The Hidden Hero

Snape was in Madam Pomfrey’s care for almost a week. Harry continued to see Healer Ainsley nightly. During the days, he settled into his classes. The other students continued to watch Harry constantly. Harry wondered if this was how very famous people felt. Did rock stars go through this? He couldn’t walk the corridors without students falling silent as he passed. Thank Merlin some of his classmates began to become more relaxed in his company.

When Snape returned to his teaching duties, he made no mention of his almost fatal accident. Harry knew that the four Gryffindors had served detention with the potions master because they came back from their detention smelling of the frogs that Snape had made them pickle for hours. The four had avoided Harry after the incident, worried that Harry was angry with them. However, once the detention had been served, and the worst was over, they relaxed. Apparently believing that their experience forged a sort of bond with the Boy-Who-Lived, they became braver and soon were treating Harry with a familiarity that made them the envy of their more timid friends.

Snape resumed Harry’s treatment. The first night that Snape returned, Harry thought the potions master might say something about Harry’s saving his life. However, Snape did not say anything.

Meanwhile, Harry was counting the days until the Quidditch match. He couldn’t wait. He had been told that he could invite two friends to go with him to the game. Knowing that Hermione was not a Quidditch fan, Harry invited Ron and Neville. He knew that Dean and Seamus were disappointed not to be asked, but at least they had each other as friends. Harry figured that Neville needed to feel included more that the other two boys. Harry knew that Neville was excited at being invited.

The day of the Quidditch match, Harry and his friends walked with Professor Snape to Hogsmeade, where they took a portkey to the Quidditch stadium. Before leaving the school, Harry transfigured his cloak to have a hood, which he was able to draw over his head, hiding his face. He had no wish to be recognized. Snape stared at Harry sharply when Harry first pulled the hood over his head, but said nothing.

At the stadium, Harry looked eagerly around. There were thousands of witches and wizards packing the stadium. Harry had never seen so many magical people in one place before. Professor Snape led them up to a very high box in the stadium.

“Wow!” said Ron, impressed. “These are great seats!”

“This is the Minister’s box,” explained Professor Snape. “They have given it to us for our use today.”

“It’s good you know people in high places, Harry!” announced Ron.

Harry had the cynical thought that at least the Minister was good for something. These really were great seats.

“It’s amazing!” breathed Neville, looking over the banister. Snape grabbed the boy by the nape of the neck and pulled him back from the edge, before he could go toppling over.

Harry hid his smile at Snape’s annoyed expression and Neville’s alarmed one. “It is great!” admitted Harry. He pulled his hood more securely over his head and settled down to watch as the stadium filled with spectators.

The game was sure to be exciting, as the two teams were among the best in the league. The Montrose Magpies and the Ballycastle Bats were ranked number one and two, respectively. When the two teams entered the stadium, they were so impressive, Harry felt his breath catch in his chest. The Ballycastle Bats wore black robes with a scarlet bat across the chest. The Montrose Magpies wore black and white robes, with a magpie on the front and back.* [*Note: from Quidditch Through the Ages]

Harry joined Ron and Neville in cheering loudly for the players. The Chudley Cannons were his team (which he had adopted because they were Ron’s favorite), so Harry rooted equally for the two teams he was watching. He noted the skill of players on each side and clapped for any play that was particularly thrilling. The players were so fast that Harry didn’t know which way to look.

Harry savored the excitement of being at a game. For the time being, at least, the depression that lurked at the corners of his mind was banished. No dark thoughts clouded his mind. He was just happy.

During a time out, Harry turned to Professor Snape and said, “Thank you, Professor, for taking us. It’s fabulous!”

Ron and Neville immediately chorused their thanks as well.

Snape nodded and said politely, “You are welcome, Potter. I am …pleased…that you are enjoying the game.”

None of the group noticed that they had been overheard by a wizard in the next box. The man turned and stared sharply at the boy Snape had addressed. He had called him Potter. Harry Potter? Here?

The man turned his omnioculars on Harry, but the hood of the cloak obscured the boy’s features. Excitedly, the man turned to his friends. “You see that wizard in the hood? I think that’s Harry Potter!”

“Really?!” They craned their necks to see. “Why do you think so?”

“I overheard that man calling him Potter.”

“I can’t tell.”

“Yeah, but why would anyone else be hiding behind a hooded cloak anyway? It’s obviously someone who doesn’t want to be recognized.”

