Chapter 22 – A Spark of Hope

. . .

The day was Friday, which meant it was a double potions day. Harry slipped into the classroom just before Professor Snape, taking the only open seat next to Millicent Bulstrode. The morning's class was all about preparing the ingredients for the brewing they would do that afternoon. The subject for the day's class was to brew an Antidote to Common Poisons.

Professor Snape lectured them on the properties of the potion, what went into it as well as what the finished product should look and smell like. He was very clear in stating that he doubted any of them would be able to brew it correctly. With a wave of his wand, the directions for the potion appeared upon the blackboard. Harry wrote them down on a piece of parchment just so he would have them handy. It was not uncommon for Professor Snape to remove the directions partway through the class.

Harry was reading over the instructions he had written when an oddly shaped object bounced across the workbench and came to rest atop the parchment he was reading. Harry reached down and picked the item up. It was rather hard and seemed to be made of plant fibers, hair, and other things that weren't so readily identifiable. After a moment's pause, Harry set the Bezoar within easy reach of the witch next to him and hastily removed his hand before she could accidentally touch him. Even though he was wearing his gloves, there was no sense in taking a chance, he reasoned.

The young wizard returned to reading the directions, reaching only the third line when the same item flew out and hit him in the side of the head before falling onto the table. Turning to regard his tablemate, he saw that Millicent wore a slightly embarrassed expression. "Sorry," she mumbled as she hastily retrieved the item.

Not trusting his luck, Harry turned back and made it appear as though he was reading the directions once again. In reality, he was watching the witch beside him. It seemed rather strange that she would just up and throw a bezoar at him, not once but twice. It wasn't like he wouldn't know it was her, after all, considering the direction it came from.

Millicent dropped the bezoar into the mortar, and taking the pestle in hand began to attempt to grind it up. This process went on for several seconds before the frustrated witch raised the pestle and slammed it down rather forcefully. The oddly-shaped item of undigested bits taken from a goat's stomach shot out of the mortar like a freshly loosed bludger. Harry's Seeker reflexes kicked in, and he managed to catch the bezoar before it could strike him in the face once again.

"It is not going to work that way," Harry offered, figuring that if he didn't set her straight, he might lose an eye before the class was finished. Setting the bezoar down, Harry turned and opened his potions kit, selecting one of the knives used to prepare ingredients. The boy, used to cooking, quartered the bezoar much, in the same manner, one might cut a clove of garlic. "Give that a try," Harry suggested.

Millicent took one piece and dropped it into her mortar before applying her pestle to it. The young witch was a little amazed at how much easier it was to ground it up this way. "Thanks," she told Harry as she continued to work the pestle. "It's much easier to do this way. I wonder why the directions didn't say that."

Harry just shrugged, not knowing the answer to her question. He soon had his own bezoar quartered and was working at grinding it into a powder when he realized that Millicent was doing it wrong. The witch was pounding the bits of the bezoar into the mortar with the pestle. "Do it like this, Bulstrode," he whispered aside, showing her how to push down while twisting the pestle while rocking the pestle back and forth at the same time.

Professor Snape walked by shortly afterward and watched Millicent as she worked. "Good technique, Miss Bulstrode. Five points for Slytherin," the man awarded her before moving on to the next table where he had to hastily stop Neville Longbottom's caldron from melting even though caldrons were not in use at the moment.

"You're pretty good at this, Potter," Millicent said while everyone's attention was turned towards the table Neville was at. Professor Snape was dressing down the boy for being a dunderhead and having absolutely no aptitude for the refined art of potion brewing.

"Please, just Harry," the boy replied without looking up from his work. "It probably wouldn't be good if the other Slytherins saw you speaking with me, Bulstrode," Harry cautioned her. "I wouldn't want you to get into any trouble on my account." There was also the fact that it was dangerous to be around him. However, he didn't want others knowing that if he could help it. Professor Dumbledore had said to keep it quiet after all.

Millicent stopped and stared a bit gobsmacked at the boy beside her. People didn't care about her, ever. The young girl knew that Pansy only kept her around so that she would have someone to speak to as both Davis and Greengrass were hold up with Potter more often than not. In most cases, she usually just went along with what others wanted as no one cared what she wanted, not even herself. The fact that Harry Potter might actually care about her well being made no sense whatsoever to her. "You didn't answer my question," she finally replied with.

Harry, seeing that she wasn't going to let the matter drop, sighed internally. "I've been cooking for my relatives since I was five. Brewing potions isn't much different than cooking, at least when it comes to preparing the ingredients," he hastily added, recalling how Professor Snape had commented on the difference between cooking and brewing that first time Harry had made the mistake of implying they were the same.

"You can cook?" Millicent asked in disbelief. He's just full of surprises, she thought. When she had first seen who had sat next to her, she had dreaded the class. Judging from what Draco and Pansy had to say about Potter, Millicent thought that she would be forced to listen to the pompous windbag all through class. Millicent felt she got more than enough 'Look at how great I am' from Draco without needing to hear it from anyone else as well. Rather than chat her ear off, Potter was rather quiet, and when he did speak, it was to help her in some manner.

"Yea," Harry confirmed somewhat dismissively as if it weren't that big of a deal. Cooking for the Dursleys was normal, after all. As far as he knew, all kids cooked for their families. He'd never really thought about it or been able to get close enough to someone else to ask. Dudley and his friends were always there to make sure Harry didn't become friends with anyone.

"I burn water," Millicent confessed before she could stop herself. The young witch braced herself for the laughter that was sure to come. Only there wasn't any, a fact that amazed her yet again.

"No one is a good cook right from the start," Harry whispered. "It takes practice, much like potion brewing." The young wizard took a piece of unicorn horn and slowly began to ground it up in his mortar. "The important thing is not to give up. If it is something that you really want to do, then you keep at it until you can do it."

At a momentary loss for words, Millicent reached for the next quartered piece of the bezoar and dropped it into her mortar before starting to grind it as Harry had shown her. Instead of laughing at her admission as most others would have done, Potter was actually offering her encouragement instead. He's not at all like what Malfoy said he was. "Thanks, H…Harry," Millicent finally voiced. "My friends don't usually try and encourage me to do things. They're much quicker to tell me that I'll never be able to do it instead."

"Do you really want to learn how to cook?" Harry asked as he continued to work on his unicorn hair. The witch beside him gave a quick nod. "Then you shouldn't let others tell you what you can and cannot do," he advised. "If you let others dictate your life, then are you really living it?"

"Is it easy?" Millicent asked after a bit as she worked on the last piece of her bezoar. "Cooking, I mean," she hastily added to clarify.

