kbinnz - Harry's New Home

"What!" Now Harry was on his feet, and both the pitch and volume of his voice were rising rapidly. "You can't do that! I have to play in the match! Everyone's counting on me!"

Harry stared at his professor in horrified disbelief. Yes, he'd been bad. Yes, he deserved to be punished. But Snape couldn't possibly mean to ban him from the match! Not after he'd worked so hard! Not when he was the youngest Seeker in years! Not when he was planning to make the man so proud!

Harry was pants at so many things in this new world, but flying was something everyone admitted he did brilliantly. Now he had the perfect chance to go out and show his professor that he didn't have to be ashamed of his ward, that there actually were some things that Harry did well, even if he was a needy, weepy, stupid little mess a lot of the time. He was going to show Snape that he could be proud of him, and nothing was going to stand in the way of that, not even Snape himself.

"You can't!" he repeated, his voice cracking. "I've got to play. You can take away my broom for two weeks, starting tomorrow!"

Somehow he had to make the man understand. Oliver and the others were counting on Harry to win the game. The older boy had practically said as much during their practices, and now if Harry weren't there, they'd lose and it would be all his fault. He would let the entire House down. And тАУ even more importantly тАУ he wanted to show his professor how much he loved his new broom. When he caught the snitch on his Nimbus, it would show everyone at Hogwarts how great his guardian was to him. He just had to play тАУ he HAD to.

"No, Mr Potter," Snape repeated again, his voice hardening. "You will not be playing in today's match."

"Harry, you don't want to be grounded for two weeks, or you'll just miss more games," Ron chimed in, trying hard to stop his best mate from self-destructing. He knew from his own parents that trying to renegotiate a punishment rarely worked тАУ and often led to additional penalties.

Harry ignored both of them. "I don't care what you say," he shouted at Snape defiantly. "I am going to play today! You can't stop me!"

"Mr Potter," Snape leaned forward and lowered his voice dangerously, "if you are laboring under the misapprehension that I would hesitate to halt the game, remove you from your broom, and smack you for disobedience before the entire stadium, let me correct you here and now. You are being punished for an insane act of folly and all the screaming in the world will not change that."

A very small part of Harry's brain was jumping up and down and begging for him to shut up, but the rest of it had apparently been taken over by Dudley Dursley. All of the frustration and anger within the boy exploded in a completely unprecedented tantrum. "I HATE YOU!" he screamed at Snape, ignoring Ron's slack jawed presence. "YOU'RE AWFUL AND MEAN AND I HATE YOU! YOU'RE A TERRIBLE GUARDIAN! I WISH YOU WERE DEAD! I DON'T WANT YOU AS MY GUARDIAN ANY MORE! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!"

He fled from the table and his guardian's cold, frozen expression, hurtling back to the sanctuary of his room. A loud slamming of the door echoed through the quarters.

Interesting. He didn't try to leave and seek refuge among his fellow Gryffindors, Snape mused. Perhaps we ARE making progress. All of the books had mentioned that emotional outbursts were part of the "healing process", and to be honest, Snape found rage a much more comfortable emotion to deal with than misery. A furious Harry was much less disturbing to him than a tearful one, perhaps because Snape himself could empathize more easily with anger. He had long ago shed his last tears, but тАУ as any of his students could attest тАУ he regularly had towering rages of his own.

Ron gulped. He'd been too scared to say much during Harry's eruption, and he was rather amazed that Snape hadn't interrupted it with a sound slap to Harry's bum. His own folks probably wouldn't have been half so tolerant if he'd pitched a similar fit at the Burrow's breakfast table. "Erm, c'n I тАУ I mean, may I go and see if he's okay?" he eventually squeaked.

"Hm?" It took Snape a moment to focus on him. "Yes. Go ahead," he nodded in an abstracted fashion, obviously deep in thought.

Ron didn't wait to be told twice. He eeled out of his chair and hurried down the hallway. As he'd expected, Harry was sprawled face down on his bed, sobbing himself sick.

Ron bit his lip, trying to remember what Charlie or even Percy used to do to comfort him when he was the one bawling his eyes out after a tantrum. He settled gingerly on the side of the bed and patted Harry's shoulder cautiously, rather as if dealing with a potentially dangerous crup. "C'mon, mate," he urged. " 'S'not that bad. Don't take on so."

Harry just sobbed louder. "I hate him! He's ruined everything!" he shouted, his voice half-muffled by the pillow.

"Yeah, well, he is pretty strict," Ron agreed soothingly, "but y'know, Harry, it's not like he's being that unreasonable. I mean, we screwed up pretty bad last night, an' I think you scared him something awful."

"I don't care. I still hate him."

Ron sighed and kept patting his friend's shoulder. Had he ever been this obstinate? "Well, I don't think you'd really like it if he ignored what we did, like he didn't care if you lived or died," he pointed out. Harry gulped and shuddered, but he didn't actually disagree with that statement, and heartened, Ron pressed on. "And c'mon, Harry тАУ you're kinda being a little selfish, mate," he said teasingly. "You're already getting to play Quidditch a whole year ahead of the rest of us. Missing a single game isn't going to kill you."

"It's not that!" Harry argued, propping himself up on his elbow. "Oliver said they were counting on me!" His face was flushed and blotchy with tears and snot, and his breath came in shuddery gasps. "I'm not trying to be a prat, Ron, honest! But I hate letting people down."

Ron frowned, beginning to understand the other boy's agitation. "Harry, do you think you're the first player to miss a game?" At Harry's suddenly uncertain expression, Ron couldn't suppress a laugh. "Blimey, mate, this is a school! Players are always getting detention and having to miss a game. In Charlie's sixth year, he missed three games in a row because he got caught trying to smuggle his Care of Magical Creatures term project into the dorms. He was lucky McGonagall didn't yank him from the team altogether. And another year, the captain of the Slytherin team was grounded for half the season though I dunno what exactly she did. And with injuries an' all, the captains are always expecting to have to make some substitutions. It's not that big a deal, Harry. I promise. Wood wasn't even that surprised when I told him this morning. He just said to tell you your spot's waiting for you when you can fly again."

Harry hiccupped and sniffled. "R-really?"

Ron grinned in relief. "Yeah, you prat. Sheesh тАУ thinking you're the most important person on the whole team before you've even played a single match! Somebody got a bit of an ego trip going or what?" he teased.

Harry squirmed and wiped at his face. " 'S'not like that. I just haven't ever been on a team before or had friends like I do here. I didn't want people to stop liking me 'cause I don't keep my promises."

His friend snorted. "Yeah, like that's gonna happen. Harry, it was a TROLL last night. We're lucky not to be grounded 'til we graduate! Everyone understands that."

Harry managed a watery smile. "Yeah, I guess we did get off pretty lightlyтАж" His voice trailed off as a look of utter horror crossed his face, and Ron spun around so fast he nearly fell off the bed.

There was nothing behind him to account for Harry's expression, and he turned back inquiringly. "Mate, what is it?"

"Oh, no," Harry breathed, his face chalky white. "Oh, no."