“What are you talking about Jake?” asked a witch, who had just returned from having purchased some pumpkin juice.

“Berty says that boy’s Harry Potter!” said Jake pointing toward Harry’s box.

At this, a number of wizards in surrounding boxes overheard. More heads turned and looked to see where Jake was pointing. And so on it went, with neighbors telling neighbors. In a surprisingly short amount of time, the rumor that Harry Potter was in attendance circulated throughout the stadium.

Professor Snape was the first to notice that something odd was happening in the stadium. Looking puzzled, he moved toward the railing of their box and scanned the crowd.
“What’s the matter, sir?” asked Harry.

“I’m not sure,” said the potions master slowly. “People don’t appear to be watching the match…”

The coach of the Ballycastle Bats called a time out when their Keeper let in one too many goals. When playing resumed (this time with a new Keeper), it appeared that the players had been affected by the same strange behavior as the crowd. While they continued to play Quidditch, the players seemed to spend as much time looking toward the crowd as they spent looking at each other. One player was almost knocked off his broom by a bludger because of his inattention.

The commentator also noticed the strange behavior of the teams but appeared to be equally clueless as to why the teams had lost their concentration. The booming voice called out, “And once again Melling is glancing toward the crowds. What is he looking for there? The snitch? What is going on, folks? The Magpies lost a golden opportunity there! The Ballycastle Bats left their hoops completely undefended. I haven’t seen such sloppy playing in years!”

But, the teams continued to play with a definite lack of focus. “What is going on…” began the commentator. He trailed off as someone whispered in his ear. Harry couldn’t see the commentator, but the man had imperfectly covered his magical megaphone and the crowd could hear that he was speaking with someone, although the words themselves were not audible. When he resumed his commentary, there was a note of excitement in his voice, “Witches and wizards!” he began. “I’ve just been told that there is a rumor that Harry Potter is attending today’s game!”

Harry immediately sucked in his breath and drew back in his chair. Neville, Ron and Snape all froze and then slowly moved closer to flank the boy. The people in the surrounding boxes, who were watching Harry closely, took these actions as confirmation that the cloaked figure was indeed the famous teen.

The commentator continued. “If it is true that Harry Potter is here, that would be an honor indeed! He has never been seen in public before.”

More and more eyes turned in the direction of Harry’s box. Although most of the crowd did not know that Harry was in this particular box, many knew that this section was reserved for the Minister’s use. It seemed likely that, if Harry were to attend the game, he might very well be sitting in that box.

“We cannot apparate from inside the stadium,” muttered Snape, under his breath. “I think if we try to leave now, we might attract the very attention we wish to avoid. I suggest we just keep quiet and hope that the people’s attention will turn back to the game.”

Harry said nothing. He sat frozen in his seat. No longer caught up in the game, he felt pinned by all the eyes staring his way.

A referee blew a whistle to halt the game, as it was clear that neither the players nor the crowd was paying enough attention. The commentator asked the burning question on everyone’s mind, “Is Harry Potter really here? If you are here, Mr. Potter, won’t you please let us know?” The crowd seemed to be waiting for a sign. When there was none, the commentator said in a grave voice, the excitement tampered down now in seriousness, “I believe I speak for everyone when I say that we are so happy you are back in the wizarding world, Mr. Potter. We wish you all the best. Bless you, sir!” This last was said with a choke in his voice.

There was a brief moment when the crowd waited to see if the commentator was finished. When it was clear that the man had stopped speaking, the crowd roared its approval. The noise rose louder and louder. The crowd stood on its feet and cheered. It was like the greeting Harry had received at Hogwarts, but this was louder and fiercer. Here were adults who had lived with the terror of Voldemort’s regime. They had lost friends and family members and knew that they had come but a breath away from having Voldemort win the war. They knew what they owed to the Boy Who Lived.

The air crackled with magical energy as the witches and wizards demonstrated their excitement. Harry felt the noise pour over him in waves. It was strangely frightening to be the focus of this much attention.

He should turn his back on them and say that he didn’t want their cheers and admiration. After all, weren’t they – this faceless mass of people – to blame for the prejudice against muggleborns that fostered Voldemort’s rise to power? Weren’t they to blame for the fact he was under an indenture?

But, the truth was he wanted their love and respect. And, wasn’t it unfair to judge them too harshly? Was it their fault that, at their deepest nature, people were not to be trusted? How could he demand of them what they could never give him?

