Harry sat, perched in his tree in the Forbidden forest, twenty feet above where Snape was stood. Both watching the back of Professor Quirrell's turbaned head disappear back towards the castle. That had been a dramatic turn of events.

Harry was glad he had decided to follow the professors, sure as he was that their conversation was going to be interesting. He thought briefly that Hermione wouldn't have approved of him following their teachers like this, but even she had set fire to Snape's robes, so he felt she didn't have much of a leg to stand on.

The Gryffindor felt a bit sorry for Quirrell. Snape was scary enough when he just didn't like you, let alone having him drag you into the forbidden forest to threaten you.

Snape was still standing where he had been, and Harry was starting to hope that the man would just get on with it and head back to the castle. Harry was more certain than ever that Snape was trying to get the stone from the third floor. Harry had to do something to help stop him.

Snape started to walk down the path and Harry relaxed, relieving the cramp that was threatening to take over his left foot. In doing so, he accidentally dislodged a flurry of pine needles, which pattered down onto the path and worse, a small spiny creature, which Harry had been keeping an eye on for the last 10 minutes.

Snape spun on the spot to stare up into the trees as the little woody creature scuttled past him on spiny legs, grumbling. He spotted Harry almost instantly, as it was rather hard to hide in bright red robes, with a seven foot broomstick once somebody already knew you were there.

"Get. Down. Now." Snape's voice carried easily, and the tone was fearsome to the eleven year old.

Harry mounted his broomstick with little trouble, despite the branches pressing in on him from above. Kicking off was a little trickier but he managed to descend at a reasonable pace and landed himself, slightly shaking, a good few meters away from the angry man.

Of course, this made no difference to Snape, who strode forwards as soon as Harry had dismounted and loomed over the boy, eyes furious. He held out a hand expectantly, and Harry stared for a moment, before offering the broom, not sure that that was what the Professor was expecting. Snape pulled it roughly out of his hands, and Harry shrunk back another meter, out of necessary caution.

Snape's expression didn't falter.

"Follow me."

Snape whirled around and began to march away. Harry stared for a second, before having to jog after the man, whose much longer legs carried him away quickly. Harry's breath hitched slightly. He couldn't believe he had been caught in the Forbidden forest! He only hoped that Snape wasn't going to chop him up into pieces or transfigure him into something horrible, since he knew Harry had heard him threatening Quirrell.

Hopefully, the man would just take him to Professor McGonagall. But even then, his head of house was strictly no-nonsense. What if she banned him from the Quidditch team? Or if she took away the broom? Snape wouldn't have to do a thing, Oliver would happily murder Harry.

They entered the castle, and several late-returning students stared as their Potions professor swept past them with a broomstick, followed by a scurrying first year – Harry Potter, no less.

The two of them passed scores of Slytherin students on their way down to wherever their common room was. Thankfully, Harry didn't recognise any first years, Malfoy would have had a field day if he had seen Harry being escorted to Snape's office. They passed the potions classroom, and Harry was deeper into the dungeons than he had been before. Including once when he had been lost in the first few weeks and Peeves had 'helped' him.

Snape stopped suddenly in front of a closed door, and Harry had to make a sharp stop to avoid jogging into the man's back.

The Slytherin tapped the door with his wand, and pushed it open, gesturing Harry forwards with the Nimbus. Harry walked past the man with some trepidation.

The office was quite large, and Harry elected to stand in front of the main desk, head down. Snape leant the broom against his desk and walked towards the fireplace, giving Harry the chance to examine his surroundings.

The office was gloomy, lit only by some oil lamps, and the large fireplace, it obviously belonged to Snape. The desk was tidy, with sharp stacks of students' essays. There were bookcases around the walls, and a high shelf with greasy jars of potions ingredients. Harry grimaced and went back to staring at the desk.

There was a loud whooshing noise and the room turned green. Harry spun around, alarmed, and saw that the fire itself had changed colour, to bright emerald flames. He shouted in warning as Snape bent down and stuck his head into the fire!

There was the muffled sound of speech, but no shout of pain. A few moments later, Snape emerged, unharmed. He raised an eyebrow at the expression of concern on the first year's face, and then made a noise of understanding when Harry looked even more horrified by a body emerging from the fireplace.

"Floo travel, Potter." He said, drawing Harry's reluctant attention. "Perfectly safe, so long as you remember to use the powder beforehand."

Harry was shocked by the development, but understood when it was obvious Professor McGonagall had been the one to come through the fireplace. She looked alright too, although a little sooty.