"Hardly," Harry replied with a small grin. "When I first started, I burnt just about everything. I got loads of beat…yelling at for that," Harry told her, catching himself just before saying he was beaten. "But, in time, I got better at it." It wasn't like he had much of a choice in the matter. A belt had a way of imparting an incentive to learn and learn quickly to the young boy of five. "Just don't give up."

"I don't know," Millicent groused hesitantly. "I think my friends would just make fun of me again if I tried." The one time she had tried cooking, insisting that she wanted to give it a go as a possible career, her own parents had gotten a good chuckle out of the results. The Bulstrode house elves to this day began hiding the pots and pans whenever she happened to step into the kitchen.

"No offense to you or your friends, Bulstrode," Hartry replied, "but I think you need more supportive friends then." Harry almost added 'like I have' to his reply, but at the thought of his friends, a pain of missing them blossomed in his chest, and he found himself slightly choked up and unable to say more than he had.

Millicent looked up with a thoughtful expression on her face for a long moment before replying. "You may be right, Harry," she stated. "It's Millie," she added, turning to face the wizard with a smile on her face. "My friends call me Millie."

Harry paused in his grinding. "Are you sure that is wise," he inquired softly. "Won't the others be angry with you if you're friends with me?" As much as he would like to have another friend, Harry was sure that due to his hands and their dangerous touch, he would have to keep his distance just as he was doing with the Outsiders. I'm sure that would confuse Bulstrode to no end. Harry also didn't want the witch to get into trouble with their housemates on his account.

The smile slowly slipped from Millicent's face as the truth of his words sank in. She had very little doubt that she would be shunned and tormented just as Harry was if it was to be discovered that they were friends. He's actually worried about me, and what might happens to me, Millicent thought silently as she pondered what to do. "What…what if we didn't tell anyone?" she asked as she turned back to her work.

Harry wasn't even sure how that would work. The more significant concern though was his touch and what it could possibly do to the witch should an accident happen. "Bulstrode, as much as I appreciate the offer, right now, it's probably best that you stay well away from me." Harry no more wanted to hurt her than he did the Outsiders. Why must I always be so different from everyone else, he asked himself in his head for perhaps the thousandth time.

The young witch had allowed her hopes to stir, thinking that perhaps she had finally found someone who she could be friends with. Not because they needed her to protect them or because of what family she was from but rather because they actually just liked her. The young girl knew she was large and to some intimidating due to her size and appearance. Millicent also knew she wouldn't be winning any beauty pageants, especially when compared to the likes of Pansy or that Greengrass girl. "If you didn't want to be my friend, Potter, all you had to do was say so," she said gruffly as she quickly returned to her work of grinding ingredients.

Harry watched the witch beside him pick up her pestle and begin to pound at the already ground bezoar in her mortar. A heavy sigh escaped as the young wizard's shoulders sagged. "It isn't that at all, Bulstrode," Harry tried to explain. "It just isn't safe for you," he added in a low whisper, hoping no one else could hear. "It isn't safe for anyone."

Many thought Millicent to be rather slow. Being big and strong meant that you must have mush for brains, after all. Crabbe and Goyle both epitomized this opinion. The young witch was far from stupid, even to the point that the sorting hat had almost placed her in Ravenclaw. If it hadn't been for Millicent asking to be sorted with Pansy, it very well might have. Millie's eyes looked over and down at Harry's hands. She had at first thought that the famous boy just didn't want to get his hands dirty and so he wore gloves. "Your hands," was all she said.

Harry hesitated before giving a brief nod. "You can't tell anyone. The Headmaster asked that I keep it quiet while they figure out what it is," he explained softly. Technically Harry reasoned that he hadn't told her, instead Bulstrode had figured it out on her own. The question was, would the Headmaster see it that way as well.

It took only a moment for the young witch to reply, "Your secret is safe with me, Harry. Under one condition." Seeing the wizard's questioning look, she added with a smile, "You have to call me Millie!" the young girl stated, a slight pink tinge to her cheeks. "At least when it is just the two of us," she hastily added.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Harry felt a grin creep onto his face. "You are not going to let that go are you?" he asked, only to see the witch beside him give a shake of her head. "Alright, Millie," Harry relented. "Then you have to call me Harry. No more Potter or any of that Boy-Who-Lived rubbish," Harry said, only to receive a nod of agreement from the witch beside him after a moment's hesitation.

The two returned to their work, and before they knew it, the morning class was done. As the young witch and wizard packed up their things, leaving the ingredients on their places for after lunch, they were stopped by their Head of House. "Mister Potter, I will need you to remain after class." The Potion Master looked towards Millie and added, "Good work today, Miss Bulstrode. If you continue to improve in this manner, there is hope yet for you to one day be a Potions Mistress should you so desire."

Professor Snape turned and strode toward his office door without a look back, clearly believing that Harry would follow him. With a slight shrug of his shoulders to Millie, Harry did just that. Once inside the Professor's office, Harry stopped at the spot before the large desk and waited to be told why he was there. A quick glance about the room showed that it hadn't changed a great deal since the last time he had been there. The fumes still made him feel a bit light-headed, but it didn't seem as bad as last time.

"You were instructing Bulstrode," Snape said in a tone that made it clear it wasn't a question. The Potions Master regarded the boy before him, reminding himself yet again that this was Lilly's son. As if seeing her green eyes in Harry's face wasn't a reminder enough.

"Yes, Sir," Harry answered, his eyes dropping towards his shoes. "She just needed a little help," Harry added. No sense in getting Millie in trouble as well, Harry thought.

"And you felt qualified to give her that help?" Snape asked with a slightly arched brow. "My eyes are up here, Mister Potter. I expect you to look at me when I am speaking to you!" Snape snapped.

"Yes, Sir!" the young wizard exclaimed, his head jerking up at the professor's words. "I mean No, Sir," Harry answered as his shoulders slumped dejectedly. "I'm sure I'm not qualified to help anyone," Harry said as his head once again drooped towards the floor.

Snape sighed softly at seeing the boy's posture. "If I wanted to stare at the top of your head, I would have said so, Harry," Severus said in an effort to ease the boy's fears. "It would appear that your instructions were sufficient enough to assist Miss Bulstrode. She showed a marked improvement in today's class compared to previous ones. Five points to Slytherin for helping a classmate," Snape said.

Harry's head shot up, his eyes large with disbelief. "Thank you, Sir," he managed to say, wholly dumbfounded that he was receiving points for helping Millie. He didn't really feel as if he had done anything special.

"I am certain that the Headmaster has informed you just how dangerous your situation is. The gloves, while offering a modicum of protection, cannot be relied upon to always protect those near you. It is in everyone's best interest that you stay as far away from others as you can," Snape said, his eyes dropping momentarily to look at the youth's glove encased hands only to see Harry self-consciously hide his hands behind his back.

