Finally, Severus finished his spiel and the Slytherins all started upstairs to unpack. Severus reminded them all of their weekly appointments with him (Harry saw, to his relief, that his wasn't scheduled until Friday night) before letting them go. Albus would probably want me to meet with Harry, thought Severus, but hell it's MY first day back, too. I'll deal with him at another time.

Harry, noticing his gaze, lifted his chin in a challenging gesture that was becoming annoyingly familiar. Besides, the last thing I want to do is confirm his idea that he deserves special treatment. Arrogant son of a...no. I won't call him that, at least. Lily was never anything less than perfect.

He left quickly to find his quarters and his Scotch, hoping to forget the green eyes that were Lily's...and at the same time were not. Lily would never have given a professor such attitude. She had always been polite, and no one could call her arrogant.  Anybody who could take those eyes and make them contemptuous and rude...James Potter's son indeed.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHHPHPHPHPHP

Harry relaxed visibly as his new Head of House left the room. Good enough. You leave me alone, and I'll leave you alone. He left the others to unpacking – it had to be crowded upstairs – and instead sat down on a large green easy chair in the corner. Small as he was, it was big enough for him to curl up in, and lay his head on the armrest. For the moment, though, he just sat, and curled his legs up in front of his body, and looked around him.

What an odd place this is. It's like I'm dreaming. He'd already determined that Hagrid and Dudley's pig tail were all real, though, so he had to believe in magic and Hogwarts as well. From there the sorting hat and the dorm and windows in a basement and a ceiling that looked like the sky seemed positively normal. The logs from the fire could've stood up and talked to him and he'd've greeted them politely and asked them to please sit themselves on the couch and would they like some tea and biscuits? The image made Harry smile, but he watched the logs carefully. You never knew, after all.

It wasn't the logs that acted oddly, though, for in that moment a little ...man?... appeared. He didn't walk or run in, as would be expected in any normal situation. He didn't even blow, burst or fly in but rather just appeared. No slipping, sneaking, coming, creeping, crawling, or catapulting, either. Just one moment nothing, and the next moment a soft pop and an ugly little man with a head like a triangle with huge pointy ears and a bulbous nose sitting on a skinny neck and skinnier body. The odd little man ignored him, though, so Harry just sat watching, quietly entranced while he (Harry guessed) picked up the various detritus from the students' arrival, stoked the fire, and cleaned up some spilled pumpkin juice. Then with another soft pop he disappeared as he had come: one moment there, and another gone.

You mean we don't clean up, here? Really? “Thank you.” Whispered Harry belatedly. Maybe the little man was there, but invisible, he reasoned. After all, it wouldn't look any different whether he “appeared” as in teleported from one place to another, or “appeared” as in, not seen, then seen, or even “appeared” as in not there, then there. Oh, Jesus, what if he didn't even exist before he showed up here? And great. Now I'm waxing philosophic. 11-year-old Aristotle is me. I'm sure he was just somewhere else in the castle, or invisible. It was a whole creature for goodness' sake. These things don't just magically SHOW UP without having existed before. Harry wasn't sure if he could handle it if it did.

At any rate, things seemed to be calming down upstairs, so Harry went to join his classmates. Maybe they can tell me. He thought. Then reconsidered. Oh sure. "Do the weird little people dressed in dishrags exist before you see them?" That's almost like “So if a tree falls in a forest, and no-one's around to hear it...” Harry laughed. I'm such an idiot. My relatives really should've drowned me when they got the chance. “Here lies Harry Potter, the boy-who-was-too-stupid-to-live.”I wonder if I can get that on a tee-shirt? He supposed he could ask about whether they were actually teleporting, or just invisible, though. That didn't sound quite so stupid.

When Harry got to his dormitory room, though, he found his bed and his trunk, and an empty cage, and forgot all about strange little men.

“Where's my owl?” He asked Blaise anxiously. “She was in her cage before, but...”

“Don't worry about it,” interrupted Blaise, “she's just in the owlery. They'll take care of her there so you don't have to.”

Another thing I don't have to do. So what DO I have to do, here? Harry thought. He quickly came to his senses, though. I'll start working when they tell me to. If they can't be bothered to tell me than I can't be bothered to work. I don't want to abandon Hedwig, though.

