A New Snake

Chapter 30

When Madam Pomfrey heard from Lily that Harry was awake, she called Severus—who didn't have a class as it was lunch time, and was grading homework at the time—and told him. Then she proceeded to enter the Main Wing and attend to her patient. "Honestly, Mr. Potter. You didn't even get to your Common Room before trouble found you again." The boy flushed, but he was glad that at least people were no longer accusing him of looking for trouble. Lily returned to her seat next to him and continued what she had been doing before she fell asleep—reading the next chapter in their Astronomy textbook.

Only fifteen or twenty minutes after Pomfrey had firecalled him, Severus strode into the Infirmary. He had ink on his right hand and at the edge of the same sleeve. As if he had been shocked into standing and had put his hand in some ink. This was entirely true: he had knocked over his ink bottle and had accidentally spilled a bit of ink; upon placing it upright again, he hadn't thought it important to clean up the minor spill and left in a hurry.  Now he calmly joins his daughter beside his young charge—though his heart still pounded fiercely with exertion and adrenaline. She could see the panic he tried to hide, but she had been around him so long she could see what others could not. She didn't know whether she was glad or not that Harry wasn't around long enough to see the man's well-disguised alarm.

But perhaps it was for the best that he wasn't burdened with the knowledge of the feelings he'd caused in the man. From the time Harry had been resorted into Slytherin, the Head of House's opinion of the boy had changed drastically. No longer did he see the young Potter as the epitome of the teenage James Potter. No longer was he the self-important celebrity who thought that the rules didn't apply to him. Now, he was the young man who did his best to avoid trouble, but it always somehow found him. Now he was the willing and eager student itching to know whatever he could about the world he'd be estranged to the first eleven years of his life. He'd become much the Severus' own son, which Lily believed is what he might have needed after losing his own son those six long years ago. He might be nine years older than his son would have been, but it was good for him to be able to support and care for Harry like he never would have been able to otherwise.

She also got to feel like she had a younger brother for the first time in her life. Sure he may only be a few months younger than her—more or less—but he was younger than her nonetheless. And she would—of course—hold that over his head as long as she could.

While Lily thought to herself, Severus talked with Harry about what had happened on their way to Common Room. Harry told him as much of the story, and Lily popped out of her reading and her own thoughts enough to fill in the blanks where they were. She finally just put her book down when the conversation began to require her attention more. Severus assured them that they needn't worry over their Prefect duties, that he had assigned two trustworthy Slytherins to be temporary Prefects in their stead until they were both ready to resume their duties.

To be honest, that wasn't even something that had crossed their minds.

Severus conjured his work—vanishing the spilled ink—in order to get something done while he spent time with his godson. Because none of them had eaten yet, Severus ordered some lunch for them. He ordered sandwiches for Lily and himself and some soup for Harry. He didn't want to strain his stomach by forcing it to eat something heavy when he hadn't eaten in days and he was still weak from being unconscious for a week prior. So he decided that soup would be the best choice. Harry would have rather preferred a baked potato, or the like, and a nice treacle tart for dessert. But the decision was out of his hands and by the time he finished his lunch, he was glad that it had been. He'd worked hard to get back a normal stomach size since he had been rescued from the Dursleys' clutches, now it seemed that all that work went to waste in the days he had been unconscious. Time to start over.

They all chatted as they ate and worked on homework and—for Severus—grading essays when they were finished eating. Severus had notified the Headmaster that he would not be attending his classes after lunch and suggested he either tell his students it's a free period or find a substitute.

He was finished grading papers and was reading a book he hadn't been able to finish that summer, when a regal-looking owl, one that could only belong to a Malfoy, flew through the Hospital Wing window and landed on Severus' arm. Held gently in its beak was a parchment of the finest material stamps with the Malfoy Crest in Slytherin-green wax. He took the proffered mail, gave the owl one of the only owl treats that the Malfoy owls would accept. It hastily flew off, obviously not expecting an immediate reply. Lily had fallen asleep again and Harry was apparently very into one of the books he'd gotten for his birthday, so he figured whatever the letter had to say would be safe to read.

He broke the seal and unfolding the letter, hoping to read some good news:

My Dear Friend...

~ ~ ~ ~

While Harry was being kept in the Hospital Wing, receiving physical therapy to build up his muscles again, Hermione, Ron, Draco, Luna, Neville, Cedric, and the Twins would all come to visit him during their breaks. Hermione took her time to teach Lily and Harry what they had missed in the classes they shared. Draco would do the same with the rest. Whenever they did that when Ron was around he always moaned and groaned—mostly because Hermione made him do his homework at the same time.

It had been nearly a week since he awoke and he hadn't been let out of the Hospital Wing for anything. They didn't want to take any chances. Last time he was let out, he wasn't entirely ready and couldn't defend himself. They wanted to be sure he was well enough that what had happened the last time wouldn't happen again. And as much as it made him stir-crazy, he did understand why. Danger always seemed to find him.

One night he simply couldn't take it anymore and, in true Harry Fashion, snuck out of the Wing and the Castle with his cloak without alerting Lily, Madam Pomfrey, or anyone else in the castle.

The fresh air was heaven to his lungs and he ran and whooped with joy. The night sky was clear and starry; the air was cool and crisp.

He ran to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, letting himself catch his breath beneath a tree before holding his wand high in the air and breathing, "Accio Firebolt." And In moments his broom was racing towards him. He jumped on it and soared through and above the trees of the Forbidden Forest, grinning, laughing, and just having a good time for the first time in weeks.

He knew it wasn't a good idea for him to push himself. He knew it, but he couldn't help it. He felt alive for the first time in a fortnight. But that came back to bite him when he realized he was slowing down. His breathing was shallow and burned in his lungs. But not the normal burn that came with the exercise of Quidditch. This hurt. Like fire consuming him from the inside out. He began to falter and in moments, he, broom and all, began falling from over 50 meters above the ground.