The Hidden Hero

They flooed to Dumbledore’s office. The portraits lining the wall were expecting them and smiled, nodded or waved at Harry when he stepped out of the fireplace. Harry wasn’t quite sure how to respond to their calls of “Well done!” and “Welcome back!” He blushed awkwardly and was silent.

“I’m sure Harry appreciates your good wishes,” Dumbledore told the portraits. Harry gave a jerky nod.

Fawkes, Dumbledore’s phoenix, ruffled his beautiful feathers, demanding attention. When Harry turned toward him, the bird gave a welcoming trill and the teen felt a warm glow at the sound.

“Hello, Fawkes,” greeted Dumbledore. “I have not forgotten.” The headmaster walked over to his desk and picked up a wand laying there. Holding the wand loosely, he turned to Harry. “Ollivander claims that this is one of his finest works. He has worked on it for months. When it was done, he gave it to me to hold for you. He told me that he wanted to have a special wand waiting for you when you returned. While the wand typically chooses the wizard, Ollivander was sure that this wand would be a perfect fit for you, as he has used the same core as was in your previous wand.”

Harry looked in surprise from the wand to Dumbledore. “That’s right, Harry. Fawkes offered to give up another feather for you. His feather is the magical core of your new wand.”

Dumbledore held out the wand for Harry to take. Slowly, Harry approached and took the wand from Dumbledore. He felt that taking the wand was a tacit admission that he had indeed returned to the wizarding world. Fawkes gave another trill as Harry’s hand closed over the wand.

A shock, like electricity, shot up Harry’s arm when he grasped the wand. A few sparks flew out of its tip. Dumbledore smiled. Harry refused to show his pleasure but, secretly, he couldn’t deny that holding a wand made his blood hum with energy. He knew that his first wand had been snapped when he had been sent to Azkaban. Harry was glad that this wand had the same magical core. Testing the weight of the new wand in his hand, Harry felt as if he were becoming reacquainted with an old friend.

Harry pocketed the wand in silence. Dumbledore waited, apparently expecting something. Casting his mind back over the conversation, Harry said awkwardly, “Would you please tell Mr. Ollivander that I appreciate the wand?”

Dumbledore nodded. “I am sure he will be pleased that you liked it, Harry.”

Snape gave an impatient click of his tongue. “If you’re done here, headmaster,” he said, “we should go to breakfast. I, for one, have had enough drama for the day and would like to enjoy my morning tea.”

Dumbledore gestured to the door and said, “Shall we?”

Harry walked with jerky steps out of the office. This would be the first time he would meet the students as Harry Potter. The last time he had seen most of them, he was still Mark Twist. While many of them may have been present during his final duel with Voldemort, he hadn’t noticed them. He had been too caught up in his battle to focus on the people in the Great Hall that night. Certainly, he hadn’t spoken to them then.

As they walked through the corridors to the Great Hall, they passed a small handful of students on the way. The students respectfully stood aside to allow the headmaster and Professor Snape to pass. When they looked curiously to see who was with the older wizards, they gasped and froze. One of the boys in the group breathed, “Harry Potter!” But, other than this outburst, the group was unnaturally quiet.

Harry blushed slightly and avoided meeting anyone’s eyes. He was glad he didn’t recognize anyone in the group. After Harry and his escort had swept past the group, Harry could hear the excited chatter left in his wake. “Did you see him! That was Harry Potter! He’s back!” He pretended he didn’t hear them.

They entered the Great Hall through an entrance near the head table. Harry had never entered the Hall this way, as it was reserved for the teachers. It was breakfast time, and the Great Hall was packed with students, although it was not as full as it would be at dinner since some students preferred to sleep late rather than eat an early meal.

Harry made to go toward the Gryffindor table. With some relief, he noted that Ron and Hermione were there. However, Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder, to have him wait. “Harry, one moment please.”