Harry hated the fact that this had happened to him. That he had to be away from his friends. That there was yet something else that singled him out as different from everyone else. In the same sense, though, he did realize that keeping his distance was to protect those very same people. The young man squared his shoulders and replied, "I understand, Sir." Understanding apparently did not always equate to liking.

Severus couldn't help but wonder if the boy actually did understand. There was just no telling what Harry's accidental touching of another student would do and what the potential fall out that could bring. The media alone would have a field day if they discovered that the Boy-Who-Lived's touch was now deadly. Should a son or daughter of an influential family like the Notts or the Malfoys be injured, he could only imagine what a mess that would cause.

"I know this can't be easy for you, Harry," Snape said, his features and tone softening slightly, wishing there was something further he could do for Lily's child. "I'm sure that the Headmaster would have some rubbish to say about doing what is right instead of what is easy. Sadly I am not the orator he is, though I think you will agree with me when I say it has been a long time since our Headmaster was young as well," Snape added with a smirk, causing the boy to grin as well.

"I'm sure your friends miss you as much as you miss them," Snape continued with. "School is an important time in your life when you make friends who will hopefully be with you for the rest of your life." The Potions Master paused, thinking of Lily and the time they had spent at Hogwarts as friends till he had mucked it up royally. What had followed that had not been fun. Years spent without any real friends. It had been a rather lonely time for the half-blood Prince boy.

"I'm certain Professor Dumbledor, and Madam Pomfrey will have me sorted soon enough," Harry said. After the Professor had sat there for a few moments saying nothing, Harry added, "Will that be all, Sir?" It was lunchtime after all, and Madam Pomfrey expected him to eat his share of food. Harry did not relish the thought of disappointing the mediwitch.

"What?" Snape asked as he pulled his thoughts back to the present. "No. I would like your assistance with a few experiments the Headmaster has asked me to perform. In fact, they cannot be performed without you."

"Me, Sir?" Harry asked in disbelief. I'm just a first-year, he reasoned. What could I possibly do to help Professor Snape?

"See anyone else here?" Snape asked in the way of reply. Before Harry could answer, the Potions Master was out of his seat and had crossed the room to a workbench. "You will stand there," the Professor stated, indicating the place directly across the bench from where he stood. Once the boy was in the proper position, the Professor continued. "Remove your gloves and wash your hands," Snape instructed, pointing to a large bowl of water that was on one end of the bench.

"But, Professor," Harry hesitantly said.

"I am well aware of your hands, Potter. We must do some tests to determine exactly what is the cause of your particular…affliction is the term I believe Pomfrey used," Snape said.

Left with little choice in the matter, Harry stipped off his gloves, placing them in his pocket, and dipped his hands into the surprisingly warm water. As quickly as possible, being sure not to touch the bowl in the least, the young wizard washed his hands before turning back toward his Head of House expectantly. Harry held his hands out, letting them drip dry as there didn't appear to be a towel he could dry them on. Not that he would have used it had there been one. He had already ashed several sheets and wasn't looking to add towels to that list.

While Harry was busy washing his hands, the Potions Master set out several items on the tabletop. A glass jar, a block of metal, a rock, and a small pumpkin. "I would like for you to pick up each item," Snape instructed. The professor watched very closely, pausing to jot down notes on a piece of parchment every now and then.

Harry gave a mental shrug and did as requested. Each item, in turn, after only a second or two, started to turn to ash. Once the last one was done, Harry moved his hands to his sides, making sure they weren't touching anything. "I don't understand, Sir. We already knew that whatever I touched would turn to ash."

"Did we?" Snape asked in return. "We knew that the nightstand made of wood dissolved, but that was all. We now know that metal, organic, and mineral will do the same. Additionally, it appears that liquid may not be affected," he added with a nod towards the bowl Harry had washed his hands in. "When researching a problem, one can never assume something," Snape instructed. "You must test a hypothesis and prove it true or false, Mister Potter."

"Yes, Sir," Harry replied with a slight nod of his head that he understood. "What do we do next, Professor?" Harry asked, deciding not to volunteer that he had already tested his touch on several items about the school. No sense in admitting to destroying school property, he thought.

"We continue with the experiment, of course," Snape replied. "Turn your hands palm upwards and then place them on the table." Harry did as instructed, though somewhat hesitantly. After a few moments of nothing happening, the young wizard's shoulders relaxed. "It would seem your affliction is limited to the area of your palms and fingers," Snape stated. With a quick flick of his wand, wood grew from the table and encased Harry's wrists.

"Professor?" Harry asked with a hint of worry in his tone.

"Relax, Harry. I merely need to immobilize your hands so that you do not accidentally touch anything you're not intended to touch," Snape explained.

"No, it is not that," Harry clarified, "My hands are starting to tingle."

"That would be the numbing solution I had you wash your hands in," Snape told the boy. "It is all part of the experiment," he added as with another flick of his wand, a rod of wood grew from the table till it reached the height of Harry's chin, at which point a cross piece grew horizontally. "Please place your chin on there," Snape instructed.

Harry, once again left with little choice, did as instructed. It really wasn't all that surprising when the wood expanded and encircled his head, holding it in place. Realizing that he couldn't really do anything, fear began to build within the young boy.

Perhaps sensing Harry's apprehension at being immobilized, Snape reached across the table and laid one hand on Harry's should. "Relax, Harry," he instructed the boy. "I need to make certain that you can neither see or feel your hands. Can you?" Snape asked.

"No, Sir," Harry replied, taking a deep breath and trying to calm himself. He's trying to help me, Harry told himself over and over again like a mantra. As his panic had begun to rise, the young wizard could hear the soft whisper of wind within his head. The very last thing Harry wanted to do was lose control of his magic right then. "I cannot see or feel them," Harry clarified.

"I will now begin to perform a series of tests on your hands, Mister Potter," Snape informed the boy across the table from him. "Should you at any time feel anything you are to let me know immediately. Is that understood?" he asked.

"Yes, Sir," Harry replied quickly. Several minutes passed as the professor, using his wand and various other instruments such as a pair of tongs, did stuff to his hands that he could neither see or feel. "Professor, do you have an idea of what might be causing this?" Harry finally asked into the silence that had stretched on for several minutes.

"I am certain you have heard by now that magic is intent-based," Snape replied after a moment's pause as he finished setting up several detection spells.

"I swear that I do not intend for everything I touch to turn to ash!" Harry hastily exclaimed.

"Possibly not," Snape agreed.

"Possibly?" Harry asked, more than a bit confused by the man's response.

