Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. And so, in a perfectly normal manner, they systematically beat and starved a young boy in their charge. Harry Potter, born to Mrs Dursley’s sister, was a short, scraggly youth with the unfinished air of a small colt. His green eyes were hidden underneath circular glasses that were really more Sellotape than plastic, and his clothes looked like they had once belonged to a small whale.

Harry never knew why his relatives treated him as they did. Often, he was told that, as a freak, he deserved all that was done to him. Harry supposed that he did deserve it; after all, when he was allowed to leave the house, he saw what perfectly normal children were meant to behave and look like, and he was none of the things they were. When he first started school, all of the other children were talking, laughing, making faces at each other. They seemed almost…Happy. Longingly, he had watched them, but he knew HE was not allowed to act like that. He was different, always different.

Finally, truth about his strangeness arrived, in the form of a letter. Day after day, letters arrived bearing his name. Harry of course, knew that the letters could not possibly be actually for him; as Dudley said, who would want to talk to him? But still he was curious. His uncle had been furious, and destroyed every letter as it arrived. Suddenly poor Harry found himself, beaten harder and harder each day. Blood seemed to stain every piece of clothing he owned, bruises seemed to cover every inch not covered in blood. When the letters were still arriving thick and fast, Harry’s uncle had packed the family off in the car, and taken them to the most desolate place Harry could imagine. It was here that his life changed forever.

As Harry lay awake, counting down the minutes until his birthday he thought he heard a strange noise. Loud, heavy footsteps seemed to be coming towards the hut his uncle had hired, but Harry knew that was impossible. They were on an almost inaccessible island; the man who had loaned them a boat told them there was no one living there. Still they seemed to be getting closer until BOOM. The door seemed to cave inwards of its own accord, until Harry realised the dark shape at the doorway was in fact human and not just one the night shadows. Uncle Vernon had crashed into the room when the door fell, and Harry instinctively ducked the blow he knew would be coming. To his surprise, his Uncle seemed preoccupied with the huge man now inside the hut.

“Get out! How dare-!” started Uncle Vernon, but he was silenced when the man himself began to speak.

“Oh shuttup, Dursley. Now, where’s Harry?”

Terrified, Harry inched forward. His uncle was shooting him murderous glances, and Harry knew already that he would be punished for this misdemeanour. He had not even asked permission from his uncle to be seen by this stranger after all! It came as no surprise to Harry that when the stranger saw him, his face fell in disappointment. People were always asking to see him, to compare him to Dudley. They always seemed to think he didn’t deserve to be in such a fine family as he had, and Harry supposed they were right.

“Oh….er…Harry. I’m Rubeus Hagrid, keeper pf keys and grounds at Hogwarts.” the man, Hagrid, said.

Obviously, this man was mad. Hogwarts? It sounded like a nasty disease.

“Yeh know all ‘bout Hogwarts, oncourse,” Hagrid said, as if he discussed sick pigs everyday.

“No,” said Harry softly, eyes trained on the floor.

Hagrid seemed to be glaring at the Dursleys.

“Dumbledore warned me about this. He said yeh might not know an’ all. You’re a wizard Harry, same as yeh mum and dad,”

“My mother…and father?” Harry gasped quietly. In his mind, his parents were a shining example of who he should have been. His stomach clenched violently at the thought of them; he would have been such a disappointment to them he was sure. It was only after he registered the use of the word wizard that he understood what this giant man was saying.

“Yeah. Yeh know, magic an’ all. I reckon it’s time yeh read yeh letter,”

Harry took the piece of paper with trembling hands, and read it with disbelief. It seemed like this man was deep in his fantasies about wizards.

“What does it mean, they await my owl in response?” Harry asked tentively.

“Oh that reminds me,” Hagrid scribbled something on a piece of paper, and pulled a live owl out of one his pockets. “We’ll be pickin’ up yer things tomorrow,”

Harrry nodded automatically; he was used to adults giving him instructions after all.

“He will not be going,” came a voice to Harry’s right. Harry gave a sudden wince. He had forgotten his uncle and aunt were still in the room, along with his cousin who was huddling in one corner.

“We swore we’d put a stop to that rubbish-That we would stamp it out of him!” His uncle said, voice measured.

“What?” Harry could scarcely believe his ears. His uncle was acting as if all this strange man said was true! Could his uncle have finally gone insane? But his aunt was shaking her head in his direction, and something written in her features persuaded Harry at last that maybe this was real.

“We don’t want another…FREAK in the family. I knew he would be different, my sister being what she was. When she got herself killed I knew it would be too much to ask to look after the boy, but that man insisted. When she and that boy got themselves blown up…”

“Blown up? I thought they died in a car crash,” Harry said, flinching. He knew he should never interrupt, but he was aching to know.

“Blown up? Lily and James Potter were killed by a dark wizard. An’ when he tried ter kill you, something’ happened an’ he disappeared. Yer famous for it, Harry,” Hagrid said, still glaring at the Dursleys.

