“I'm done.” Harry shoved his books back in his rucksack and stretched out on the couch where he'd been working.

“You're done?!” Hermione exclaimed. “What about your Transfiguration paper?”

“Transfiguration paper?” Harry asked innocently.

“Your TRANSFIGURATION PAPER! The one due tomorrow?”

“Oh.” Harry said nonchalantly, pulling out the first toy car he'd made in class and 'pushing' it back and forth in front of him. “That paper.”

Hermione looked ready to have an apoplexy. “THAT PAPER?! You've had all weekend! Have you not even started it?”

“Nope.” At this point Blaise and Theo were listening to the conversation as well. Ron, Harry noticed, was still trying to ignore him, but seemed intrigued as Harry continued to play with his car. Hermione's eyes bugged as she realized that he wasn't pulling out any books.

“Are you not even going to try to write it?”

“Nope.”

Finally Hermione seemed to figure out that something was up. “Why?”

Harry smiled. “Relax, Hermione. I am not writing a paper for Monday because I do not have a paper due Monday. I'm not in that class anymore.”

Hermione did not relax. “You skipped ahead?! That's not supposed to be possible here. The scheduling doesn't work. It will screw up all of your classes!”

“No it won't.”

“Then how-?”

“If you would let me explain, then maybe you wouldn't be so confused.”

“Hmm,” said Hermione imperiously. “Go ahead then.”

“Thank you for your permission.” Harry retorted. “Anyway, McGonagall decided that I would waste less time if I skipped her class and got tutored instead.”

“Tutored? YOU'RE getting TUTORED? You don't even do any work!”

Finally Theo intervened. “He doesn't have to. Everybody knows he's the best at Transfigurations. Rumor has it that he managed to transfigure a whole suit of clothes.” He turned to Harry. “Is it true? You changed Flint's clothes in fifth-year Potions?”

Harry smiled. “Yup. Did his shoes, too.”

Hermione looked suspicious. “How'd you know Percy would be out that day?”

“Well I had...insider information...that Fred and George were going to...delay him... for that hour.” Harry said, trailing his eyes back and forth in mock-suspicion.

Theo looked absolutely delighted. “You got his brothers to kidnap him?!”

Ron choked out a surprised laugh. “You did what? BRILLIANT!”

Harry just looked at him for a moment, smiling a bit, while Hermione positively beamed. Ron's ears turned red as he realized that he'd spoken to Harry. “Well it was. What did you transfigure Flint's clothes into, anyway?”

“This outfit I saw in a store in muggle London once. A sort of short, bright green thing with strappy sandals. Kind of a trampy girl outfit, I guess.”

Blaise gave a slow, incredulous grin. “Are you telling us you dressed him in drag? I thought that was just a rumor!”

Harry blushed. “Nope.”

Hermione's mouth dropped open. “You transfigured all of his clothes? Where did you learn to do that?”

Harry shrugged. “Nowhere. I just...did it, I guess.”

“Which is why he's getting special Transfigurations lessons.” Theo put in. “He's brilliant at them.”

“So you're only going to have class once a week, Harry?” Blaise wanted to know.

“Twice. I also get lessons in wandless magic from Snape 'cause of all the weird stuff I was doing in Transfigurations when I was bored.”

“You mean like the car?” Asked Ron. “Is that really wandless magic?”

“Apparently,” said Harry, shrugging. “I was just fiddling, but then McGonagall looked at me like I'd grown an extra head and it turns out to be special.”

“Well sure it is,” said Theo. “I've never seen anybody else do on-purpose accidental magic!”

“Do what?” Asked Harry, amused.

“On-purpose accidental magic. It's like accidental magic, because you don't use a wand, but it's not accidental 'cause you're doing it on purpose.”

Only Theo. “Yes, Theo. I'm getting lessons from Snape in on-purpose accidental magic. Also known as wandless magic.”

