The day that Harry had been dreading was here. After everything—everything that now seemed like a mere, distant memory—it was finally here.

The first day of his second year at Hogwarts.

But what was there to be nervous about? He'd already gone through his second year in the other reality. Except that things were different this time around, weren't they? He had a family, for one. He had Severus, Sirius—and, well, Remus. Harry had been seeing a lot more of Remus lately.

Oh, and of course, Dobby hadn't showed up this time.

Severus had, in vain, tried to calm a nervous, anxious Harry down. When they finally reached his chambers in the dungeons at Hogwarts, Severus actually thought he'd succeeded in doing just that.

“I've never been here before,” Harry said, looking around in awe. Then, as if waking from a trance without warning, Harry clutched on to the front of Severus's emerald green robes, his wide eyes meeting Severus's black ones. “Please, Dad, please! I don't want to go!”

“What are you, Harry, five?” Severus frowned. “Merlin, child, I'm not saying that you have to have your teeth yanked out. You love Hogwarts, do you not?”

“I do.” Harry let his hands fall to his sides. “I've already gone through my second year, though. Can't I go back to Odlin with Sirius and Remus and help them with their restaurant? It's the grand opening sometime soon.”

“I am well aware of the grand opening. And no, you may not leave.”

Harry groaned, throwing himself down on the leather sofa before him. This wasn't fair. He'd be an outsider, he knew he would be. Who would want to hang around him? He was supposed to be dead here, only Draco Malfoy had visited him—it wasn't much of a surprise that no one else had—and that had turned out horribly. He'd be avoided. A pariah.

It was just all too weird. It'd be awkward, uncomfortable and humiliating.

“I want to go back home,” Harry whispered aloud, his voice small. “I can't do this, Dad. Please don't make me.”

“You have nothing to panic over,” Severus said soothingly, sitting down beside Harry. He ran his fingers through his son's hair. “You needn't be nervous or anxious, either. I'll be with you the entire time.”

Harry sat up, rubbing his nose. “I won't be able to do it.”

“Yes you will.” Severus fixed him with an intense stare. “You're a Gryffindor. You're brave, Harry. You can do this.”

Harry let out a shaky breath, straightening his posture. “I can do this.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Again. Confidence is the key.”

“I can do this. I can.”

“Good.” Severus stood up, extending a hand to Harry. “Come, let's get you settled in your room.”

“Ah....” Harry frowned, trailing off. He tilted his head, giving Severus a puzzled look. “What do you mean? I'm not going to be living in the Gryffindor dormitory?”

“Yes you are,” Severus replied. “Usually you would always have an extra room down here. Would you... rather not?”

Harry shook his head. “No, no. I want a room here.”

Curiously, Harry followed Severus through his chambers, letting everything around him sink in until it was permanently etched in his mind. Were Severus Snape's chambers like this in his other reality? It'd be difficult to imagine that, since it was rather... homey down here. A little chilly, a little dark even when a few lights were on, but other than that: homey.

Harry's room was a mixture of an emerald green and a dark blue; the bed was done up and untouched. Harry quickly snuck a glance at Severus to see that the professor had a pained look on his face.

“I don't have to stay here,” Harry said immediately. “Honestly, I can just stay in the Gryffindor dormitories and—”

“No,” Severus answered firmly. “This will be your room, understand?” he cleared his throat. “You can unpack some of your things down here if you wish, and leave some of the others in your suitcase for the dormitory. The welcoming feast will be later on tonight, as you know, and until then you may relax while I prepare for classes.”

Harry sighed. “I can't come with you?”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “I wish you wouldn't. You're still recovering from the accident. Speaking of that, if you are in any pain I want you to seek me out in my classroom immediately so I can give you your medicine.”

Harry made a face. “I haven't been in pain for a while. I'm really done recovering. Can I come with you now?”

An amused look crossed Severus's face as he leaned down and kissed the top of Harry's head. “Rest, Harry. Don't forget: you can do this.”

--

He could do this. He could do this. His father even said so: he could do this. While Severus had been in his classroom, Harry repeated those four words to himself as he did what he was told and rested on a bed that hardly felt like his.

Perhaps it'd feel more like his if some of Harry's drawings from when he must've been a little boy were gone? Or those clothes in one of the drawers that were pulled open a little bit? The toys in the closet?

Who was he kidding? He couldn't ask Severus to take those things away. That would just be rude and hurtful, wouldn't it? Insulting. He was in a stranger's room, in a stranger's bed, and it would most likely always feel that way.

He watched the minutes tick by, the hours change from one to the other. The time to go to the Great Hall was coming faster and faster. But he could do it; he could do it.

And then Severus was back, ready to collect Harry and bring him to the Great Hall. Harry's hands were clammy and his heart beat faster than it ever had before. He felt sick. The butterflies in his stomach were going to make him vomit.

The teachers were polite enough, Harry found. They did their best not to stare—but perhaps Severus's warning glare helped a little with that.

“Go on,” he whispered to Harry as the students began piling in the room. “Take a seat. I'm right here.”

“Dad.” Harry's voice was hoarse and pleading, and he felt near tears. “Please, I'm begging you.”

Severus had a hurt look on his face. “Don't make me feel like a bad person,” he implored, grasping Harry's shoulders gently. “You can do this, remember? I'm begging you.”

Harry let out a shaky breath, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He nodded. “Okay. Okay. You'll be here, right?”

“Of course.” Severus breathed a sigh of relief, pressing his lips against Harry's temple. “Be brave. I love you.”

“Love you, too.” Harry swallowed, noticing before he turned around that Dumbledore gave him a wink. To make him feel better, probably. Was it that noticing? Harry tried to take in steady, slow breaths as he neared the Gryffindor table. The students were still settling in, and in amongst them he tried to spot Ron and Hermione, or even Draco Malfoy, but he couldn't see any of them.

