Better Be Slytherin!

'As I thought. Here, however, you come under my purview, and I am not in the habit of letting students in my House disregard their health or well-being. You will attend your check-ins with Madam Pomfrey in the future, is that clear? Else you and I will have many long and tedious words on the subject.'

'Yes, sir,' almost a whisper.

'Good.' He rose from his chair. 'Get some rest. It is Saturday, and you have no reason to leave this bed unless Madam Pomfrey allows it.' He glanced in her direction, and she gave him a look that spoke volumes about the likelihood that Potter would be out of her clutches before the end of the weekend, never mind later today.

'Good night, Mr. Potter.'

'Good night, Professor,' the boy said, and leaned back heavily on his pillows, eyes closed already.

And so Severus went in search of the Bloody Baron, to get some answers from the old ghost. After two hours of searching and calling, however, he was unable to make contact with the ghost, and so, quite exhausted from the night's events, he made his way back to his quarters in rather a foul mood. He fell asleep almost immediately and suffered dreams of violence and bloodshed, such as he had not in over ten years.

TBC . . .

A/N: Thanks everybody for not killing me over the cliffie. I love you all, you know that, right? Right? Huge Harry hugs for all who read and review! Thank you for your support.

*Chapter 13*: Chapter 13

Better Be Slytherin! – Chapter 13

By jharad17

Disclaimer: Not mine. pout

Summary: As a first year, Harry is sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor, and no one is more surprised than his new Head of House.

---

Previously:

'Good night, Mr. Potter.'

'Good night, Professor,' the boy said, and leaned back heavily on his pillows, eyes closed already.

Harry did not wake again until afternoon, and then slowly, blinking heavily through gummy lids. It took long minutes for him to remember where he was: the school Infirmary. Again. After fumbling a moment for his glasses, he leaned back and stared at the ceiling far above him. The white ceiling had numerous patterns in it, whirls and dots and cones in the plaster or stone or whatever it was made of, and he traced some of these with his gaze as he tried to remember what had happened the night before.

The had a clear picture in his mind of the corridor where he'd met the Baron, and then the odd conversation with the ghost, but he felt -- like he had somewhat last night -- like he'd been missing some parts of it, as if the Bloody Baron was responding to things Harry hadn't said. And he remembered the aching, tired feeling -- still present, even after Madam Pomfrey's healing and potions -- after the Baron was gone, and the long trek back to the Slytherin common room. He could not remember, at all, how he'd come to have the chest wound and lose all that blood.

And Snape . . . he could have sworn, for a split second while they'd been talking in his office, before Harry had fainted -- and wasn't that going to be a joy to live down! -- that he'd seen concern in the man's eyes. Harry knew better than to think adults -- any adults -- could ever be concerned for a burdensome freak like himself, so he wondered what Snape was playing at. He also knew better than to display weakness, experience had taught him that showing any signs of a 'soft white underbelly' was like begging to have it ripped open by dogs.

Madam Pomfrey appeared beside him, pulling him from his musings, and he gave her a small smile. She returned it, a little wryly, shaking her head as she handed him a potion in an opaque bottle. He took it from her but did not drink. 'Mr. Potter. I would appreciate it if you could spend a good portion of the rest of the school year not under my care.'

''M'sorry,' he told her and ducked his head, watching her through his fringe.

Her eyes narrowed. 'I do not mean it like that, young man. I merely dislike seeing you requiring treatment again. I believe you have quite enough to be going on with, just getting used to magic and a new school, without throwing blood loss and shock into the mix. Now, drink that; it's to aid your body in replenishing your blood.'

He tipped the potion back, shuddering at the metallic taste -- almost like blood, except with an after burn.

She handed him another potion, this one orange, in a clear bottle. 'This is for pain. It's not as strong as the ones I dosed you with last night, but if you need something more, you will let me know.'

He wouldn't, but he nodded anyway. 'Yes, ma'am.'

Her eyes narrowed again, like she knew what he was thinking, but Harry just smiled innocently and poured the potion into his mouth. This one was nasty tasting, like phlegm and almost as thick, but he drank it all down. Once it hit his belly, a warm feeling spread through him, loosing the tight muscles in his shoulders, neck and back, and he sighed gratefully.

Madam Pomfrey watched him, nodded, and took back the empty bottles. 'Please let me know if you need anything, Mr. Potter. It is what I am here for, after all.'

'Yes, ma'am.'

She sighed then shook her head. 'You had some visitors earlier. A Mister Nott and Miss Bullstrode. They seemed to think they could fritter away the entirety of the afternoon at bedside. I sent them out, but I daresay they