Aunt Petunia screams.

That's not unusual, but it does mean Harry's done something freakish.

Now he's in his cupboard, in the dark.

It's been a while since he's last been locked in.

It's stifling hot. Sweat trickles into his eyes.

He wonders what he's done this time. He doesn't think he's done any accidental magic.

He finds out when they let him out to use the loo.

Black. His eyes are black.

He stares into the mirror and doesn't understand.

He stays in too long. Now he's in his cupboard again.

Finally he sleeps.

His dreams are full of screaming.

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Professor Lupin,

Sirius,

Something really strange is happening

to me. I think I'm changing into

someone else.

Is this normal?

Sincerely,

Harry Potter

He'll be punished for letting Hedwig out, he knows.

And he is.

Cupboard.

No meals.

It's a week before a reply arrives.

Harry,

I'm coming.

DO NOT LEAVE THE HOUSE!

Sirius

Aunt Petunia is banging on the bathroom door.

He looks into the mirror. Tears blur his vision.

He knows.

Or thinks he does.

And he wishes he never wrote that letter.

Back in the cupboard again.

Tonight he is too weak to dream.

Aunt Petunia shrieks.

Dudley pounds up the stairs.

He lifts his head with effort.

The cupboard door opens.

He tries to hide his face, but Sirius doesn't let him. He stares at Harry with a mixture of shock and disgust.

"Bloody fuck."

"Sirius?"

"In here."

Harry recognizes Lupin through a haze of tears he isn't able to stop.

"Oh, my...."

Sirius backs away, arms folded over his chest, a frown on his face. He lets Lupin help Harry out of the cupboard.

Harry sways on his feet, but Lupin doesn't let him fall.

His first Apparition.

The world goes black.

He doesn't know where he is. He is staring up at a stained ceiling.

He struggles to raise himself up on his elbows, and sees he is not alone.

Lupin looks up from a book and his smile doesn't reach his eyes.

"Morning. Are you up for a light breakfast?"

He nods and sets off pounding in his head.

Weak tea.

Toast.

Pitying looks.

"Professor Dumbledore will be here soon."

He nods and wonders if what's wrong with him can be fixed with a potion or the wave of a wand.

His voice is scratchy. "Where's Sirius?"

Lupin turns away.

He's pulled from sleep by the slam of a door.

"I was expecting Albus."

"He'll be here shortly. Is it true?"

"It... is."

Crouching by the door, he listens.

"Are you going to accept him?"

"No."

"He's your son."

"I neither want nor need a son."

"How can you be so callous? It's Lily's child!"

Silence.

"Won't you at least look at him?"

"No. Dumbledore will handle this. The charms can be replaced."

"He can never go back to the Muggles."

"Let Dumbledore deal with that."

"Like he did before?"

Silence.

"Why did you even come?"

Silence.

A door slams.

He turns away from Dumbledore. Stares at the wall. The wallpaper is stained and peeling.

"I'm sorry, my boy."

Never sorry enough.

"Someday you will understand."

Never.

Dumbledore leaves him.

He sits up, suddenly frightened.

Lupin comes to fill the emptiness with many useless words.

He thinks maybe he can just stay here. Stay with Lupin.

Lupin shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Harry, but I won't be here. I'll be teaching again. Besides, you can't leave school."

But how can he show up at Hogwarts like this?

"It's going to be all right."

Lupin doesn't understand.

No one understands.

Never.

He clutches the handle of a battered steam trunk. His name is on its side.

Harry Evans

He still feels like a stranger in his own skin.

The train billows steam. A whistle blows.

He tries not to see his schoolmates. They call out to Lupin but don't seem to see him.

He catches sight of red hair. He walks faster.

An empty compartment. He sits with Lupin, hoping no one joins them.

And no one does.

"It will be much easier if you just talk to them. They would understand, Harry."

He can't help feeling that Lupin is wrong.

Jeering faces.

Hermione looks shocked, but Ron looks furious.

He thinks maybe that wasn't the best way to tell them, but now he's too angry and his heart is pounding too hard.

"What're you gonna do, run crying to daddy?"

"Shut up, Seamus!" says Hermione.

"Why should I? There's been something funny about him since first year. Now we know."

And there's agreement up and down the Gryffindor table.

"Talks to snakes."

"No normal person survives the killing curse."

"He's a Snape."

"Why doesn't he just go to Slytherin where he belongs?"

"Shut up!" says Hermione.

But it's too late.