People were starting to stare. Harry could feel their eyes on his back, and even the people sitting at the Gryffindor table gawked. The sudden whispering among them was about him, or was he just being paranoid? Harry kept his eyes trained down on his hands self-consciously, wishing he were back at the Dursleys.

No. Really?

No. Anything but the Dursleys. He wanted to stay here with Severus and Sirius so... he'd just have to endure this. He could endure it.

He could do it.

He suddenly lifted his eyes as he felt another presence beside him. Or, two other presences actually, Harry corrected himself as his heart skipped a beat. Ron and Hermione.

They were both staring at him in awe, standing when mostly everyone else except for the first years were sitting. Harry's face burned as the staring and whispering didn't cease.

Hermione's lip trembled as she spoke. “Harry....”

He offered a weak, nervous smile. “Hermione.”

Hermione's eyes widened, and her lip trembled a little more violently. “You know my name.”

“Of course I do.” Harry frowned. “You're one of my best friends.” He turned his eyes onto Ron. “You too, Ron.”

Ron's eyes were wide and, looking pale (and maybe a little sick?), Ron slipped down next to Harry, with Hermione sitting on the other side of Ron.

“Harry, mate,” Ron whispered in awe. “I... I....”

Harry felt miserable as he lowered his eyes back down onto his hands, and Dumbledore stood up to make his speech, and introduce the new teacher. He wasn't expecting anything much from Ron and Hermione—but maybe a simple sentence from one of his best friends would've made him feel a little better?

Harry knew that, along with everyone else who was staring at him, Severus happened to be one of them. But not for the same reason. Harry just couldn't bring himself to meet his gaze.

When would this be over? He wished the sorting would go on faster. He wasn't even hungry. How could he be when he felt like he was going to be sick?

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione suddenly whispered, leaning over Ron to talk to him. Harry looked up. “Don't look so sad. You can't expect us all to be okay with this on the first day, can you? Especially when it's not even... well, you?”

Harry didn't say anything. It wasn't the Harry they knew, but couldn't they at least make an effort? They were doing the best they could, Harry suddenly thought, answering himself. It was a lot to take in, wasn't it?

Even the first years were staring at him. One by one they got sorted, and the ones that were sorted into Gryffindor seemed to be both excited and terrified as they tried to sit near him, or even when they just walked by him. Harry even heard a few whisper to each other that, “that was Harry Snape, who'd died and then was brought back to life out of the grave.”

Honestly.

And still, Severus was trying to catch his eye, even as the food appeared on the table. Hermione and Ron were whispering to each other, but Harry didn't even bother to try and include himself. He kept reminding himself that this was only the first day, that things would get better. They would, right?

“Would you look at that?” Harry heard the girl next to him whisper. “He died last year, and apparently some other Harry from another reality or dimension took over his body. D'you reckon it's the same body that they buried in the ground? Ick! Quick, can you see any decaying parts on him?”

Harry's eyes fluttered shut, trying to block out the noise. He opened them, turning his head around to see that a group from Ravenclaw had their heads turned. Same with Hufflepuff, Slytherin—they were all staring at him. Talking about him. He could hear them, whispering about him, about the situation.

He had to go. He couldn't do this.

Abruptly, Harry stood up: all the more reason for people to stare and whisper. He bolted out of the Great Hall, not even taking a glance over his shoulder as he left. Where was he going to go? He wouldn't go in the dormitory. He wouldn't be able to stay there, with everyone else, gawking and whispering...

“Harry!”

Harry spun around to face Draco, who's cheeks looked a little flushed. Had he been running after him?

“I told you it would take a while,” Draco said, his chest heaving up and down. “How in Merlin's name can you run so fast?”

Harry shook his head, ignoring Draco's question. “I'm sorry Malfoy, I just can't do this.”

Draco frowned. “It's Draco, thanks. And you can do this. Don't let anyone get to you.”

“You don't understand,” Harry said, his eyes wide. “Ron and Hermione can't even talk to me. Everyone's staring and whispering, and—and I just can't take it anymore.” He shook his head again when Draco opened his mouth. “If you're going to call me a coward, then go right ahead, because it's what I am.”

Draco scowled. “A coward? The other Harry wasn't the only one who faced Quirrel, was he? You did too, didn't you?”

Harry blinked, taken aback. “Well—”

“And how old are you in your reality, hm? A year or two older?”

“Ah—I'm thirte—”

“Even if the Philosopher's Stone happened to be the bravest thing you've ever done since you started your Hogwarts, it's still a brave thing.” He eyed Harry, almost with disgust. “You are no coward.”

With that, Draco spun on his heel, walking back toward the Great Hall.

“Draco!” Harry suddenly blurted out loudly. The boy froze, turning around slowly. Harry gave a single shoulder a small shrug. “Thank you.”

Draco nodded his head, turning around again. Harry bit his lip, glancing around the corridor. There was only one place that he could go. What had Severus said the password was again?

--

It took Harry a few times to get the password to Severus's chambers right. As soon as he was in, he noticed a piece of parchment on the oak colored table. It was from Sirius.

Harry, it read

You really need to see Padfoot and Moony's. We've finished painting, we have all the tables and chairs out... it's really coming together. Are you and Snape coming home for Christmas or are we coming to you lot? If you're coming here you can see it then. By the way, Black is fine. He's getting very big, and whenever he meows I reckon he's trying to tell me that he misses you. Or that he wants me to feed him again.

Tell me how your first day back goes. I'll be thinking of you, and so will Remus. He says hi.

Love,
Sirius, Remus and Black

PS: Do you like the owl? You can keep her. Her name's Hedwig. A little bee told me that you might like that name. You also forgot your wand, in case you were wondering. Snape has it now.

The owl? There wasn't an owl. Was there?