Harry thought briefly on how to ask without sounding like Hedwig was some kind of pet. Wouldn't want anybody to hurt her. Dudley had killed a snake once, when he caught Harry carrying it around.

“So what do I do if I want to send a letter, if they've taken her?” There. That way it's just a practical question. Theo answered this time, with a knowing smile.

“You can visit her in the owlery as much as you want. You can also send mail using the school owls, if Hedwig is busy.” Harry smiled.

“Thanks, Theo.”

Harry admired his (his!) new (new!) stuff before going to bed, rearranging his trunk (though it was already perfectly organized) and making his bed (though he was going to sleep in it almost immediately anyway). Finally, though, Harry went to bed, reveling in the comfort and warmth of it. He couldn't seem to sleep though, and finally he figured out what was bothering him. The room felt huge, compared to the cupboard where he was used to sleeping. It distracted and almost frightened him. Finally he noticed the curtains on either side of his bed, and released their ties. Safely enclosed, Harry went to sleep.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHHPHPHPHPHP

The next day Harry woke up with his classmates and went down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Just like the night before, the table was spread with an enormous variety and quantity of food and drink. The main “course” for breakfast this morning appeared to be quiche, and as before Harry looked around unobtrusively at the other students eating before surreptitiously grabbing himself a slice of the quiche and a large glass of a drink called pumpkin juice which, to Harry's considerable relief, resembled a pumpkin only in its color, and actually tasted quite nice. Harry had discovered the night before that he liked the stuff quite a bit. The quiche was also quite good, though the slice was large and Harry found himself unable to finish.

Then Snape came to hand out class schedules, and Harry saw to his mixed joy and trepidation that his first class of the day, something called Herbology, would be shared with the Gryffindors. I'll see Ron! I hope he doesn't hate me...or my friends.

Harry was appreciating Theo and Blaise more and more as time wore on. They'd had once again chosen to sit by Harry that morning, and Harry again found that he greatly enjoyed their company. Blaise, like Harry himself, wasn't much of a morning person, so the two of them let Theo do the talking, while occasionally sharing amused looks with each other at his overly-enthusiastic antics. His hair, unfortunately, had returned to its usual color overnight, and so Theo spent breakfast trying to spell it blue, until Snape called him sharply to task for, as he put it, “attempted suicide.” Harry glared at the professor for the interference, though he had to admit that pointing one's wand at one's face while spouting garbled spell-words was not the brightest plan, especially after Seamus Finnegan almost blew up his goblet trying to turn water to rum.

Why do you need a spell, anyway? Thought Harry. His own hair and skin had changed on their own on more than one occasion, though not entirely on purpose. Harry briefly remembered the hat's comments about hiding, and felt briefly ashamed before cheering up immensely as he realized that that sort of magic would not be forbidden at Hogwarts. That he could, like Theo, play with it as he would. Funfunfunfunfunfunfunfun. Thought Harry, and immediately started thinking up schemes. He eventually had to go to class, though, so he abandoned his plans for the moment and followed his classmates.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHHPHPHPHPHP

Herbology, it turned out, was the study of magical plants, and was taught in the school's greenhouse and surrounding herb garden. When Harry arrived, he hesitated, before sitting quickly next to Ron, who had already sat down.

“Hey, Ron.” He greeted.

“Oh. Hey Harry.” Responded Ron, as if he'd only just noticed him, “Err...how's Slytherin, then?” The question seemed like an inconsequential one on the surface, but Harry got the impression that his response was tremendously important to the other boy. Harry remembered Ron's attitude from the train and so responded carefully,

“Surprisingly good, actually. I mean, that boy Malfoy still seems like a prat, but there're a couple of other first years that've been really fun so far.”

“Really?” Questioned Ron, sounding more skeptical than was necessarily polite. “Who?” Harry pointed out his new friends on the other side of the greenhouse.

“See them? That's Theo and Blaise. They seem pretty cool. Theo even turned his own hair purple yesterday!”

“Umm...Theo wouldn't be Theodore...Nott...would he?” Said Ron.

“Uh. Yeah. so?” Ron paled.

“His Da's a Death-Eater!”

“A what?”

“A Death-Eater! A follower of You-Know-Who!”

“Oh. Umm...that's interesting.” Harry didn't know what to think. Theo was so...normal.

