Harry found himself yawning as he pushed open the door to his shared dormitory. It was past ten, almost eleven, and he thought he would try to get a good night’s sleep before the second day of classes began.

Ron was sitting on his bed, talking to Seamus about Quidditch when Harry entered. Neville was still in the bathroom down the hall; Harry could hear him banging around while trying not to step on his toad. Trevor loved the water, but he liked to sit right over the drain so Neville nearly stepped on him every time he took a shower. Dean was nowhere to be seen, probably still goofing off in the common room.

“Hey,” Harry nodded towards them as he headed for the hook where he hung his pajamas.

“Was it bad?” Ron asked, wincing sympathetically.

“What?” Harry blinked in confusion.

“Detention?” Seamus raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, we figured Snape lit right into you the moment you walked in,” Ron agreed.

“He did not! He only spa –” Harry stopped himself just in time. He blushed to the roots of his hair, realizing he had almost shared the horribly embarrassing way Snape now punished him. “I mean, he just had me do a few chores around the dungeon.”

Harry reached for his pajamas, hoping if he looked away they wouldn’t suspect anything.

“Weird having Snape teach Defense,” Ron nodded. “And he seemed different – with you at least.”

“What do you mean?” Harry still faced the wall. He pretended to fumble with his pajamas, an act that was partly true because he couldn’t seem to unbutton them with his fumbling fingers.

“Your outburst in class,” Ron reminded him. “I mean, any other time Snape would have been furious. He’d have given you detention, sure, but he’d have insulted you in class, called you arrogant and dumb and the whole hero bit. He’s changed.”

“Maybe he fell in love this summer,” Seamus suggested. He and Ron looked at each other and then burst into laughter.

“Hey, that’s not funny,” Harry protested.

“Snape in love? Yeah, it is,” Seamus chortled.

“Who could love him?” Ron laughed.

Harry wanted to tell them that they didn’t know what they were talking about, that they should just shut up, but he couldn’t see a way to do that without looking suspicious.

“I don’t care,” he shrugged. “I’m going to bed.”

Ron blinked, thrown off by Harry’s cool dismissal. “Oh, right. Guess it is late.”

Pajamas on, Harry got into bed and immediately rolled on his side. Usually, he liked to lie awake in bed in his dormitory. Though the walls were thick, he could hear other students heading off to bed. The furnace in the middle of the room was charmed to turn on if the room got to cold, and on frosty nights, Harry would hear it come on and turn the room toasty warm. But tonight he closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep. He didn’t even look up when a wet Neville came in with his toad, complaining, “I nearly crushed him again!”

------

Lessons went smoothly the next day, partly (Harry suspected) because he did not have Madame Moretta or Snape for class. He saw them both at breakfast. Madame Moretta nodded coldly at him, her eyes flashing, but Snape ignored him. Harry sat down at his table. Not too many students were up so Snape had a clear view of Harry’s table.

Harry made a deliberate mess at the table, sloshing his juice on the table, littering breadcrumbs, and eating eggs with his hands. He hoped to annoy Snape, but he only succeeded in disgusting Hermione.

“We’re at the table,” she told him primly, handing him a napkin. “Do you have to act like it’s a pigsty? Honestly, Harry, Ron is rubbing off on you.”

“Hey!” Ron objected, spraying the table with crumbs.

She rolled her eyes at both of them and huffed as she ate her own breakfast with excruciating manners.

Harry had Transfiguration, Charms, and History of Magic that day. He was glad to see McGonagall and Flitwick who both seemed pleased to have him back in their classes. History of Magic was boring, but Harry knew Aurors had to have it in order to attend advance classes after Hogwarts. After talking with Snape all summer, Harry felt unsure about the Auror program, but that’s what he had wanted to do before he left Hogwarts last year so he went ahead to the classes.

He had some free time in the afternoon before supper and he spent the time walking around the grounds and visiting Hagrid’s hut. Hagrid was a little miffed that Harry had not signed up for Care of Magical Creatures. Neither had Ron or Hermione, but Harry was alone in bearing the guilt.