"I agree, you are not consciously willing everything you touch to turn to ash, Harry," Snape answered only to look up and see the confused expression upon the boy's face. "That would be impossible for any first year to do. There are a great many things that our bodies do, which we have no real conscious control over. Take breathing, for instance," Snape explained. "Do you sit there and tell your lungs to fill with air and to exhale it each and every time?"

"No, Sir," Harry answered.

"And yet you do breathe in and out, repetitively, all day and even at night while you sleep," Snape pointed out. "Your subconscious handles those things."

"Subconscious?" Harry asked in a bewildered tone.

"It would take a great deal more to explain that, Harry," Snape stated, the corners of his mouth nearly turning upwards in a smile as he recalled a lengthy discussion from a lifetime ago that he and Lilly had concerning that subject. The memory brought with it a pang of regret and a touch of loneliness "What were you doing just before you discovered your affliction?" the Potions Master asked, suddenly all business once again.

"Madam Pomfrey told me that I should get up and move around," Harry repeated what he had said before. "I had to use the loo, though less so after we discovered my affliction," the boy added.

"And before that?" inquired the professor.

Harry looked thoughtful for several long moments before answering. "I was thinking about what happened to Professor Quirrell and the stone. I destroyed the mirror, and because of that, the Flamels will no longer be able to go on living."

"Feeling a bit guilty about that were you?" Snape asked as he stepped away from the table and gathered a few beakers and other items from the shelves in his office. Returning to the bench, the professor set his items down as he continued. "You do realize that if you hadn't done what you did, that in every likelihood many more would have perished, and they would be but the beginning? The Dark Lord would spare none that he thought a threat to himself."

"So I have been told, Professor," Harry replied in a thoughtful tone. "That doesn't make it any easier, though. Because of me, people are dead. I'm a killer, just like Voldemort is. It may have been for a good cause, but that doesn't change the fact that people will die because of me."

"Perhaps that is what makes you different than the Dark Lord and his followers," Snape offered as he arranged the items on the bench. "In the last war, Death Eaters cared very little for who they killed. I can assure you that they didn't lose any sleep over the victim's deaths either," Snape added, a hard edge entering his voice as he recalled those dark times. "Yet, you feel remorse at even the death of your enemy."

"Did you fight Death Eaters during the war, Professor?" Harry asked, wanting to change the subject from his past deeds and the deaths they had caused. He had heard a lot of people mention the last time Voldemort rose to power; however, it seemed very few wished to speak of the details of what happened. Perhaps they think I'm too young to know?

"In a sense," Snape replied evasively, not wanting to get into that particular subject. As a spy, the potions master had worked for both sides and in a sense, had aided and abetted in the death of members from both the light as well as the dark. Such was the life of a spy after all. "We are not here to talk about that, though, are we?"

"No, Sir," Harry was quick to reply, attempting to shake his head as well only to be reminded that he could no longer move it. Across from him, the potion mater's brow creased in thought. "Professor?" Harry enquired in a questioning tone.

"Most remarkable," Snape said absently as he removed an item from the boy's hand and levitated another into its place. This would make the sixth item he had placed there, and none had suffered any ill effects from the contact with Harry's palms. "Most remarkable indeed."

"What is?" Harry asked, trying to look down at his hands even though the wood prevented it.

"Harry," Snape said, his eyes looking up and capturing the boy's emerald ones. "I'm going to reach out and clasp your hand in mine," Snape declared.

"No! You mustn't!" Harry exclaimed rather loudly, attempting to withdraw his hands which were held firmly in place by the wood of the workbench. The young wizard watched in horror as the potions master reached across the table and grasped his hand. Harry closed his eyes in disbelief, waiting for the man to scream as Quarrell had, only to hear nothing. Hesitantly he opened his eyes and watched as his head of house raised his hand into view, completely uninjured. "How?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"That is a good question, Mr. Potter," Snape replied. "Why are you here at Hogwarts?" he asked instead. It was a good opportunity to teach the boy something, after all.

"Because I received a letter saying I had been accepted," Harry replied, and then hastily added, "and because Hagrid came and fetched me."

Snape gave an exasperated eye-roll. "What does Hogwarts do?"

"Teaches us how to control our magic," Harry answered, wondering what exactly the man was getting at.

"That is perhaps a bit of a simplification of the matter," Snape corrected. "Magic is about intent. We, as wizards, use our intent to shape the magic to our will," he continued to explain. Seeing a confused look on Harry's face, the potions master took a breath and proceeded to explain. "You have learned the wand-lighting spell?"

"Lumos. Yes, Sir," Harry replied, still bewildered and confused. "What does that have to do with my affliction, Sir?"

"Fewer questions and more paying attention, Mister Potter," Snape replied sternly before continuing. "Do you think it is the word Lumos that gives the spell its power?" The professor could tell from the look on Harry's face that was exactly what he thought. "You would be incorrect if you did," Snape continued with before Harry could respond. "You are taught that the word Lumos powers the spell so that when you attempt to cast the charm, you believe that it will work by saying Lumos."

"If it is not the word that powers the charm, then what does?" Harry enquired, his young mind trying to grasp what the professor was telling him.

"You do, you dunderhead!" Snape snapped, causing the boy to flinch from the unexpected noise. Drawing a slow, calming breath, the professor continued. "Or more accurately, your magic does. You believe the word is the charm, and so your intent is for the word to light the tip of your wand. What is the counter charm?"

"Nox," Harry quickly replied.

Severus held up his wand and said, "Nox," in a commanding tone. It was rather amusing to watch the boy's eyes grow round in surprise as the tip of his wand lite up. "Lumos," Severus intoned, snuffing out the light, just to complete the demonstration of his point. "It isn't the word, but rather the intent and the caster's magic, that fuels the spell, Mister Potter. Those who can do silent casting use no words at all, mind you."

Harry's brow creased in thought for a long moment before he asked the logical question. "Then why teach us the words if they aren't required?"

"There are many reasons, Harry," Severus replied as he dismissed the wood holding Harry's head in place with a flick of his wand. "Long ago, before there was a Hogwarts or schools for magic, wizards would take on apprentices. They passed down what they knew to them, instructing them in what they knew. So they learned to use the same words for a charm just as their teacher had learned from his teacher. Much of what we call Family Magic is similar to this."

The professor continued to straighten up as he lectured. "When Hogwarts was established, it made it easier to teach everyone the same words to a charm rather than have everyone use a different word. It was also discovered, I believe, that not everyone has the capability to use just any word. Never doubt the power of belief, Harry. A person who truly believes in something will more often than not make it work. Try and convince someone that the sky isn't blue sometime and you'll see what I mean."

"It isn't?" Harry asked in disbelief.