Harry doubted very much that HE could be famous, infamous maybe, but not famous.

“Anyway, yeh go to sleep Harry, I’ll sort with yer uncle, but yeh’ll be goin’ ter Hogwarts,”

They spent the next day shopping for strange wizarding items in a place called ‘Diagon Alley’. Harry had never been to London, and remained quiet for the whole time. He did not know what Hagrid had said to his Uncle, and he had no idea how he was going to pay for his school supplies. Maybe they had a special school fund or something? To his surprise, Hagrid first took him to Gringott’s, the wizarding bank, and withdrew what Harry supposed was a large sum of money. Hagrid said it had been his parents gold, but Harry was just glad to have enough to pay for school. He did not know what he would do with the rest of the money, it all was too much for him.

left him alone to go and buy his uniform, for which he was glad. He did not want to be forced to try on anything in front of Hagrid, and did not want any chance of anyone seeing him undressed. Still shivering at the thought, Harry allowed himself to be led to the back of the shop where another boy was being measured for school robes as well.

“Hello,” said the other boy carelessly, obviously noticing Harry’s shabby appearance. “Hogwarts too?”

Harry nodded, feeling slightly sick as he was measured; the witch kept getting way too close to him. The other boy seemed to be ignoring him, but also seemed bored. Finally he said “My Father’s next door buying books, and mother’s up the street looking at wands. I’m Draco Malfoy by the way what’s your…” Before he could finish, the seamstress interrupted. “You’re done dear,”

“Bye,” Harry said softly as he left the store to buy his other school supplies. The other boy just stared curiously after him.

After getting his robes, they had bought books, as well as potion ingredients and various other things needed by a trainee wizard. When all this was done, and the only thing remaining on his list was a wand, Hagrid and Harry entered a shop called Ollivanders, makers of fine wands. By this stage, Harry’s head was pounding fiercely and he could feel blood dripping down his back. He was glad he had multi-layers of clothing on; otherwise he was certain it would be showing. The man seemed stranger than any Harry had met yet in the wizarding world.

“Ah, Mr Harry Potter is it? I remember each of your parents’ first wands. Now, let’s see what kind of wand will suit you best. After trying what seemed every wand in the room, Harry finally found one that felt right. Ollivander seemed to want to say something, but Hagrid kept vigorously shaking his head.

“Don’t tell him nothin’” Hagrid hissed when he thought Harry wasn’t listening.

“Why-” started Ollivander

“Dumbledore’s said not ter. Said it’s complicated,”

Harry was still puzzling over this comment, when Hagrid led him from the store, almost dragging him out at one point. This was something Harry understood; he had wondered when this gentle giant would hurt him, and now it was happening. Hargrid took him to the station, and found him a train to take him home, although he did not speak to Harry more than he had too. He seemed severely disappointed, but Harry was used to that. He had already resigned himself to spending the next month with the Dursleys, who had undoubtedly already planned their punishments.

Harry glanced warily about the busy train station. So many people and none of them appeared to be carrying owls or seemed anything other than normal. No wait- a tall dignified man strolled past, beside the boy Harry had met in Madam Malkin's, Draco Malfoy. Harry supposed the man was his father, but there wasn't exactly any warmth between the pair despite their family resemblance. It was only when the man opened his mouth to speak that Harry recognised the rich, cultured tones and associated them with Draco's.

"Stupid. Year after year and still you cannot access platform nine and three-quarters first crossing Mudblood territory," Lucius ensured his voice was well heard by some of the more curious muggles. So much for wizarding secrecy!

The short blond boy beside him was looking decidedly paler than the last time Harry had seen him, and only nodded in response. To Harry's great surprise, the two seemed to walk into the pillar between platforms nine and ten and completely disappear!

Shooting fervent glances at the clueless muggles, Harry followed, ignoring loud voices behind him ("Can't I go, Mum, Oh please can't I?") and stepped through the barrier. The sight of milling students took Harry's breath away for half an instant before he himself became a part of the group. He quickly got on the train, finding an empty compartment and stowing his bags. Within seconds of sitting down, the compartment door slid open revealing Draco Malfoy

"Oh you," said Draco dismissively. "Have you heard? Someone’s been saying Harry Potter is on the train!"

"Oh," said Harry weakly, turning red.

Draco stared at him, noting the blush spreading across Harry's face.

"It's you, isn't it?" he said with open curiosity. “My name is Draco Malfoy, in case you don’t remember. I can help you. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort of wizards after all,” he held out his hand, while nodding out the window at a large collection of seemingly distressed redheads.

Harry didn’t want to be rude. The boy was obviously a wizard, from head to toe. All he knew was what Hagrid had told him, and that hadn’t been very much at all. Hagrid could be wrong about Slytherins.

“Alright then,” Harry said awkwardly grasping the proffered hand.