"What can I help you with, Professor Snape?" McGonagall asked, looking between Snape and Harry. "You did not call me here for a practical demonstration of the Hogwarts Floo, surely? Why is Potter still in his quidditch robes?"

Harry held his tongue, sure that if he spoke, Snape would just tell him to shut up anyway.

"Potter thought it would be intelligent to follow me after the Quidditch match in order to eavesdrop on a conversation between myself and Professor Quirrell."

McGonagall quirked a formidable eyebrow in Harry's direction, but didn't interrupt.

"We spoke within the bounds of the Forest, and Potter had decided to hide himself in a Bowtruckle's Larch, where he had flown."

"Did it attack you?" She looked slightly concerned.

Harry shook his head, mutely.

"He must have been watching it, it fell out of the tree when he disturbed it."

Snape and McGonagall shared a look between them, before the witch sighed.

"Have it your way, Severus." She turned to Harry. "Potter, why did you follow Professor Snape?"

Harry blinked at the witch he trusted, and then at the man he didn't. He couldn't very well say that he'd thought the man was going to attack Quirrell and that he was trying to steal the Philosophers stone. Not in front of the man who had cursed him in front of a whole quidditch stadium, anyway.

"I… just wondered where he was going?"

"Liar." Snape growled, unfolding his arms, and turning to his desk, searching for something.

Harry looked at him in confusion. Wasn't he going to demand further explanation? McGonagall was.

"Potter?"

"I… He… I thought he might…" Harry stopped, realising they were both staring at him. "I wanted to know why he was going to the forest by himself." He finished lamely.

"Why?"

Snape had found what he was looking for, he had a large school ledger in his hands, and was staring levelly at Harry.

Harry felt angry all of a sudden, and his self-preservation evaporated. "Because I thought you were going to hurt Quirrell. Because you've threatened him before – I've seen you. And then you chased him in there."

Snape's face tightened and then relaxed, he looked up at the ceiling as if praying for patience. To Harry's consternation, McGonagall didn't even look surprised.

"Well, it's obvious why you are a Gryffindor." Snape said exasperatedly, and McGonagall didn't protest.

"Potter, if you still have concerns later, please come to me." She said. "You must understand that both Professor Dumbledore and I trust Professor Snape implicitly and it is not your place to investigate your teachers."

"Yes Professor." Harry couldn't agree less, and his voice was suspiciously flat. Both of his teachers gave him a stern look.

"Professor Snape will be in charge of your punishment, as it is he who apprehended you." She glanced at Snape. "Severus, recall he is a first year, and muggle raised."

"How could I forget?" Snape said, unconcerned. "Thank you for your time, we had best be getting on."

McGonagall nodded and after throwing what looked like a handful of sand into the fire, vanished into the green flames. Harry stared, but was brought back into the moment by Snape clearing his throat.

Harry reluctantly looked back at the man, who was now leaning back against his desk, that large book still in his hands.

"Sir?"

Snape regarded him for a long moment, until Harry started to shuffle his feet nervously.

"Potter you understand the concept of corporal punishment?"

Harry blinked at the man, clueless.

"Physical punishment?" Snape tried. He nodded, as Harry's eyes widened from internal panic.

"Although uncommon in the muggle world as of late, it has long been practiced in both muggle and wizarding schools. Hogwarts is no different, and we have a formalised way of dealing with the issue."

"Nobody's mentioned it." Harry said, mouth dry. "Well, Filch…"

"Only Heads of Houses, at their discretion, are permitted to enact corporal punishment. Mr Filch's views are somewhat historically inaccurate and not condoned under any circumstance."

"Oh." Harry blinked, nervous. He had questions to ask, but they all felt embarrassing and he couldn't put them into words if he had tried.

"This type of punishment is reserved for those who are severely out of bounds, for using magic in a deliberate, or carelessly harmful way, or for being repeatedly out after curfew. Other rule breaking is punished in the ways you have experienced so far, with detentions and housepoints."

Snape seemed to be waiting for a response, so Harry managed a quiet 'yes, sir'.

"These punishments are recorded in this book," Snape held the ledger up. "Which automatically updates in each copy held by the other Housemasters and the master copy, in Professor Dumbedore's office. You will be asked to sign to acknowledge each punishment and may go to any member of staff if you are concerned over 'unfairness'."

That sounded… reasonable. Harry thought reluctantly. It didn't make him any happier about it, but at least Snape couldn't beat the hell out of him without him being able to do anything. His next thought was that Aunt Marge, Vernon's horrible sister, would have a field day if she knew about this. His spirits fell even further.

"Any Head of house may use a cane to administer punishment."