As if answering Harry's question, the snowy owl flew out of one of the rooms, landing on his right shoulder. Harry's mouth parted in surprise. She looked... like a mirror image of the Hedwig back in Harry's reality.

But, wait. The wand? Harry's wand? Harry didn't have a wand: it snapped when he fell on it.

Pushing those thoughts aside, and placing Hedwig gently on the table, Harry searched desperately around the room for parchment and a quill. When he found them, he scribbled a quick reply to Sirius, which honestly had nothing to do with Sirius's letter in the first place.

Sirius,

Take me home now.

Love,
Harry

Glancing at the very brief letter when he finished, Harry sighed and added: PS: I love Hedwig, she's beautiful. Thank you. It almost ruined the urgency a bit, but Harry didn't mind.

“Will you take this to Sirius?” Harry asked Hedwig softly.

Hedwig hooted around the same time that Harry heard Severus loudly say, “Harry Potter, if you're not in here so help me—” He was cut off as Hedwig flew by him and out the portrait hole. He sighed in irritation. “I see that you've found your new owl.”

Harry straightened, not even realizing that Severus had called him by his real name. Severus, however, didn't give Harry a chance to reply as he continued with: “What was the meaning of running out of the Great Hall like you did?”

“I told you I couldn't do it,” Harry answered weakly. “Ron and Hermione could barely even talk to me, and everyone was staring and whispering. It was too much.”

Severus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He walked past Harry, sitting himself down in his armchair. Harry remained by the table, waiting for Severus to speak.

“Dad?” Harry finally said tentatively, when Severus said nothing. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” Severus replied, though he didn't sound fine. “I knew the first day would be difficult, there was no doubt in my mind—”

“Don't give up,” Harry suddenly blurted out. Severus looked at him quizzically. “I won't give up if you won't give up,” Harry continued. He frowned thoughtfully. “Draco was all right with me, he didn't act like the others. You know, maybe... maybe more people will start acting the same way. In time.”

Severus gave Harry a look. “I thought you couldn't do it? You were quite insistent about that.”

“But you sounded like you were going to give up on me,” Harry said again, in a soft voice. “And I want to prove to you that I can do it.” He hesitated. “Just don't make me go back to the dormitories. I can't do that.”

“You want to stay here?” Severus clarified.

Harry nodded in response, and was delighted to see that Severus had begun nodding himself. As Harry latched his arms around Severus in a hug, Severus reminded him, “Just for now. We'll see how it goes.”

--

The bedroom would take some getting used to, that was for sure. It was comfy though, but that still didn't mean that Harry went to sleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. There were too many thoughts in his head; too many worries.

What if he had breakfast, lunch and dinner down here instead of going to the Great Hall? Severus wouldn't mind, would he? Especially if he was sleeping down here to begin with? He could be the one who merely went to classes and chose not to associate himself with anyone. Would that really be such a bad thing? He had Severus for company, and Hedwig now, too.

Did he really need friends? Did anyone really need friends?

Maybe they did. But did he?

Harry's brow furrowed together as Severus's loud, angry voice bounced off the walls. Who was he yelling at? Slipping out of bed, Harry tip-toed across the cold floor and turned the doorknob slowly, opening the door just a crack.

He opened it wider when he saw who it was.

“That was quick,” Harry said out loud as he faced an agitated-looking Severus and an agitated-looking Sirius.

Harry clamped his mouth shut as he first eyed Severus's frustrated expression. Sirius stood next to the professor, a scowl on his face. Both were now ignoring each others' presence; they turned to look at Harry as the boy stepped out of the room. Sirius rudely elbowed past Severus, stepping just a little bit closer to Harry.

“Harry!” Sirius was slightly out of breath, Harry noticed, his cheeks a little flushed from arguing with Severus, but he had a rather puzzled expression on his face. “I'm here. What happened?”

Severus glared at the back of Sirius's head, then said to Harry, “You told Black to take you home? When was this?”

“After I left the Great Hall,” Harry mumbled. “It was before I changed my mind... but I am still staying!” Harry looked at Sirius apologetically. “I'm staying, Sirius. Thanks for coming, anyway.”

Sirius shook his head. “What happened?” he repeated. He looked over his shoulder at Severus, then back over at Harry.

Harry pushed his bangs out of his eyes, taking his time to answer Sirius's question. “It didn't go so great today,” he finally started slowly. “It was... difficult.”

“He ran out of the Great Hall,” Severus put in frankly, to Harry's dismay.

To Harry's surprise, however, Sirius didn't seem to care that he had 'ran' out of the Great Hall. Instead, he groaned, pulling Harry into a hug.

“And you wrote to me to take you home! I'm touched, Harry.”

Severus scowled, shaking his head. “I couldn't even begin to fathom why. Will you leave, Black? You've disrupted us for absolutely—”

“It's late,” Sirius interrupted, “I know, I know.” He put his hands on Harry's shoulders, looking Harry in the eye. “Are you okay, kid?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, thanks.”

“That's all I need to hear.” Sirius stepped back, looking over at Severus with an annoyed expression. “I'm gone, I'm gone. You do have Harry's wand though, don't you? The wand from here, anyway.”

“I do,” Severus replied. “Now goodnight, Black.”

Sirius sighed, stepping into the fireplace. “Goodnight Harry. Get in lots of trouble for me.” He paused, giving Severus a sarcastically sweet look. “Goodnight, lovebug. Don't forget to write and keep me informed on everything that's going on.”

He was gone in green flames before Severus had a chance to say anything. Severus let out a sigh of relief, turning to Harry.

“All right, young man, back to bed.”

Harry let out a breath. “You know, I'm already up. Maybe we should get a glass of water in the kitchen?”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “Bed.”

“You could read me a bedtime story.”

“You're not a tiny child. Bed.”

