Return To Innocence

Return To Innocence
Chapter 1 - How it all began

"Argh! I can't find it! It's nowhere to be found! Oh gods, I think I really handed it in with my Potions report!" Harry Potter threw himself onto his bed, hugging his pillow to his face. "What should I do? I hope he doesn't see it."

"Maybe you'll get good grade for it," Ron grinned.

Harry sat upright and looked at his best friend. "You don't give good grades to someone who makes a horrible sketch of you."

"What did you draw?"

"Snape with fangs, sharp ones…" Ron's eyes widened and he burst out laughing. "And.. added a Hitler moustache."

"You're in real trouble," Ron said, in between laughs. Someone stirred on a nearby bed and groaned in frustration about wanting sleep. The redhead eventually stopped laughing.

"And you're a real friend." Harry threw his pillow at his friend before getting off his bed to open his trunk. He pulled out a silvery cloak. He donned the cloak and disappeared into thin air.

"Where are you going?"

"To Snape's office," Harry said as a matter-of-factly. He could almost hear Ron's jaw drop to the ground as he walked out.

"At this hour?!"

Harry wished for his Marauder's Map. He wondered what Barty Crouch did with it and where it was now. He sighed. The night air was chilly and the halls were empty. He froze when something went past him and he realised it was Peeves, probably up to some mischief again. He reminded himself to continue down to the dungeons and that he was invisible. He wished Ron were with him.

In fact, Ron had wanted to go with him, but Harry pointed out that they had grown and both of them would not be fully covered by the Invisibility Cloak.

However, Harry could have sworn he heard his best friend let out a sigh of relief when he left the room. It seemed that Ron didn't really want to go after all. You can't really blame Ron though, he thought, it's your fault that you handed in the picture.

Harry approached the door to Snape's office and turned the knob. The door was locked. Well, of course it would be locked, he thought to himself. It was Snape's office after all, and given the antics of pranksters like the Weasley twins, all the more reason there was for it to be locked.

Finding the Invisibility Cloak a bit of a hindrance, Harry looked around cautiously before removing the cloak. He stuffed it into his robes. Now, if only he remembered what Fred and George taught him and Ron about sneaking into Snape's office…

Someone cleared his throat behind Harry.

A lump formed in Harry Potter's throat.

"Potter, I trust that you're beyond the age of sleepwalking," the familiar, crisp voice made Harry cringe inside.

"Uhm…" Harry turned around, feeling a little apprehensive. He swallowed the lump as he glanced at the stern face, whose eyes bore him down and made him feel like he was six, not sixteen. He tried holding his head up, but his eyes found the floor extremely tempting to look at. What could he tell Snape? That he came out for a night walk? In the dungeons? Definitely not. That he was lost? Even though he's been in this school for a few years? The Professor would most certainly not believe him, given his dislike for the famous Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.

Snape folded his arms. He looked at Harry and sighed inwardly. There was no point in chastising the boy and launching himself into a verbal argument with him. He was not in the mood to give a long lecture on it, but for the boy's sake - which made it the umpteenth time that he had to look out for Potter's back given the boy's inability to look after himself - it appeared that he had to say something.

"It seems to me that either you have a bad habit of wandering around the school in the dead of the night or the Weasley twins' mischief has rubbed off on you. Thirty points from Gryffindor," Snape drawled. "Go back to your room, Potter, before I change my mind and give you a week's detention. I won't be as kind today if I ever catch you out of your room at night again."

So, being most un-Snapely, he dismissed him without asking for an explanation. Harry stood there, expecting more. "Well?" Snape folded his arms.

"Uh, night," Harry said without thinking as he considered his luck and scooted back to the dormitory.

Once he was in the privacy of his office, Snape sat at his desk, kneading his forehead with his fingers. The Dark Mark was itching in his arm but he tried to ignore it.

The Dark Mark, with all its intricacy, was like a haunting blemish that constantly reminded him of the peril that came with it. He was a follower of Voldemort-- a Death Eater. He never regretted his decision to side with Dumbledore in the war against He-Who-Cannot-Be-Named, even though he knew his decision would keep him on his toes all the time. If he did not act the flagitious Death-Eater he should be well enough; but any gesture, no matter how small, might very well lead him to his grave. Perhaps hours under the Cruciatus Curse before the final Unforgivable Curse -- the Avada Kevadra, also known as the Killing Curse.

The door creaked open. "I thought I might find you here," Dumbledore said as he entered the office. "You should be resting in your private chambers, not here."

"My office feels more comforting to me right now, thank you," Snape murmured as he leaned against his chair. "And I think you should curb the boy on a leash-- I just caught him prowling just outside my office."

"Harry?"

"Who else?"

"A little active -- like someone we used to know, isn't he?" Dumbledore took a jar of newts off from one shelf and examined it.

Snape snorted, "I believe 'rambunctious' fits the bill perfectly."

There was a brief moment of silence before Dumbledore returned the jar to the shelf. "Severus," the headmaster said as he sat down in a chair opposite Snape, looking at him seriously in the eye. "There's something I thought I should inform you about."