By the end of the journey, Harry knew a great deal more about the school houses, quidditch and the wizarding world in general. Draco it seemed was as unshakable in his prejudices as Hagrid had been. Harry had decided (Draco knew all about the Sorting Hat of course, his father ensured he would be in Slytherin no matter what) that he would just let the hat choose for him. When he said as much to Draco, he merely looked puzzled, as if he would not consider being in any house other than Slytherin.

They were soon joined by two heavyset boys named Crabbe and Goyle and two girls, Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode. They seemed nice enough, if a little hard on the eyes, although Pansy stared at Draco throughout the train ride. Another girl, Hermione Granger, had checked in their carriage for a toad, although Harry thought she looked a bit pompous. Draco said she looked like a beaver and had to be a mudblood. Harry had no idea what this was, and soon forgot it was ever said at all.

When they pulled into the train station, the air outside was getting colder and the sky was already dark. Harry spotted Hagrid who was waving frantically and hollering for first years to stand by him. Draco sneered when he saw the half blood, but did not speak his feelings in front of Harry, whom he sincerely liked. It was rare in the wizarding world to find someone so honest and who knew nothing about magic, and Draco relished teaching him.

As Draco watched, Harry's face seemed to turn even paler. Harry was nervous before he spotted the boats, now he was terrified. He could not swim, and previous memories involving water...well it was best not to get into that. Images of his uncle flashed through his mind as he desperately tried to contain them. Draco and the others were already moving towards the boats, with obvious amusement.

Draco was loudly talking of summers spent paddling over lakes, and Harry gladly slipped into a boat next to him. He politely refused an oar when offered, and closed his eyes as they moved into the water. Tense as he was, he felt his back give a sudden twinge of sharp pain, remnant of his Uncle's last bad temper. His whole body ached, and he wasn't even moving. Before long, although it seemed an eternity to poor Harry, the boats were at the foot of a castle that appeared to be lit from within with bright lights. They walked to the entrance, as Harry's body protested weakly.

A tall dignified woman with a severe looking bun tied in the back of her hair waited for them, smiling gently. She gestured for them to wait and disappeared through the door into a babble of noise. Hagrid gave Harry a thumbs up and followed suit, although how he managed to squeeze in the door was beyond Harry. Thankfully, they did not have long to wait (truthfully, the stares and whispers around Harry were getting too much, and he was shyly trying to hide behind Draco). A boy with thick red hair kept trying to catch his eye, but Harry noticed he had dirt on his nose and thought it might not be very polite to stare at it.

As they walked into the Great Hall, all that the chattering ceased and the other students stared solemnly at them, perhaps remembering their own sorting. A battered hat was placed in front of them and began gleefully singing the praises of each house in turn. Harry glanced sideways at Draco when the hat spoke of finding true friendship in Slytherin House. Was this someone with whom he could be friends? Harry had never had a friend before. He was blissfully unaware that Ronald Weasley was sidling up next to him, smiling hopefully. The Sorting began with “Abbott, Hannah,” and continued alphabetically until it reached Harry’s name.

“Potter, Harry,” called Professor McGonagall.

Harry walked to the stool and placed it nervously upon his head amongst shocked whispers. A small voice started talking in his ear.

‘Ah Harry Potter. Plenty of brains, loyalty and a thirst to prove yourself, if only you knew how. Bravery in spades but you haven’t had a chance to use it lately have you?’ Harry flushed, glad the hat covered so much of his face so that no one could see his shame. ’Which house would you prefer?’

Harry was remembering his train trip. All of the people he had met were certain to get into Slytherin, at least according to themselves, and Draco already was in Slytherin.

‘Slytherin,’ Harry thought attentively, wondering if such requests were granted. The hat seemed to smile in his mind, as if pleased he had asked. ‘I think you’d do great in SLYTHERIN!’

After a few shocked seconds Harry realised that the last word had been shouted aloud and the Slytherin house were all clapping. There was silence from every other house however, and the marked absence of even polite clapping was obvious. He took the hat off and turned to grin at Hagrid, who was giving him a sorrowful look. A dark-haired man was eyeing him with open curiosity and slight disgust, but he ignored this and went to join his housemates (remembering to take the hat off, unlike one Neville Longbottom) Draco was smiling genuinely, and moved to accommodate for him, but it was only when he glanced around the room that he realised people from every other house were glaring stonily at him. Blushing, he stared determinedly at his plate, noticing for the first time the quality of the pieces in front of him. Hogwarts must have plenty of money, if this was what they were expected to eat off! The sorting continued although there was a low hum reverberating around the hall as Students whispered about the surprising Sorting. Finally, when every student had found a place, an elderly man Harry recognised from a chocolate frog card on the train, stood. He beamed and clapped his hands, causing the most delicious food Harry had ever seen appeared before the students. They all began piling their plates with food, as Harry watched anxiously. Was he REALLY allowed to take what he liked? It certainly appeared to be so, but Harry had been fooled before. Cautiously he tipped a teaspoon of peas onto his plate, and when Draco gave him an incredulous look, added a wing of chicken. Just looking at the food was making him feel ill. The rich aroma of the chicken assaulted his nostrils causing his stomach to roll. It must have shown on his face because Pansy stopped eating to stare at him.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” she asked, noting his slightly green pallor.