“Oh.” Said Theo, sounding disappointed. “And here I thought it was something special.”

Hermione's eyes bugged. “Wandless magic is special. It's something only- well- You-Know-Who and Dumbledore can do.”

“Which is why he needs tutoring in it,” said Blaise.

“I...I guess.” Hermione admitted. “I just- darn it, Harry I would kill for special tutoring and then you do nothing and they just hand it to you!”

“Errm...sorry?” Harry tried, unsure what to say.

“Err – Harry, if only Dumbledore and the Dark Lord can do wandless magic, why is Snape tutoring you in it?” Asked Blaise.

“Good question,” responded Harry, “maybe because Dumbledore's too busy?” Thank God. If there's anyone worse than Snape it might very well be him. “He's been pushing for me to practice it before, so apparently he knows something about it.”

“Well,” said Hermione. “At least now you'll believe us that Snape's doing good things for you.”

“No, actually, Hermione,” said Harry, annoyed. “I mean, maybe the lessons are nice, but did I mention that I also have to hang out in a room and talk to him for an hour once a week?”

“Really?” Asked Ron, “Why?”

“No idea.”

Hermione huffed in exasperation. “Well it's obvious, isn't it? He wants to get to know you. He's probably tired of only seeing you when you've done something stupid.”

“Or brilliant,” defended Ron, ticking points off on his fingers. “There's the rainbow hair, Snape's office, the potions classroom, pretending to be Malfoy, and now Flint's clothes.”

“Yeah,” put in Blaise, looking directly at Harry. “And almost dying because he didn't have the sense to go to the infirmary when he was hurt.”

Harry met his eyes. “I said I was sorry.”

“But you still didn't say you'd do differently next time. My point is that maybe Snape has figured out that you need a grown-up to help you, and is providing it. It's not his fault you've got something against adults.”

“It's his fault he won't leave me alone.”

“Of course he won't, Harry.” Hermione put in. “If he cares about you, he's not going to just walk away.”

“Why not? He's got no reason to stick around, and he knows I don't want him.”

Hermione winced. “He can't just decide he suddenly doesn't care about you, Harry, just because you don't want him to.”

“Uh...Hermione? This is still Snape we're talking about, right?” Ron commented. “Even you've called him greasy git. I mean I'd maybe agree with you that he treats Harry different from the rest of us, but are we really so sure it's because he 'cares'? I know what I said after Harry was hurt, but still...so far all he does to Harry is yell at him and put him in detention.”

“Until now, when he's giving him special lessons and trying to get to know him better.”

“We don't know that's why he's doing it. Maybe he's just doing it because he's a jerk and he knows Harry'll hate it.”

“Ease off, Ron. That's our Head-of-House you're talking about.” Blaise interrupted. “You wouldn't want us slamming McGonagall.”

“Harry curses Snape all the time.”

“He's a snake,” put in Theo. “You're a lion.”

“And in the wild we'd eat each others' young,” intercepted Harry. “This does not mean we have to argue. All the Lions hate Snape. It's in their nature.”

“And in yours, apparently,” said Ron, grinning. “So we're all one big happy family.”

“Yeah, we're Slythindors. Or Gryfferins, if you prefer. Anyway, now that we've agreed to not eat babies, can we talk more about this tutoring thing?” Asked Theo. “Who cares why Snape is doing it, it's cool! Harry might be as powerful as the Dark Lord!”

“Or Dumbledore!” Yelped Ron frantically.

“Or like neither of them,” said Harry, “and I don't care. Wandless magic is great and all, but the last thing I want is more fame, or more time with Snape. I'd just as soon not be able to do it at all if it's gonna draw attention.”

“But-” Hermione started.

“And I don't want to talk about it anymore.”

“All right, Harry,” inserted Blaise, “so how's Quiddich going? Is it a problem that Flint's gone?”

“I hadn't thought of that!” Exclaimed Ron. “You don't have a captain!”