Harry's shoulders slumped in defeat. He spun around, ready to make his way back into the bedroom, when a closed door next to Severus's bedroom caught his eye. What could that be? Out of all the rooms that Severus had showed Harry, he'd skipped that one. At the time, Harry didn't think much of it—in fact, he didn't think of it at all. But now...

“Sev,” Harry started, brow furrowed, “what's that?”

Severus followed his gaze. “That? A door.”

Harry looked up at Severus in exasperation. “I know that, but what's behind the door? What room is it?”

“My study,” Severus answered briefly. Then, after a second thought, he added, “Which you will never go into unless, for some reason, I allow you. Understood?”

Harry pressed his lips together, nodding in agreement. He walked into the bedroom, his eyes glued on the door to Severus's study as he went in. There must be something in there other than a desk and books to make it practically forbidden to go into, wouldn't there?

He crawled into the warm bed as Severus stood in the doorway, his hand curled around the doorknob.

“Aren't you going to tuck me in?” Harry questioned innocently before Severus had a chance to close the door.

Severus smirked, making his way over to Harry's bed in a few simple strides. He tucked Harry in, and the bed springs creaked as the mattress dipped a bit on the edge as Severus sat down. “Is this to your liking, Mr Potter?”

Harry's silly smile dissolved into a serious frown, pushing himself up a little higher so that his back rested against the backboard of the bed.

“Don't you remember when we were in Ireland that I told you it's Harry Snape now?”

“Yes,” Severus said after a moment's hesitation. “I just assumed....”

“Assume nothing,” Harry interrupted in a firm voice. He made sure to look Severus dead in the eye. “I'm well aware that I have no competition with the other Harry. That's right... isn't it?”

Severus scowled. “Don't be absurd.”

“There you go. I'm not going to try to make you love me as much as you loved him, and I think I'm very—”

“Hold on.” Severus raised his eyebrows. “There wouldn't be a need for that. I love you both in very different, very strong ways. There's no loving one more than the other. You should know that by now.”

“I just thought so because you'd raised him since he was just a little baby,” Harry said, frowning. “And he actually is your son.”

“That makes no difference. You know how I feel, is there any use to continue this conversation? I do believe you're just bringing this up again so you do not have to go to sleep.”

Harry licked his lips, continuing on steadfastly from where Severus interrupted him, “I think I'm very responsible to take on the Snape name. Unless you don't want me to be a Snape, then that's just fine with me. I suppose.”

“Oh, it is?” Severus leaned over, kissing Harry's forehead, then stood up. “Goodnight, Harry Snape. Tomorrow will be a better day, I promise. Get some sleep; I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Harry squirmed around, trying to get comfy as Severus started toward the door. “Just never forget that I'm me. Me. I don't want to have to constantly worry that you're mistaking me for someone else all the time.”

“You needn't worry,” Severus said softly. “I promise that I will never forget who you are.” Severus held the doorknob, pulling the door shut behind him.

--

The next day wasn't much better, no matter how much Harry wished it were. Severus had allowed Harry to miss breakfast in the Great Hall, letting him eat in the chambers instead. That was the only time Severus said he'd let Harry do that.

Herbology, which he had with the Slytherins, was an uncomfortable class. Again, there were whispers and stares from Harry's classmates, and Ron and Hermione were still a little uncomfortable around him—and, to top it off, he'd been getting strange looks from Draco Malfoy. Not glares, like he normally would've gotten, but... curious looks.

Harry didn't pay much attention in that class. He already remembered pretty much everything.

Then, of course, he had DADA. Again, with the Slytherins. Harry remembered the first DADA class in the other reality very well, too, and who taught it.

When Harry entered the classroom, Lockhart wasn't even there, and not many students had shown up yet. Very few were there. Harry sat in the front row, nervously glancing around before he did so. He doubted that Ron would sit next to him, or even Hermione. He doubted that anyone would.

He was a pariah, wasn't he?

The class was filling up. No one dared sit next to him. Then, to his pure, utter amazement, someone took the empty seat next to him. Harry immediately turned his head to the side, startled to see that the person had been Draco Malfoy.

Harry's mouth fell open. He tried to form a word—even a sentence—but his voice failed him at that moment. Draco looked at Harry, frowning at the boy who was gaping at him.

Finally, Harry managed to whisper, “You've got to be kidding me.”

Draco raised his eyebrows. “Do you want me to move?”

Did he? So far, Draco had—oddly enough—been the only person who was truly nice to him, and didn't act as if he was some sort of... well... freak. Draco had been the only one who spoke to him like he was normal—he even seemed to get a little frustrated with Harry—and he didn't openly gawk.

Thankfully.

“You can stay, if you'd like,” Harry found himself saying. “Thanks.”

Draco nodded, taking out his quill. As Ron and Hermione came into the classroom, Harry watched Ron shoot Draco a confused look. Draco just made a face, shrugging the boy off. There was no disgust between them; no hatred. It was... weird.

Ron and Hermione sat behind Draco and Harry as Gilderoy Lockhart swept into the room, flashing them all a dazzling smile. He wore a dazzling blue cloak, which he most likely chose because it made his own eyes appear just a bit brighter.

“Ugh, who is this oaf?” Draco whispered to Harry, making a face as if he smelt something terribly rotten.

“Gilderoy Lockhart,” Harry muttered.

“Yes,” Lockhart said loudly. He must've heard Harry. Lockhart bobbed his head up and down, peering down at Harry. “It is I. Gilderoy Lockhart. Order of Merlin, third class. Five times winner of Witch Weekly's most... charming smile award.” He smiled another smile, as if to prove it. Harry tried not to make a face similar to Draco's. “And you,” Lockhart continued, eyes back on Harry, “are Harry Snape. Oh yes, I've heard all about you.”