For a moment, a small smile crept across Severus's face as he recalled a long, drawn-out conversation between Lily and himself where she attempted to explain about the molecules of air in the atmosphere and the blue lightwaves and why they made the sky appear to be blue. "Your mother tried to explain it to me once, but I didn't fully understand it," Severus confessed. "Perhaps the Granger girl will have better luck with you if you were to ask her," he suggested.

"You knew my mother well, Sir?" Harry asked softly. Having no memory of his parents, the young boy hungered for anything he could learn of them. Hagrid had told him some stories but had left out a great many of the details. He couldn't help but hope that the professor would be able to tell him something about his parents.

"As I mentioned previously, I did know her well," Severus replied after a long pause. It was difficult for him to speak of the departed witch. His heart ached at the memory of her and just what his own foolish actions had cost him. "Lily and I grew up together," he said in a softer tone. "We were friends long before either of us came to Hogwarts. Before she knew your father or his friends."

"What was she like?" Harry asked. For a long moment, there was an expression on the professor's face that Harry couldn't read. Then, as if someone had flipped a switch, the look vanished only to be replaced by the usual indifference visage that the professor was well known for.

"As I stated previously, Lily Evans was a very capable witch," Snape replied, having finally locked his emotions away once again. "Even if she did have some rather peculiar muggle notions on how the world worked," he added with the barest hint of a smile. "But we are not here to speak of your mother, are we?"

"No, Sir," Harry replied, failing miserably at trying to hide the disappointment in his voice.

Severus regarded the boy before him for a long moment, a small spark of sympathy going out to Harry despite his best efforts to keep the boy at arms distance. "Perhaps another time we can speak of her, Harry," he offered. "Lily is a subject that is painful to speak of."

"I understand," Harry replied even though he genuinely did not. "I believe you were explaining to me why we use certain words for charms and such?"

"Correct," Severus was quick to agree, glad for the change of topic. How does one tell a child that his mother is dead because of your actions? Pushing the thought to the side for another time, one late at night and with the right snifter of brandy for accompaniment. "Magic is all about intent," he reiterated. "It is my belief that your hands currently have their affliction because you subconsciously will them to".

Seeing Harry about to protest, Snape held up one hand to forestall him. "You no doubt feel guilty over the death of Quirrell and the loss of the stone. This has manifested itself in your current situation." Severus was glad to see the boy pause and weight his words. So unlike his father, he mused silently. "When you were unable to feel your hands and had no knowledge of something touching them, the items were unaffected," he went on to explain.

Harry paused upon hearing the professor's words. He did sort of recall laying in bed and looking at his hands and thinking about what had happened with Quirrell. "But I don't want to hurt anyone, Professor," Harry blurted out, his brow creased in thought.

"I don't doubt that, Harry," Severus stated in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. "It is very likely that were you ever to actually touch someone you wouldn't hurt them at all. Not a fact we want to put to the test though," he hastily added. "The good news is that if I am correct, then it is only a matter of teaching you to consciously control what is happening."

"Control it?" Harry parroted back, his tone uncertain with just a touch of hopefulness.

Snape gave a curt nod. "Just as you can control your breathing when you choose to, you should also be able to control this," he explained. "Given enough time and practice, this should be no different," Severus assured the boy. With a wave of his wand, he freed Harry's hands.

"Thank you, Sir," Harry voiced. "For wanting to help me with this." All his life, no one had ever wanted to help him with much of anything. Certainly not his relatives or even his teachers, who were overworked and underpaid. "I am not sure why you are helping me, but I am thankful none the less."

Snape regarded the boy before him for a long moment. "This is Hogwarts, and I would be remiss in my duties as a professor if I did nothing. You came here to learn, and this is no different." I owe your mother a debt that I can never repay as well, Severus thought silently to himself as he watched Harry slip his gloves back on.

"How do I learn to control it then, Sir?" Harry asked as he wiggled his fingers within the gloves to get them situated on his hands correctly. It was a bit more challenging to do when his hands were numb, but he didn't want to take any chances and accidentally destroy something by touching it. Once satisfied that they wouldn't come off, he turned his gaze toward his Head of House.

"The same way you learn everything else, practice," Severus replied as he walked around the table and made his way to his desk. Opening a drawer, the potions master withdrew an ornate wooden box and set it on the desktop before motioning Harry over. "These are Chinese meditation balls," he explained as he removed two of the three metal balls and held them in the palm of his hand for Harry to see.

Severus deftly moved his fingers and palm so that the two balls moved in a circle about his palm. "This box," he started with, indicating the carved box the meditation balls came from, "has been enchanted. When you remove a ball from the box, a new one will appear." Almost as if to prove his point, two new metal balls shimmered into existence in the box.

"Wicked," Harry breathed out softly, his eyes glued to the magical box.

"Yes, very," Snape replied dryly. "For the next week, you are to have two of these in your hand at all times," Snape directed. "You are to keep them in motion so that you are consciously aware of them being there. You may move them from one hand to the other. In fact, you should probably do so every hour."

"Without my gloves on?" Harry asked a bit fearfully.

"Merlin, no!" Snape exclaimed. "We would all be living in a pile of ash if you were to run amuck for an entire week without those gloves on!" Severus took a calming breath before continuing in a less exasperated tone of voice. "After a week, we will attempt to remove a single glove and see how it goes from there.

Harry gave a weary sigh. He had hoped that, like the gloves, there would be some quick fix to his problem so that he could return to his friends. "How long do you think it will take, Sir?" he finally asked.

"That is entirely up to you, Harry," Severus replied. Seeing the dejected look that appeared on the boy's face, the potions master added, "You have to truly believe that what you touch will not turn to ash. It is your magic, and it will only listen to you, Harry." Severus watched as the boy's shoulders squared, and a determine set appeared upon his face.

"I understand, Sir," Harry replied. "I'll do my best, Sir!"

"I will accept nothing less from one of my snakes, Mister Potter," Snape stated in his usual no-nonsense tone. "You don't have very long before your match against the Claws, so I would suggest you do your very best. If I lose the house cup because we couldn't field a Seeker I will be rather cross."

Harry's expression faltered for a moment. "About that, Sir," Harry stammered. "I didn't think it would be safe for me to play, so I told Flint that I couldn't."

"I am well aware of what you told Mister Flint," Snape replied as he stepped over to the chair behind his desk and seated himself before returning his gaze to Harry. "I will not have Slytherin losing the House Cup this year. Certainly not due to one of the best fliers I have seen grace these halls in a long while backing out because he is scared."

"But, professor…," Harry started to protest only to be cut off.