“Interesting?! He might be out for your blood and all you can think is “interesting”?!

“Well, yeah. I mean, not everybody's just like their parents. I can't go around judging 11-year-olds for their parents, can I? Theo's been nice. What, do you go around saying like, “His father's a Death-Eater,” and “her mom is ugly” and “his Gramma smokes pot on weekends” and “her aunt is schizophrenic” and “his uncle gets drunk and locks him up in a cupboard and forgets to feed him, beats him up when he's bored and-?” Harry cut off abruptly, as he realized that he was getting upset and Ron was staring at him. Hopefully that last bit didn't sound too personal. Eh, Ron's pretty clueless anyhow, far as I can tell. He decided to be prudent, though, and quickly came up with a somewhat-truthful excuse to give for his outburst.

“Sorry about that. I just get tired of the whole celebrity thing. I don't want to be "Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived." I wish I could just be "Harry Potter: that kid who sits next to me in Potions." I guess I want to give Theo the same chance. Theo's just a kid, and a nice one at that.”

“All right. I'll drop it, then?”

Harry nodded, relieved. Ron still sounded skeptical, but Harry could deal with that: at least he was being friendly, still. For the rest of the class Harry and Ron worked companionably together, chatting about their respective Houses and their impressions of Hogwarts in general.

Eventually Harry looked up at the Slytherins and noticed them staring at him; some, like Theo, with open curiosity and others, like Malfoy, with pure malice. Malfoy's relationship with Harry had gone steadily downhill since they'd first met, so Harry was unsurprised at his attitude, but Harry was startled to see that Draco wasn't the only one glaring.

Harry gulped and looked back down at his plant, concentrating on trimming it exactly as he'd been told. He had plenty of experience with pruning, after all. Meanwhile, he contemplated the suddenly chilly reception he was getting with the other members of his house.

Brilliant. What'd I do? I'm already making waves. Finally Harry realized. It must not be just Ron with prejudices about other houses. Damnit. Why didn't I predict this? I'm not usually that dumb. Finally Harry decided not to worry overmuch about it. Ron seems mostly okay with my Slytherin friends, so if they decide to have a problem with it then that's their issue. I'll hang with Ron and good riddance.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHHPHPHPHPHP

“Soo...what's with you and Weasley?”

Harry, Theo, and Blaise were in the common room that evening doing their homework. (Or most of it – Harry had quickly concluded that History of Magic was utterly uninteresting and otherwise useless and so had decided not to bother with it.)

“What do you mean?” Asked Harry, hoping to catch Theo's attitude about the situation before responding.

“I mean that he's a Weasely, as Gryffindor as they come. What're you doing hanging out with a Gryffindor?” He still sounded mostly curious, rather than hostile, so Harry answered politely.

“I met him on the train before we were sorted. He seems like a nice bloke, though he talks even more than you do.” Harry smiled teasingly at Theo as Blaise laughed.

“His brothers are nice, too, if you discount Percy.” Then Harry figured he'd skip the politiking and get to the heart of the matter. “Why, is there a problem?” Theo considered for a moment before responding slowly. “Not with me, but with others...probably. Remember that speech on presenting a united front to the other houses? A lot of people take that to mean a united front against other houses. Especially Gryffindor. You didn't notice the looks Malfoy was giving you?”

“Sure I did, but, I mean, that's Malfoy for goodness' sake. I don't think he knows how to be pleasant. Smarmy, yes, when he wants something from you, but not truly charming by any standard. I do see your point, though – he wasn't the only one glaring. That's so silly, though. We hate three quarters of the school just because a talking hat sorted us out differently?”

“Why not?” Put in Blaise, “I mean, the hat did sort us based on personality.”

“Oh, come on, Blaise. How many people do you know whose personalities can be summed up as 'smart,' 'courageous,' 'loyal,' or 'cunning'? I mean, someone could easily be all four in equal measure!” Theo laughed at this.

“I bet the sorting hat would just blow up.” Harry laughed, too.

“Hee hee. Can a hat have a mental breakdown? I mean, it doesn't look like it should have a brain in the first place, but..." Theo and Blaise looked at him strangely.

“What on earth are you going on about?”

“Nevermind. I'm just being weird.” Blaise spoke up then.

