the fiasco that were his occlumency lessons. Yet he also knew he had performed it before. Accidentally of course, blowing up Aunt Marge, growing his hair back right after it had been cut. It had not been intentional, but it had been nonverbal.
He had a hard time concentrating on the spell. He saw Ron's smug look directed at him and he heard Hermione shriek as Lavender gave up and verbally hit her with the Tickling charm. He heard Seamus' low whisper and yelp as Professor Braden hit him with the same spell and calling "No cheating" over their heads.
He shook his head and closed his eyes to help block out all other distractions, focusing only on the spell he was to perform. He envisioned the wand movement and the light emanating from his wand. He tried to remember the exact feeling of the magic engulfing him and leaving from the tip of his wand.
Then he waved his wand at Ron with force. To his surprise Ron began laughing and dancing on his toes, obviously in the throes of the Tickling charm.
"Well done, Mr. Potter," Professor Braden came towards them and ended the charm on Ron. "Ten points to Gryffindor. Can you tell the class what it was you did?"
"Er... I'm not sure really," Harry said. "I just concentrated and envisioned what I wanted to happen."
"Did you feel any different?"
Harry considered that question. "I felt a tingling sensation. It was as if I felt the magic coming from within me, I guess?"
Braden nodded at him appraisingly. "That's right. Because there is no verbal incantation to guide the magic to where it needs to be, it has to come from within you, from your own magical core. Very impressive, Mr. Potter."
An hour later, Professor Braden dismissed them and Harry had been the only one so far to be able to perform a nonverbal spell. At lunch, his classmates congratulated him jealously.
After their Herbology lesson, Hermione and Ron had to go to a prefect meeting and Harry joined Ginny, Luna and Kai-Enna in the Library to work on his Potions essay. His supplies had finally arrived the day before, and with a groan he pulled out his textbook.
"Not feeling up to it?" Kai-Enna asked with an amused expression.
"Not really, no," Harry replied.
"It's not so much Potions that's the problem, more the one who teaches it," Ginny said knowingly.
Kai-Enna nodded in thought. "Yeah, I can see why. Professor Snape seems a bit...dark."
"I think Professor Snape is a great teacher," Luna said, oblivious to the fact that Ginny and Harry were staring at her incredulously.
"How so Luna?" Kai-Enna asked.
"He is stern and sometimes harsh, but by doing so he makes sure we do our utter best. You learn much more from failure than you would from success."
"Ha, then I should be an expert on Potions by now. Snape always makes sure I fail his class," Harry said bitterly.
"Snape has it in for Harry," Ginny explained to Kai-Enna.
"Why?"
"He hates me because of who my father was. They went to school together and became enemies right from the start," Harry said while flipping his textbook.
"That is so unfair! It's not your fault your father and him were enemies. And besides, you are not your father."
"I know, I keep telling him that. I can't even remember my father, how could I be anything like him? I'm just... me. Unfortunately, Snape has a talent for holding grudges. Long-term."
Kai-Enna turned towards him with a teasing smile. "Who is Harry Potter anyway? According to the Daily Prophet, you're supposed to be some kind of Saviour. But looking at you now, you seem just as normal as the rest of us."
"Thank you," Harry said with conviction.
They spent the next hour talking, Kai-Enna asking him all sorts of questions to get to know him. It was nice talking to someone with whom he had not shared a history with at Hogwarts. He could forego tales about the Chamber of Secrets and Voldemort, and focus on school, homework and the secrets that the castle held. Just normal stuff.
When Ron and Hermione got to them it was time for dinner so they packed their books and half-written essays.
"You coming Kai?" Ginny asked as Kai-Enna lingered.
"No, you go ahead. I need to get something from the common room first," She said distractedly while rummaging in her bag.
The rest of them left her to go to the Great Hall for dinner. There the conversation turned to Professor Braden's Defence class. They all agreed it had been a great lesson and that he was a good teacher with no biases towards any of the houses. While Ron talked enthusiastically about Braden, saying he might be the best Defence teacher since Remus, Harry and Hermione were a bit more reserved. Hermione pointed out that it wouldn't be the first teacher they had put their trust in and who eventually turned out to be a madman or murderer. Harry agreed with her and glanced at the Head table. Braden was jovially talking to McGonagall, making wild hand gestures to support his story. He seemed okay, but Harry was not going to fall for that farce again. If Braden truly was a good person, it would take more than a good Defence lesson to prove it.
Chapter 11 Detention & Defence