Even as Dumbledore was saying this, a few students had noticed that the headmaster had entered with Professor Snape and that there was a strange boy standing next to him. Simultaneously, a number of students throughout the Hall realized who the teen was and shouted, “Harry Potter!”

Immediately, students scrambled to their feet looking wildly around. There was a brief period of confusion when students who hadn’t noticed Harry asked their neighbors frantically, “Where? Where is he?” Fingers pointed and, within a short time, the eyes of everyone were focused on Harry. The noise died down and there was utter quiet.

Harry stood awkwardly, not sure what to do. Dumbledore cleared his throat. “I see you have all noticed – quite loudly, I might add – that Harry Potter is back. For those of you who knew him as Mark Twist, it may you take a little bit of time to adjust to the change in identity but remember that he has already been your classmate, that you already know him, and he is not just a famous face. I know that you are all excited to welcome Harry back but I would ask that you give him some space. Let him settle back in to the routine of classes. He will be rejoining his year, returning to Gryffindor, and there will be plenty of time for you to speak with him throughout the term.”

Harry stood with his back straight during Dumbledore’s speech and looked over the heads of the students toward the entrance. He felt a surge of anger. So many of them had turned on him when his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire; had believed him capable of killing Cedric and Professor Moody. He tried to fuel his anger because, he hated to admit it, he was very nervous. Having so many eyes focused on him was disconcerting. He tried to appear composed but he was anything but. His stomach was performing flip flops and he hoped he wouldn’t be sick.

Dumbledore's speech seemed at an end, and Harry once again made to move toward the Gryffindor table. However, Dumbledore tightened his hand slightly on Harry’s shoulder. The headmaster smiled at the students, who were still craning their necks to see Harry better and said, “Now, perhaps, before Harry sits down and has breakfast, we should take this opportunity to welcome Harry back to Hogwarts.”

It was as if they had been waiting for a signal. The students erupted. Anyone still seated stood up, with many students standing on the benches. They shouted and yelled, “Hip, Hip, Hooray!” There were cries of “Potter! Potter!” A few students put their fingers in their mouths and issued ear-splitting whistles. Some students stomped their feet and drummed their hands on the tables. Anything to make noise. The Slytherin table was more sedate, but they, too, were standing and clapping.

It was all Harry could have dreamed during the years he had imagined being welcomed as a hero…and it was overwhelming. He tried to hang onto his anger. He didn’t want to forgive them. So many had been cold, even cruel, to Mark Twist. They didn’t deserve for him to forgive them. But, despite himself, he felt his anger begin to fade a little. It was hard to be furious at people who were cheering him. But, he didn’t know what to do. He gave a slight nod of his head and a small smile and wished the noise would stop. Finally, Dumbledore held up his hand and the Hall quieted. The headmaster gave a final squeeze of Harry’s shoulder and let go.

Harry hurried off toward the Gryffindor table. He felt the eyes of everyone in the Hall following him. He squeezed in between Ron and Hermione, who quickly made room for him. A clean plate magically appeared in front of him. There was silence in the Hall, as everyone waited to see if they could overhear Harry say something. However, Harry said nothing and Ron and Hermione, wisely, allowed their friend to sit quietly. After a while, the Hall filled with conversation again, although Harry knew that he was under observation at all times.

“Welcome back, Harry.” Harry looked up at the soft words. Ginny Weasley was sitting across from him. She smiled happily at him.

Harry muttered, “Thanks!” and looked down at his plate, using the pretext of filling it with food to look away. She was yet another surprise in a day full of them. She had certainly grown up! She had always been pretty but now she was lovelier than ever.

He picked at his food, pushing it around on his plate. He took a few bites of the toast but it roiled around in his stomach. The back of his neck prickled from the feeling that people were staring at him. It was hard to imagine that, less than a week ago, he had been clearing tables at the diner.

When, mercifully, breakfast drew to a close, Ron elbowed Harry and rose from the table. “Come on. We’ve got Transfiguration first. You know McGonagall. We better not be late.”