"Lily wouldn't have given up so easily," Snape said, knowing what effect it would have on the boy. A little manipulation can go a long way, Severus thought to himself. "Your mum was one of the most courageous women I have ever known, not to mention the stubbornest as well! Once Lily set her mind to something, there was nothing that would stand in her way."

"I have little doubt that you will overcome this latest problem," Snape continued in an encouraging tone. "Harry, you have accomplished a great deal in your short life so far. You've survived a killing curse, reduced hundreds of books to pins, defended three witches from a troll, and defeated a Dark Lord for the second time. Given all that, do you really think that something as insignificant as this will stop you?"

"N…no, Sir," Harry stammered, both surprised and caught off guard by the unexpected praise. Seen in the light of his Head of House's words, it really didn't sound like this would be all that difficult to overcome.

"Now off with you," Snape said with a slight shooing motion of one hand. "I have little doubt that Madam Pomfrey is awaiting your presence to make certain you have eaten a suitable amount. I believe neither you nor I, wish to envoke the anger of that Matrenly woman," Severus added, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly in a grin that he was attempting to hide.

Harry couldn't hide the look of fright that appeared on his face at the prospect of not following the Mediwitch's instructions. Hastily grabbing his book bag, he turned and sprinted toward the door only to be called back to collect the box with the meditation balls in them.

Once the Potter boy was gone, Severus leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "I'll do what I can for him, Lily," he whispered to the empty room. "I owe you that much. Let us hope it will be enough to get him through this."

-oOo-

"I must say," Dumbledore said, leaning back in his chair and peering at his potions master over the edge of his half-moon glasses, "I am rather surprised, Severus."

"I hardly see why, Headmaster," Snape replied. "He is one of my students, and I would be remiss in my duties if I were not to help him to the best of my ability." I can't have you thinking I've gone all soft on the Potter boy, Severus thought to himself. Truth be told, he wasn't exactly sure why he was going so far out of his way to help Harry other than that someone needed to. Well that and my vow to protect the boy. Strictly speaking though the affliction with his hands really doesn't fall into that category though, he told himself.

"But to go so far as to actually grasp his hand," Albus continued, one brow arching in question. "Or did you not take his hand?" the Headmaster asked, his blue eyes twinkling with mirth at what he suspected had happened.

"As far as Potter knows, I grasped his hand in mine and suffered no ill effects from it," Snape replied in a slightly bored tone, considering the matter already done and over. "You know as well as I do that students must believe that their spells and charms will have the desired effect. It is one of the reasons we show them the spell and outcome before we have them learn it. In seeing us do it, they believe it is possible."

"Belief is a powerful tool," Albus agreed with a small nodding of his head. "The question is, do you believe it will be enough for our young Harry?"

Severus gave a small sigh, not sure of the answer to that question. "If he is anything like his mother, it will be," he finally stated. Lilly Evans had been a gifted witch, one who didn't let little things such as 'it can't be done' or 'it's impossible' stand in her way. Severus could only hope that Harry was more like Lily than like James Potter.

"Then let us hope that he does indeed take after Lily in this matter," Albus said. "It was rather ingenious of you to deduce what was causing the affliction." The aged wizard watched his potions master closely. He had little doubt that it was difficult for the man to look upon Harry and not see James Potter, but he seemed to be doing just that. Albus could only guess at what it cost his potions master to do so.

"Not really," Severus disagreed. "Regret has many ways of manifesting itself, as I am certain you know, Headmaster." One did not play spy in war-time and not reap a fair share of regrets with the death of Lilly Potter being chief among them. Among all of Severus' regrets, that was the hardest to live with.

"Indeed," Albus agreed, his mind thinking of his sister briefly. It had never been clear just who's spell had killed Ariana, but Albus had always blamed himself for allowing matters to escalate to the point they had at the time. The two sat in contemplative silence for several long minutes before Albus shook aside his dark thoughts. "You will keep me apprised of his progress?"

"Of course, Headmaster," Snape replied, gaining his feet. The two exchanged their pleasantries, and the potions master took his leave.

-oOo-

Aurora Sinistra read through her course notes once again, finding it difficult to focus. It was Wednesday evening, and tonight she would have her favorite class this year. The first-year Slytherin and Gryffindor students. The reason for her lack of focus was due to knowing she would have to face a trio of witches who were heartbroken over the loss of one of their friends. Truth be told, she herself rather missed the boy.

"Aries is most certainly not rising for those three," she stated to herself. The astrological signs were unclear as to just what the future held. While Aurora was an Astronomy professor, specializing in how the heavenly bodies impacted spells, rituals, and other calendar events of the year, she also dabbled in astrology and horoscopes. Not that she would readily admit that to anyone. Many felt it was on the same level as Divination. "Professor Trelawney would be asking me to come by so we could compare notes if she knew."

The young professor turned her attention back to the lesson plan at hand after a short barking laugh at the thought of sitting up in the Divination tower sipping sherry. Try as she might Aurora couldn't focus on her work and with a resigned sigh, set the lesson plan down. Her thoughts once more returned to yesterday and the conversation she'd had about the very same young man.

"Excuse me, Headmaster. Might I have a moment of your time?" Aurora asked as she approached Albus Dumbledore. While she worked for the man, she was still only a few years out of Hogwarts herself and hence still held the man in a mixture of awe and respect as an authority figure.

"Ah, Professor Sinistra," Albus replied upon turning and seeing who it was that had addressed him in the hallway. "How is our youngest professor getting on this year?"

"Very well, Sir," Aurora was quick to reply. "I was hoping I might be able to discuss one of my students with you, Sir?"

"I am on my way to see our groundskeeper," the Headmaster replied. His position as Headmaster kept him busy seeing to the staff's needs. After meeting with Hagrid he had to hurry back for a meeting with his Potions Master. "If you don't mind walking with an old man," he added with a grandfatherly twinkle in his eyes as he gestured down the hall and for her to accompany him. "Now, what may I do for you?" Albus asked once the witch had fallen into step beside him.

"I am rather concerned with Mister Potter missing classes," Aurora stated, getting right to the point. "I cannot stress enough how important these first classes are as they lay the foundation upon which the next several years will be built upon. Mister Potter has already missed one class and will most likely miss tomorrow's unless there has been some change in his status?" The youngest professor at Hogwarts paused and looked toward the wizard beside her, hopefully.

"I am sorry to report the Mister Potter's condition has not altered," Albus replied as they reached the grand stairway and proceeded downward. "Is there nothing you can do to help Harry?" While he had every faith that Poppy would eventually determine what the cause was, and no doubt what the cure would be, he still wished to afford Harry every opportunity to learn that he could provide in the meantime.