“Must be the excitement. I’m not really hungry,”

“But you didn’t eat on the train either. You bought all those chocolate frogs and let us eat them while you kept the cards!”

“I never eat when I’m excited,” Harry assured her with a smile.

She (and now the other Slytherin around them) watched as he scooped up the peas and nibbled at the chicken. Most, like Draco, compared Harry’s seeming manners to the amount of food Crabbe and Goyle were polishing off and thought it was politeness. Few realised Harry was having a quiet feast.

After dinner, the prefects showed the students to the Slytherin Common Room in the dungeons. Harry expected a room situated in the dungeons to be chilly, but it was surprisingly warm in the stone room. After being directed to the dormitory, most of the boys checked their belongings and returned to the common room. Harry however, waited until the last student had left and dashed to the nearest bathroom where he promptly lost his dinner.

Checking the door was securely locked, he stared at his reflection, willing himself to drop his shields. For as long as he could remember, he had been hiding his face and body from the world, knowing just how disgusted they would be with it. The face that stared back at him was completely different to that of the boy a minute before. A myriad of bruises crossed his face, except for a smallish patch on the left side, which was covered in weeping, checkered cuts. Dudley had held him down too tightly last time he had caught him, ignoring the fact that he was holding him into a fence. Harry had acted surprised when Hagrid had told him he was a wizard, but he had always known he was different. He had always hidden his abuse, protecting what little pride he had left. His relatives had noticed of course, but anything that kept them smelling rosy was a benefit. Often, he could feel blood seeping from fresh cuts while person centimetres away would see nothing. Unless there was physical contact, he would be able to hide these latest attacks from all at his new school, and Harry did not intend anyone to get physically close, or close in any other sense. He had found out about the physical touch some years before. Petunia and Dudley had been going to the shops, but the car would not start. Harry had been forced along to carry groceries while they caught the dreaded bus. Standing in the aisle despite the empty seats (he knew better to sit, seats weren't for freaks like him) he had fallen when the bus gave a sudden lurch. He had fallen directly into the lap of an elderly lady, who was immediately covered in blood. She had been screaming, until Petunia explained that her nephew was a real prankster and must have spilt fake blood on her as a joke. Nevertheless, the Dursleys were no longer welcome on the local bus, and Harry's next beating had far surpassed the one he had gotten to produce the blood in the first place. Harry shuddered in remembrance, bringing his hand up to gently prod the bruises on the right side of his face. Almost lovingly, he plucked a stray piece of glass from naked skin. It had been annoying him all day, but Harry knew better than to try and get it out while there were people around. His shaking hands undid his shirt buttons, the first new shirt he had ever owned. As the cloth fell away, more and more bruises were revealed. He had surprised himself by being able to walk straight that morning, but his determination to attend school away from the Dursleys had prevailed and he had ignored his pain for most of the day. All those who had gawked at his scar would have been surprised to see an equally unusual one gracing his chest. Curiously, it was shaped like the bottom of iron burnt into his skin. And that was exactly what it was. He knew the others would soon miss him and wonder what he was doing, so he turned on a shower and eased himself gently under the water. He barely winced as deep red water ran down the drain. Quickly he towelled himself off, dressed, and was just settling down in bed when the others came up. After a cheery goodnight he pulled across his curtains. His secret was safe. For now.

His curtains were still closed a few hours later when he awoke. He slid out from under the bed and dressed in his school uniform, absentmindedly patting his hair in an attempt to make it sit straight. He walked down to the common room. The clock next to his bed read five to seven when he left, so he expected students would soon be up. What he did not expect was that Severus Snape would already be awake and waiting in the common room. He seemed to have swallowed something venomous right before Harry entered the room, but schooled his expression into polite indifference within seconds.

“First up, Potter,” he drawled. “Congratulations,”

He indicated on of the seats in front of him that Harry was sure had not been there the night before. A few seconds later a bell sounded above them and voices were heard overhead. In under a minute the older students had entered the room looking immaculate, followed by the rest of Slytherin house. The first years were last and seemed to freeze under Snape’s glare.

“Well I’m glad you’re all awake,” he growled sarcastically. “Before the school year officially begins, I wanted to enforce a few matters,”

He went on to highlight school rules and customs as well as Slytherin’s role in the school. He seemed to have trouble looking directly at Harry, although this did not make much of a difference because the rest of Slytherin house were more than making up for it. Harry felt himself getting redder and redder under their persistent gazes. He wished he could just sink into the floor as the constant scrutiny seemed unending. He was glad when Snape dismissed them, although dismayed when handed a piece of parchment telling him and the other first years to attend separate interviews at allotted times. His was not until Wednesday night however, so he had plenty of time to relax and rehearse what he was going to say. He hoped he would not be tested magically, because he knew he would then fail and consequently be dismissed from Hogwarts.