“Yeah we do. We voted Miles Bletchley into the position 'cause he was the one that thought of running Flint into the Whomping Willow. Then we just pulled in one of the secondaries to take Flint's chaser position and voilá, problem solved.”

“You chose your leadership based on who thought up a prank?” Hermione asked incredulously.

“Sure,” said Blaise, “why not? Think about it, Hermione. A team captain needs to be creative and charismatic. Miles was able to think up the idea and lead the others to follow it, and so he takes leadership.”

“That sounds more like a coup than a vote.” Hermione objected.

“And what's wrong with that?” Asked Harry, “Miles had the drive needed to take the position, and Flint didn't have the strength to keep it. Let the best man win, I say.”

“But that's totally barbaric!”

“The whole team took part in the prank, Hermione.” Ron pointed out.

“Oh, great! So it's not a coup, it's a mutiny.”

“A merited one.” Blaise said, meeting her eyes coldly. “He was no captain. Or had you forgotten that he beat up one of your friends?”

“Two wrongs don't make a right!”

“But two rights make a semicircle...” started Theo

“Two wrongs keep Harry alive, Hermione!”

“...and two semicircles make a circle...”

“And if that's not what Harry wants?”

“...and two circles make a figure eight...”

“'Harry' is right here, Hermione. Why don't you ask him?”

“...and two figure eights make a butterfly!”

“All right, fine. Is it, Harry? Do you want people to- to beat people up for you?”

“No.”

“See?!” She said to Blaise.

Blaise met Harry's eyes. “I do. Now ask him if he wouldn't do it himself.”

Hermione's mouth dropped open and she turned back to Harry. “Well? Would you?”

“That would depend on who it was.”

“And you, Blaise?” Hermione's voice sounded thin, shrill. What's she so stressed about? Harry wondered, before listening to what Blaise had to say.

“Beat on someone who beat on me or my friends? Sure. I can't, but I would if I could. What do you think we mean when we say Slytherin house takes care of its own? You hurt one of us, you hurt all of us, and we'll hurt you back. Why do you think nobody messes with us?”

“So, Flint?”

“Deserved what he got. Absolutely.”

“But he's one of yours!”

“He forfeited that when he attacked Harry. The older students protect us.”

“And attack students of other houses.”

“Only Gryffindor, actually. The Ravens and Puffs don't mess with us, or us with them. We only fight with Lions 'cause you fight with us. You just don't like it because we're practical and escalate faster than you do, so we win.”

“You're brutal, you mean.”

Blaise shrugged, not bothering to deny it. “Only if attacked.”

“That's revenge, not defense.”

“Not against the previous attack, maybe, but it makes people a hell of a lot less likely to attack you the next time, doesn't it?”

“Who's going to attack you?” Asked Hermione incredulously.

Harry exchanged a look with Blaise. She's never going to get it.

Finally Ron shrugged uncomfortably. “So...can we go back to talking about Quiddich?”

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Severus walked back and forth three times in front of a space of blank wall distinguished only by an ugly tapestry across from it in the corridor, thinking in the most open terms possible of what he was looking for. He couldn't even put into words what he was thinking of. If he'd tried, he might have said a-room-for-dealing-with-Harry, but then he had very little idea of what 'dealing with' might entail. He'd discovered in the past that unless the item sought was very specific (a toilet, for example), it was best to present the room with a general problem and let it decide what it should look like. It would come up with things that you'd never have thought of yourself.

This time, when Severus opened the door, he wasn't terribly surprised by the result: a smallish, high-ceilinged room with two couches and a desk. The height of the ceiling was a bit odd – closer to thirty feet than to ten- and there was a strange undersized door in the wall furthest from the couches, but otherwise the room just looked like a miniaturized house common room. It even had the right shades of green and silver. Is this where the boy is most comfortable then? Severus wondered idly. Or is this for my sake? That was what was wonderful about the room of requirement: it knew what you needed before even you did. Severus had heard tales of a student that came to hide in the room after getting hurt, only to find himself delivered to the infirmary without knowing how he got there. It was almost like the room had a mind.