Harry rose eagerly to follow Ron. He was all too happy to leave the Great Hall. He was aware of the heightened interest of the students as he stood up. First, there was a decrease in the noise volume, followed but a sudden upsurge as neighbors whispered excitedly about him. It was very weird.

Harry hurried to exit the Great Hall, but out of the corner of his eye, he realized that someone was also hurrying toward the doors, trying to intercept him. Harry stopped and looked up. Draco Malfoy was headed his way.

Draco slowed his pace when he saw that Harry wasn’t going to leave the Hall before he had had a chance to speak with him. Draco sized up the other boy in the moments before he reached him. It was strange to realize that this handsome, dark-haired boy, with the piercing green eyes had been masquerading as Mark Twist. No one could have accused Mark of being good-looking. Why would Harry have chosen to hide behind an unattractive face? And, pretending to be a muggleborn, for Merlin’s sake! Draco gave a mental shudder at the thought.

Harry looked as if he had been ill. That’s what he got for running away to live with muggles, Draco thought. They were so primitive! It’s a wonder that they knew how to build houses and keep themselves clothed. Why in the world Harry would have wanted to go live among them, Draco would never understand.

Reaching Harry, Draco took a deep breath. “Welcome back, Potter,” he said. His voice was haughty, even to his own ears. Well, he was a Malfoy, wasn’t he? He had a right to his pride.

“Thank you,” Harry returned, watching Draco with steady eyes.

Draco was aware that they were the focus of attention from their fellow students. He lifted his chin up further and his voice became even haughtier as he continued. “I know we didn’t get along so well when you were here before but I don’t want us to be enemies any longer. I …I just wanted you to know that.” Draco stuck out his hand.

Harry stared at Draco’s hand for a second and Draco started to turn red, thinking that Harry would refuse to shake it. Then, Harry raised his own hand and grasped Draco’s in his. He gave Draco’s hand a short but strong shake before releasing it. “We’re not enemies, Draco,” said Harry. “We’re both on the same side, for all of our stupid little fights over the years. You proved that in the end.”

Draco gave a wry smile. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll even end up friends.”

Harry didn’t smile back. He was remembering how Voldemort had frequently taken out his displeasure on the “disappointing” Death Eater. He gazed intently at Draco and said seriously, “I would like that.”

Then, Harry turned to follow Ron and Hermione, who had been waiting patiently, to go to Transfiguration class.

*

On the way to class, Hermione told Harry that Draco and the other Slytherins were not as obnoxious as they had been before Voldemort had risen to power. They, like the rest of the wizarding world, had learned their lesson – realizing that their hatred of muggles and muggleborns had unleashed a terrible scourge down upon their world. She explained how the Ministry and Hogwarts had instituted a number of reforms in the aftermath of Voldemort’s defeat.

Harry was surprised that the wizarding world had taken any steps to address its intolerance and prejudice. Maybe there was hope for them after all. He was particularly pleased to learn that the new rules for muggle protection were called the Lily Potter Amendments. His knew his mother would have been proud.

Harry sniggered when he learned that non-muggleborns had to attend a Muggles Studies class. He could just imagine how Draco enjoyed that class!

People called out to Harry as he walked down the corridor. There were shy calls of “hello” or “welcome back” and loud calls of “Hey, Potter! Way to go!” A few people slapped him on the back or touched his arm as they passed.

Harry had told himself that he had put aside his boyish dreams that he would one day be treated as a hero. But, here was the reality. People were looking at him with admiration. And, in the younger children, even hero worship.

Harry felt a tightness in his throat. All his life, he had been used to the Dursleys telling him that he was worthless. They had only looked his way to find fault. Then, at Hogwarts, he had often been eyed with suspicion – a muggleborn wizard who seemed to have an affinity for the Dark Arts. For the first time in his life, Harry was on the receiving end of praise and respect.