“Sorry, Hagrid,” he said as he sat down at the huge table and Fang nuzzled against his knee. “But sixth year, and I’m working on getting into the Auror program so, you know . . .”

“Bah,” Hagrid growled as he removed a boiling teakettle from the fire, “plenty of Aurors keep magical pets. Could come right handy when yer dealing with dragons.”

“Yes, but I couldn’t work it into my schedule,” Harry said, praying Hagrid wouldn’t ask what class he took instead of Magical Creatures. “But I know you’ll have a bunch of new first years that have never taken it before so you can start fresh with them, eh?”

Hagrid considered it, then he smiled. “S’pose so. Now, how about some tea and cakes. You look a mite bit healthier than last year, but it’ll be good to get some food an’ drink into ya. Oh, it’s no trouble at’ll. You sit right there and no leaving until you finish.”

Harry tasted the bitter tea put before him and tried not to spit it out.

“Sugar?” Hagrid dropped ten brown cubes of crusted sugar into Harry’s cup. Then he reached for the plate of teacakes which look like something between dogfood and week-old cinnamon buns. Hagrid tipped the plate, and three caked roundes off and hit Harry’s plate, bouncing like rocks before thumping still on the chipped plate.

“Oh, really, I couldn’t eat this much,” Harry began, but Hagrid waved him off.

“Nonsense, growin’ boy like you needs good food. You just take yer time, and don’t be shy about asking for seconds.”

As Hagrid began fixing his own cup, Harry picked up a teacake. It felt like a heavy stone in his hand, and he thought it would hurt if he threw it hard enough at someone. He tried to break it in half, even cracked it on the side of the table. It did not break though the table splintered a little. He offered the teacake down to Fang while Hagrid’s back was turned. The dog sniffed it, then turned away.

Sighing, Harry stuck his tongue out and began licking the cake. It was too sweet, but when he took a sip of tea, the cake paled in comparison to the sweetness of the tea. Death by sugar – that would be fun.

The door to Hagrid’s hut swung open. Harry cast a casual glance towards it, not really caring who had come to see Hagrid.

Snape walked in the door, shutting it behind him.

Harry nearly choked on his tea and hastily set the cup down.

“What are you doing here?” Snape asked, frowning the least bit.

“I was just –” Harry motioned towards Hagrid and the food in front of him.

“He stopped by fer a talk,” Hagrid said gruffly. “Harry’s always welcome fer chat and a cup o’ tea. Sit down and I’ll fetch ye some as well.”

“I really must object,” Snape said icily. But he came farther in the hut and took a seat beside Harry in a worn chair. “Have enough sugar there?” Snape asked Harry as Hagrid poured more water into the kettle.

“Absolutely,” Harry licked the teacake and tried to look like it tasted delicious instead of stale and awful.

Snape made a disgusted face before turning to Hagrid. “I did not come to poison myself with exorbitant amounts of sugar.”

“Right,” Hagrid hung the kettle on the hook over the fire. “But Harry just arrived.”

“And he better get back to his studies,” Snape said darkly.

So they were going to talk about something that Harry wasn’t supposed to hear. Or they were going to discuss him. Well, bully that!

“I’m fine,” Harry smiled sweetly. “Don’t have anything until supper in an hour.”

“Then you don’t want to spoil it,” Snape told him. “Out.”

Harry glanced towards Hagrid, but the half-giant looked guilty. “Best go, Harry,” Hagrid nodded towards the door.

“Fine,” Harry stood. “See you both at supper.”

He walked out the door and shut it. He walked loudly on the path, nearly stomping his shoes on the stones. Then he treaded softly on the grass around the side of the hut. He could listen in at the backdoor for a while. He rounded the hut and –

Snape stood in front of the backdoor. His arms were crossed, and his lips pressed into a small line.

“Oh,” Harry said after he nearly fell over in shock, “oh, I was just coming back to – to –”

“Lie to me now, and I will take you inside for a very long spanking,” Snape threatened.

“I was going to listen at the door,” Harry admitted, shamefaced.

“Thank you.”

“But why can’t I hear?” Harry objected. “This summer, you said I should get to know about stuff because I’m older.”