At Breakfast, under Pansy’s scrutinising eyes he appeared to eat two slices of toast which actually ended up under the table. Harry was glad to see it disappear with the rest of the breakfast things; it might have looked strange otherwise. The Slytherins were handed their timetables and headed for their first subject, Charms. A small man lectured them on the basics of charms and the theory of making objects fly. Harry was interested in the lesson, although physically he was beginning to worsen. Blood seemed to be pouring down his face from open wounds, and his back felt like it was on fire. The belt buckle his Uncle had last used had been large and pointed, leaving deep marks that had become infected quickly. His body was feeling the effect of four days without food and he knew he would have to eat soon or risk collapse. If this did occur, EVERYONE would know something was wrong.

‘Lunch,’ he promised himself. ‘I’ll eat lunch,’

The sausages seemed to be screaming at him not to eat them and even without this discouragement he could not have eaten them. He nibbled potato salad instead, again insuring it appeared he ate a normal meal. He felt eyes upon him once more, but was too surprised to see it was Professor Snape watching him. He met those steely black eyes for half a second before wavering. Those eyes seemed like dark tunnels to Harry, tunnels he had no desire to get lost in.

That afternoon was Harry’s first potions class with the Gryffindors, all of whom seemed intent on glaring at him with great hostility. From the minute he walked into the classroom things started going wrong. First, his school bag disappeared entirely. Every time he took his eyes off his cauldron new ingredients were added that he hadn’t intended be put there. Bubbling violently, the cauldron exploded spraying copious amounts on potion on a nervous looking boy in front of Harry; Neville Longbottom. Professor Snape who seemed to be ignoring him completely up until then, swooped mercilessly on a boy near Harry, the red head Draco had pointed out to Harry on the train.

“WEASLEY! Forty points from Gryffindor for malicious tampering. You, Longbottom, Hospital wing before you erupt in pus filled boils,” he paused, picking up a slice of Minikas root on the floor.

“Fine slicing, Potter. 20 points to Slytherin,”

As he walked to the front of the class, his robes flaring dramatically, Harry could not help but be grateful to him…at least a little.

Again he could not sleep, although this time, not even being in an enclosed space helped. He tossed and turned under his bed for some time, realising it was hopeless. He crept out of his dormitory, taking special care to be quiet as he crossed the length of the common room. He walked up the stairs in the centre of the school until he was out of the dungeons completely. He opened a door and found himself in a room with nothing more than a window in it. He sighed and sank blissfully to the ground, watching the night sky. He remembered the first time he had seen the forbidden night sky. His uncle had locked him in the garden shed for not pruning the roses correctly, and he had been able to see the beautiful sky through a small crack in the roof. This forbidden glance had stayed with him, and as often as he could Harry had watched the sky. He was startled out of his planetary journey by sudden footsteps, and couldn’t duck out of sight before someone entered the room.

“Potter!” Severus Snape nearly shrieked, in a very uncharacteristic way. “What are you doing out of bed?!! Did I not only just go over the school rules with you and the other Slytherins only two days ago?”

Harry, who was feeling extremely hot and fevered, did not reply and merely stared at him owlishly. Severus stared back as if seeing him for the first time.

“You’ve got Lily’s eyes,” he muttered more to himself than to Harry.

“Lily?” replied Harry wistfully. “Did you know my mother then? How?”

Snape stared suspiciously at him.

“Yes, I knew her. Petunia told you nothing of her?”

“No,” said Harry, biting his bottom lip.

‘Petunia must have loved her sister after all,’ thought Severus. ‘She couldn’t bear to talk about her after her death,’

“It is not my place to take points from my own house, Potter,” he said aloud. “Back to your dormitory before another teacher comes along who is not as lenient as I,”

Still puzzling over Snape’s hot-cold attitude, Harry left thankful not to have lost the points he had only recently earned.

Tuesday passed in a blur of tiredness and pain, with Ronald Weasley glaring at him and making snide comments every time they met. Professor Snape was ignoring him again, although his new cauldron was still intact and his potions were all given high marks. This seemed regardless of quality however, as all Slytherins received decent marks in professor Snape’s classes. He supposed that all the cooking he had done for the Dursleys had given him knife skill, and the gardening basic knowledge of muggle herbs and plants. Disappointingly, Hagrid was also ignoring Harry, and had been since the welcoming feast. Harry had called after him before a transfiguration class one day, only to see Hagrid turn and grimace when he saw who called him. It seemed everyone was against him simply because he was in Slytherin house. He wondered how different things would have been if he had been placed in a different house.