“Whatever. You do have a point. About the houses, I mean. Courage and loyalty go together, for one. A coward leaves his friends when danger comes near, where a brave man sticks around. I doubt most of the 'Puffs are really wimps. A little slow, maybe.”

Oh, thank God this isn't going to be an issue. Harry had really gotten to like Ron, but hadn't wanted to lose Blaise and Theo over him, either.

“Yeah. Same goes for intelligence and cunning. I bet a lot of people could fit into at least two houses. Think about that girl Hermione. If I'd met her on the street I'da pegged her for a Ravenclaw.”

Blaise smiled a bit sarcastically. "All right, Harry. I got it the first time. Anyway, nobody said you couldn't be friends with the Lions, if they're amenable as well. What happens if they're not, though?”

“Eh, I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

Blaise and Theo just looked at him. Harry smiled sheepishly.

“Errr...weird muggle thing. It means I'll deal with that problem when it comes. So far they've been relatively friendly. I figure if there's a problem it'll come from the Slytherin front.” Harry shivered momentarily. I haven't seen the older students' response yet. 1st years I could handle, but...

HPHPHPHPHPHPHHPHPHPHPHP

A couple days later, Harry had another class shared with the Gryffindors: Potions, taught, to Harry's anxiety, by the Slytherin Head of House. Harry'd shown up a little early, and, seeing that there was no-one else yet in the room, sat next to Ron. They chatted as students trickled in, until Theo came and sat at their table. He held out his hand to Ron.

“Theodore Nott.” Ron hesitated, then glanced at Harry and shook Theo's hand.

“Ron Weasley.”

“And I'm Blaise Zabini.” Came a voice from behind them. Used to keeping aware of his surroundings, Harry wasn't startled, but the other two were. Blaise sat down at their table just as the doors slammed open (this time Harry did startle) and Severus Snape walked in.

Given a chance to observe his head of house closer up (Harry, Ron, Theo, and Blaise were all sitting in the front row), Harry mostly ignored the professor's welcoming speech (if you could call it that – it sounded distinctly unfriendly.) in favor of observing the man himself.

Severus Snape was build tall and relatively thin, though his robes betrayed some musculature in his chest. His hair was longish, greasy and black. Suddenly, though, Harry caught his eyes and found he couldn't look away – that he was trapped like a deer caught in the headlights or rodent before a snake. The man's black eyes narrowed slightly and Harry shivered. Ohhhhhh shit. He noticed me. Harry got the strong impression that this was a dangerous man, and no mere professor. More dangerous than Uncle Vernon by a long shot: where Vernon got mad and struck out, Harry figured this man would smile coldly to your face and hunt you down later: not a man one wanted to piss off.

*

Then the man spoke, and Harry knew that he'd been wrong: this man was not going to just leave him alone.

“Ah. Harry Potter. Our new...celebrity.” The tone was ice-cold. And another adult who hates me. Beautiful. I sure know how to pick'em, too. Harry shivered, and then, as always, raised his chin and glared. Damnit you don't scare me.

Harry was relatively adept at pissing people off without giving them an excuse to object, though, so he acted as if he'd not heard the snideness of the man's tone. Only Harry's expression betraying his true feelings.

“Here.”

As Harry had intended,(though he acknowledged later that that hadn't been his most “Slytherin” moment) Snape seemed irritated by Harry's neutral response and snapped out,

“What would I get if I added powdered root of Asphodial to an infusion of Wormwood?” And, just as I thought, he's got it in for me already. Just like everybody else. Why do adults hate me so much? Again Harry answered neutrally, as Hermione Granger waved her hand in the air at the table next to him.

“I don't know, sir.” Snape sneered.

“Apparently, fame isn't everything.” So he hates me for my ruddy fame, is that it? Then again, I suppose it doesn't matter why. Snape continued.

“Let's try again. Where would you go if I asked you to bring me a bezoar?” Again Harry answered,

“I don't know, sir,” but this time he twisted the sir to make it an insult. Again, Hermione clearly knew the answer, but Snape ignored her in favor of antagonizing Harry.