“I did not,” Snape replied crossly. “I said you should act better because you’re older. There are still things adults will discuss that you will not be privy to. And there are some things adults want to discuss without nosy teenagers listening at the keyholes. Now off with you.”

Snape reached out and whirled Harry to face the castle. Snape gave him one very hard swat across the rear.

“Ow!” Harry complained.

“That was for your atrocious table manners this morning,” Snape told him. “Stop behaving like a child. Go.”

“Right,” Harry grumbled as he trudged across the grass. “I’m too young to know anything, but I should stop acting like a child. Maybe someone should remove the poker from –”

“I can still hear you,” Snape bellowed from the back of the hut.

Harry began to walk quicker, deciding that it wasn’t worth getting swat again for back-talking.

------

That evening after supper Harry found himself wandering the halls of Hogwarts. He hung around the library for an hour until Hermione told him to find something to read and stop talking to her. So Harry began walking slowly up on corridor and down another. He supposed he could go find Snape and drum up something to do. But he knew Snape would put him to work, and after being so frigid that afternoon, Harry thought he would leave Snape alone and see how he liked being ignored. Of course, knowing Snape, the man would probably get a ton of things done and owe it all to Harry not being there.

It was very late, nearly time for the late curfew bell when Harry rounded a bend in the hall and found himself looking out of one of the tallest windows in the castle. The landscape lay in darkness as clouds covered the moon, but Harry stared out into the inky night, not really thinking but just looking.

He heard a scuffling sound behind him. He turned to find the small boy from Slytherin cowering against the wall.

“Hey,” Harry smiled, approaching the boy. Finally, he would get to meet the child.

The little boy looked up at him with terrified. He could have passed for an eight-year-old he was so tiny, and his brown hair hung over his forehead, nearly covering his eyes. He had been crying by the redness around his eyes, but Harry came near, the boy crushed himself against the wall.

“No, don’t touch me,” he wailed.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, immediately worried.

“I don’t want to die,” the boy cried, hugging his knees to his chest.

“Die?” Harry swallowed. He began to think of all the bad fortune that followed him around, but he was surprised that the child could put it all together at his age and decide Harry was a threat.

“Yes,” the boy nodded, smearing tears onto the knees of his trousers. “An older boy in my house told me that whoever you touch got marked, too,” the boy pointed to Harry’s scar, “and then they would die. He said fires come out of the scar and burns you until you die.”

“I’m going to kill Malfoy,” Harry shook his head.

“I think they called him Draco,” the boy said timidly, still brushing away tears.

“That’s him,” Harry sighed. He sat down beside the boy, careful not to touch him and scare him away. “You shouldn’t believe everything people tell you. Draco Malfoy was just teasing – I can’t kill anyone. I mean, I might could, but not with my scar. Draco and I are – er, archenemies. But in a good way. You know, playing pranks on each other and getting into trouble and all that fun stuff. In fact, you want to know a secret about him?”

The boy still looked scared, but he nodded.

Harry searched for something mean to say about Draco. “He – uh, he still sleeps with a teddy-bear.” He waited to see if the kid would believe him.

“Really?” the boy’s eyes widened.

“Oh, yeah,” Harry grinned. “And it’s pink and soft, and he calls it Cuddles. Sometimes he holds it and sucks his thumb when he thinks nobody’s watching.”

The boy laughed, smiling through the remaining tears.

“I’m Harry, by the way,” Harry offered.

“Yes, Harry Potter,” the little boy nodded.

“I see my scar precedes me,” Harry teased. The little boy wasn’t old enough to understand the reference so Harry continued, “Do you have a name?”

“Yes,” the boy nodded again, “Wentworth Melton Brintmortly Commultington.”

Harry lifted his eyebrows at the long name.

“But you can call me Worty,” the boy went on.

Harry laughed. “Sure. I would hate to run around yelling Wentworth Melton and the rest every time I wanted to see you.”

“I was eight before I could spell my own name,” Worty confided. “My nanny worked with me everyday to get it right.”

“Oh, you had a nanny?” Harry asked, unsure what else to say.

“Yes, Mum and Dad were very busy. And then they –” but Worty lowered his head and refused to say anything else.