Fury carries him to the front of the Great Hall, where members of staff rise out of their seats upon seeing him.

He ignores them.

Glares at the young boy, Abbot, Linus, who's just stepped out of the queue.

Throws himself on the stool. Jams on the tattered Sorting Hat.

"Hmm... Have I not sorted you before?"

"NO."

"If you insist. Let's have a look."

He doesn't realize what he's done until it's over, and then it's too late.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Terror seizes him, but he plasters a scowl on his face and marches on shaking legs to the Slytherin table.

He chants I don't care in his head until he begins to think he believes it.

New staff. Don't care.

Lupin's teaching Care of Magical Creatures. Don't care.

Hagrid's away. Don't care.

Triwizard Tournament. Don't care.

Bloody Beauxbatons. Don't care.

Bloody Durmstrang. Don't care.

Malfoy is staring. Don't care.

Snape's glare is murderous. Don't care.

McGonagall looks furious. Don't care.

Dumbledore's done, finally, and food appears. He chokes it down.

He dares to look around, and doesn't see a single friendly face until Lupin gives him a small smile.

It's not nearly enough.

It terrifies him to know he does care.

The Slytherin common room is cold and uninviting.

Snape billows in, bringing with him dead silence.

"What are you waiting for?"

Slytherins scatter. Moments later the common room is empty.

He meets Snape's eyes.

"You brought this on yourself."

He knows it.

"The Fourth Year dorm is through that door."

His knees threaten to buckle.

"Don't expect me to intervene on your behalf."

Of course not.

He stays silent too long and Snape grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him until his teeth rattle.

"Don't you have anything to say for yourself?"

But he doesn't.

Not a damn word.

They're staring at him.

Crabbe and Goyle have equally muddled expressions.

Zabini's a blank slate, lounging in a chair with his feet propped up on a trunk.

Nott's frowning, brows knit together.

Malfoy's eyeing him appraisingly.

There's an empty bed, and he wills his legs to carry him to it.

His trunk's already there. He throws it open and takes out his pyjamas, a toothbrush, and a glass.

"Which way is the bathroom?"

There is long moment of silence.

Malfoy exchanges a look with Zabini. "To the left."

"Thanks."

He slams his trunk shut and walks out.

Snape is gone.

He wakes. Uncursed.

The clock is chiming, the sound dulled by distance.

He sits up and looks around, and finds himself alone with the last person he wants to talk to.

"So." Malfoy swings his legs off the bed, setting his book aside. "What are you now? Potter? Snape?"

"Evans."

He doesn't mean to spit it out like a swear.

Malfoy raises an eyebrow. "I'd be going with Snape if I were you."

"I'm not you."

Malfoy smirks. "Clearly. Well, Evans, a bit of advice for you...."

He waits.

"Not everyone is going to be as accepting as I am."

"Evans. A word."

He stops, but he doesn't turn around.

"Look at me when I speak to you."

Reluctantly, he does.

"The rags you wore to bed, as well as the ones you have on now, are completely unacceptable."

He looks down. His robes don't cover Dudley's oversized trainers. His big toe is sticking out.

"I'm granting permission for you to go into Hogsmeade immediately after classes."

He stares at Snape like the man has lost his mind. Then he remembers.

"I have no money."

Thanks to inheritance laws straight out of the Dark Ages.

"Put it on my account."

Classes are a nightmare.

Charms. He hides behind Crabbe and Goyle's bulk at the back of the classroom.

Transfiguration. In a corner, ignoring the looks shot his way from the Gryffindor side.

Herbology isn't worse than usual, until he's paired with Finch-Fletchley.

And his potion is perfect.

"Must be a hereditary talent," says Malfoy.

Slytherin loses twenty points.

He leaves the classroom feeling ill, skips dinner, and heads for the dorm.

Then he remembers.

He stops, not sure what to do now.

Students push past him, some pushing harder than they need to.

He wonders if he should find Snape.

"Harry! Wait!"

He looks over his shoulder and sees Hermione running toward him. Dragging Ron with her.

She stops short and bites her lip. "How... how are you, Harry?"

He's not sure how to answer that.

Ron's looking at him with his lips in a thin white line.

"I'm all right."

"Good! That's good." She sounds a little bit shrill. "Ron and I miss you... isn't that right, Ron?"

Ron grunts.

"I'm really sorry about... about...."

He lets her off the hook. "I know."

"Come on, Evans."

Ron looks outraged.