Of course, he didn’t deserve their admiration. They wouldn’t cheer him if they realized how dirty he was. The things he had done while in Voldemort’s head…

But, here they were. Calling his name and cheering for him now, just as he had always pictured over the bleak years of his childhood. It may not be deserved, but it was happening. Here and now. His dream come true. He may have thought he didn’t care about such things any more. He may have thought he had put such childish dreams behind him. But, his heart beat faster and he felt the pull of the crowd.

Slowly, Harry stood.

“Harry!” Snape called his name in a low voice, so as not to be overheard. “You don’t need to do…”

But, the professor stopped when Harry turned to look at him. The boy’s green eyes shone with a glow that reminded Snape so strongly of Lily, that he felt a lump rise in his throat. “It’s okay, Professor,” assured Harry.

Slowly, Harry approached the railing. The crowd noticed that a figure in the Minister’s box had stood and was moving close to the edge. They quieted immediately and held their collective breath. Harry reached up and pulled the hood from his head. His thick, dark, messy hair blew in the slight breeze. His green eyes, highlighted by glasses, looked over the stadium.

The crowd gasped when they saw that the hooded figure was a young boy. Was it really Harry Potter? Omnioculars focused on the boy, trying to catch a glimpse of his famous scar.

Harry withdrew his wand from his robe sleeve. He held it to his throat and magnified his voice, so that he, like the commentator, could be heard throughout the stadium. “Hello,” he began, uncertainly. “I am Harry Potter.”

The crowd let out an involuntary roar. They couldn’t believe that he was here. Really here! The boy who had been the focus of over fifteen years of legend. The baby who had mysteriously defeated the Dark Lord and then been sent away to live with his muggle relatives. The eleven year old who, after being abused during his childhood years, had disappeared into thin air, but who had secretly masqueraded as a muggleborn and lived among them. The fourteen year old who had been sent to Azkaban for a crime he had not committed and who had survived even the Dementors. The fifteen year old who had defeated the Dark Lord once and for all but then had abandoned the wizarding world in anger. The sixteen year old who had been retrieved and brought back to his rightful place – the jewel in the crown of the magical world. Harry Potter! The Boy Who Lived! The Golden Boy! And look how handsome he was! Just like the little prince he was!

So many people snapped pictures, the clicking sounded like a swarm of insects.

“Er…” Harry began and the crowd quieted again. “Thank you,” he said. “You all know that I wasn’t treated very well when I was Mark Twist. I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to forgive that.”

The crowd was so silent that Harry could hear a dog barking in the far distance. Eyes clouded with guilt and regret gazed at the boy.

He continued. “But, I appreciate your welcome now. And I hope that the wizarding world can learn to be more fair and to treat other people with more respect.”

The crowd clapped wildly again, anxious to show Harry that they were willing to try harder to be less prejudiced.

Harry watched them with a mix of pleasure and pain. He was glad that they appeared willing to be more tolerant. But, he knew that there was so much prejudice underlying their world. They might be trying harder to treat muggles and muggleborns better. But, what about the way other magical creatures, such as elves, goblins, and others, were treated? The way that the Ministry and Dumbledore had manhandled him? This world had a long way to go in learning how to treat others. But, was Dumbledore right in saying that Harry could use his influence to help this world improve?

After a small pause, Harry went on, “I…I’m not really sure what more to say to you all. But, if you don’t mind, it would be great to see the rest of the game. I really like Quidditch.” He sat down and the crowd roared again its happiness at having their little prince act like a typical teenager.

The game resumed but Harry was aware that many eyes focused on him throughout the game. It made it difficult for him to enjoy the match as much as he wished, since he was aware that his every expression was being scrutinized. But, the game was thrilling and the final dive by the Magpie Seeker was phenomenal. When the Seeker pulled up from the dive, snitch in hand, the whistle blew signaling the end of the game.

Harry clapped loudly for the play. He was wondering whether he could practice pulling out of a dive with just that touch of a roll when he realized that the Magpie Seeker had approached the railing. Hovering on his broom, right outside the railing, the Seeker looked straight at Harry. The older man held out the snitch and Harry automatically drew near the railing and took the little winged ball from the Seeker.

“I would like you to have the game snitch, Harry Potter,” said the Quidditch player.

“Thank you,” said Harry, sincerely. He held the little ball up to his eyes and admired it.

