Whelp II The Wrath of Snape

Startled, Harry spun around. In his haste, he slipped on the stone, twisted his ankle and fell backwards. It wasn't very far to fall, no more than a couple of feet, but he landed hard on more stone, on his back. His breath rushed out of him, and it hurt to draw another. Above him, framed by the castle behind her, was someone in Slytherin robes; he could tell by the green and silver patch. The girl had long brown hair and a short sort of face, and peered down at him through narrowed brown eyes.

'You all right there?' she asked.

'Yeah,' he managed to say once he got a little breath back, and pushed himself to hands and knees and then up on his feet. His ankle hurt, so he kept most of his weight off it. It was the same one he'd hurt when Dudley and his friends beat him up. His father had spent so long fixing it, Harry knew he couldn't let him know he'd hurt it again. His lower back hurt, too, but it was probably just bruised. He'd fallen worse before.

'Who were you talking to?' the girl asked again.

Harry shrugged and brushed stone ships and smeared moss off his palms. They were scraped and he blew on them a little to relieve the sting. 'I don't know its name. I think it was a boy, though.'

'A boy what?'

'Snake. Was just here. Must've got frightened when you came up.'

'You . . . were talking . . . to a snake?' The girl sounded a little choked.

Harry nodded. 'Uh-huh. It was hungry for voles. Do you know where I can get voles?'

The girl made another choking sound and shook her head. 'Does . . . does your father know you're out here?'

With a glance at Nelli, who had gone quite pale, and was trembling besides, Harry nodded again. But he really wanted to sit down. And it still hurt to breathe. 'But he's in class, so Nelli's got to watch me till lunchtime.'

'I think . . .' The girl reached down for his hand, and Harry hesitated only a second before taking it and letting her help him up over the rock, while trying to keep the weight off his ankle. 'I think he'll want to see you. '

'Really?' Harry asked. He'd be glad to see his father; he missed having breakfast with him and dinner and they'd only had one short story last night before bed. 'Okay!'

Limping along, but smiling, Harry accompanied the girl back to the castle.

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A/N: Thanks for all the enthusiastic reviews and encouragement for this story! I should have a new chapter out in a couple of days. Harry Hugs for everyone!

*Chapter 5*: Chapter 5

Whelp II -- The Wrath of Snape

By jharad17

Chapter Five

Disclaimer: None of this is mine. Honest. She's rich, blond and British. I'm not.

A/N: If you haven't read 'Whelp' before reading this story . . . well, why not? Really, you should, 'cause otherwise, you're gonna be plenty lost.

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When Rose Parkinson interrupted the Potions class just before lunch, with a quick knock on the door before she opened it, Severus glared at her hard enough to bruise. But then he saw who she had by the hand, and his heart clenched, at the same time as he strode toward the two of them. Could he have not one morning where everything went as planned??

'Harry,' he said in a low tone. 'What is the meaning of this?'

The boy looked up at him with confusion, one his hand firmly in Rose's, and the other clutching his kneazle close to his chest. Severus noted that his clothes were in disarray, as if he'd been in a fight. To Rose then, he said, 'What has he gotten into now?'

'I found him outside,' she said, almost whispering.

Nothing surprising there. Unless . . . 'Was he alone?'

'No, he had an elf with him.' She looked behind her, as if expecting the creature to still be with them.

'Then I fail to see what the problem is. Why did you drag him inside?'

Rose's gaze roamed the room quickly, and only when she saw the children – third years – keeping their attention on their potions did she continue, in an even lower voice, 'He was talking to a snake. An adder.'

And just like that, Severus's insides turned to ice, part abject fear, part horror. He remembered, when he'd first found Harry in the backyard of those Muggles, that he'd heard something like Parseltongue coming from just beyond his view, but he'd promptly forgotten those brief noises in the face of the utter depravity of the boy's captivity. Now it all came rushing back.

And an adder. Of all things for him to . . . he could have been killed! Steeling his voice to measured calm, he said, 'Thank you, Miss Parkinson. I will take it from here.'

'I just thought you should know.'

'Thank you, Miss Parkinson. That will be all.' His heart was threatening to beat its way out of his chest, and she wanted a medal?