Harry's stomach dropped at the word being dropped so casually. He was sure his face fell too, which he wouldn't have thought possible.

"Apart from Professor McGonagall who prefers the school strap."

Harry nodded, wide eyed, although he had no idea what one of those was and didn't ever want to find out.

"Professor Dumbledore will refer you to your head of house."

That lifted a weight Harry hadn't known was there. Somehow the thought of Dumbledore beating students was so much worse than Snape doing it. Harry wasn't sure how he would feel if Sprout or Flitwick wanted to cane him- probably horribly embarrassed. They had never given him so much as a detention however so he was sure Snape and McGonagall were going to be the main threat.

Snape walked over to the edge of the room, to where two bookcases nearly met, and pulled out a long stick from the gap between them. It was thin wood, which looked like bamboo, except not quite, and with a curved handle. Harry felt his heart thumping in his chest, and his face go bright red.

Snape watched Harry cautiously, not moving back to the desk until Harry had started breathing again. He put the cane down with a click.

Snape opened the front cover of the ledger, and turned a few pages. He lifted a quill from next to his marking and began to make a new entry in the book. After a moment he turned, holding the quill out to Harry expectantly.

Harry swallowed and had to force his legs to move forwards. Glancing across the page, he realised that it was full of Gryffindors, and had their house crest at the top. He recognised the Weasley twins names next to each other, but Snape clicked his tongue impatiently and Harry had to focus on his own name.

'Harry Potter, 1st year', it said. Then, 'Out of bounds, FYW', and the date in the second column.

There was a lot of space left along the row.

"What does F-Y-W mean, Sir?" Harry managed to ask, quill hovering over the page.

"First year warning."

Warning didn't sound so bad, Harry thought, signing.

"I should perhaps clarify that it is a practical demonstration." The man added.

"Uh." Harry had already signed, although there wasn't much he could have done about it anyway. He dithered for a moment, before handing the quill back to Snape, who took it, looking slightly amused.

"If you would bend over the desk." Snape indicated a space he had cleared.

Harry stayed frozen, he wanted to know what would happen, before doing that, but couldn't summon the words to ask. "How, er, how many…"

"Once."

"That's it?" Harry blurted, startled.

Snape gave Harry a challenging look, which was met with bewilderment rather than defiance.

"And a detention. It is a warning after all, Potter. There is no such lenience the second time."

Harry thought he could avoid a second time easily enough. Especially with his father's invisibility cloak. He nodded and spun to face the desk, leaning over to rest his forearms.

"Do not get up until I give you leave."

Harry bristled a little at this instruction, it felt unnecessarily embarrassing.

"If there is a repeat of this, and I am not optimistic enough to believe there will not be in the next seven years, I do not wish to do you any harm if you move."

"Sir." Harry ground out.

He felt the length of the cane rest along the backside of his quidditch robes and his muscles tensed unconsciously. Then it was gone and Harry felt his eyes scrunch up, and held his breath.

Crack!

"Ah!" Pain and heat flooded in, exactly along the line where the cane had been resting a moment ago. Harry's eyes stayed scrunched shut, and he forced the rest of his body to remain still as well. There was a click next to him, and Harry opened an eye to see the cane resting innocently on the desk.

"You may stand when you are ready." Snape said mildly.

Harry did so instantly, covering another groan of pain as his body protested. He spun to face Snape who had retreated a little way back, arms crossed yet again.

"For your information, from first to third year, you may receive three to six strokes of the cane, with additional punishments."

Harry nodded at Snape's jaw, unable to meet the man's eyes at the moment.

"Presently, you will collect any belongings from the quidditch pitch, return your broomstick to the shed, and then go directly to your common room. You are expected to attend meals tomorrow, and may go to the library, but only under the direct supervision of a prefect. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir."

Snape's jaw tensed for a moment, "I am giving you fair warning to not stray out of bounds, Potter. The rest of the student body manages, it should not be an impossible feat for you."

"No, Sir."

Snape paused for a moment, clearly thinking about something. "You will not speak to Professor Quirrell outside of classes. You will not follow him inside or outside of the school."

"What?"

Snape's eyes hardened. Harry was totally bewildered by the instruction. Maybe he didn't want Harry and Quirrell to work together. No matter, Harry already kept his distance, the incense and garlic the man always smelled of gave Harry a terrible headache.

"Fine." Harry said. Snape gave him a look. "Sir."

"Go, then."

Harry vanished out of the door.

"Broomstick, Potter!" Snape called loudly.

Red faced, Harry caught the door neatly before it could close and walked back in to retrieve it. "Thank you, sir." He mumbled, not waiting for a response.