Severus smiled smugly at Harry, who was staring around at the room with wide eyes. Shows him. Severus thought. Harry had been openly skeptical of the walk up the stairs to the seventh floor ('dude, you've got magic enough to create a fake ceiling for the Great Hall and windows in the dungeon, and you can't make the place handicap accessible?') and of the odd pacing required to make the room appear, and so Severus was somewhat gratified by his response now.

“But there was no door.”

“No, there wasn't.” Severus answered.

“Then what'd you do?”

“Magic.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I figured that much. What did you do? You didn't wandlessly conjure the whole room, after all.” He didn't sound nearly as sure as the words might suggest.

“No, I didn't.” Severus confirmed. “I just asked it to appear. It is called the Room of Requirement, because it is there when you require it, and not when you don't.”

“Why would you want a disappearing common room?”

“Who said it's a common room?”

“Nobody. It just looks like one.”

“Come out then.”

“What?”

“Come out. I'll show you.”

Harry left the room, giving Severus a strange look on the way by. Severus then walked three times in front of the door again and motioned to Harry.

“Open it.”

Harry gave him another strange look before opening the door. This time his mouth dropped open as he stared out at a beautiful grove of trees, to all appearances outside in the moonlight. It was 3:00 in the afternoon.

“What the-?”

“It can be almost anything you ask for. Just think of it, and walk past the entrance three times, and when you open the door it'll be there.”

“Anything?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Why don't you try it?” Suggested Severus.

And so both went back out, and Harry walked three times in front of the door. Curious despite himself, Severus walked in behind him before stopping with confusion at the edge of a huge pit. Looking down, then out, his eyes widened at what he saw. The room was huge, and filled six feet deep with colorful, fist-sized, hollow plastic balls. As he looked on in incomprehension, he saw Harry climb a short set of stairs to a small diving board and leap off as if into a pool. Playpen balls flew everywhere and Severus finally understood. He's playing. I didn't even know he did that. Suddenly getting a strange idea, Severus slipped away.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

“You four. Come with me.” The four looked at each other questioningly, but got up as asked and followed him.

“Are we in trouble?” Asked Theo bluntly.

“No.”

“Okay...wait! Did something happen to Harry?”

“No. He is fine.”

“Then where are we going?”

“You'll see.”

“But-”

“Unless you wish a detention, Mr. Nott, you will desist from your questioning. You will know in a few moments.”

Finally they arrived at their destination, and Severus walked back and forth thinking of the room with the ball pit. Soon enough a door appeared, and the Potions Master opened it for the four children.

“Inside, all of you.”

They all hurried in, and before long Severus heard Theo's joyous shout.

“Harry!”

“Theo!” Harry answered happily. “How'd you get here?”

“Snape brought us.”

“Us?”

“He came to find all us 'Slythindors' in your common room.” Put in Hermione primly. She radiated satisfaction like a happy cat. Her expression and tone practically screamed 'I told you so.' Harry was happy to see her anyway, though. Ball pits got more fun by measure of the number of people in them.

Slythindors? Wondered Severus. That's a term I'd never expect to hear. Surprisingly appropriate, considering these five...

“Hi guys!”

Harry looked up as Theo jumped happily into the ball pit. Ron looked up at Severus once before shrugging and following Theo, leaving Hermione and Blaise with Severus.

“Well? Go on.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Hermione, apparently ignoring his annoyance. Surprised, Severus looked down at the bushy-haired know-it-all and allowed her to see his confusion.

“For what, Miss Granger?”

“For Harry,” she said simply. “I at least know you're trying to help. Maybe now he'll notice, too.” She jumped in without saying another word, leaving Severus gaping.

