Chapter Text
It had been yet another of those summer vacations that seemed to never end, 15-year-old Harry Potter reflected. As usual, his only living relatives, the Dursleys, had spent the last three months either ignoring him, or taunting him, the latter tactic designed to try to force forbidden magic from the underage wizard.
Finally, though, September 1st had come...the day Harry would be re-united with those he considered to be his "true" family: his classmates--particularly his Gryffindor Housemates--at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As usual, Harry had spent another pleasant journey on the Hogwarts Express--the train that took the students to and from school--chatting with friends like Hermione Granger (like Harry, a 5th-year student), and the Weasleys.
Twins Fred and George were beginning their 7th--and final--Year; Ron (the youngest Weasley son, and Harry's first-ever friend) was another 5th-Year student; and the youngest Weasley, sister Ginny, was a 4th-Year student.
The annual Welcoming Banquet and Sorting Ceremony now both behind them, the students had begun classes. For Friday's last class, Professor Pomona Sprout, the Herbology Instructor, had given each of her students a map, each with a certain area of the grounds to search for various plants that they would then be studying. It was a pleasant day to be outside, the late summer day not unbearably hot.
Harry had been busy, taking notes, and using his wand to sever certain plants--placing them into various jars, to be taken back to the classroom--when, suddenly, he heard a faint wail.
"Hello?" he called.
No response....
"HELLO?!!" he repeated.
Again, no response....
Quickly, yet methodically, Harry put his jars and notes back into the case Sprout had provided, and prepared to set off in the direction of the wailing. He wished he'd had his Firebolt--his broomstick, that would've carried him over the trees--so that he could spot the source of the wailing from the air. As that wasn't to be on this day, Harry shouldered the case, and started sprinting, making certain to avoid certain troublesome plants and areas that had been noted on his map.
Rounding a bend, Harry stopped dead in his tracks. Before him was a large purple bog...and thrashing in the bog--alternately gasping and emitting strangled sounds that could have been laughter that was being choked back--was the Hogwarts Potions Master, Professor Severus Snape....
(END PROLOGUE.)