Harry Potter

Horripilation

Chapter Three: An Unexpected Development

Snape wanted to hex something so badly his wand was practically spitting sparks. Given the fact that it was stowed in his front pocket, this was not a good thing for it to do. If he had not been standing in the middle of a hallway right at the heart of St. Mungo's, he would have pulled it out, but something told him that doing so was probably not a very good idea. So instead he took a moment to calm himself and leaned against the wall near Harry's door, breathing deeply. Of all the times for the brat to wake up, she just had to pick the one moment he was in the room. If Dumbledore hadn't gone to the restroom right then, and if Snape hadn't happened to pass by…If he believed in fate, he would have cursed it to the ninth level of hell.

"Excuse me, sir? Can I help you with something?"

"Does it look like I need assistance?" he snapped at the young healer who dared to approach him. She backed off quick, as if he'd just slapped her. "Look…Just go fetch the Weasleys, in the waiting room. Tell them Mr. Potter is awake."

"Ah…Harry Potter?" she asked, casting an eager look towards the girl's door.

"That is none of your concern," he replied coldly, moving to block her view and losing what little patience he had. "Now, if you please…"

"Y-yes sir," she stammered and hurried away. Snape let out a frustrated growl and sat down on a nearby bench. He'd kill for a stress-relieving elixir right about now, or even a cigarette; anything to take the edge off. The past few days had been absolute hell since the Order had "volunteered" him to scare off anyone who wanted a glimpse of Potter. He hated to think of what might happen if the Wizarding community found out Harry was really a Harriet—and had now thrown away her memory—but he had more important things to do than play babysitter, damn it!

I wonder what the Dark Lord would do if he ever discovered the truth…? He thought suddenly. But the answer was too sick to imagine.

"Severus?"

Snape started and looked up to find Dumbledore standing before him, looking concerned and hovering like a worried hen.

"Headmaster," he said, rising quickly to his feet in one fluid motion.

"Harry…?"

"Is awake, sir. I trust you received my note?"

Dumbledore smiled gently and held up Snape's airplane. "Yes, and I came as quick as I could. So he's really….lost his memory."

"Yes, but I cannot say if it is permanent," the Potion's Master replied. "It may yet return—"

It was then that he was abruptly cut off as Harry's door flew open and the girl staggered out, hanging onto the handle to keep from falling over—not because she'd forgotten how to walk, but her legs were still too weak to support her. She must have killed herself trying to cross the five feet from her bed to the door.

She and Snape stared at one another for an instant before she threw her arms around his waist and latched on as if her life depended on it. Several different emotions hit him at once, the foremost being absolute bewilderment, but fury and disgust were hot on its heels.

His first reaction was both to shove her violently away and keep her hidden from any prying eyes, and the result was that his mind was thrown into a veritable maelstrom of confusion. Finally, he gripped her shoulders and roughly steered her back into her room, almost slamming the door on Dumbledore as he slipped in after them.

"What…are…you…doing?" he hissed angrily through his teeth as he plunked her back down on the bed.

"I said I didn't want to be alone!" Harry cried, nearly in tears and clutching at her sheets in spasmodic fear, her eyes wide and fretful. "I told you not to leave…!"

"I do not take orders from you, Miss Potter, and you would do well to remember that!" Snape barked as his temper snapped. He was furious with the girl, but not as much as he was with himself. He should have known not to leave an amnesia patient alone. In unfamiliar surroundings, in a strange body, and mind she didn't know, it was no surprise Harry had panicked. But he had been so shaken, and all he'd wanted was to get out of there…

"Severus, I think I can take it from here," Dumbledore said quietly, laying a hand on his shoulder and smiling. "I suggest you go home and get a good night's rest."

"Yes, Headmaster," Snape replied distractedly, although he barely knew Dumbledore had even spoken, and swept out as fast as he could without actually running. Dumbledore shook his head after the younger man and gingerly sat down next to his distraught charge.

"Hello, Harry," he said with a gentle smile.

"Who are you?" Harry asked.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore, but you may call me Professor or Headmaster," he replied, and Harry thought his eyes looked very sad. "You've known me for a long time."

"I have?" she asked, her brow furrowed in distress when she couldn't remember.

"That's alright," Dumbledore said, as if he'd read her mind. She wouldn't be surprised if he had. "Severus informed me you'd forgotten much."

"You mean Professor Snape?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied, hiding a grin. He didn't remember a time when Harry had willingly called Severus 'Professor' Snape without prompting. In fact, he would have laughed himself silly if Sybill Trelawney herself had prophesied Harry to hug the disagreeable Potion's Master.

"Can you do magic like Professor Snape?" Harry asked, snapping him out of his reverie. In answer, Dumbledore pulled out his wand and swished it through the air, producing a flock of blue and green butterflies that fluttered about the room before escaping out the open window. Harry was enthralled and smiled with a child-like innocence that wrenched at the old wizard's heart; it was strange to see such a look on the child's normally somber face.

"Could I learn to do that?" she asked him eagerly, and he nodded.

"You used to be able to do much more," he said. "You were a great wizard, just like your parents…"

"What are parents?"

Dumbledore was trying to figure out how to explain when the door burst open and a blur of brown curls dashed into the room and pounced on Harry in a matter of 0.6 seconds with an overjoyed squeal. The curls were soon followed by a mob of red hair, which quickly followed its example. It was all Dumbledore could do to get out of the way while still maintaining his dignity, and just in time, for it was not long before the bed was groaning in protest of their combined weight.

"Alright, you lot, get off there and give him some air!" Mrs. Weasley shouted from the doorway.

"You mean, give her some air mum," Fred corrected cheekily as he extracted himself from the confusion of limbs and reached out to help his twin. Soon, the rest had followed and stood about grinning a bit awkwardly at their now female and very surprised friend.

"I'm sorry," Harry said breathlessly. "But…do I know you?"

To be continued…

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the characters therein. If I did the sixth book would not have sucked so much.

Now that I think of it, the title has nothing to do with the story. Okay, I suppose at one point I figured it did, but now I can't remember why. I think I just thought that word was silly. Really, Horripilation isn't even a word. You look it up in the dictionary, you know what you'll find? Certainly not the definition for Horripilation because it won't be there….it doesn't exist, and neither does this story, and neither do you. So there.

Again, this was a short chapter, but I find smaller chunks are easier to edit and such. Plus I can update more often. Stay posted, and thanks for the awesome reviews!

Raha