In Somnis Veritas

7

Harry twirled a piece of bacon around on his fork, but made no move to put it into his mouth.

"Take a bit of toast mate, go on," Ron encouraged him.

"Ron's right, Harry," Hermione agreed. "You're going to need your strength today."

"I'm not hungry," he told them both, flatly.

It had been a tumultuous few days thus far, what with Friday night's troll incident and their encounter with the three headed dog earlier in the week.

Then there was everything that had happened yesterday.

Harry's cheeks flushed as he thought back to how much of a baby he'd been – sitting on Professor Snape's lap, for goodness sakes! What was he thinking? He was just pleased that none of his classmates had seen.

So far, neither Ron nor Hermione had said anything to him about the way he had clung to Professor Snape in the girl's toilets, both likely presuming that fear had pushed him into it. He imagined they'd both have had something to say if they'd seen him yesterday.

Harry didn't know exactly what the potions master had done following his visit to the man's quarters, but sometime later he received a note from Quirrell advising him that there would be no need to recomplete the assignment. And Harry was quietly grateful that somebody, for the first time in a very long time, had gone in to fight his corner.

Now all he had to do was get through today's Quidditch match, without making a fool of himself or letting his house down.

A presence behind him brought Harry from his thoughts, and he turned to peer up at the new arrival.

"Good luck today Potter," Snape said, giving him a small smile – the best the dour potions master could likely muster up, Harry concluded. "Then again, now that you've proven yourself against a troll, a little game of Quidditch should be easy work for you. Even if it is against Slytherin."

Throwing his friends a quick glance, Snape continued on towards the teacher's table, leaving Harry silently thankful for his lack of reference to yesterday's events.

"Look, he's limping," Ron said suddenly, gesturing in the direction that Snape had gone.

Harry frowned, watching the potions master go. So he was.

"That'll be on account of the wound on his leg," Hermione told them.

Ron frowned. "What wound? I can't see anything."

"I saw it when he came into the girl's toilets last night. On his right leg. Didn't you notice it?" she asked.

The two boys shook their heads.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly! Boys! So unobservant."

"Well, alright Miss Smarty Pants. Since you know everything, how d'you reckon he got it?" Ron asked, miffed.

"It's obvious, isn't it? He must have been trying to get past that dog. To get his hands on whatever it's guarding," the girl said.

Ron's eyes widened. "So then, he let the troll in?"

She nodded. "He must have."

But Harry shook his head, slowly. "I don't think so, guys."

"Why not? He's a git. Have you forgotten how mean he was to you on the first day of classes?" Ron asked. "How else d'you reckon he got that limp?"

"I don't know. But I don't think Professor Snape would try to steal whatever that dog's guarding. You've got it wrong," he said, standing up. "I'd better get going. See you after the game."