“Thank you,” said the man. “After we shower and change, the team will have a celebratory dinner. We would be honored if you and your friends would accompany us.”

Ron whispered at his elbow, “Say yes, Harry. Say yes!”

Harry glanced back at Snape, seeking permission. At his slight nod, Harry turned back eagerly and said, “Sure! That would be great! Oh, and your last dive – it was spectacular!”

The man smiled at the admiration in Harry’s voice. “I must rejoin my teammates,” he said. “We should be ready in less than half an hour.”

“Thanks!” Harry called again, as the player flew down to join his friends.

“Wow!” said Neville. “We’re going to have dinner with the Magpies.”

“Can I have your autograph?” called a wizard from the next box. Harry turned, startled. He had been so focused on the thrill of meeting the Magpie Seeker, he had momentarily forgotten that everyone else in the stadium was thrilled to be seeing him.

“Oh…” said Harry, not sure how to respond. If he said yes, wouldn’t everyone else want one too?

Before he could decide, Snape intervened. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Potter is not permitted to give out autographs,” he said in a harsh tone. Harry threw him a grateful look.

“Who are you?” asked the other man, belligerently.

The man’s wife tugged at his robe sleeve and whispered in his ear. Obviously, she had remembered Scrimgeour’s interview with Rita Skeeter and was reminding her husband that Potter was under an indenture to Snape. The man flushed and then muttered under his breath, “Don’t see why the boy isn’t permitted to give autographs. Snape probably wants to limit the number so that he can make money selling them!”

Snape pursed his lips in annoyance but said nothing.

Harry wondered how they were going to leave the stadium without being trampled by the thousands of people wanting to meet him. He exchanged worried looks with Neville and Ron. But, the Magpie’s owner sent a representative up to their box with brooms for the four to fly down to the team’s locker room. It was strange to mount a broom and fly with so many eyes on him.

“I wish we could just take a quick turn around the pitch,” said Ron longingly.

“Mr. Weasley,” said Snape in a warning voice.

“I just said ‘I wish’,” said Ron hastily.

Harry spent the next two hours in a haze. He met and shook the hands of players he read about in the sports section of the Daily Prophet. He and his friends were given team gifts – a Magpie figurine which cawed every hour to announce the time; a scarf in their colors and a travel mug with the team’s logo to hold hot pumpkin juice.

The owner of the Ballycastle Bats stopped by and, after speaking briefly with the Magpie’s owner, brought his team’s players to join the celebration, as they were equally eager to meet Harry. The players of the opposing teams knew each other well from the years on the traveling circuit. There was some good-natured bantering, with the Magpies gloating over their recent victory and the Bats promising revenge in their next meet.

Each player was introduced to Harry and he became used to being slapped on the back and having his hand pumped up and down. It didn’t bother Harry to be the focus of all this attention this time since he was equally guilty of stargazing. He was thrilled to meet the famous faces that graced the covers of Quidditch for the Serious Fan. Harry was familiar with most of the players since Dean Thomas subscribed to the monthly magazine and was happy to let his friends flip through when he was done reading it.

Harry was careful to include Ron and Neville in his conversations with the players. The boys chatted about Quidditch strategy with the older men and Harry didn’t remember ever being so happy; he knew that Ron and Neville were also ecstatic. Snape stood off to the side, clearly wishing he could leave but indulging the boy by letting him meet the players.

One of the players asked Harry if he played Quidditch himself.

Ron answered for him. “Harry is a great player and would be the Seeker on our House team if only he would agree to play. You should see him! He’s a natural flyer,” he boasted.

Harry flushed with a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment.

Another player interrupted. “Is it true that you can fly without a broom?”

There was a sudden hush as everyone waited to hear Harry’s answer. Harry felt as if cold water had been thrown over him. Flying without a broom was a talent Harry had learned from Voldemort and had used during his final battle with the Dark Lord. As far as Harry knew, no other wizard had ever mastered this trick. Did they think he was a dark wizard?

Reluctantly, Harry nodded. The men exchanged excited glances with each other. “What wouldn’t I give to be able to fly without a broom!” said one.

“Can you teach us how to do that?” asked another. The other players gazed eagerly at Harry and awaited his answer.

Harry was taken aback by their interest. “I…I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t think it’s something I can teach. It’s just sort of something that I…know…how to do.” The men looked extremely disappointed. “Flying with a broom is more fun,” he offered.