“You didn't even bother to look at your books before getting here, did you, Potter?” Of course I didn't, you bastard. You think it was worth it to me to read books on POTIONS INGREDIENTS in front of Uncle Vernon? It was PLENTY bad enough returning home after Dudley got that tail, I think. Not that he blamed Hagrid. It was clear to him that Hagrid wasn't much more an adult than Harry himself. None of this kept the other students from laughing, however.

Harry sat up straighter and answered the professor with a cold glare, determined to let nothing of his humiliation show. Snape was speaking again, however.

“One last time. What is the difference between Asphodel and Monkshood?” This time Hermione was actually standing up in her eagerness to answer and Harry gave up on keeping his anger out of his voice.

“Perhaps.” He answered icily, “you should ask Hermione. You'd probably have better luck.* Unless you want me to get the answers wrong, perhaps? If you're so determined to humiliate me in class, why not be more creative?”

Harry didn't know what made the Professor feel so dangerous, but he had a suspicion. Ron had said quite a bit about Death Eaters in their conversations that week. He'd even told him some of whose parents to avoid, like Nott's and Malfoy's. He continued.

“I'm sure I'd do a fine strip-tease under the Imperious.”

Snape tensed, thinking suddenly, Does he know?, before relaxing some. Of course not. He's just making wild accusations. And who cares? He's an 11 year old kid. Then he remembered. Who for some reason knows what a strip-tease AND the Imperious curse are.

Severus was somewhat startled by the child's perceptiveness, though. The question about Snape's intent had clearly not been a question at all. Severus ignored that, though, preferring to return to the task at hand. Most of the kids in the class seemed mildly confused by Harry's reference, being familiar with either the Imperious curse, or some with muggle strip clubs, but not both. It was Harry's blatant disrespect, rather than his lewdness, that bothered Snape, though.

“Ten points from -” Damn “-Slytherin for your disrespect, Potter.” Snape hated taking points from his own house, but he hated Harry more, and now Harry's house-mates (other than those sitting closest to him) were looking at Harry with shock and anger. Harry would learn not to mess with Severus Snape.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

That afternoon Snape got a note from the Headmaster requesting his presence that evening in his office, and so he'd reported immediately after dinner.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Asked Severus formally.

“Ah! Severus, so nice to see you!” Intoned the Headmaster. “Care for a sherbet lemon?”

Severus just looked at him with impatience.

“All right then, Severus. Have it your way.” Dumbledore smiled, his trademark annoying twinkle clearly in evidence. “How is it going with Harry?”

Abruptly Severus wished that he'd let the Headmaster have his long-winded cordial greetings and offers of tea and candies. How could he answer that the only contact he'd had with Potter was to belittle the boy in Potions class? Damn Albus and his damned "innocent" questions. I'm in trouble already.

Albus just waited patiently for his potions master to answer. Finally Severus did.

“Not well, I'm afraid. The boy is an arrogant, defiant, brat. He does nothing but glare at me and challenge my authority. He's just-”

“Like his father.” Interrupted Albus. “I'm sure, but that was not my question. How did he behave when you met with him? Did you talk about his attitude?” More “innocent” questions. My favorite.

“Well, sir, as you know I've had several classes to teach and my duties as head-of-house are especially heavy in the first week. I've not had the time to meet with him one-on-one.”

“Yes of course,” said the headmaster understandingly. “There's no reason that the safety and wellbeing of the savior of the wizarding world should come before any other duties, especially when, after all, he is James Potter's boy.” There was no sarcasm in the headmaster's tone, but Severus knew the man well enough to tell when he was getting annoyed, and enough to dread it. There was enough of an edge already in the headmaster's voice to make Severus nervous. He, too, was also getting annoyed, though. It's been a week. ONE WEEK since the boy's arrived. What does it matter how he's doing?

“Well he seems to be doing just fine.”

“Oh! So you have spoken with him, then. And how's he adjusting to his classes? Has he made any friends yet?”

Shit, shit, shit, a hundred times SHIT. This time Severus hesitated before answering, and the twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes disappeared as he asked another question, one that made Severus want to wince.

"Or does it simply not matter to you how he is doing? He's only one 11-year-old boy out of forty, after all. Why should you take special interest in his welfare?” Left unspoken was the fact that the Headmaster had asked Severus to do just that.

At Severus' continued silence Albus' voice, which until then had remained mild, gained a degree of sharpness, and his speech took on a directness that only manifested when the headmaster got truly angry.