Before he knew it, Wednesday had come around and he was standing outside Snape’s door knocking politely. After hearing an answer from within, he entered. Shuddering at the sight on many dead things in jars, he sat in the available seat and watched Snape who had not glanced up when he entered. After perching nervously on the edge of his seat for a few minutes, Snape finally spoke.

“So, Potter,” he said the word Potter as if it pained him deep inside. “How are you finding Slytherin house and Hogwarts in general so far?

Harry considered his answer carefully, deciding to take the Slytherin approach.

“Well apart from the fact that everyone stares at me like I’ve got two heads, it’s good,”

Snape gaped at him, perhaps not expecting such a brutally honest answer.

“Well, you are the saviour of the wizarding world after all. These children have grown up knowing your name,”

This was not a response Harry wanted to hear.

“I am not!” he nearly shouted angrily. “I am not the saviour of the wizarding world. I can’t protect any one, and I don’t know why people would think I could. I can’t even protect myself!”

Harry visibly paled after this last remark; all his careful planning was for nothing, he had exposed himself. Tensing, he sprang from his chair and bolted towards than door. Severus got there before him however, and grasped Harry’s arm sharply by the wrist. Harry cried out like a wounded animal and wrenched himself free, escaping out the door. Severus made to go after him, before pausing and staring down at his normally pale hand. Why was it covered in blood?

Snape strode angrily through the deserted corridors, his permanent sneer hiding deep fear. It was long after curfew, but none of the Slytherin students had seen Harry since before his meeting. Every room he had checked had been empty, and he was about to report the disappearance to the headmaster, when he remembered the astronomy tower. The first years had yet to have an astronomy lesson, but judging by Harry’s behaviour a few nights before, the boy had a love of the night sky. It was just possible, despite not knowing its location, Harry had headed for the highest building available.

Sure enough, Harry was there. He was sleeping, one fist desperately digging into his palm. Severus had never seen anyone look so incredibly vulnerable, even through all his years as a death eater. He sighed, face drawn, and silently studied the boy. Here was one whom he had every right to despise, and yet time and time again he was finding it impossible to do so. Imagine, James Potter’s son a Slytherin! And yet perhaps it was not surprising; Lily had once confided to him the hat considered placing her in Slytherin, before deciding her Muggle blood too much of a liability. It was too late to take Harry back to the Slytherin tower without disturbing other students, and Pomfrey was away and had warded the hospital wing to prevent students purloining medical supplies. The boy simply did not need any more notoriety. The lounge in his private chambers would have to do for now.

When Harry awoke an unfamiliar room swam into view. He threw out a hand, searching for his glasses, only to feel them being pressed into his hand. As soon as he put them on however, he wished he hadn’t. Severus Snape was watching him, and he did not look exactly happy.

“Would you like to tell me why you disappeared last night, leaving me to spend HOURS looking for you? Why you did not return safely to the tower, and why you went to the astronomy tower, an area off limits unless accompanied by a teacher?” he said sneeringly.

“I…” Harry stuttered. Perhaps it was the enormity of the questions, or the way they were rapidly fired at him, but he could not formulate an answer. His parents had died, but he had not. He had been left behind, and people knew who he was because of it. Harry did not want any notoriety; he just wanted to be left alone!

“Well, Potter? Incapable of answering a simple question?” Snape asked, interrupting his train of thought.

“Sorry. Won’t happen again,” Harry muttered, flinching as Snape moved closer to him.

Severus froze. Something wasn’t right. The boy was much too nervous for a simple bit of rule breaking. He was acting as if he were about to be struck. Experimentally, Severus lifted his hand, and the boy recoiled again. He placed his hand on Harry’s arm, only to feel it suddenly grow moist while Harry recoiled in horror. Severus stared between the boy and his crimson hand uncomprehendingly.

“Potter! Why are you covered in blood?!!” he shouted, trying to take hold of him once more.

“Don’t feel well,” Harry mumbled, before slumping forward in a dead faint.

Before Severus’ eyes Harry’s defences crumbled, revealing a seriously injured and malnourished boy. His magic had finally failed the constant strain of glamour too much for the powerful young boy. Severus had no idea how he had managed it, and for so long. Somehow, Harry had tamed the wild magic within him, evidently for some time, and used it to his advantage. Poppy was away, while Potter bleed to death in front of him.

“Oh Merlin,” Snape mumbled, running for his potions cabinet.

When he awoke again, Harry felt good. Too good. All of his injuries were healed or healing and once more he was met with the face of an angry Severus Snape. Seeing the fear that crossed Harry’s face, Severus softened his features considerably (for him).

“Harry,” he said in as gentle tone as he could muster. “How do you feel?”

Harry just stared at him dumbly.

“I just want to know how it happened, Harry. You’re not going to get in trouble, I promise you. Look, I’ll tell you something. Your father and I,” Harry showed slight interest at this point, so Severus continued.

“We weren’t friends at school. We hated each other, in fact. But when you were made a Slytherin, I had to choose between old grudges and new responsibilities. I choose the latter, and I won’t deny it was difficult for me to do. I have never before let down a student in my care, and I’m not about to start, despite your parentage. I need you to tell me what happened, so I can help you,”

Harry’s face tightened at this last statement.