It was wonderful. Yes, he didn’t deserve it. If they only knew how unclean he was! But why not enjoy it? It was overwhelming, a bit alarming and even a bit embarrassing. He didn’t quite know how to respond. But, he had to admit it was fabulous. He knew he couldn’t trust them not to turn on him again. Hadn’t they shown (as indeed was true of everyone) that they weren’t to be trusted? So, who knew how long this would last? No. As he had told Dumbledore the night he had defeated Voldemort, Harry wasn’t prepared to forgive and forget. But maybe, if he didn’t forget that he could never trust them, if he never expected more than they could give him, he could live among them. Accepted and admired – at least for the time being.

He recalled Ron’s demand that he accept their “overtures of friendship.” So, he walked with a small half-smile on his face, and gave a light nod from time to time, to show that he didn’t mind their approaches.

Watching him as he entered her class, Professor McGonagall mused to herself that he looked like royalty out among his subjects. Knowing that structure and routine would help Harry adjust, she cleared her throat and called the class to order. She gave Harry a warm smile but otherwise did not single him out.

Harry sat quietly during the lesson. Transfiguration was one of the subjects that Voldemort knew well and which Harry had “studied” during the months he had inhabited Voldemort’s brain. It was ridiculously easy for Harry to perform the tasks to which Professor McGonagall set the class. Bored, Harry contented himself with looking around the class to see how the other students were managing. Hermione’s transfiguration was almost perfect, of course. Most of the other students were not as advanced as Hermione but were having some limited success with the exercise.

Neville, unfortunately, was still having trouble with his school work. The boy was sitting at the desk to Harry’s right, sharing a table with Seamus. Neville had greeted Harry awkwardly at lunch, but hadn’t spoken to him since. Harry had always gotten along well with Neville as Mark Twist, so it was strange to consider that the other boy might be shy of him now.

Harry watched as Neville waved his wand to transfigure his teacup into a mouse without effect. “I can’t do it! I’m useless!” he groaned in frustration.

Hearing these words, Harry spoke up. “You’re fine, Neville. You’re just dropping your shoulder before you cast the spell.”

Neville jumped and turned bright red when he realized that Harry was speaking to him. Flustered, he muttered “Thanks!” He waved his wand again, this time lifting his shoulder high as he cast his spell. The teacup transfigured into a hamster. Ron and Seamus laughed; Harry hid a smile, not wanting to hurt Neville’s feelings. But, he need not have worried. Neville was thrilled that he had transfigured his teacup into anything and smiled happily as he lifted the hamster in his palm. “Look! I did it!” he cried.

“Thanks, Harry!” This time, when he spoke to Harry, his voice was strong and he looked directly at him.

Good, thought Harry. Maybe it won’t take Neville long to start treating me like a normal person.

Encouraged that the Transfiguration class hadn’t been too bad, Harry made his way to Potions. He wasn’t thrilled to be having a class with Professor Snape. He wondered, in vague alarm, whether being indentured to the Professor would impact the class in some way. He tried to calm himself with the recollection that Snape had promised not to take advantage of the indenture and he couldn’t imagine how the indenture would make a difference. It’s not like he was going to be washing Snape’s clothes in class, or serving him tea, after all.

“You all right?” Ron asked, as they entered the class. “If you get too tired, I can take you down to the hospital wing. I don’t think you should overdo your first day back.”

“I’m fine,” said Harry. It was true. He was tired but not with the numbing exhaustion of the last few weeks before Arthur Weasley and the other wizards had found him.

Harry wondered if Ron knew about the indenture but he didn’t ask in case Ron didn’t know. Harry didn’t want to be the one to bring it up.

When Harry entered the class, he made his way to the back of the room. He preferred to stay out of Snape’s way as much as possible. The class filled with students. As before, many of the other teens called out to Harry in greeting. Each smile, or cheery call, gave him a warm feeling in his stomach.

The students were seated when Professor Snape entered the room. As soon as he entered, Harry felt an irresistible compulsion to stand up. He stood. He could feel all eyes turn to him in surprise, wondering why he had stood. Harry could feel his face start to turn red and his stomach gave a lurch.

