Chapter 7

Harry surveyed the tree, running his hands over the trunk. With a quick grin he was scampering up it like a squirrel (if he had known what a squirrel was), and settling on the lower branches. But he wasn't finished, and stealthily he leapt higher and higher, until…

He gasped as he broke through the top and saw the sky.

For years the sky had been unimportant, a small blue patch among the buildings. But from his perch he could see the whole of the sky, and it was bigger than he had ever seen. And he had seen the Empire State Building.

All around him was green. The green of the forest, the brighter green of grass, but there was grey on the mountains, and a shining silver river that was woven into the valleys like ribbons.

Harry just stared, struck slightly dumb by the openness of it all before retreating back beneath the tree line.

"Good morning."

He jumped, looking down. A strange creature was staring up at him, considering him…

"What are you doing up that tree?"

It took a while for him to find his voice.

"What are you?"

The thing gave a soft chuckle.

"I am a centaur, young foal. I take it you have never seen my kind before?"

"I saw some horses once," shrugged Harry. "They smelled weird."

The centaur's face darkened a little.

"I am no horse," he said. "If it were not for your innocence many centaurs would have struck you down from that branch."

"Whatever," shrugged Harry. "I don't have time for this."

He peered over to the next tree, debating the best way to swing himself onto its branches.

"The distance is too great," said the centaur in a bored voice. "The trees are too far apart in this area of the forest."

"Fuck off."

"Tell me, child, what is your name?"

Harry hesitated.

"Doe. Harry Doe."

"Harry… Doe?"

"You've got ears, then."

"Indeed. And eyes. Should you not be in lessons?"

"Why? There's no point to them. Its not like I can read anyway. Reading's for wusses."

"Perhaps you should ask someone to teach you?"

"No way!"

"Ah, I see, you fear you will be looked down upon."

"What? No! Are you for real?"

The centaur frowned at him.

"What exactly is the meaning behind that question? I am here, so obviously I am real."

Harry just sniggered, then froze at the voice which echoed from below him.

"There you are."

Snape was now standing next to the centaur, arms folded and eyes flashing.

"Come on now, Mr P- I mean, Harry. It is almost lunch time."

"More food?"

"If you don't come down now…"

"I'm coming!"

"Good."

Snape turned to the centaur.

"Thank you for keeping an eye on him…"

"Firenze."

"Yes, thank you."

XXX

"Sit down please Harry."

"Aren't we going to the canteen?"

"No," said Snape, shutting the door to his private sitting room behind them. "The Great Hall is far to crowded for this conversation."

There was already food on the table, and Harry began to help himself. He had a feeling he knew where this was going.

"Can you read and write?"

He was surprised by Snape's bluntness. Most adults he had met had danced around the topic, trying to 'coax' it out of him. He respected Snape's nerve.

"No."

"Had you ever been in a classroom before today?"

"No."

Snape sighed. It was as he feared.

"Well it is obvious that lessons with the rest of your year are not going to be productive," he said. "We shall have to consider other options. Now, tell me, what are you good at?"

Harry sat up straighter.

"I'm totally awesome at picking pockets," he boasted.

"Yes," muttered Snape. He had already seen an example of that talent. "Anything else?"

"I can fight well, I beat up a guy once, he must have been five times my size."

"Again I already know," Snape's heart was sinking by the second. "Anything that doesn't involve stealing or fighting?"

"Well," began Harry slowly. "I can speak Spanish."

Snape nodded encouragingly, but his mouth hung open as Harry continued.

"And French, German, Japanese, Russian, Chinese… a bit of Italian…"

"You can do all that," gasped Snape. "But you cannot read?"

"Never learnt," said Harry defensively. "Why should I? If you speak to the tourists in your own language, it's much easier to scam them."

Snape resisted the urge to put his head in his hands. This was going to be even harder than he anticipated.

XXX

"Piss off."

Draco sat anyway, looking at his year mate curiously.

"You don't have to swear at everybody, you know."

Harry shrugged.

"It's easier than trying to be nice. It's better to swear, get the first word in before the other person can turn nasty."

"Not everyone's out to get you."

"Most are."

Draco rolled his eyes. By now he knew that arguing was pointless.

"I only came to ask if you wanted to go flying."

"I… what? Flying?"

"Yes. The older boys have volunteered to take us out to the Quidditch pitch to borrow their brooms."

"Take us where?"

XXX

The broom hummed in his hand, and he threw it another distrustful look.

"Now," said the fifth year. "You hold it like this, and then just kick off, you see?"

Harry pushed gently on the ground, and the broom rose slowly. He nudged the stick upwards to go a little higher, and laughed as he began to pick up speed. He was flying, on a few twigs and a stick. For the first time, he actually began to enjoy this magic lark.

In the shadows, Snape and Dumbledore watched as he began to zoom around the pitch, a natural talent that had not been seen since Charlie Weasley had left the school.

"He should be allowed to try out," said Snape. Dumbledore sighed.

"We cannot bend a rule for one Slytherin student…"

"He needs something to motivate him," argued Snape. "The boy is illiterate, you cannot allow him to remain in classes with the others. He needs something to keep him in touch with the rest of the school."

"We shall see, Severus. We shall see."