“Why would you want to help me?” asked Harry bitterly. “I’m nobody. Less than nobody. Just because the wizarding world thinks I’m a hero doesn’t change anything,”

“You are not ‘nobody’ Harry. You are a Slytherin and I know for a fact that a Mr Malfoy and Miss Parkinson have been extremely worried about you,” replied Severus.

Harry leant back on the pillows. They had noticed he was gone? Neither of them stared pointedly at his scar, Harry realised with a start.

“Oh,” was all Harry managed to say in response to Severus’ strange revelation.

“Please Harry. I want to help you,” he looked so genuine that Harry felt tears prick his eyes. He hadn’t given the Dursley’s the satisfaction of seeing him cry in years, and now he was about to cry in front of a teacher he had known three days.

“The Dursleys,” he whispered in a tight voice, feeling a single tear slide down his face.

“Thank you,” was all Severus said.

He had confirmation that Harry had been abused. Two nights ago, after Harry had collapsed, Severus had gone to Dumbledore with his suspicions. Albus had defended the Dursleys.

“His family Albus, it has to be them! The boy has confirmed it to me!”

“I can see no evidence of that, Severus, dear boy. We can’t go around accusing muggles of dastardly deeds, think of the damage this could do to muggle-wizarding relations! No, the boy must be lying to you; he is after all, Slytherin,”

“The boy is being abused by someone, Albus; you can’t possibly stand by and do nothing simply because of his house choice!” Severus had said.

“I have made my decision, as Potter did when he choose Slytherin house,” Albus replied in such a way that Severus knew he had lost. The Headmaster had doomed Harry Potter.

Fuming, Severus had left the office. The old codger saw only in black and white. He had Albus’ plans for the great Harry Potter years before the boy had even come to school. Albus had wanted to mould the perfect Gryffindor to defeat Voldemort. Now however, it was ruined because the sorting house had chosen Slytherin. Every hoodwink Albus had placed on that hat and Harry had outsmarted all of them. The sorting hat makes the ultimate decision despite what the Headmaster wants of course, and when Harry directly asked to be placed in Slytherin he had set in motion a process no one could undo. That was the only way to guarantee a house choice, by asking for it, because the hat respected self choice. All of Albus’s plans to make Harry the next Gryffindor spokesman had failed. Hagrid, scared by Harry’s obvious Slytherin qualities the moment they met, had not told him enough of his family to place the mindset of Gryffindor rule in his head. The Weasley family had arrived late at the train station and had the training Ronald Weasley had been getting since he was a small boy useless. Instead, Harry met first Draco Malfoy, and the bitter enmity Albus had suspected for the pair was mere juvenile rivalry. It had been hard for the old codger to take but he had bounced back pretty fast. He had called in wizarding media not long after Severus left the office, revealing the contents of a prophecy made before Harry’s birth by an unknown prophet. The prophecy, as pointed out by Dumbledore, named two boys, and he had mistakenly believed Harry was the boy the prophecy named. Now however, it seemed a young Gryffindor, Neville Longbottom, was the new world saviour. To the wizarding world, Dumbledore could do no wrong. Immediately accepted was Dumbledore’s version of the prophecy, and Neville was elevated beyond his wildest dreams. It would be Neville who would be finding clues all year to lead him to the Philosophers stone, not Harry, and this was exactly to Severus’ liking. He knew Voldemort had already made a play for the stone, and it was only a matter of time before he did so again. Neville would be facing the dark lord. Always good to have a backup plan, eh Dumbledore?

The boy was still sitting in the lounge in his office, staring at the wall. Severus sighed. Often over the years he had handled cases such as this one, but never to this extreme. He had no idea if the boy trusted him enough, or even at all. It was obvious he had trust issues, would he ever open up enough about what had happened to him to be able to heal?

“Harry,” he said gently, startling the boy from his reverie.

After a few seconds Harry turned, carefully arranging his features into a blank mask.

“May I go now?” he asked, just as carefully.

“I would like to discuss what you told me last night, Harry,”

The continued use of his first name was meant to lull the boy into a sense of familiarity and security, but he wasn’t buying it. Harry shook his head slowly.

“No sir, I’d really rather not,” he replied, quietly, but firmly.

“It won’t go away if you don’t face it, you know,” Severus replied.

“It won’t go away anyway. It never has before, no matter how I’ve handled it,” Harry stood, as if carrying a great weight on his shoulders. His chest felt tight and a lump filled his throat.

“Thank you for understanding sir,”

He fled the room before Professor Snape could reply.

