Better Be Slytherin!

''Cause that would've been bad.'

'You have no idea.'

'Yeah, well, I'm not a shrink or anything, but even I know effing crazy isn't a great way to spend my life.'

'Shrink?'

'Head shrinker. You know, a psychiatrist.' Harry glanced up at the ghost to find him smiling bemusedly, head cocked to the side. 'It's a Muggle thing.'

'Ah.'

'Yeah.'

A long pause, then, 'Your scar . . .'

Harry jerked back involuntarily, nearly upending the bottle he was currently filling. 'What about it?' he growled.

'It appears more inflamed than yesterday.'

'It is.'

'Would you care to explain why?'

'Would you care to leave me alone?'

That time, the Bloody Baron laughed out loud. 'You're a cheeky thing, no doubt. Very well, Mister Potter. You explain why your scar looks like it's newly cut into your forehead, and I shall leave you in peace. For now.'

'For a week.'

'Alas, I still must discover the nature of the Parseltongue you heard during our fight.'

'Then choose one or the other.' Anger flowed through him like his own blood, and Harry's hand was trembling around the bobotuber pod. He stilled it with an effort and gritted his teeth. 'Look. I don't like being possessed, and I don't like having people poke around in my head and look at stuff they're not allowed to. And I don't like being blackmailed and I don't like being hovered over. So you get one piece of information from me, and then you get lost.'

The Bloody Baron was quiet for a long while, and Harry kept working, and trying not to think. At last, a sigh came from a little farther away. Seemed like the ghost had caught on about the hovering so close bit. 'Very well, Harry Potter. Tell me about the Parseltongue.'

Harry nodded. He'd known the ghost would ask for that one, and he'd been calling up the memory. 'The voice said, 'There has to be an end to it, an end to this half life,' and, 'I did not return to be disobeyed by a lesser servant,' and, 'You are weak, too weak; I need another to sustain me. Bring me his blood.' He said other things, but mostly variations on those.'

'Good,' The Bloody Baron said. 'That will help immensely.' He paused, and his voice was softer, smoother, when he continued, 'You do want to learn who tried to murder you, do you not?'

'Sure I do,' Harry said. 'But I'm more interested in keeping it from happening again.'

'Naturally.'

Harry finished filling up the thirteenth jar, capped it and labeled it, and started on jar fourteen. 'You're delaying on your end of the deal.'

'So I am,' the Baron said. 'I must admit, I do not wish to see any harm come to you on your trip back to the common room tonight.'

'I'm sure I'll be fine,' Harry told him, though he was a little bit afraid.

'Perhaps I will escort you, once you are finished with your most . . . intriguing task.'

'The deal--'

'I will wait outside this door until then. Will that suffice?'

With a sigh, knowing he was unlikely to get a better offer, Harry nodded. 'Yeah, all right.' Then, more grudgingly, 'Thanks.'

After another forty-five minutes of slicing and squeezing, capping and labeling, then cleaning up after himself, Harry exited Snape's classroom and headed back to the common room. The Bloody Baron floated along beside him all the way to the portrait, just like Snape had done . . . except the floating part.

'Thanks,' Harry said again.

'My pleasure,' the Baron replied. 'You have another session with Severus Snape tomorrow, do you not?'

'No, I mean . . . Oh, damn!' He did have detention, but he also had his first Quidditch practice. At the same time. Well, he'd just have to make up the detention later, since there was no way Flint would let him be on the team if he didn't go to practice. Even an extra week of detention would be better than getting cut. 'I have Quidditch practice tomorrow,' Harry said at last. He shrugged one shoulder, trying to look unconcerned. 'I'll make up the detention some other time.'

The Bloody Baron gave him a long look. 'And this has been discussed with Professor Snape?'

Harry looked away. He didn't want to talk to Snape, at all. And particularly not to ask if he could skip detention, 'cause he knew what the answer would be. Better to do the thing and beg forgiveness later. Not to mention, Snape must know when practices for Quidditch were; he was the Head of Slytherin, after all. And he wanted Harry on the team. Didn't he? 'It'll be fine,' Harry said. 'He won't mind.'

'I see.'

'Yeah, so, see you later,' Harry said, and slipped in through the portrait door. It was a long time before he fell