Harry woke up one morning several days later to a very excited Hermione shouting at him from outside of the boy's dorm.

"Harry! Wake up! I have something to show you."

If he could have, Harry would have groaned. As it stood, he grabbed one his pillows and pressed it over his head, trying to drown her out.

"You should just let her in, mate - she's not going to stop until you do."

Harry cracked an eye from under his pillow to find Ron sitting on his bed reading, clearly having showered and dressed. Why is Ron awake? He never gets up early. Glancing at the clock on Neville's bedside table, Harry discovered that this was still true. He had slept far later than he thought.

Probably because he had been up for several hours in the night, trying to forget the nightmare he had had. He gave a small shudder at the memory.

It was his attack. Much like the real thing, he had been in the bathroom on the second floor corridor. He was alone, or so he thought, when he was hit with a blindfolding hex. Looking back he realized that had to have been hidden in the stalls, because he hadn't seen anyone.

Once the blindfolding hex hit the world went black, and much to Harry's chagrin he began to panic immediately. He had never liked the dark - not the real dark, like in his cupboard, where almost no light got in.

His nightmare had reflected the reality, and as before, someone began to mock him.

"Oh, is the wee one afraid? Some "hero" you turned out to be."

Hero? What on earth were they talking about? He was just Harry.

He opened his mouth to say as much, but never got a chance. He was backhanded across the mouth so hard his head snapped back.

"Shut up Potter! No one told you to speak." A different voice. There was more than one of them. Harry's stomach turned to ice. He had no chance. No chance at all. But he tried to fight them anyway.

The arm that went around his neck to hold and quiet him was very big. These were no lowerclassmen. He felt his wand removed from his robes. How had he gotten it back?

"You'd better be a good boy." In both the dream and real life visions of his Uncle Vernon swam before him. Instinct kicked in and he tried to be obedient and placating, so he nodded. As much as he could, anyway.

"Good." And that's when they started hitting him. From the number of hands hitting him, and the fact that the boy behind him only tightened his grip, Harry finally surmised that there were 3 attackers.

One got in his face. Harry could feel his hot breath on his cheek.

"We don't like you, Potter. You know why? Because you wouldn't die! My parents died in the war, only to be shown up by a blasted baby two weeks later! You were all anyone could talk about, no one remembered them anymore. They made sacrifices! But what did that matter? Now we had The-Boy-Who-Lived!"

A punch to his face again. He barely felt the blows that followed.

"You should have died! He hit you with the bloody Killing Curse. Why didn't you die?

His friend chimed in.

"Maybe we can fix that. One little accident and - Ooops! No more little Potter." A finger ran down his jaw. "You're a cute little thing. Pretty even. It would be a tragedy to let that go to waste before we fix You-Know-Who's mistake."

The implication was not lost on the boy. He began to sob as the fear caused him to lose control of his body. He wasn't even able to feel humiliated when he wet his pants.

As soon as this was noticed he was released from the chokehold and dropped to his knees. He managed to throw his arms over his head before he blacked out.

That was when he woke up from his nightmare. He had been horrified to discover that he had wet his bed. Although he knew it was because the dream had been too real, hhe was surprised. He had never done that before, not even when he was small. Thanking God, Merlin or whoever that he paid some attention to the spells Hermione knew, he casting a cleaning spell on his sheets.

Hermione! He had to let her in, she'd think he'd gone nutters. Opening his eyes he found Ron & Hermione staring at him, half in curiosity, half in concern. Shooting them a smile he grabbed his quill and parchment.

'Sorry, got lost for a second. What did you want 'mione?'

"I got you something that should help you. I can't believe I didn't think of it sooner!" With that she droppeed a very large book on his bed.

British Sign Language

"It's a book to learn sign language Harry!"

Harry raised an eyebrow and Ron piped in, "He can still read Hermione."

She pursed her lips and continued.

"You said you were getting tired of writing. This will help. You can sign things instead! I mean, obviously you won't be able to learn all of it - it is a whole new language after all - but you can learn some common words, make it a little easier on yourself." Catching herself babbling, the young witch tried to bring it to a close. "I got one for myself too, so that someone could understand you. I figured Ron wouldn't read anything he wasn't forced to, so he can learn from me."

Ron nodded in agreement.