He attempted to seek out the boy many times over the next few days, unsuccessfully. He was always with friends, talking and laughing as much as any other student. He and Draco seemed to be getting along like a house on fire, spurned on no doubt by Draco’s father. Lucius Malfoy would be grinning all over his perfect face at the thought of his son being friends with the boy who stopped the Dark lord. After the fuss died down about Harry being in Slytherin, and his new found loss of fame, the students from other houses largely ignored him- except Ronald Weasley. Fuelled by a sense of failure, his attacks on Harry became so obvious that even other teachers, including the head of Gryffindor, were docking points and awarding detentions at a rate unseen at Hogwarts since the Marauder days. The loss of points soon stopped however, after an interview with the Headmaster, from which Weasley left looking subdued and made a beeline for Neville Longbottom. They had made a threesome with Hermione Granger, who had been friends with Neville before his rise to fame. The three were often seen ducking down to Hagrid’s and other such Gryffindor past times. Thankfully, the only class that Slytherin and Gryffindor shared was potions, at least until flying practice began in the coming weeks. Severus knew most of his new Slytherins were decent fliers, most having come from all magic families. Except Harry. To see whether the boy flew like his father (James, Severus could admit, was one of the best fliers he had ever seen, unlike himself, who had to practice hard to even fly at all) was one thing he could not wait to see. But what would Ronald Weasley do with such an opportunity?

Just in case, Severus hovered near a first floor window all morning, one which overlooked the quidditch pitch. He watched as brooms jumped straight into Draco’s and Harry’s hands. They smirked at each other (although Severus couldn’t see that, he could easily imagine their expressions) while Ron’s broom rolled over on the ground trying to get away. Severus winced as Longbottom flew up the side of the building only to fall and hit the ground with a sickening crunch.

‘Probably showing off anyway,’ Severus thought snidely.

As soon as Madam Hooch had taken the boy away, undoubtedly for medical treatment, Weasley struck. He grabbed Harry’s glasses and flew high into the air, Harry in hot pursuit. His instinct on the broom was incredible, and even flying blind, as it were, his control was perfect. He couldn’t believe his own eyes after Harry caught his own glasses, despite not being able to see them, a foot from the ground.

“Harry Potter!”

Harry’s heart sank faster than he had just dived. He heard Draco land beside him and realised with a start that he had flown into the air to help. He dared a swift smile at his Slytherin comrade before a dark figure loomed in front of them, looking like the stuff of nightmares. Harry put on his glasses and his heart sank further when he realised who it was standing in front of them. Every time he broke a rule Professor Snape seemed to be there!

“Never, in all my time at Hogwarts- how dare you, you might have broken your neck-”

“It wasn’t his fault Professor-”

“Be quiet Miss Parkinson-”

“But Weasley-!”

“That’s enough, Mr Malfoy. Potter follow me now,”

Harry caught sight of Ron’s and a few other Gryffindor faces as he was led away, as well as the disapproving face of Hermione. The girl cared more about rules than herself; clearly she had serious problems. But then so did he; he was going back to the Dursleys, back to his cupboard, back to his pain. What would the Dursleys say when he turned up back on their doorstep? They might even be happy to see him as long as their fun at his humiliation lasted. Meanwhile, Snape was dragging him through corridors and past classrooms until they were out the front of the charms classroom.

“Excuse me Professor Flitwick; I’d like to borrow Flint for a moment,”

‘Flint?’ Harry thought wildly ‘What kind of punishment is that?’

But Flint turned out to be a person, a large Slytherin with a heavy set jaw and permanent frown.

“Harry this is Marcus Flint. Harry is going to be Slytherin’s new seeker,”

Flint’s expression turned from a lemon sour to a slightly less sour flavour.

“Potter? He’s as good as his father then? I have studied all the great Hogwarts players sir!” If Flint could sound excited, Harry would bet that was what he was hearing now, despite the other boy’s expression.

“If only you had studied moonstones as closely, or indeed any of the other subjects you’re failing,” Severus replied dryly to cover his dismay at the reference to Harry’s father.

“I’ll personally see to getting him a decent broom, Flint. You see that you explain the rules well and get him practicing. We flattened Gryffindor last year. Minerva McGonagall couldn’t look me in the face for weeks after that match. Oh and Potter, so the others don’t think I’ve gone soft, detention, um, soon,”

As Flint went back into the classroom, and Harry was wondering over the use of the word ‘Um’ Severus began talking.

“Your father would have been proud. He was an excellent Quidditch player himself,” somehow he managed to keep his voice and face neutral, although it was not easy.

Harry didn’t reply and kept his eyes trained on the ground. Severus wondered what it would take to get through to him.

“Wow,” said Draco enviously when Harry explained what happened after Snape pulled him out of class. “We’ve got to keep this quiet. I can’t wait to see Weasley’s face, and I want to tell him at exactly the right moment!”

Harry laughed along with Draco, as an owl winged its way to the Slytherin table. Odd, mail wasn’t usually this late. It dropped a letter in front of Harry, and flew away.

“Kindly attend a meeting in my office immediately after dinner. The password is fizzing whizzbees

Dumbledore”