“That's brilliant,” Draco snapped, lip curled. “Thanks for introducing him. We honestly needed that.”

Lockhart's eyes flickered onto the blond beside Harry, who couldn't help but stare in his own shock at the outburst.

“What's your name?”

“Draco Malfoy,” Draco replied bitingly.

“Draco Malfoy,” Lockhart murmured. “Yes, yes... well... I should take points off for your mouth, Mr Malfoy, but since it's the first day I'll go easy on you.” His eyes moved back onto Harry once again, this time only for a split second, before he clapped his hands and addressed the rest of the class. “All right! Class, do I have a treat for you today!”

Harry watched, blasé, as Lockhart moved over to the cage covered with cloth. He made the same big speech that Harry had heard before, only this time Harry managed to see Draco fidget a little nervously in his seat. He had to hide an amused smile, especially with what was to come—which was, honestly, nothing as spectacular as Lockhart was making it seem like.

When Lockhart finally lifted the cloth, Draco snorted. “You're kidding,” he whispered, scowling at the sight. “Pixies?”

Lockhart eyed the class silently, letting them drink in the pixies, which were locked in a cage. It looked like he was trying to impress them—but Harry knew for a fact that no one in the class was very impressed.

“Let's see what you make of these blighters, shall we?” Lockhart's hand, the one holding his wand, moved toward the cage.

Harry immediately raised his hand, ignoring the stares of the people around him. He was becoming accustomed to that.

“Sir,” he said, “maybe you shouldn't let them out of their cage.”

“Not to worry, Mr Snape,” Lockhart said brightly. “They may be intimidating to you, but I assure you, with me here no harm can befall anyone in this class. I have everything under control.”

“But sir,” Harry insisted, “I don't think you should let them out of their cage.”

Lockhart shook his head, a smile on his face. “Oh, Mr Snape, I'm sure after everything you've been through, a few pixies are nothing.”

But Harry was already putting away his things. He gave Draco a look, one which Draco quickly deciphered, and collected his things, too. The class looked on in confusion, most likely wondering what was going on. Lockhart watched them in just as much confusion.

“What are you—?” Lockhart frowned as Draco and Harry quickly walked out. “Mr Snape! Mr Snape—Mr Malfoy, come back here! Mr Snape! Mr—oh dear.”

Harry could hear the class start to shriek as the pixies were let out of their cage. Draco was close behind him, and they stopped speed-walking when they were well down the corridor.

“How'd you know they'd do that?” Draco asked as they stopped, trying to catch his breath. He let out a short laugh.

Harry shrugged his shoulders, not quite sure if he should be telling anyone that he'd already been through his second year. What could honestly come from telling anyone? Draco did, however, know that he'd originally been thirteen instead of twelve, but... just to be safe, anyway.

“Just a guess,” he answered, hoisting his rucksack over his shoulder. “So, erm....”

Draco looked around, pursing his lips. He looked at a loss for any decent conversation. “So... are you going to Quidditch practice today?”

“Quidditch?” Harry repeated, surprised. “I'm on the Quidditch team?”

Draco nodded enthusiastically. “You have been since first year. I'm trying out, as well, this year. What would you say to a little friendly competition?”

Harry tried to return Draco's grin, but he failed miserably. “I dunno. It's not really me on the Quidditch team here, is it?”

Draco frowned. “Were you on your Quidditch team?”

“I have been since my first year, too.”

“Talk to Professor Snape about it,” Draco suggested, looking impressed. “After lunch, that's when practice is. He can talk to someone about it, can't he? You must be brilliant on a broom just like Harry here was.”

Harry turned red. “Maybe.”

--

Harry sat alone again at lunch. Ron and Hermione had—after offering him weak, uncertain smiles—sat down on one side of him, but they didn't speak. They tried to; Harry could tell that they'd tried. But they gave up.

Just as Harry was about to get up and leave, Draco sat down on the other side of him, looking absolutely indifferent—as if sitting down at the Gryffindor table was a completely normal thing to do. Was it normal here? Draco didn't even look at anyone until Ron leaned over Harry and said to Draco in a horrified whisper, “Blimey, what are you doing?”

Harry guessed it wasn't normal, then.

“Eating,” Draco replied lightly.

“At the Gryffindor table?” Ron glanced around the Great Hall. “People are staring, mate.”

Draco shrugged. “Do you think I honestly care?” He looked at Harry. “Have you talked to Professor Snape yet, Harry? Harry?” Draco frowned when Harry didn't answer him. “Harry?”

What could Harry possibly say? That this was such an unbelievably uncharacteristic thing for Draco Malfoy to do? Something that he'd dreamed would never, ever happen? It's what he wanted to say. Harry wasn't even sure if he could consider Draco Malfoy a friend yet, given their history. Well... it was a different history with a different person, wasn't it?

Harry took in a deep breath. He just needed time to get used to something this big, to become comfortable and adjusted to it. He just needed time.

Harry looked over at Ron and Hermione as realization dawned. “I understand why it's weird for you,” he began slowly. “You can take as long as you need to get used to it. I won't be going anywhere.”

A small smile spread across Hermione's face. “Thank you, Harry,” she said softly.

Ron shook his head, looking at Draco. “Look mate, would you just go back over to your table? It's too weird.”

Draco scowled, saying defensively, “I'm keeping Harry company.”

Ron exchanged glances with Hermione. “Well... er, we can do that.”

“Fine.” Draco sighed, standing up. “See you lot later, then.”

Harry watched Draco go back over to the Slytherin table. Several eyes had followed him. Part of Harry almost wouldn't have minded Draco staying, but then maybe a Slytherin sitting with Gryffindor's was too big of a step right then.

But maybe not so much in the near future.

Harry turned back to his plate of food, glancing over at Ron and Hermione uncertainly. “So....”