"So, besides humiliating him in class what contact have you had with the boy?” At that point Severus decided that he'd rather be anywhere else than under the headmaster's gaze. How did he know about that? The sudden change in the Headmaster's tone made the potions master tremble. When he wanted to, Albus was very good at reprimanding someone without ever sounding like that was what he was doing. The fact that he chose to be this direct meant that the headmaster was truly angry and Severus' ego was about to take a serious blow. Maybe he could stave it off?

“I did not want-” Severus began, but again he was interrupted.

“Severus it does not matter what you wanted. I asked and you agreed.”

Severus didn't know what to say to that but decided to try.

“You can't expect-” Only to be interrupted again.

“Lily also asked you to care for the boy, I believe. Am I wrong?”

“I- no, but -”

“Severus be quiet. I'm asking, and Lily's asking. If you refuse, do so, but do NOT agree, then ignore your responsibility or abuse your authority.”

Severus objected. I would NEVER abuse a child, damnit Albus you KNOW that.

“I wouldn't-”

“Perhaps not. But you HAVE been ignoring it. I hadn't expected you of all people to skimp out of something this important. I believe you said you'd “do your best”?”

Severus swallowed hard and ducked his head so the Headmaster couldn't see how his words hurt. It had been a long time since Albus had spoken to him so harshly. He tried again to stave off the Headmaster's anger.

“Albus, I tried to refuse and you-” His words, however, had the opposite effect than intended as the Headmaster's voice took on a note of steel.

“Expressed my displeasure? And why wouldn't I? You promised Lily that you would care for her son. She pleaded with you and you acquiesced. Lily is dead, Severus. It is a little late for you to refuse now. I hadn't thought you a coward, to promise someone something and wait until they're dead before going back on it.”

Severus couldn't meet the Headmaster's eyes. The disappointment was thick in Albus' tone, and Severus cringed under his harsh words, wincing every time the old man mentioned Lily. And for Albus to call him a coward. That truly did it. Albus had never spoken so harshly to Severus, and the potions master felt himself begin to tremble even more. Only Albus could make Severus feel like this much of a schmuck; only Albus could make Severus cry, now that Lily was gone. He was getting close, and Severus knew he wasn't done.

“Albus please,” Severus pleaded. “The boy is-" The headmaster interrupted again, this time more gently.

“Arrogant and defiant with no respect for authority. So you've said. You'll have to deal with it. Severus, look at me.”

Severus winced again at the command in the man's tone and looked up apprehensively. The headmaster caught and held his gaze before demanding softly.

“Do. You. Refuse?” Severus hesitated before responding in a hoarse whisper.

“No, sir.” But the Headmaster still wasn't finished.

“Good. Will you actually do it this time, instead of just saying you will.?” Severus looked away again in hurt at the humiliating question. I said I would, didn't I? But his conscience whispered to him. You did last time, too. You deserved that question. The word coward cut again through Severus' mind as he answered again.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I expect a report in two days. You will have met with him by then, or have fabricated a damned good excuse why not. You will monitor Harry's grades and behavior, in addition to his general well-being. You will be aware of who his friends are, what he does with his free time, what his favorite classes are, how he is sleeping. In short, you will look out for him as a parent or caring mentor might. Do you understand?”

And Severus winced again as the Headmaster explained exactly what was expected of him, as if Severus would worm out of any duty left inexplicit. Yes, I get it, dammit. Severus' voice held the tiniest edge as he responded,

“Yes, sir.” The headmasters voice regained a level of sharpness as he said,

“Fine. Dismissed.” Severus got up, eager to escape, before pausing. I can't leave things like this. He's still angry with me. The wind left Severus' sails completely – I hate apologies - as he turned towards Albus uncertainly.

“Sir?” Albus' voice warmed marginally, encouraging Severus to continue.

“Yes, Severus?”

“I – I apologize. Sir. I – I'm sorry.” Finally, the Headmaster smiled, and the suddenly not-so-annoying twinkle returned.

“You're forgiven.”

And finally Severus was able to escape, profoundly relieved but dreading the upcoming confrontation – for that was what Severus was sure the talk would turn into – with Potter. Harry. I'm sure Albus intends me to call him Harry. But does it really matter? I've already more than alienated the kid.