“Who knew? An intelligent Gryffindor,” commented Blaise, before turning towards the ladder and climbing down.

Left alone, Severus sat down in a lawn chair he suddenly noticed in a corner of the room, and left the children to their strange games.

Some time later, Harry looked up and realized that his 'session' with Snape was long since over, and that he was getting tired.

“I'm getting kinda bored. You guys want to return to the common room?”

“Snake or Lion?” Asked Blaise.

“Can we go upstairs this time?” Asked Ron, “I left my bag in my dorm.”

“Sure.” Said Harry. “Let's go.”

On the way out Harry looked over to Snape, confused. I thought for sure he'd get mad when I jumped in, but he went and got the other Slythindors. It reminded him of when the man had had Tonks come in to teach him about being a metamorphmagus, even though Harry was supposed to be in detention and Snape didn't like her. Why does he do that?

“Thank you, sir.”

“You're welcome, Harry.”

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

“So let's see what you're capable of, shall we?” McGonagall offered. “What's the most difficult thing you've transfigured?” It was Harry's first private Transfigurations lesson, and he got the dubious privilege of sitting across the desk from the Deputy Headmistress in her office.

“Um...” Harry blushed, hesitant to speak of his prank in Potions with his stern Transfigurations teacher. “I...um...I transfigured Flint's clothes.”

“Yes, I had heard something of that. And which items did you transfigure?” She asked, no trace of reproach in her voice.

Harry breathed a slight sigh of relief and answered her question with more confidence. “All of them. Well-” he blushed, “everything I could see. Even his shoes.”

“With or without a wand?”

“Without. I dunno how to transfigure stuff using my wand.”

McGonagall gaped at him. She hadn't noticed that. “You've been working without your wand all term? From the very beginning?”

“Yeah. I tried it first week with the incantations and stuff, but it just seemed to get in the way...”

“All right.” McGonagall said, recovering. “Far be it from me to tell you stop doing things the way that seems most natural to you. In fact, let's start with that. What do you find the easiest for transfiguration?”

Suddenly Harry realized that Professor Snape was the only adult in the school that knew of Harry's metamorphmagus abilities. To his relief, those students and adults that knew Harry had disguised himself as Percy had assumed that an older student had helped him in some way, or that he had somehow gotten a hold of something called a 'Polyjuice Potion'. McGonagall wouldn't know just how 'natural' transfigurations could be.

“Errrm...”

“Well, Mr. Potter?”

“Well...”

“I assure you, Mr. Potter, that you are not the first student to use his magic to break school rules. Out with it.”

“It's not that, it's just-” Could he tell McGonagall about his abilities? Snape hadn't reacted badly when he'd found out, so maybe it was okay? “It's a little...freaky.”

“I'm sure I don't know what you mean.”

Dude, you're worried that Petunia wouldn't approve? Like everything else here would be her favorite thing. You're a real fucktard, you know that? “I've done it for a long time, is all. It- it scares my family.” Like talking to snakes, and making glass disappear. Luckily it was just a boa, really.

“I see.” McGonagall said, suddenly softening. “It's alright. Nothing you show me will get you in trouble, all right? And none of it will leave this room if you do not wish it to.”

“You won't tell?”

“I will not.”

“Not even Dumbledore?”

“As long as it is not dangerous, not even him.”

“I- I don't think it's dangerous. Snape already knows, and he didn't seem to mind.”

“If Professor Snape already knows, then I'm sure it is nothing to worry about. Will you show me?”

“Okay.” Figuring it for the easiest, given the circumstances, Harry concentrated hard on McGonagall's appearance. He soon found his mistake, as his robes ended up much too short. Blushing, he gripped them in one hand and pictured the professor's robes as well. It was an easier transfiguration then Flint's clothes, as all he had to do were some alterations to fit and color, rather than changing the fabric itself, and soon Professor McGonagall found herself staring at...Professor McGonagall, sans glasses.