Aurora may have been imagining it, but it seemed as though the stairs, well known for waylaying students and faculty alike, snapped into place precisely as the Headmaster went to step upon them. "Perhaps if one of his friends were allowed to come and share their notes with him?" Aurora suggested. If nothing else, that will at least get one of them in to see him, she figured.

"Though I am sure young Harry would be most thrilled to see one of his friends, alas that too is not possible I fear," the Headmaster replied as they reached the ground floor in record time and made their way toward the front doors of the castle. "Perhaps a copy of the notes? Miss Granger's I am certain would be adequate." The two stopped at the doors and looked out at the pouring rain. "Ah, beautiful Scottish weather," Albus said with a wry smile. "If you will excuse me, Professor?"

"Of course, Sir," Aurora replied automatically as the Headmaster drew his wand, and a conjured umbrella grew from it only to expand out to cover a large area. Without another word, the elderly wizard stepped out into the rain without getting so much as a drop of rain on his robes.

Thinking back on the brief conversation with the Headmaster, Aurora realized that she hadn't learned a single thing that she hadn't already known. The intelligent woman had a suspicion that even if they had talked for an hour, she wouldn't have learned anything that the Headmaster didn't want her to know. "There is a lot we're not being told," she mused aloud in frustration as she turned around to make her way back to her office.

With as rather resigned sigh Aurora picked up the lesson planner once again and tried to focus on it only to be halted by a knocking on her door. With a silent thanks to The Powers that Be for the reprieve from the lesson planner, she called, "Come in."

The door opened partially, and ahead of unruly black hair and two emerald eyes stuck themselves through the opening. "Good evening, Professor," said Harry as his eyes darted about the room to make certain no one else was there. "Are you busy?"

Aurora hastily dropped the lesson planner to her desk and clasped her hand over it. "No! Absolutely not! Please come in, Harry," she answered, waving the boy forward.

Harry stepped past the door and closed it behind him but made no effort to move further into the room. After a long pause, he asked, "How are you, Professor?" While it was, in fact, the polite thing to ask, Harry was curious as well. He hadn't seen Aurora for some time, and truth be told, he rather missed her. The young astronomy professor had quickly become a favorite of the Outsiders. Not to mention that she had personally helped Harry out several times.

Aurora, who had just been about to voice the very same question, paused for a second. "I am well, Harry, though I can't help but feel I should be the one asking you that question." Aurora leaned forward a bit to get a better look at the boy. "How are you, Harry?"

"Well enough, I guess," Harry replied. "Considering," he added only to trail off without adding anything further. To do so would be to give away the issue with his hands, which the Headmaster had forbidden him from doing.

"Considering?" Aurora enquired with one raised brow. "Care to tell me what is going on?" From what she could tell, Harry did look well. There were no signs of any issues as far as she could tell. I'm sure that no matter what was going on, Poppy would make sure he is at least eating correctly, she thought, recalling the current issue with Harry's health and eating habits.

"I can't," Harry told her, his voice sounding a bit sad by that fact. Coming here had been a bit of a risk. Harry had suspected that the professor would ask him questions. Questions he couldn't answer for her. Even if he wanted to.

"Can't or won't?" Aurora pried. Knowing Harry's past homelife, the young witch couldn't help but be worried for the boy. There was something about him that just made her want to protect him. Even when no one else would.

Harry gave a small shrug. "A bit of both, I suspect," he offered finally. "The Headmaster said that I'm not to speak about it."

"Is there anything I can do for you, Harry?" Aurora asked, wanting to help the boy but feeling as if she was being stopped on every front. While she was sure that the Headmaster had his reasons, she also thought that it was placing a burden on Harry that no eleven-year-old should have to face. Children do not thrive in isolation, she reasoned silently, both furious as well as frustrated by the situation.

"Actually there is," Harry replied, his expression brightening slightly at her words. The wizard slipped a folded piece of parchment from his robes. "I know tonight is our class, and I was hoping you might pass this along to my friends?" The young wizard reached out and set the parchment on the nearest desk.

"Finally, letting them know what is going on, Harry?" Aurora asked. They had spoken previously about this issue and just how his disappearance would make the friends in his life feel. At the time, she had turned it around on Harry and asked him how he would feel if they did that to him.

Harry gave a brief shake of his head. "No. I took your advice from the last time we spoke. I know I wouldn't like it if one of them suddenly disappeared on me without some reason for doing so. I let them know that they had to stay away from me last week," he explained, a stab of sorrow blossoming in his chest at the memory of that confrontation.

"How did they take it?" she inquired. Aurora's curiosity had once again gotten the better of her before she could stop it. In the short time the quartet had been with her, she had grown rather fond of their group, and seeing the three witches depressed and listless last class had not been an enjoyable experience. From what she could tell, Harry wasn't fairing any better than the others from the separation.

"Not that well," Harry admitted, his expression turning sad as he recalled the meeting in the hallway outside the Charms classroom. "I couldn't really explain it to them," he continued, "So I showed them why I can't be around them."

"Is it really that bad, Harry?" Aurora asked.

"I could accidentally hurt one of them. Possibly even k..kill one of them," the boy stammered at the very thought of something like that happening to any of his friends. "It is best if everyone stays away from me, professor," Harry added with a resolute nod of his head.

"I am assuming that Madam Pomfrey is aware of this matter and is working with you to resolve it?" Aurora inquired. I'll just have to get her to tell me what is going on, she reasoned. I'm overdue for a visit with Poppy anyway. Maybe after the evening meal I'll nick a bottle of Trelawney's sherry and pop round for a visit in the hospital wing.

Harry nodded. "She is working on it," he assured Aurora. "Professor Snape believes he may know what the issue is and has been working with me for the past week on it. I'm off to see him actually when I leave here." Harry reasoned that the Headmaster hadn't said that he couldn't tell people what was being done. He disliked hiding things from Professor Sinistra, so he had decided to tell her as much as he could.

"Then I guess we shall have to wait for them to alieve you of your affliction and those basilisk gloves," she said, catching the wizard off-guard by her comment.

"H…how did you know they were basilisk gloves, Professor?" Harry asked, self-consciously hiding his hands behind his back.

"When I was still attending Hogwarts, I once dated a person who's family was licensed to raise basilisks for the Ministry," Aurora replied. "For Yule, they gifted me a pair of basilisk skinned boots. I still have them, and they are by far the most comfortable footwear I own!"

"You dated?" Harry asked without thinking.

Aurora feigned a mock scowled at his question. "Of course I dated. I wasn't always a crotchety old professor, you know!"

"No, Ma`am," Harry exclaimed, hastily back peddling. "I meant… Well, it's just that you're so young," Harry stammered quickly. "Dating is for when you're older, isn't it?" Dating was a mystifying concept to most eleven-year-old boys and even more so to Harry, who had a very sheltered life thanks to his relatives.