Snape noted the change of tone in Dumbledore's voice, and felt the atmosphere grow heavier. "What is it?"

Night? Oh sure, trust myself to come up with that after Snape, Snape!, of all people, caught me outside his office.

The Boy Who Lived was tossing and turning on his bed. His roommates were all already dozing and dreaming. Even Ron, who was pressing him to hear what happened earlier, was probably well in dreamland by now. Ron had been unconvinced by Snape's abrupt dismissal, although Dumbledore had claimed that Snape, a Death Eater, was on their side. Ron doubted the idea of the "greasy ol' git" as an ally. But Harry figured that you couldn't blame Ron for the hell he suffered in Potions class, though 'hell' would be a more appropriate term for Neville Longbottom or himself to say, given Snape's unhidden contempt for the two who ever so often disrupted his classes-- without the intention to do so, however unintentional it was.

Snape seemed neither to suspect him of breaking into his office nor appeared to have seen his little doodle, but then again, how can one read the Potions Master's mind when he only had one expression? Probably, the only time he didn't wear the icy, leering mask was when he was asleep. And about sleep… Harry pounded his fists against the bed and pushed his face into his pillow. After a while, deciding that he needed air, he turned to lie on his back.

Ever since the surprise meeting between him and Voldemort last year, Harry had been feeling less at ease than his first four years at Hogwarts School of Wizardry. He unconsciously fingered the lightning-shaped scar, which linked him to the very one that tried killing him. The scar was never really made by Voldemort, but just the resultant effect of love and hatred. Voldemort, who took the lives of his parents and others in cold blood, had used the same curse to kill Cedric Diggory right before his eyes.

Cedric, the compassionate Hufflepuff, who had not had the chance to run at all. There was just the flash of green light and he was gone. Harry closed his eyes and pushed those memories away. He needed sleep.

Then he tossed and turned. He curled into a ball. He tried lying on his sides. He tried counting sheep but gave up when other thoughts invaded his mind. It seemed that sleep was avoiding him. He reached for his spectacles and his wand and whispered, "Lumos" as he put on his spectacles. The wand gave a small glow of light. He looked at his watch. 12.43am.

He moved towards the window and looked out and up. The waxing moon glowed hazily behind the wispy clouds, and the stars spread out across the sky like carelessly strewn diamonds. Below the sky, the silhouette of the trees in the far-off distance (the Forbidden Forest swayed gently, which meant that there must be a breeze). It would be lovely to go out for a walk now… even though it was extremely early in the morning… even though he'd be in greater trouble if Snape caught him out there.

Outside looked alluring. Moon in the sky, bright stars, night breeze, and on the ground below, a reflection of the moon. No, wait a minute, Harry blinked, that was not a reflection-- it was someone near the base of the tower. Someone with light blonde hair, appearing silvery under the glow of the moonlight. There was only one student he knew with that hair colour-- Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. What's he doing at the base of the tower? Since he wasn't able to sleep, there would be no harm in finding that out.

Harry put on his robes and left the dormitory again.

"Why Harry, it's your second time out again," The Fat Lady in the portrait said as he hurried downstairs.

"I know."

Draco Malfoy knelt on his knees as he placed the furry creature in his arms to the floor. "There you go," he said wryly. "You nearly got me into trouble a couple of times, you know."

The Puffskein purred.

"Well, now that you're healed, I guess I'll leave you here." Draco nudged the Puffskein away from him, but the creature flashed out its tongue and licked Draco's hand instead. "Hey!" He frowned, but didn't take his hand away. The furry creature lay on the grass, and started to clean itself. Draco stood up, but felt slightly reluctant to leave.

The Puffskein had been with him for three days, since Friday, when he found it wounded near the Quidditch pitch after the Slytherins' training. It had apparently been struck by a bludger, yet --for the small creature-- which was about the size of a common cat, was lucky not to be struck in the head. He had a soft spot for creatures like this once, but hardened his heart because of his father, who believed that boys should not have soft hearts. It licked him as he examined it, and suddenly he felt that he should at least help to heal the creature. Madam Pomfrey was out of the question, because firstly, she treated people, not animals, and secondly, if other students got wind of this, his reputation would be tarnished. Draco sighed. The stress of being the hottest Slytherin could be overwhelming at times. So he had had to sneak the Puffskein to his dormitory, hide it in a perforated box under his bed and cast a silencing charm on it. Over the past two days, he had been making a mild healing potion for the creature.

The Puffskein stopped cleaning itself and perked its head upwards, looking around and gazed curiously at something. Draco followed the gaze to a row of bushes by the tower.

"Who's there?" the Slytherin said tentatively.

Blown! Keep still, Harry. Harry kept still. Oh come on, he's just Malfoy. It's not like he's going to lecture you or something, he breathe in deeply and walked towards Draco. "It's just me. What are you doing here?" He glanced at the Puffskein, which was now regarding him with interest.