“I'm very impressed, Mr. Potter, though I do wonder why Professor Snape did not apprise me of this. Surely your Transfigurations professor could know that you are a metamorphmagus?”

“He...he brought Tonks to see me. She taught me some stuff.”

“Oh. That's even better, then. Interesting. Miss Tonks was quite good at Transfigurations as well, though I don't believe she ever tried it wandless. Perhaps she should.” McGonagall seemed lost in thought, for a moment, and Harry took the opportunity to change his appearance back to what it had been, with one small change. Now that he didn't need to hide, he changed his hair to a style he'd been playing with in the dorm the night before and decided he liked better than the previous waves: long, straight and unruly black with rainbow flecks. Unfortunately this was just the thing to regain the professor's attention.

“Mr. Potter, unnatural hair colors are against the school's dress code.”

“It's natural to me.” Harry pointed out.

“Perhaps it is. Nevertheless I think that the intent of the rule is clear. I realize that these sessions are unusual but you are in class. Choose a single color, please.”

Harry concentrated and turned his hair bright red.

“I don't think so, Mr. Potter.”

“Please?”

“No. You are in class. You may have your hair however you want it outside of class.”

Harry obligingly turned his hair Malfoy-blond and his skin green. What I wouldn't give for a mirror. I probably look like some sort of martian.

McGonagall glared at him. “Have you ever heard about following the spirit, as well as the letter, of the rules?”

“I've never been much for rules in any sense, Professor,” Harry admitted, still green.

“Very funny, Mr. Potter. Now change back before I get cross.”

Finally Harry stopped messing around and set his skin and hair normal before growing his hair down his back to his waist. “Okay?”

“Fine. I am curious, though – why so long?”

“Well, I have so much choice, why should I have it the same every time?”

“True, but then I haven't seen it short since you first changed it.”

“Like I said,” Harry answered evasively, “I have a choice now.”

Minerva decided to let it go. “Alright then. Next week in class we are going to transfigure feathers into feather dusters.” She handed Harry the feather. “Now-”

She broke off. “Do you realize how frustrating that is?” She asked, accepting the feather duster from Harry.

“Errm...sorry?”

“No, don't apologize. The week after next we'll be transfiguring...”

By the time forty-five minutes had passed, they had gotten through the curriculum for the entire term, and both McGonagall and Harry were getting tired.

“All right, Harry, since we've covered the practical side of the first term, we'll start on the theory. I want you to read the first thirty pages of your textbook and be prepared to summarize it for me orally by next week.”

Harry dipped his quill into the ink pot and began writing down the assignment, but ended up with a huge ink blot on the thick parchment. This is ridiculous, he finally realized, touching a finger to the parchment to make a pad of paper. Trying once again with the quill, however, Harry ended up with an even bigger mess than before as the large blot of ink spread out into the absorbent paper. I. Hate. Quills. In a fit of pique, Harry gripped his quill firmly and transfigured it into a flimsy ball point pen, and set it to paper. Damn it no INK. Gripping the inkwell and pen together between his hands, Harry tried again.

Minerva watched in astonishment as Harry forged three different elements- the glass inkwell, the ink, and the transfigured quill – into a strange, pre-inked glass 'quill' before jotting down his assignment on the pad of strange thin parchment with a satisfied smile.

“What did you just make, Mr. Potter?”

Harry smirked. “A pen, Professor. Welcome to the 20th century.”

“This is a muggle object?”

“Yup. It's like a self-inking quill except it has a limited amount of ink and doesn't drip.”

“That would be...quite useful. May I see it?”

“Sure. Just don't undo it. I don't really know what I did.”

“I assure you, Mr. Potter. I will not damage it.”

Harry handed it over, and McGonagall looked it over for a bit before handing it back and waving her wand at her own quill, adeptly transfiguring it into a pen of her own. “Thank you, Mr. Potter. You are dismissed.”