“My parents died when I was little,” Harry said. “I never knew them, though I see them in pictures. I used to live with an aunt and uncle until I came to Hogwarts. And then this past summer I lived with . . .” Harry trailed off, not wanting to mention Snape.

“Who?” Worty looked up, his blue eyes peering up into Harry’s.

“Someone else,” Harry brushed it off. “He was kind of like an uncle. He was really strict and always yelling at me, but –”

“I know,” Worty nodded. “My nanny was like that, always scolding, but I miss her a lot.”

Harry tried not to smile as he wondered what Snape might say at being compared to a fussy nanny.

“Will you see your uncle again?” Worty asked.

Harry smiled. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll be about. But why are you all the way up here?”

“A girl from Ravenclaw said she was going to tell my head of house that I had snuck in a bag of dungbombs. I hadn’t, but she had, and she wanted to blame me. I thought if I hid I wouldn’t get in trouble. Professor Snape looks scary and I don’t want him to get angry at me.”

“Oh, he’s not so bad once you get to know him,” Harry shrugged. He stood up and Worty reluctantly got to his feet.

The little boy’s head only came to Harry’s chest, and Harry impulsively asked, “Do you want a piggy-back ride downstairs?”

Worty set his teeth bravely and reached out to touch Harry’s arm. Then Worty touched his own forehead, feeling for a scar.

“Satisfied?” Harry asked with a slight grin.

“All right,” Worty agreed. “But promise not to drop me.”

He stood up on a chair and Harry turned his back so the little boy could jump on. He felt Worty’s hands on his shoulders and then the boy was on his back. He wasn’t too heavy, and Harry hoped that was because he himself had grown over the summer and not because Worty was tiny.

“Ready?” Harry asked. He felt Worty’s hands tighten on his shoulders, clutching at the edge of his collarbone. Then Harry started off at a run.

Worty squealed and clung tighter. Harry started to gain speed until he was at a flat out run. He slowed a little at the staircases, guessing no one would be happy if he and Worty tumbled to the bottom because Harry was running down stairs with a kid on his back.

“You’re fast!” Worty yelled at one point during a sprint down a hall.

“You should see me on a broom,” Harry told him.

“Draco said he was the fastest,” Worty said, a little uneasy.

“I can run faster than Draco can fly,” Harry snorted. That answer seemed to please Worty and he hung on, enjoying the ride.

“I’ll take you down to the dungeon,” Harry said as they reached the main floor. They had taken smaller staircases to avoid the grand staircase and so far no one had seen them.

“How do you know the way?” Worty asked. “Draco said only Slytherins know the way to our rooms, and you sit at another table.”

“Once you’ve been here long enough, you know where everything is,” Harry confided. “And you better not listen to everything Draco says or your hair will turn white-blond like his.” Worty giggled, and Harry put his last bit of strength into running the last hallway to the dungeons. He spun around a corner and then jerked to a stop to keep from colliding into Snape. Had Harry taken the corner any faster he might have plowed Snape down, but he managed to stop without falling forward or tumbling backwards and crushing Worty.

“Mr. Potter?” Snape said in a cold voice. “And Mr. Commultington?”

Harry felt Worty’s grip tighten in fear, but Harry smiled bashfully at Snape. “Sorry, Sna – er, Professor. I was giving Worty a lift here.”

“Did neither of you hear the curfew bell?” Snape asked in a clipped tone.

“No,” Harry admitted when he realized that Worty was not going to say anything. “Sorry, we were – uh, wandering around the castle.”

“And do you make it a habit to take first-year students around the castle last at night, Mr. Potter?”

“No, sir,” Harry said quietly. He leaned to the side and Worty slipped off.

“To your dormitory and straight to bed,” Snape directed the little boy.

Worty gave Harry a worried look before hurrying off.

“Snape, I wasn’t –” Harry began, but Snape cut him off.

“Into my office, Mr. Potter,” Snape pointed down the hall.

Harry blinked and then trudged towards Snape’s office. He entered and waited for Snape to close the door behind him before saying, “Look, I really didn’t hear the bell. And I didn’t take him anywhere. I found him crying up in one of the towers.”

