"Which I don't even remember, being I was only a year old. And he tried to kill me first."
"Hell, I know that. And there's not like to be anyone stupid enough in Slytherin to try to take you down, at least not at school. Their families would suffer, for one thing. Even Malfoy's not that dim."
"He doesn't like me, though."
"Yeah, well . . . he might've found out you made the Quidditch team, without even trying out for it." Teddy gave Millicent a pointed look.
The large girl flushed. "I didn't know it was supposed to be a secret! I thought it was great that one of us Firsties had made the team. No one as young as you has made it in a hundred years. I heard Snape had to get the rules bent for you, and everything." Harry frowned, not liking the idea of Snape doing that for him, and she sighed. "And Malfoy was being a jerk. Again. And going on about how he was guaranteed a spot, likely as Seeker, and so I told him off." She grimaced and hitched up one shoulder. "Sorry, Harry. He might have got a bit annoyed by the news."
Harry made himself smile. "Hey, it's okay, Millie, really. He was going to find out sooner or later anyway, right?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"So, it was a bit sooner. Maybe he'll even make the team anyway. We still need another Chaser, from what Flint said." Harry was almost hoping he would; it would take some of the pressure off him, for one thing.
"Oh, hey! Did you know your dad played Quidditch?"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, I saw a plaque in the trophy room. He played for Gryffindor, obviously, but I guess he was pretty good. They won a lot, then."
"You'll have to show me." Harry's interest was piqued; he knew so little about his parents that any tidbit of information was worth its weight in galleons. He licked his lips nervously, but made himself ask, "Was there a picture?"
Millie shook her head. "There's a couple team pictures from back that far, but not one with your father in it."
Harry swallowed his disappointment, but it felt like ground glass going down. The Dursleys had been so close mouthed about Lily and James Potter while he was growing up, except when they were telling him lies, like about how they'd died, that he knew next to nothing about them. He didn't even have any idea what they looked like, as the only photos in the Dursley home had been of his aunt and uncle and Dudley, so a picture of even just his father would have eased some of that empty ache he always carried with him. "Oh, well," he said lightly. "It'd be great to see the plaque and stuff anyway."
"Yeah, soon as you're up and around, I'll show you."
"Thanks, Millie." Harry rubbed a hand over his face, feeling suddenly exhausted, so of course Madam Pomfrey had to arrive at that moment and shoo his friends away.
"You can come back briefly, after dinner," she told them when Millicent asked. "But he needs rest more than anything."
"All right. Seeya, Harry," Millie said and waved as they headed for the door.
"Seeya. Thanks for coming by."
Teddy smirked. "See that you quit your whinging, and maybe I'll bring you a nice treat from dinner."
"Well, okay. Just 'cause you asked so nicely. Prat."
The two of them laughed and Harry closed his eyes when they were gone, thinking about what they'd said, about Peeves, and the Bloody Baron, and even Draco. Was the boy's hostility as simple as that Draco was jealous, or was it more sinister?
According to Snape, it was highly unlikely that any student could have Obliviated him – and the idea that someone had wiped his memories was enough to break him out in goosebumps again, just thinking about it – which left the teachers and staff. But who among them would do such a thing, and why? Was someone trying to get back at him for defeating Voldemort?
And why would they erase his memories and just not make sure to kill him completely?
After a while of his thoughts turning in circles, bringing him no closer to any answers, Harry pulled his book bag over and started working on his Potions essay, figuring the least he could do was try his best to stay out of Snape's bad graces. Not sure how successful he'd be after the nasty way Snape had treated him in class, he still had to try.
TBC . . .
A/N: Big Snapalicious hugs for all who read and review! (He could too give hugs; you just have to put up with some post-hug snarkery!) And thank you for your support.
*Chapter 14*: Chapter 14
Better Be Slytherin! – Chapter 14
By jharad17
Disclaimer: Not mine. pout
Summary: As a first year, Harry is sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor, and no one is more surprised than his new Head of House.
Previously:
And so Severus went in search of the Bloody Baron, to get some answers from the old ghost. After two hours of searching and calling, however, he was unable to make contact with the ghost, and so, quite exhausted from the night's events, he made his way back to his quarters in rather a foul mood. He fell asleep almost immediately and suffered dreams of violence and bloodshed, such as he had not in over ten years.
Severus only checked in on the Brat Who Caused Uproars once more in the Infirmary, on Saturday afternoon. Nott and Bullstrode were in attendance and the three of them seemed to be getting along well, which was a surprise. From what he could tell, Theodore Nott was intelligent, cultured and soft-spoken, whereas Miss Bullstrode was his opposite in almost every way. And yet . . . both seemed enamoured of the Brat Who Lived Again enough to put aside their own differences in his favor.
Curious.
After that, he continued his search for the Bloody Baron, questioning the other castle ghosts, but none of them had any idea where the Baron had got to either. Thus, Severus and the rest of the staff spent too much time running interference with Peeves, now that the Baron was absent -- forever? he wondered. Surely not! -- and the rest of his weekend was spent grading and assigning detentions to students who used Peeves as an excuse for their own antics.
He was surprised when the Brat showed up at his office on Sunday night.
"What are you doing out of bed?" Severus asked immediately, scanning the boy without appearing to look up from his grading. Potter was pale and peaky, still, but upright, which was an improvement.
"Detention, sir. I missed last night."
Severus rolled his eyes. Merlin, protect us. "Of course you did," he said with a sneer. "You were rather incapacitated."
The Brat held his ground. "But I have it for a week, sir, you said. And I'm feeling better now. Madam Pomfrey let me out."
"And what were her instructions when she did?"
Potter had the grace to look abashed. "That I should check in with her tomorrow."
"And?"
A sigh. "And that I should go to bed upon my release."
Severus waited . . . waited . . .
"Immediately."
"Indeed." Severus lifted his gaze at last. "Is it really so difficult to obey simple directives, Potter?"
"No, sir."
"I beg to differ. You have consistently gone against the advice and requirements of Madam Pomfrey and myself, often to your own detriment, I might add. I am curious as to your reasoning. Is it just that you consider yourself above the rules? Or do you truly have some sort of aberrant mind that the very concept of doing what you're told does not even occur to you?"
The boy set his jaw, with that slight lift to it that Severus had seen on his first day, a defensive maneuver, to be sure, but was there something more to it? "I follow the rules."
"When it suits you."
Seemed the Brat had no answer to that. In fact, he looked away, nibbling on his lower lip.
Now they were getting somewhere. Where, Severus had no clue, but he would find out, oh yes. Regarding the boy through narrowed eyes, he considered what to do with him. Clearly there was a pattern to the Brat's regular dismissal of the edicts of others, and Severus would need to determine what that was, precisely. "For this evening's detention, I require an essay of no less than two feet, due tomorrow night. The essay will contain an explanation from you on which rules you feel it behooves you to follow, and which it does not, citing examples from both Hogwarts and your home in Surrey. You are dismissed."