“So,” Ron echoed. “How... er... how was your summer?”

On a quiet Saturday afternoon, Harry sat on the couch next to Severus, propping his elbow on the pillow on his lap as he held his chin in his hand. He had Severus light the fire in the fireplace before them, since it was unbelievably cold in the chambers for a September day.

“Are you going to lock yourself down here all day?” Severus questioned, his eyes never leaving the papers that he was reading on his lap. “You're not going to join your friends?”

“Not yet,” Harry answered. “Ron and Hermione are just starting to warm up to me now. I reckon we might be all right within the next few days.” He beamed. “I just want to stay down here with you for today.”

“That's fine with me,” Severus said distractedly, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. Harry tried to peek over Severus's shoulder to see who's paper it was, but he couldn't get a good look.

“Dad,” Harry started suddenly, “I was thinking that I might start sleeping in the dormitories again. Is that okay?”

Severus finally lifted his eyes off the papers, glancing sideways at Harry. “For Merlin's sake, why wouldn't that be okay with me?”

Harry turned pink. “I dunno, just asking.”

They fell back into a silence as Severus put his focus on the papers and Harry's eyes swerved onto the fire again. Things had been quiet at Hogwarts so far - as quiet as things were in the chambers now. No writing on the wall, no attacks, no Dobby, no basilisk. What if things ended up being different this year? What if things remained quiet? He'd never gone a year so far without something happening.

“Severus,” Harry asked slowly as he remembered something he'd been meaning to ask, “was I on the Quidditch team last year?”

Severus's brow furrowed as he looked over. “Yes, why?”

“Well, in my first year I was on the Quidditch team, too,” Harry explained, fiddling with his thumbs, “and in my second year... and I was wondering, if it might be possible for me to... well... well, to....” Harry trailed off. He glanced up at his father to find the man smirking.

“I'll talk to Professor McGonagall and Mr Wood about it,” Severus spoke up, causing Harry to break out in a smile.

Harry leaned against the couch comfortably, the wide smile still pulling at his lips. “Brilliant,” he murmured, pleased.

Then, they fell back into that incredibly noiseless silence.

Harry fidgeted, letting out a loud sigh just for something to be heard. Eyebrows raised, Severus looked over at him, saying, “Is there something wrong, Mr Snape?”

“You should talk to me,” Harry suggested innocently. “Or let me help you. What're you doing?”

“I'm grading papers. Can you not wait until I'm finished? Then we can talk.” Severus studied Harry. “Perhaps you may prefer finding Mr Malfoy, Mr Weasley or Ms Granger? You can always find me later.”

Harry bit his bottom lip, about to answer when he noticed something strange with the fire.

“Hey,” Harry said, frowning, “what happened to the fire—”

He was cut off, startled, as Sirius appeared in the fireplace, looking a little dishevelled. He stepped out, dusting himself off, flashing both Severus and Harry an overly cheerful smile.

“Hello Sev, hello Harry!” Sirius clasped his hands behind his back. “What's going on with you lot today, hm? Anything interesting?”

“What are you doing here?” questioned Severus suspiciously, picking up the pile of papers and setting them down slowly on the floor next to his feet. “What happened? Did you finally burn the house down?”

Sirius shook his head. “No...” He swallowed, locking eyes with Harry. “Oh Harry, I'm so sorry, I didn't even mean for it to happen, it was an accident!”

Harry frowned. “What did you do?”

Sirius took a step closer, running his fingers through his hair nervously. “I lost Black,” he finally said reluctantly. “I honestly didn't mean to,” he added hastily at Harry's horrified look, “but I remember how cats are allowed to be let outside, and so I've been letting him out and he's always came back, and this time he didn't.”

Harry jumped to his feet. “You lost Black?” he repeated, feeling a lump form in his throat. “He's gone?” Harry looked back at Severus. “Dad, you should've let him stay here! Now he's—he's—”

“No,” Sirius said loudly, shaking his head wildly. “I won't have you regret leaving your pets with me. I'm sorry. You know what? I'll go back, and Moony and I will look for him and—he probably just got locked in one of the rooms downstairs. Sorry for bothering you lot, I'll go now. Don't worry.”

Harry shook his head, jumping up to his feet. “I'm coming with you.”

“You certainly are not,” Severus spoke up. “You're in school, Harry, and you will not go gallivanting around town with Black. You'll stay here at Hogwarts, understand?”

Harry turned to face Severus, trying to muster the saddest look his face could even possibly produce. “Please let me go find Black,” he implored, clasping his hands together for an added effect. “If I can't find him within an hour I'll come back.”

“Maybe it's better if you stay here, like Snape said,” Sirius put in. “I can find him Harry, and when I do, I'll write to you. Better yet, I'll Floo here and tell you myself.”

Harry wasn't going to settle for that. “Dad.” Harry's lower lip jutted out. “Dad? Daddy?”

Severus closed his eyes in irritation, sighing. “Go, go. If you're not back in an hour I shall be there to get you. Be warned.”

Harry smiled. “I promise. One hour.”

--

“I've checked all throughout the house,” Sirius explained as they stepped out of the lounge. “Every single room. Twice.”

“You said he didn't come back last night. Did you check outside?”

“The entire yard,” Sirius answered firmly. He twisted the handle of the front door, opening it. Harry stepped through, momentarily blinded by the sun. He shielded his eyes, skimming the lawn. The neighbourhood was quiet, barely even a sound to be heard.

Harry walked down the steps, checking in around the side of the house. Sirius stepped in the mulch of the garden, peering into a bush in front of the porch.

“I don't see anything,” Sirius said, sighing.

Harry watched as Sirius even lifted up a rather heavy rock, examining the ground underneath it.

“Don't look under a rock,” Harry moaned, closing his eyes. “Look, he has to be around town. It's a small town, isn't it? We'll just have to look everywhere.”