Although Harry was the only student standing, Professor Snape said, evenly, “Class be seated.” Harry sat.

He missed the first words that the potions master was telling the class. There was a ringing in his ears and all of his joy in the day evaporated. He was an indentured servant. He didn’t know what this entailed but it was clearly powerful magic. It had forced him to stand at attention when his “master” had entered the room. Even the Imperius Curse hadn’t been able to force Harry to do what he hadn’t wanted to do. But the indenture had acted so strongly, Harry had been powerless against it.

He raised unseeing eyes to Snape. The Professor was ignoring him. The teen swallowed over the lump in his throat. He prayed that he woudn’t cry.

Tuning back in, Harry heard the Professor tell the class to read the instructions on the blackboard and begin to brew the potion of the day. He felt again a compulsion seize him. He focused on the instructions with an intensity that was almost painful. He felt an overwhelming anxiety to complete the potion quickly and perfectly. It had to be perfect. When he was sure that he understood the directions, Harry gathered up the ingredients and started to work on brewing the potion. When Ron started cutting up a root in uneven strips, Harry said sharply, “No! Let me!” Seizing the knife from Ron, Harry carefully cut the root in perfect cubes. Ron looked taken aback, but he said nothing, and watched Harry with troubled eyes.

“Shall I…” began Ron.“Shh!” snapped Harry. “I’m counting!” And, Harry carefully counted 3 ½ turns of the ladle.

When Harry had to get another ingredient from the storage cupboard, he cut in front of Hermione to get there first. “Harry!” she called in annoyance. He didn’t answer.

He hurried back to his cauldron and carefully measured the ingredient he needed to add to the potion. The potion emitted a light blue smoke. “It’s coming out well,” offered Ron, tentatively.

Harry shook his head in dismay. “The instructions say it is supposed to be medium blue. It’s no good!” He started to break into a sweat and his breath became labored.

Harry didn’t hear Professor Snape’s approach until the older wizard was directly behind him. “Potter,” said the Professor in a quiet voice. “The potion is fine.” Harry’s breathing immediately slowed and his anxiety started to fade. “You may sit back down.” Harry sat. “Please remain after class. I would like to speak with you.”

Harry nodded and said, “Yes, sir.”

The rest of the lesson passed in a blur to Harry. He felt as if he would explode at any minute. He now understood what being an indentured servant meant. It meant that he had no free will. Professor Snape controlled him! If he said “jump,” Harry would have no choice but to jump. They had done this to him! They had turned him into a …slave, a puppet.

Harry was vaguely aware when the rest of the class filed out. He knew that the students were casting him curious looks, while Ron and Hermione looked worried. He was relieved when the room was quiet. When he sensed that Professor Snape was near, he raised his eyes to stare at the man who held his indenture.

“I apologize, Potter.” It was clear that these were not words that came often or easily to Snape. “I should have considered that the orders I give to the class would affect you differently. I will take care in the future as to how I phrase what I say around you.”

Harry choked, “I’m a slave!”

“No, Potter! You are not!” Snape paced around the room in agitation. He circled back to where Harry was sitting and, in a quieter voice, continued. “Do you know why I was picked to be your ‘guardian’?”

Harry shook his head.
“There were a number of reasons but one of them was that I loved your mother.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open. He was shocked as much by the fact that Snape (Snape!) had loved his mother as the fact that the professor was admitting this to him.

“She was a talented witch. Kind. Loyal. And strong.” Without realizing it, Snape’s voice softened when he spoke about Lily. “She didn’t let anyone get away with anything. She stood up to friends and enemies alike if she thought that they were doing something wrong. She never wavered in doing what she thought was right. You are your mother’s son. You are kind, loyal and strong too. She would be proud of you.”

Harry’s green eyes glowed as they fixed on Snape’s every word. The potions master felt a shiver run down his spine. It was easy for him to imagine that Lily was looking at him at that very moment, looking at him through her son’s eyes. Listening to how he spoke to her son. Pleased with him.

