Shake it, Bake it, Brew it

Sticky Fingers

"Ow! ... bloody hell!" The young boy hissed in pain and clutched his hand. Harry was so consumed by his thoughts that he didn't realize that his grip on a shelf was getting stronger with each thought until his thumb slipped and he sliced his thumb. Dashing over to the sink and washing the cut was the first thing he did. Then he took a square of toilet paper to mop up the gray blood drops on the ground.

After cleaning the evidence he leaned against the sink and let his mind wander back to the potions professor. Maybe the person he should talk to is Snape. Yes, the man seemed to have something against him, but if his thoughts were right then the professor cared enough to save him and was the only teacher to check to see if the Philosopher's stone was safe ... Professor McGonagall just brushed him off when he warned her and has yet to apologize for ignoring his warnings.

Come to think of it he ran into Professor Snape right after he tried to warn McGonagall ... did he over hear everything? ... and actually take him seriously? Something about that made him feel warm inside.

The sounds of rustling startled Harry. Everyone else was slowly getting up and getting ready for their last breakfast before going home for the summer. A deep calming breath steadied his racing heart.

He came to a decision. Right after breakfast he will talk to Professor Snape. Beg even, if he had to. Going back to the Dursleys really was a matter of life and death so he would gladly scrap any pride he had to get help. At this point he didn't care if the man laughed at first. With a sudden burst of energy he raced through his morning routine and packed everything so he had nothing to worry about.

Neville groaned as he sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, "You seem eager, Harry. Ready to head home?" He mumbled as he saw Harry haphazardly tossing things in his trunk.

"You could say that, Neville." (More like desperate, though.) Harry thought. Since it was still early he tidied up his clothes, summer assignments and first year books before double checking that he had everything. As the silky texture of his invisibility cloak brushed soothingly against his cut thumb another question came to mind ...

Who would give an 11 year old an invisibility cloak and a note saying 'use it well'? What is Dumbledore doing? He filed the thought away for later as he tucked the cloak away under his clothes.

Neville came out of the bathroom and started packing too, "You ok, Harry?" He asked softly so the many other Gryffindors didn't hear,

"Huh? ... oh, I'm fine. Just lost in thought." (Albeit some very disturbing thoughts.) "Thanks, Neville." Harry smiled as he locked his trunk and lifted it off his bed. Neville smiled and nodded in understanding as he set his toad next to Hedwig's cage.

"Yeah, I can understand that ... oh, Harry, could you help me wake Ron? You seem to be the only one with any luck getting him up." Neville chuckled.

Harry twitched while looking at the snoring gray head. He didn't want to waste time on this, "Alright," He sighed, grabbed the edge of the mattress Ron was sleeping on and showed some strength by lifting it. Ron rolled off the bed with a loud thump.

"BLOODY HELL! What was that for?" The Weasley snapped while shooting Harry a glare and ignored the other Gryffindors snickering.

"We're going to be late for breakfast. I bet your Mom won't be happy if you came home knowing you had to rush packing because you slept in and ended up forgetting something." muttered Harry, his tone filled with false concern. Ron paled and raced to start his morning routine. Ron was nice, but it irritated him that he takes everything for granted. He seems to be more interested in money and the fame of being the friend of the 'Boy Who Lived' than being a real friend.