"You'll find out soon enough," Aurora answered with a grin, thinking of three witches who might educate the young boy in such things one day. Not for a couple years yet, at least, she hastily added to herself. "You'd best be off. I'm sure you don't want to keep Professor Snape waiting for you."

"Yes, Professor," Harry replied, turning and reaching for the door. "Thank you," he tossed over his shoulder as he scampered from the room.

Aurora smiled, watching the boy leave, feeling a bit better than she had before his visit. Of course, being called young doesn't hurt either, she mused. "Quite the charmer that one is," Aurora said until her eyes fell upon the parchment left on the last desk in the room. "What to do with you now?" she asked as the smile slowly slide from her face.

A quick check of the time showed that the evening meal had started not all the long ago. "If I hurry, I might be able to deliver this now," Aurora said as she rose and made her way from the office, retrieving the parchment as she passed its resting place. As luck would have it, all three witches were seated at the end of the Slytherin table where their group always gathered at mealtimes.

Aurora made her way along the outer side of the Slytherin table as if heading to the staff table. To any casual observer, it would appear as though she merely stopped to speak with several of her students. The young professor laid a hand upon the tabletop as if to gather their attention. "Ladies, are we ready for this evening's class?" she inquired.

"Yes, Professor," All three witches answered in unison. Further down the table, Blaise looked away from the conversation he was having only to see their Astronomy Professor talking to the other Outsiders. Thinking nothing of it, he turned back to the discussion of Quidditch and the upcoming Slytherin match against the Claws.

"Professor," Hermione opened with, asking what was on all three of their minds at the moment. "Have you heard anything regarding Harry?"

Aurora could tell from the rapt attention of all three girls as they await her response that Harry was the first and foremost thought on all their minds. "I have learned nothing new," she informed them only to see their shoulder droop in disappointment. "I did, however, just speak with Mister Poter before arriving here," she added. It was like going from night to day as their hopes rose once more.

"Did he say anything," Tracey asked.

"Is he alright?" Daphne inquired hastily.

"How is he?" Hermione asked at the same time as the other two voiced their questions.

Aurora smiled softly at seeing how much they obviously cared for the wizard. "He said a great deal, Miss Davis," Aurora teased, "I hardly think he would visit to stand there at my door as a mute."

"Professor!" the three witches whined in unison.

"Mister Potter looked to be in good health," Aurora finally answered. "He did seem a bit sad, but I suspect that it isn't easy being all alone. At least you have each other," she pointed out. "Now if you will excuse me, I would like a bit to eat before I have to try and educate you this evening," she said with a small smile.

As soon as she was seated, Auror watched as Hermione was the first to see the parchment she had left on the table. She watched as the bright witch opened the parchment and started to read, only for Hermione's eyes to grow wide and her head to whip about and look toward the head table. Aurora couldn't hide a grin at the witch's hopeful expression but managed to give a brief nod in answer to Hermione's questioning look. After a quick word, the three witches were out of their seats and hastily heading from the hall.

-oOo-

Hermione turned back as soon as she received a confirming node from Professor Sinistra. "Follow me, now!" she demanded before quickly rising and nearly running from the great hall. Left with little choice in the matter, Daphne and Tracey promptly followed suit.

"Wait up, Hermione," Daphne called as she and Tracey hurried to catch up with the Gryffindor witch as Hermione turned the first corner and continued along the passageway just short of a run.

Tracey was just about to add her voice to Daphne's when Hermione stopped and threw open the door to a classroom. After a quick look inside the to make sure there was no one in there, Hermione motioned the other two witches in.

"What's this all about, Granger?" Tracey asked as she turned to face the other witch.

Hermione closed the door behind her and then turn to face her friends. With shaking hands, she unrolled the parchment, turning it to face Daphne and Tracey. "It's a letter from Harry," she exclaimed, still slightly winded from their mad dash from the Great Hall.

"Let me see that," Tracey demanded, pulling the parchment from Hermione's grasp before the witch could stop her. Tracey quickly looked at the letter. "Blimey! It is a letter from Harry," she confirmed.

"Well, don't just stand there!" Daphne exclaimed. "Read it!" Hermione and Daphne stood there expectantly as they watched Tracey's eyes go back and forth for a few seconds. "Outloud," Daphne growled with an exasperated eye roll.

"Oh, right," Tracey said, looking up and offering an apologetic grin.

My Friends,

I hope I may still call you that. I know I haven't been the best of friends, and you would be right to be cross with me at this moment. I genuinely do miss all of you, and there isn't a moment that goes by where I don't think about you. Being alone most of my life, I never knew what I was missing until now. Breakfast without Tracey's smile or Blaise's incessant talk of Quidditch (any meal and Balsise's Quidditch talk actually) just isn't the same. I miss Hermione's hugs and Daphne's as well. I guess that is what it means to have friends.

Nothing has changed with my current state though Professor Snape is working with me in the hopes of controlling whatever this is. He has high expectations and believes in me. Personally, I just think he doesn't want to have to find a new Seeker for the quidditch team. Still, it isn't often that people believe in me, and I feel I really don't want to let him down, so I will do my best.

I don't have much luck with keeping friends. I can but hope that my luck doesn't hold true this time and that for just this once history doesn't repeat itself. I am ever so glad that you have each other, and I hope you will carry on as you have in my absence and continue to be the Outsiders we all are. With a spot of luck and some hard work, I may one day again be able to sit with you, and we can all roll our eyes as Blasie prattles on about Quidditch. Until then, know that I remain, always, your friend.

Harry

Author's Note:

I know, you thought this story was dead. Truth be told, I was beginning to think that same as well. The Muse decided to surprise me with the remainder of this chapter…only three years in the making! Now before anyone starts to scream that Snape is OOC, please realize that I'm not writing what JKR did but rather my own spin on it. Therefore, Snape is precisely as my story needs him to be. Suspend disbelief and just roll with it, please. I haven't a clue as to when the Muse will give me the next chapter, but I promise to keep after her about it.

Suggested Reading: In the Mind of a Scientist (8551180) by ZenoNoKyuubi – Harry Potter wasn't raised like in canon. He was top of his class, and very intelligent, always seeking to improve things, and so he learned all kinds of things, and, upon entering Hogwarts, started studying all he could get his hands on! – If you are a fan of an Intelligent Harry, then this story will be right up your alley. Give it a read, and hopefully you'll find it as enjoyable as I did ~EJ

As always, your reviews are not required, but they are greatly appreciated.

Kind Regards,

EJ Daniels

All characters within this story, unless otherwise stated, are the sole property of J. K. Rowling, the original writer of the Harry Potter series.