Malfoy hands Harry a cloak. "Hogsmeade won't wait, you know."

He's weighed down by a dozen parcels.

Malfoy is next to him, swinging his arms freely, a spring in his step.

"I wish you'd been in Slytherin all along. If we'd just known you're a Snape --"

"I'm not a Snape."

"Of course you are."

"No, Malfoy, I'm not. Snape doesn't want me. He was kind of clear on that."

Extremely clear.

Malfoy stops and turns to face him, forcing him to stop too, and then he smiles.

"We're just going to have to work on that."

He slaps Harry on the back.

"Trust me."

As if he ever would.

"Harry."

Lupin isn't on the list of people Harry wants to talk to today.

"Would you come in?"

He does, and fixes his eyes on the grindylow tank.

Lupin sighs. "Don't be like this, Harry. I'm terribly sorry you're having a hard time. Is there anything I can do?"

He shakes his head.

"I hear you went to Hogsmeade. Did you find everything you needed?"

He nods.

"Are you getting along with your classmates?"

"Which ones?"

Lupin pauses. "I suppose I mean the Slytherins. Any trouble?"

"No."

The silence stretches.

"I think I better go, Professor."

Lupin doesn't stop him.

He eats lunch with Hermione under a tree by the lake.

Ron isn't with them.

"It's Malfoy, you know," she tells him.

"I know."

"Ron needed some time. It's a lot to adjust to."

He laughs mirthlessly. "Is it?"

"If you hadn't been so rash and left Gryffindor, I'm certain Ron would have come around. You've been friends from the first. I can't believe you'd just throw all that away."

"I didn't do anything, Hermione. I was the one attacked, remember?"

"You could have given it a chance for a few days. Given us a chance."

He's sorry he came.

He's cornered on the second floor, coming down late from Charms.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Junior Snape."

Staring at four wands, he has no chance to go for his own.

"Gryffindor lost fifty points today thanks to daddy dearest."

He hates every single one of them, but not as much as he hates Ron, who keeps walking.

Hexes fly.

He dodges.

They come from all directions at once.

"All right?"

He takes the offered hand, stands up, and assesses the damage.

There isn't any.

"Slytherins take care of each other."

Crabbe and Goyle crack their knuckles in agreement.

"I don't get it," says Malfoy.

They're sitting in the dorm. Malfoy is staring perplexedly at Harry's trunk.

"Don't get what?"

"They didn't take away all your things, did they?"

He sits down on the bed, scowling. "No. But they took all my money, didn't they? I had to sell something to buy my books."

"Oh. Why didn't Snape pay for all that?"

"I told you. Snape doesn't want me."

"He paid for everything you bought in Hogsmeade, didn't he?"

"Probably ashamed to have anyone see me in rags."

Malfoy rubs his chin. "Yes. I was wondering about that, too...."

"All right?"

He nods, even thought it isn't all right at all. He doesn't want to talk about it, especially since suddenly he's not feeling all that well.

Malfoy doesn't ask. He just follows him to the dorm and sends Goyle down to the kitchens.

"It shouldn't be allowed. Not in school...."

They don't speak of it again.

They pick at their food, and he has this odd feeling that he knows what's bothering Malfoy, but he doesn't say a word in case he's wrong.

He's awake for hours that night, keeping back dreams of green light and high-pitched laughter.

Of all his classes, Care of Magical Creatures would be the best, if Lupin would just leave him be.

"Talk to Hermione, Harry."

He's not sure he wants to. Not if she's just going to lecture him again. Try to make it his fault again.

"She's feeling terrible. She's caught between her two best friends."

He looks over to where the Gryffindors have formed a tight pack. Several of them are eyeing him resentfully.

He wonders if he should tell Lupin why he can't go over and talk to her.

But he doesn't.

He leaves class surrounded by ever-wary bodyguards.

Another nightmare.

The last one for a while. The bottle of Dreamless Sleep Malfoy wrangles out of Snape will make sure of that.

He wishes Malfoy hadn't reminded Snape. Snape has been trying to ignore him, and that is how Harry prefers it.

So he tells himself.

It's not that he isn't grateful. It just frightens him how much he counts on the Slytherins now.

He wonders if he's really one of them.

Sometimes he feels like an intruder.

Impostor.

Or traitor.

Malfoy likes to tell him he should have been in Slytherin all along.

And it's true, isn't it?

Lupin doesn't give up easily.

"Come to tea tomorrow, Harry."

When he does, Ron spills a cup all over himself and storms out.