Sirius walked over to Harry, a sad look on his face. He flung his arms over Harry's shoulders, hanging his head.

“Do you hate me?” Sirius questioned gloomily.

“Of course not.” Harry awkwardly patted Sirius's back. “You're just rotten when it comes to looking after pets. I know that you wanted to keep Black here with you, but maybe... when we find him... he should come back to Hogwarts with me? I can somehow convince Dad to let him stay in the chambers.”

A pained look crossed Sirius's face, but he sighed a sigh which sounded like a wordless agreement. Sirius dropped his arms and backed away, investigating the garden once more. Harry looked up at the house before him, so large and so empty for one person to live in alone for most months out of the year. It wasn't like Remus lived in the manor along with Sirius while he and Severus were at Hogwarts. Sirius was alone most of the time, so it was no wonder that he wanted Black to stay with him.

“Or...” Harry found himself saying out loud slowly, “Black can stay here, as long as you promise to keep a good eye on him.”

Sirius's eyes widened for a second, then he gave Harry a curious look. “You'd honestly let Black stay with me? After I lost him?”

Harry nodded. “He'll keep you company,” Harry said. “As long as you don't lose him again.”

Sirius's face softened as he smiled. “I promise that I'll keep a better eye on him while you're gone. Thank you, Harry.” Something behind Harry soon seemed to catch Sirius's attention. Harry turned around, following Sirius's gaze.

Remus Lupin was walking up the gravel driveway, and even though there was a bit of a distance between them, Harry could tell that there was a concerned look across the man's face.

“Oi, Moony,” Sirius called. “You all right?”

Remus stopped halfway up the driveway, putting his hand above his eyes to block out the sun. “What did you say your cat looked like again?”

Sirius paused for a moment, eyebrows pulling together. “Black. A little white on his forehead, chest and paws. Fat.”

Harry frowned, looking up at Sirius. “Fat? Black's fat?”

Sirius gave Harry an apologetic grin. “Sorry, kid. It's not like I overfeed him, he just... got that way.”

“Are you sure that he had white on his forehead?” Remus called back. “Or on his paws?”

“I think.” Sirius looked uncertain at this point, looking back and forth between Remus and Harry. He scratched the side of his head. “Didn't Black have white on his forehead, Harry?”

Harry slowly shook his head. “Just on his chest. Sirius... what—?”

“No.” Sirius raised his eyebrows, staring at Harry dead in the eye as he spoke, as if trying to convince him that it wasn't true. “He had white on his chest, his forehead and paws. I remember, because when you and Snape were in Ireland, Black would always follow me around the house, in every room that I went into.”

“When Dad and I left to go Ireland, Black only had white on his chest,” Harry argued. “He had white on his chest when he was a kitten too, and yellow-ish, green eyes.”

Sirius snorted, shaking his head. “Black had blue eyes.”

Harry's mouth immediately opened to argue, when Remus, still standing in the middle of the driveway, yelled to them. They both turned around, having momentarily forgotten that Remus was there.

“I think you should follow me,” he said.

--

Remus led the two into a house only five houses away from the manor. Harry had no idea what Remus was doing, or how he knew whoever lived here, but one glance at Sirius showed that he had no idea, either.

They were greeted by an elderly, plump woman, with greying hair that used to be a dull brown, but she had bright, vivid brown eyes. She showed them into the lounge, where an equally plump black cat sat in a box with newspapers underneath it.

“Black?” Harry frowned, looking up at the adults around him. “Why is Black here?”

“This kitty's yours?” The lady looked confused. “I found the poor thing a few months ago. I put up fliers around town—didn't you see them?”

Harry shook his head. “I didn't. I don't understand—a few months?” He looked up at Sirius. “Didn't you just lose Black last night or something?”

“I did,” Sirius answered. “That's not Black.”

“Yes it is! That's Black.”

“Black had blue eyes and white—”

“Sirius,” Remus suddenly spoke up, shaking his head. He gave his friend a look. “Do you remember when Harry and Severus were in Ireland, and you left the front door open?”

Sirius blinked. “Well, yes.”

“And we couldn't find the cat? Then, later that day, you said you'd found him?”

“I did find him.”

Remus sighed. “Sirius....”

“I don't believe it,” Sirius blurted as soon as realization hit. He let out a low groan, bringing his palm up to his forehead. “I brought in the wrong cat? For Merlin's sake! It looked exactly like Black! How the bloody hell is that possible?”

The lady scowled. “Sirius Black!” She glanced at Harry quickly. “Apologize to your godson for your inappropriate language.”

Sirius looked at Harry sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Harry let out a breath, giving Sirius a small smile, then tilted his head to the side as he studied Black. “What's wrong with him?” he finally asked curiously. “He looks... weird.”

Harry looked up as the lady smiled, obviously finding something amusing. She stepped over to the box, patting Black's head gently.

“First of all,” she said softly, “he a she, and she giving birth.”

Harry's mouth fell open, staring at the woman in disbelief.

“What?”

For a second, Harry thought that the word had slipped from his own mouth, but the voice didn't match. It was Sirius who'd said that, looking as gobsmacked as he felt.

Sirius hastily looked over at the cat in the basket as she started to purr rhythmically. He stepped closer, trying to get a better look. “So—so this is Black, and... he's really a she? And she is... giving birth?”

The lady nodded solemnly. “She's awful young. A kitten giving birth to kittens—it's a little worrying, but I'm sure she and her kittens will be fine.”

Harry swallowed, taking a step closer to get a better look, too. Sirius immediately covered Harry's eyes with his hands.

“What are you doing?” Harry demanded, peeling Sirius's fingers off of his face.

“She's giving birth!”

Harry flushed. “I know that, I'm not thick. I heard.”