“I know all there is to know about doing something you don’t want to do. I was a spy for fifteen years! You have suffered a lot in your life, Potter, but so have others. I expect you to show the world that you are nobody’s slave. Be strong. Be proud. You are under an enchantment, yes. But, this is temporary and it doesn’t take away your thoughts; it doesn’t change who you are.”

Harry stared at his unlikely supporter. He thought for a moment and then nodded his head. “Thank you, Professor,” he said quietly.

Snape considered the boy and, apparently satisfied, nodded back. “You may leave, Potter.” Harry stood and went to the door.

“Potter.” Harry turned to face the professor once again. Snape continued, “I noticed at breakfast that you didn’t eat much. I won’t make it an order but I would …suggest …that you try to eat sensibly. You also need to rest. You are not required to attend your class following lunch, if you prefer to take a nap. At least for a few weeks, until you have recovered your strength.” At Harry’s skeptical look, Snape said, “There is no shame in recuperating, Harry.” Harry started at Snape’s use of his first name. Catching himself, and apparently irritated at his own softening, Snape hardened his voice and said, “Just don’t take advantage of it.”

“No, sir,” Harry agreed.

Harry turned to leave once more but stopped again. This time, he was the one with something else on his mind. Turning back to the Professor, he asked, tentatively, “Sir? Did she love you back?”

Snape sucked in his breath. “I like to think so, Potter,” he said quietly. “But, if she did, she fell out of love with me and grew to love your father instead.” It was one of the hardest admissions he had ever had to make.

“What was he like?”

“Your father and I never got along. I was jealous of his interest in your mother. I thought he was immature and arrogant.” Unable to resist, Snape said, “Unfortunately for you, you look exactly like him. It’s a shame.”

Harry didn’t take offense. Instead, he conjured a mirror to float in the air in front of him. Snape was momentarily taken aback by how effortlessly the boy conjured an item out of thin air. This was highly advanced magic! Snape was distracted from this thought when he realized that Harry was staring intently into the mirror, studying his face. The boy lifted a hand to trace his face, looking at his reflection as he did so.

Snape realized, with a start, that Harry was not familiar with his own face. The boy had been living as Mark Twist for years. He had not returned to his own identity until his battle with Voldemort. Then, the boy had disappeared to the muggle world where he had been living in a cheap room, with the bare amenities. Perhaps there had been no mirror. Wouldn’t he have sought out a mirror elsewhere? But, Snape reminded himself, the boy had been in a state of depression. Certainly, since his return to the wizarding world, he would not have seen any mirrors. There were none in the hospital ward. And, once he left St. Mungo’s for Hogwarts, he had only been in the Great Hall and some classrooms. Was this moment the first time Harry was seeing what he looked like?

Well, he was a very handsome boy, Snape admitted grudgingly. James Potter had certainly taken advantage of his good looks, enjoying the adoration of legions of silly young girls.

The potions master waited for Harry to smile or give some other indication of being pleased with his looks. But, the boy just ran his hand over his face staring intently into the mirror as he did so. He seemed particularly interested in his eyes. Snape wondered whether he had been told that he had inherited the piercing, clear green color from his mother. Then, in a swift motion, Harry pushed back his bangs from his forehead, revealing his famous scar.

Holding his hair back with one hand, Harry traced the lightning bolt shape with the index finger of the other. Suddenly, Harry’s eyes hardened, and he glared at the mirror. In a sudden burst of anger, Harry pointed his wand at the mirror and shouted, “Reducto!” and the mirror shattered into dust. Astounded, Snape stared at the place where the mirror had floated.

Harry looked back at the Professor, who was clearly surprised at his actions. Harry answered the unspoken question quietly. “I didn’t get my looks from my parents only. Voldemort left his mark on me too. It condemned me to a life of pain. I agree with you Professor. I’m not too fond of my looks either.”

With this, Harry left the room, leaving behind a stunned Professor.