"What am I doing here?" Draco folded his arms. "Taking a whiff of the night air, that's what I'm doing."

Harry sat by the Puffskein, which was now sniffing him curiously. He scratched the creature's head. "I didn't know you had a pet, Malfoy."

The Slytherin tried his best to look irritated, so that Harry Potter would remember who he was talking to and go away. "It is not mine. It's just a stray." Unfortunately, Harry didn't seem to hear him at all, so Draco just walked away. Harry looked at Draco's back, while the Puffskein immediately rolled over and starting trailing the other student.

Harry got up and brushed the dirt off his robes. He was quite surprised that the furball seemed to like Draco. Heck, he was even surprise that any creature would, because he was Draco Malfoy. Wasn't he supposed to be not likable?

"Oh quit following me, you.. you Puffskein!" An exasperated Draco pointed at the ground. "See here, stay. Stay!"

Harry eyed the whole scene with amusement. However cold and malicious Draco had acted for the past five years, Harry gathered, it was just an exterior -- a facade. "You didn't give it a name?" Harry grinned.

"Oh, sod off, Potter!"

Harry's grin widened. "What's wrong with it following you around?"

"Which part of 'sod off' did you not understand?" Draco glared at him, as the Puffskein rubbed against his leg. "Oh, go away!" He snapped at the purring creature.

"It's not going to go away-"

A sudden series of hooting interrupted Harry. Both of them looked upwards, only to see a tawny barn owl, clinging onto a package and flying erratically above them. They could hear a familiar poltergeist cackling inside the building. Obviously, Peeves must have frightened the owl out of the building.

"That your owl, Malfoy?"

"No," Draco said irritably. "My owl looks far better than that."

The poor, frightened owl dropped the package. "Oh," Harry whispered softly as he and Draco watched the package drop to the ground, while the Puffskein took a new interest in chasing after the barn owl.

The package crashed to the ground; the brown wrapping was blown to pieces; fragile glass within the packaging cracked and spurted its contents everywhere, especially at the two Hogwarts students standing nearby. Harry and Draco, who were surprised by the fountain-like spewing, barely had the chance to shield themselves or move away from it. The spewing stopped as immediately as it occurred. Harry and Draco stared at what was left of the package -- broken bits of glass and splotches of sea green liquid on the grass.

Harry used the back of his sleeve to clean his face and as he did so, he thought he saw the grass, where the liquid fell upon, disappear from the corner of his eyes. He blinked a few times before looking at Draco. "Did you see that?" He pointed at the patches of brown soil as Draco wiped the splotches off his clothes with undisguised disgust.

"See what?" The Slytherin muttered agitatedly.

"The grass that were in contact with the potion disappeared."

Draco frowned thoughtfully at the brown patches of soil. He then lifted his hands to examine the green stains and sniffed cautiously at it. It smelt faintly of fresh mint, but otherwise, he couldn't identify the potion nor decide if it was harmful. But since they were still standing here, with no apparent side effects, it might just probably be nothing more than some drink. Harry shuffled his feet, also unable to name the potion. He added a mental reminder to ask Hermione about it later. Draco abruptly walked away, without a word, towards the entrance into the school.

"Do you recognise the potion?" Harry called out to Draco.

Draco turned, folding his arms. "Famous Potter is actually asking a Malfoy if he recognises a potion?" He replied dryly. "Just because I didn't do anything to you outside there, doesn't mean that I've forgotten about a little score I have to settle between us. Go figure it out yourself." He turned back and walked through the entrance.

Harry mumbled angrily to himself, but with the intention of making it just about barely audible to Draco as he walked in after the latter, "If you don't know what is it, you didn't have to change the topic."

"I heard that, you prat."

"Whatever." Harry added, "You brat."

Draco turned again, and pointed his wand threateningly at Harry. Somewhere nearby, the sound of echoing footsteps, probably Filch, reached them. They glowered at each other for a while before they grudgingly acknowledged a temporary truce. "We'll settle this later, Potter." Draco withdrew his wand, stepped back and headed off in the direction of the dungeons while Harry stealthily made his way to the tower. Harry yawned, suddenly feeling exhausted, as he hurried to the seventh floor, murmured "Waffle Toes" to the Fat Lady, slipped into his dorm and under his covers.

Morning had broken. The rays of the morning sun streamed through the windows. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas had already left the dormitory. Neville, who had realised earlier that his toad was missing, finally found it under Ron's bed. "I think you should wake Harry up," Neville said as he grabbed his robes and left in a hurry, banging the door.

"Yeah, yeah, you guys go first, leave the morning call to me," Ron grumbled to no one in particular while putting on his shoes. He glanced at Harry's bed but he could only see the mess of black hair on the pillows with the rest of him under the blankets. "Hey Harry, it's going to be breakfast soon, wake up, mate!"

He pulled the blanket off the curled up, sleeping figure, only to reveal a boy lying on Harry's bed. "Okay, there's something very wrong here," the redhead gulped as he realised the boy looked very much like Harry himself, only a smaller version, complete with the trademark lightning scar.