"That went well," he tells Lupin, taking a crumbly biscuit from the tray. "Don't you think?"

Lupin's mouth is a thin white line. "Perhaps if you drop the attitude, your friends will be more likely to listen to what you have to say."

He takes another biscuit, pockets it, and stands up.

"I don't think they are my friends anymore, Professor. And I'm all right with that."

"Are you?"

He doesn't answer.

He's been wondering that himself.

Two weeks feel like a year.

Hogwarts has always been home. He's always felt safe before.

Now the feeling of safety doesn't extend past the Slytherin common room.

He's taken to visiting the library under his Invisibility Cloak, like he used to when he needed to get into the Restricted Section.

That's how the castle seems to him. One big Restricted Section.

"You could just ask," Malfoy says reproachfully. "I'd go with you."

"I know."

"Don't I look out for you?"

The one time he didn't, Harry came to breakfast with a black eye.

"So just ask me, next time."

He's in detention again.

Snape's been doing a fine job pretending not to see him, but Malfoy's taken advantage of it once too often.

Malfoy doesn't have detention, of course.

He's polishing silver trays, and he can see his reflection in each one.

It's hard not to compare, with Snape sitting at the front of the classroom with a stack of essays.

He misses his eyes most of all. Seeing Snape's eyes every time he catches his own reflection gives him a creepy feeling.

He searches for anything he might have inherited from his mother.

He finds it.

His nose.

Hermione.

He thinks about her a lot, in spite of everything.

Her grades are falling, and if that isn't a sign of things being very wrong, he doesn't know what is.

She passes him a note in Potions, but it lands on Dean's desk and goes up in flames. Gryffindor loses ten points and nine pairs of eyes glare in his direction.

She's never alone.

Neither is he, of course.

Malfoy rolls his eyes. "So talk to her. Want us to stand guard?"

He shakes his head.

There has to be a better way. He just doesn't know it yet.

Halloween's upon them, and with it arrive the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons.

The festivities don't make an impression on him.

It's not like Halloween's a happy time.

He's glad the entire school's so caught up. Less attention on him.

Most of Slytherin is grumbling about Dumbledore's age line, but he's glad for it.

But then, it isn't like he'd ever be chosen as the Hogwarts champion. That would be like Snape winning Teacher of the Year by popular vote.

Still, he can't help pausing in front of the Goblet of Fire along with everyone else, and wondering, what if.

The Goblet of Fire bursts into life again.

Confusion reigns as Dumbledore frowns at the slip of parchment in his hand.

His eyes dart to Harry. Only for a second.

"There's no student by that name at Hogwarts."

The Great Hall explodes into excited chatter, and after several attempts to signal for silence Dumbledore declares it a lost cause.

The three champions are ushered out.

Malfoy is looking at him with that infuriating appraising look.

"You didn't put your name in, did you?"

"No."

Malfoy nods knowingly. "Watch your back, Evans. I don't think a student could bamboozle that Goblet."

It's a Hogsmeade weekend.

Malfoy's full of plans.

Harry doesn't have the heart to tell him until the last evening.

He thinks McGonagall just did it out of spite. Anyway, his new Head of House needs the permission form signed.

Sirius hasn't been heard from in months.

And it's not like he can get his father to sign it.

Too bad Malfoy doesn't see it that way.

He's shoved through the door of Snape's office, and Snape scowls up from a stack of essays.

"I... uh..."

He gives up, and pushes the form across the desk.

And Snape signs it.

He lets Malfoy lead the way.

They go to all the places he's been with Ron and Hermione.

They have butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks.

They get thrown out of Zonko's when the Weasley twins start something.

They sit under a tree with the Shrieking Shack in front of them, and he tells the real story behind it over cherry sodas.

And at Honeyduke's, he watches with guilty envy as Malfoy spends a small fortune on sweets.

"Here."

He tries to hand the bag back, but Malfoy just shakes his head.

"Pay me back when Snape stops being a git."

News of Malfoy's generosity gets back to Snape.

Harry shuffles uncomfortably as Snape glares at him.

"Do I need to tell you how foolish it is to become indebted to a Malfoy?"

He knows better than to argue that it was just sweets.

"Should you need money in the future, I expect you to ask me, not make a pathetic figure of yourself to your friends."

He feels his face reddening, but only nods.

"I should take away your Hogsmeade privileges for the rest of the year."

He certainly never expects to walk out of Snape's office ten galleons richer.