“And what were you doing wandering around?” Snape asked crossly as he sat in one of his armchairs. A tea-set sat on the table to Snape’s right, and Harry recognized the yellow teacup he had used at Snapdragon Manor. He sat down in the chair in front of Snape, hoping to be given a cup.

“It wasn’t that late,” Harry protested. “I was in the library until Hermione kicked me out, and I couldn’t find Ron, and students can walk around the castle as long as they don’t go into forbidden rooms.”

“Though it’s never stopped you,” Snape grumbled as he poured hot tea into the yellow cup and handed it to Harry. “And don’t spill it.”

“Thanks,” Harry held the saucer, careful not to tip the cup.

“I suppose you’ll want a biscuit,” Snape sighed as he reached for the plate of plain biscuits that Harry loved.

But Harry had enough of being treated like a child, and he replied stiffly, “No thank you, I don’t want one.”

“Take a biscuit and stop fooling around,” Snape ordered, nearly shoving the plate at him. “You’ll be snitching them all night when you think I’m not looking, and then I’ll have to be cross with you. Eat one now and save me the bother.”

Harry took two, looking pointedly at Snape, and proceeded to cram the first one into his mouth.

“It’s going to be a long year,” Snape sighed, taking a sip of tea.

“Do you know why Worty was crying?” Harry asked once he had swallowed.

“Homesick,” Snape suggested. “Other children teasing him.”

“You don’t care?” Harry leaned forward, balancing the tea saucer between both hands. “A student is miserable, and no one cares?”

“I can’t keep track of all students,” Snape told him. “That’s why we have Prefects and Head students. And some responsibility does fall on the parents. If the parents feel that a child is too young or immature to start the first year, they are welcomed to hold their child out a year. Not all children are ready to leave home at eleven.”

“I would have come here at five,” Harry objected. He paused then asked, “Would you have? I mean, did you want to come to Hogwarts?”

“Yes,” Snape set his cup and saucer down with a clink. “But Worty comes from a very wealthy, very Pure-Blooded family. He is the youngest of four children. The older three have already gone through Hogwarts – Worty is twelve years younger than the third child. I doubt his parents would have held him back even if they thought he would be miserable.”

“Then his parents are still alive?” Harry questioned. “By the way he talked, I thought . . .”

Snape opened his mouth, then shook his head. “Don’t worry about his parents. But I think it’s very kind of you to befriend him.”

“Yeah, ‘cause if I don’t Draco will poison his mind,” Harry scoffed. “Do you know that Draco is telling first-years that if they touch me, they’ll get a scar and die?”

“You are not going to start fighting with Draco,” Snape pointed a finger at Harry. “I thought I straightened you two out this summer.”

“Not him,” Harry decided. “And I never needed straightening out.”

He yawned and set his teacup on the table.

“You should go up to bed,” Snape said, pouring a second cup.

“No,” Harry disagreed, “I’m not tired. It’s just all that running with Worty on my back wore me out.”

“He’s too heavy for you to carry,” Snape insisted. “He might be small, but he weighs at least seventy or eighty pounds.”

“I can carry him,” Harry muttered, leaning back in the chair. “Let me close my eyes for a second, then I’ll leave.”

“Tomorrow is a school day,” Snape began, but Harry had already closed his eyes and rested his head against the broad side wings of the armchair.

It was almost twelve o’clock, and Snape sighed heavily. He pulled out his wand and extinguished most of the candles. He browsed over some paperwork for a while, but when it became obvious that Harry was not going to wake up, Snape spelled his clothes into pajamas. He Leviated Harry onto the sofa and floated a blanket over his tired body. But Snape walked over to the sofa himself to give Harry a pillow. He lifted the boy’s head gently and slid the pillow under before easing his head back down again. In the candlelight, the scar was barely visible.

Snape stared down at the scar, the jagged, slightly-pink mark that had not faded, not even after fifteen years. Visible, reminding them of what had happened, but not . . .

Snape stepped away from the sofa. Time to think about that later. But for now Snape had a job. And his part in the job meant Harry’s life hung in the balance.

Snape returned to his papers, glancing towards the slumbering boy every so often if only to make sure he didn’t fall off the narrow sofa.