A new beginning

Changes

Harry stretched his body, feeling very well rested. One quick look around the room told him he was alone. This time, however, no low grumbling was heard from any of the nearby rooms.

Harry sat up in bed, scratching the back of his head. The room was well lit, regardless of the lack of windows, making him unsure of what the time was. Taking one last look around the room, he stood up. On the other side of the room, where the second sofa used to be, now was a table and a chair. On its top was what appeared to be a bowl of porridge, topped with cream and berries. Next to it was a folded piece of parchment. Harry walked towards it.

I will return shortly. The facilities will be to your right. Eat and do not wander. I will know.

Professor Snape.

Attempt to open any locked doors in my quarters and you will sorely regret it. Do not heed any of my rules, and you will so as well.

Harry folded the note back down with a roll of his eyes. Why did Snape feel the need to threaten him every few seconds? He was not a child. Of course, he was not going to go trying to open every door in Snape's quarters. He was not mental. Nor did he have a death wish. If he was going to try to find more information on Nicolas Flamel he was not going to do it while stuck in Snape's parlour and the man could return at any second. He was smarter than that.

Harry sat down with a sigh. He looked down at the bowl. Even though the food looked quite appetizing, he was not particularly excited at the prospect of eating porridge. It was baby food. And normally, at breakfast, they would serve all sorts of things in the dining hall. Things that he was missing. He picked up the spoon, and stirred the warm porridge, observing as the berries slowly sunk under the soft-coloured mush. He drove a spoonful into his mouth, looking up at the table. With a scowl, he pushed Snape's note out of the way. It was almost as he could feel Snape's presence in the room. As if he was standing right there, threatening him, rather than leaving instructions through a note.

Swallowing his fourth mouthful, Harry almost wished he was brave enough to leave the food and walk back to his tower. But he wasn't. It was not worth it. It was not worth risking his bum just to prove he was not a child. At least not because of something so silly. Breakfast. But he would show Snape, at some point, he would make him see that he was not a toddler as he continued to treat him like. He was eleven.

Looking slowly around the room, he noticed something. The door to the study was open. It meant it was not locked, and therefore, was not out of limits.

Harry quickly stood up, dropping the spoon back on the bowl. He picked up both items and made his way to the adjacent room. He carefully looked inside, making sure the room was empty. After finding it was, he opened the door the rest of the way and made his way in.

Somehow, the idea of being alone in Snape's study made a thrill run through his body. He knew, technically, the professor could not get angry at him. The door was open, and yet, he felt as though he was breaking the rules.

Harry saw the two chairs and the tea table returned to their normal positions and heights. All items had been cleared from Snape's desk. With one last look behind him, as if to make sure he was still alone, Harry headed towards the desk.

Carrying the warm bowl in one hand, he ran his left hand on the leatherback chair as he made his way around the chair. Carefully, he slid it back, making enough room to slip into the seat. He rested the bowl on one side of the desk, pushing it slightly to the side to make room for his hands directly in front of him.

Using his now licked-clean spoon as a quill, Harry pretended to grade assignments, smirking at the thought of being able to fail Malfoy. He also enjoyed the idea of handing detention after detention to every member of Slytherin while awarding multiple points to Gryffindor. Harry dropped his spoon back in the bowl. Behind the desk, on top of the lower cabinets of the bookshelf, was one lonely book. The side had faint marks of ink-printed fingerprints and it's pages looked very worn. He stood up and walked towards it.