Harry stared at the book for a moment. Another present. His third in as many months. He really liked being a wizard!

He flipped open the book to the word he wanted and studied it for a moment, then looked up at Hermione He brought his hand up to his chin and flicked it away from himself.

[[Thank you.]]

She signed back immediately. [[You're welcome.]]

This was good. This would help.

*******

He had objected when the Headmaster requested his presence at the meeting.

"I have no desire to get in the middle of this, Albus. It has nothing to do with me."

"I understand that. But you are a witness, and as such, the investigator from the Ministry would like to speak to you."

"Since when do they send ministry investigators to mediate a schoolboy scuffle?"

"It was hardly a schoolboy scuffle, Severus. And they started sending investigators when Harry Potter started attending Hogwart's, obviously."

"All the more reason for my abscence. Bloody coddling..." he trailed off as Dumbledore fixed a stern look at him.

"I'm afraid this is not a request, my boy. Please be at my office at 7:30 this evening. I shall speak to Poppy and Minerva and send a note to Harry."

And so, the potions professor watched as the boy read his note from the Headmaster at breakfast. The boy looked tired, he noted. And his countenance only became worse after a moment. Severus assumed it was because of the meeting. What else could cause him to go so pale?

It appeared the child had no more desire to meet with the investigator than he did.

Thus, he wasn't surprised to find Potter hovering outside the Headmaster's office later that evening, making no move to go inside. In fact, the boy was crouched against the wall, running his fingers along the spine of a large book.

"Potter, I'm sure the headmaster and his investigator are expecting you inside."

The boy made a face to show how he felt about the prospect. It was almost a sneer, Snape noticed, and it was almost amusing.

"Yes, well, sometimes we have to do things we don't like. Quite dawdling and maybe this will be over quickly."

Minerva and Poppy were there, along with Dumbledore and a man that was clearly a ministry lackey. Worn brown suit, balding slightly, with barely a spark of intelligence in his eyes. Severus snorted. This would go well.

"Mr Potter, Harry, if I may?" He received no answer from the boy, but clearly assumed one had been given in the affirmative. "Harry, my name is Yves Fletcher. I'm here to investigate the unfortunate incident that occurred here at Hogwart's last week."

Unfortunate incident? Really? The Ministry continues to take positions of weakness, the Professor thought, conveniently pushing to the back of him mind the fact that he himself had referred to it as "a schoolboy shuffle" just that morning.

Once the introductions were done, they jumped right into the questioning. Harry of course had to write out everything that he remembered, and that took some time. The adults sat in slightly awkward silence, and Snape couldn't help but glare at the investigator. The other man didn't appear to notice, he was too busy staring the boy. Harry apparently could feel the eyes that were trained on him, as he curled to the side and seemed to shrink in on himself. The boy is far too self-conscious.

"Mr. Fletcher - is there something about a child putting quill to parchment that you find fascinating?"

Fletcher stuttered for a moment, but left Harry to write his statement in peace. Severus looked up to find Dumbledore twinkling at him annoyingly. How long was this going to take?

Apparently half the night, as it was a full hour and half later when the investigator asked Potter his final question and then said "I'd like to ask Madame Pomfrey what time she found Harry outside the infirmary?"

Poppy began to speak, but Severus was too caught with the sight of the clearly emotionally drained Potter to pay attention. The boy was sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest, his face devoid of any colour save the scar that now stood out angrily on his skin.

"Does the boy really need to be here for this?"

"Certainly not." Dumbledore replied. "Thank you Harry, you may go." Potter cast a grateful look at his potions professor and quietly left the adults to their task.

Given that he had been so grateful to leave, Snape was surprised to find the boy sitting on the stair to Gryffindor reading a book yet another hour later.

"Potter you ought to be in bed, or at least in the tower."

Potter just looked at him wearily, making a shrugging motion. "Can't sleep. Give me a detention if you want, but you can't make me sleep."

Severus chose to read that as Don't Want to Sleep. As for not being able to make him...he smirked knowingly to himself.

"Well you can't just sit here on the steps Potter." With that he walked away. He didn't make it very far before turning back to the boy with a sigh. "Well are you coming or not?" He paused only long enough so the boy could catch up to him and then began walking once again to the dungeons, this time with the boy jogging lightly beside him.