“It might take a while,” the lady told them. “Depending on how many kittens she's giving birth to. You can stay if you like, but this is really all up to her—I'll stay by her side in case there's any complications. After the kittens are born they should be left alone for about three days... but even then they shouldn't be held until at least a week. I can look after them until you wish to collect them.” She peered at Harry curiously. “Although... shouldn't you be in school, young man?”

“Er, yes,” Harry replied uncomfortably. “But, uhm... well—”

“We really ought to be getting back,” Sirius interrupted quickly. “Rem, would you mind staying here until I take Harry home? I'll be back as soon as I can. Thank you so much, Mrs Wilbraham, we really appreciate it.”

Sirius pulled Harry out the door, closing it on the way out. He let out a breath, shaking his head. “Can you believe I brought in the wrong cat? Can you believe that Black is a girl? Ugh, this is going to be such a long story to tell Snape.”

Harry shook his head. “I'm still having a hard time believing it. Kittens. Wow.” He paused, looking down as he kicked a rock on the side of the road with his shoe. “Is that the reason you bought Hedwig for me? Because you lost Black?”

Sirius shook his head, nudging Harry's shoulder. “No way. Last year, Harry had an owl named Olly, but when Harry died we gave him to Ron. I just thought you might like one now, and... I can remember Snape telling me something about how you had an owl named Hedwig.” He grinned. “Is there any kind of resemblance, do you find?”

Harry grinned back. “You wouldn't even be able to tell them apart.”

Sirius put his arm around Harry's shoulders. “I know this Hedwig couldn't replace your Hedwig, but I hope you like her nonetheless.”

Harry nodded, grinning as Sirius planted a kiss on the top of his head, then asked,“Will you tell me every day how things are going? How Black and the kittens are? I wish I could stay here, but... I s'pose I have to go back to school.”

“Everything really is okay there?” Sirius asked gently. “Nothing bothering you or anything of the sort?”

“Yeah, everything really is okay now. It's been really... quiet.”

“I meant to tell you, by the way,” Sirius said with a mischievous look crossing his face, “that if you might be interested in Quidditch—and good at it—we have a broom at the manor that happened to be yours....”

--

“Ah, you're back.” Severus looked up from his papers with raised eyebrows. “And with five minutes to spare. Did you find Black?”

Harry plopped down next to Severus. “Sirius took in the wrong cat when we were away. The real Black is actually a girl that's giving birth to kittens in a lady's house right now.” He glanced up at Severus hopefully. “Can we keep them?”

Severus snorted. “We already have one cat, that's enough, wouldn't you say?”

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe it's better that I can't keep them. I'm the worst pet owner ever, aren't I? I can't even tell the difference between my own cat and a strange one.”

“That hardly makes you an abominable pet owner,” Severus pointed out. “Need I remind you that neither Black nor I could tell the difference?”

“That just makes you and Sirius bad pet owners, too,” Harry muttered. He started to grin. “Kidding, kidding.”

Severus smirked. “Brat.”

“So...” Harry licked his lips, shifting his position. “Sirius was telling me that there's a broom back home that's, well, mine.”

“Yes,” Severus replied absentmindedly. “You clean with it every day.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “If I'm allowed on the team, do you think I'd be able to use it?”

“Of course. It's yours.” At Harry's doubtful look, Severus added, “And I mean it's yours, Mr Potter. Don't question me. I've already told you that I know who you are. Do you doubt that?”

Harry shook his head confidently. “No.”

--

At dinner, Harry found himself sitting by Ron and across from Hermione. They were no longer talking to just each other, but seemed to be including Harry in the conversation as well. He was so overly excited that they finally seemed to be accepting him now, that he had no idea in the world what they were talking about.

Neville Longbottom sat next to Hermione, giving Harry a small, nervous smile as he said, “Hullo, Harry.”

“Hi, Neville,” Harry said brightly.

Neville looked slightly surprised—maybe because this Harry knew his name, maybe because Harry actually answered him. Harry wasn't quite sure why.

Beside him, Ron groaned as Draco Malfoy once again came over and sat down next to Harry. “What are you doing?” Ron whispered, looking around the room again, his cheeks turning a bright red. “You don't sit here!”

“Why not?” Draco snapped. “I want to talk to Harry.”

“This is the Gryffindor table!”

“So? I'm not hurting anything by sitting here, am I?”

“Oh, just let him sit here,” Neville spoke up, turning a soft pink as he did so. He opened his mouth to say something else, then stopped.

Draco looked surprised. “Thanks, Longbottom.” He hesitated. “You know, I've always meant to ask you how you managed to do that potion in class. I simply cannot—”

Harry shook his head, making a noise. Unreal. Just unreal.

Draco, looking as if he didn't even realize that he was being cut off, turned to Harry and said, “Where were you today?”

“Yeah, mate, I was looking for you too,” Ron said. “Where do you go? I haven't even seen you in the dormitories.”

“I, uhm, went home for a little bit today,” Harry explained, ignoring Ron's question. “I have a cat and... apparently it's a girl, and she's having kittens.”

“Oh!” Hermione smiled widely. “I love kittens. I bet they're cute, aren't they?”

“I dunno, I haven't seen them yet.”

“If I ever have a cat,” Hermione said, “his name'll be Crookshanks. It's a wonderful name.”

“I doubt I'll have a cat,” Draco mused. “I don't think Mother would want to get me one.”

As they began a conversation about cats, Harry slipped out of the conversation, staring off into space as his thoughts occupied him. Wasn't it around this time last year—last year in his reality—that he'd started to hear that basilisk? He strained to listen amongst the chatter and clanking of plates in the Great Hall, but other than that, he didn't hear anything.

Well... maybe things would be different this year. It was a different reality, after all, that much was definitely clear. Looking up at the staff table, Harry captured Severus's eye and smiled.