One of the Chasers smiled at Harry and said, “Yeah. But just imagine how Quidditch could be played if we didn’t need brooms!”

Harry was struck by the image. Maybe that would be cool. But, he had no interest in flying without a broom himself. It reminded him too much of Voldemort.

“I think it is time that we said our goodbyes, Potter,” said Snape, who had come to stand next to Harry.

Harry was not sorry to go. He was starting to feel exhausted. Bidding the players goodbye, the boys accompanied Professor Snape outside the stadium to the portkey site.

However, as they left the stadium, a horde of reporters descended upon them, shouting and vying for attention. The reporters had learned that Harry had been present at the game and they had arrived at the stadium hoping to catch the boy as he left. Harry recognized Rita Skeeter among the dozens of reporters who surrounded them and shouted questions at him. Cameras flashed in his face and he saw spots.

He was jostled from all sides, as reporters pressed in and tried to have their questions answered first. “Harry! Over here! How does it feel to be back in the wizarding world?”

“Harry, is it true that you won’t speak to Dumbledore?”

“Harry! Harry! Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Are you going to join the Montrose Magpies as the new Seeker?”

“How do you feel about your indenture Harry?”

“Will you look this way for a photograph?”

“Is it true that you perform exercises in the Dark Arts every night to keep in practice?”

Snape snarled at the reporters and a few backed away in fear. “Let us pass!” Snape pulled out his wand.

Harry wished he was 17 and could pull out his wand as well. Snape flourished his wand and angry sparks flew out the end. The reporters fell silent and eyed the wand with fear.

“Back off!” he commanded. With his clenched jaw and fierce eyes, it was easy to remember that he had once been a Death Eater.

The boys huddled close to Snape as they moved toward the portkey. “Take hold of my robe,” he commanded the three, keeping his wand trained on the reporters to hold them at bay.

Cameras continued to flash at Harry as he held tight to Snape’s robe. Snape grabbed the portkey, and the four disappeared in a swirl of color.

Moments later, they arrived back in Hogsmeade. Snape released the portkey and the boys stood back from the potions master.

Snape cast a quick look at Harry. The boy was pale and clearly exhausted. It was a shame that the day had ended on this irritating note. The teen had been enjoying himself.

The little group traipsed back to the castle in silence. Only after they had entered the Hall did Harry speak. “Thank you, sir. It was an amazing day.”

Ron and Neville added their thanks as well.

“You are welcome,” said Snape in a haughty tone. “You behaved yourself moderately well. I was not too embarrassed.”

Harry smiled, choosing to be amused rather than annoyed at Snape’s words.

“I know that you are tired, Potter. But, before you leave, I would have a word.” Harry waited, curious. “You saw today just how much the wizarding world is …interested…in you.”

Snape ignored Ron’s snort. “You should consider that by answering some of the questions about yourself you might appease a bit of the curiosity. At the moment, you are a figure of mystery and the public is clamoring for information.”

Harry looked doubtful. “You mean I should give an interview? Then, the reporters would leave me alone?”

“Whether or not you choose to give an interview is up to you, Potter. As the boy who defeated the Dark Lord, it is unlikely that the reporters will ever leave you entirely alone. However, you might be able to dampen some of the furor.”

“You should totally do it, Harry!” encouraged Ron.

“I am never going to speak with Rita Skeeter!” said Harry fiercely.

Snape did not need to ask why Harry felt particular animus to that woman. “There are other reporters,” he said calmly.

“I…I’ll think about it,” said Harry. “Thank you again.” And, with that, he said goodbye and returned to Gryffindor Tower to rest before dinner.

He knew that Snape meant well but the man didn’t understand. If he gave an interview, the reporter was bound to ask questions that Harry was not prepared to answer. It was inevitable that he would be asked about Voldemort and how he felt at defeating the Dark Lord. How could he explain his feelings about the Dark Lord? He had hated Voldemort with a passion that few could match, as he had seen – really seen – the evil of which Tom Riddle was capable.

But, Voldemort was also his teacher and his refuge. For close to a year, Harry had spent almost his entire life inside the older wizard’s mind. Harry had felt drawn to that mind even when he could have stayed quietly in his cell in Azkaban. Partly, it had kept him sane. But, wasn’t it also true that Voldemort’s sheer power had cast a strange allure?

If he tried to explain, would everyone finally realize that his Aunt Petunia was right? He really was a freak.