"T t tintade b b blue." He touched his wand to the pillow, and nothing happened again.

Flitwick gave him a sad smile, and said, "Keep working on it Potter. I'm sure you'll get it eventually."

It was the second week of classes, and failing at everything magic was nothing new to Harry by now. Charms, Defense, and Transfiguration were a disaster, and he had yet to perform one spell right thus far, with the exception of accidentally giving his book wings when he said a spell wrong in Professor McGonagall's class on Monday. He had earned ten points in Herbology, and failed to get detention again in Potions, even earning himself an Acceptable on a Potions essay, but what good was going to a magic school if you couldn't do the magic?

By now everyone knew that ‘the poor Potter boy' stuttered. It seemed that the teachers had had a staff meeting and mentioned it because Snape was no longer asking Harry questions and yelling at him for stuttering them out. In fact, Snape seemed to ignore Harry altogether except to glare down into his cauldron every now and again and make rude comments about his work.

"I'm still waiting for mum to write back about what potion was used on my aunt," Ron said one evening after dinner as they sat in the Library and studied. "I bet she's having a hard time finding out. Uncle Job died last year and Aunt Rosie the year before, so she's probably got to track down my cousin Billius in America to find out."

"A a all the w way o over there?"

Ron nodded. "He moved there after he married some American woman who he met on vacation. They live in an all wizarding town somewhere in the North I think. I've never been but mum says someday we'll all go and visit them."

"Cool," said Harry.

"Hey, you didn't stutter that," Ron pointed out. Harry shrugged.

"J j just o one of th those w words I d d do ok."

"Oh," said Ron, disappointed. He was obviously hopeful that Harry wouldn't be like this forever, and might get better someday. But for as long as Harry could remember he had been like this, and he had long since given up much hope of changing it.

Ron continued to wait on a letter from his mother, and Harry continued trying to get spells out whole and un-maimed. Every once and a while he managed something, but never what he was going for. He almost unlocked a door in Charms once with the Alohamora charm, but the lock just jiggled inside and slid back into place. With pity in his eyes, Professor Flitwick gave Harry one point anyway for a good try, but Harry didn't feel very good about getting pity points. It seemed too that other students felt the same way.

On his way back to his common room from the Library alone that night, Harry found himself cornered by Draco Malfoy and his two beefy friends Crabbe and Goyle.

"Well well, if it isn't pity point Potter, all alone."

Harry pulled out his wand, but Draco only laughed. "What, going to stutter me to death?" Feeling foolish, Harry kept his wand out, knowing it would do him no good, unless he planned on jabbing it up his nose or in an eye.

Draco and his cronies advanced on Harry, forcing him backwards into a wall. "So you expect to gain points by pity then? What a joke. You might as well be a Squib if you can't even do the magic p p p Potter."

"B b b back off d d d d d Draco." Dang it. He hated how it got worse when he was anxious. It always gave him away.

Laughing again the Slytherins stuffed their own wands away and instead Draco rolled up his sleeve and made a fist. "I know Muggle dueling isn't allowed here, but how can I resist? It would be such a waste to use magic on you Potter." With this he took a swing and hit Harry in the face. Instinctively Harry covered his face to protect it from a second blow, but now more than one fist was raining down on him, and every part of his body was being attacked.

Collapsing onto the floor and trying to curl up to protect himself, Harry prayed for help, and drifted into unconsciousness.

* * *

When he next came to, it was to distant, blurred voices. It took him a while to realize he wasn't on the cold stone floor anymore, but instead on a soft bed, and soon the voices became clear enough to understand. Eyes still closed, he listened, and pretended to be asleep.

"Probably stared a fight with those he couldn't hope to defend himself against. Just like his father."

"Oh hush Severus, I seem to recall you coming in here just as bruised in your school days, though to have passed out he must have been beaten severely. Was there anyone around when you found him?"

"No. I was on patrol and found him slumped on the fifth floor."

"Well why on earth didn't he use magic to defend himself?"

There was silence for a moment. He knew Snape knew the answer, and yet he didn't tell her. Why was that?

"He doesn't do magic," was the final answer.

"Doesn't do- Severus, what on earth are you talking about? He wouldn't be here if he didn't do magic!"

"He can't get the words out. Just like Quirril is supposedly."

"Supposedly? You mean you don't believe it then?"

Severus sighed, and Poppy said, "Obviously not until tonight. I would think if he could defend himself he would have."

"I would think he wouldn't go around starting fights if he couldn't defend himself in the first place. Not only disabled but daft."

Hurt and angry, Harry opened his eyes and sat up. "M n n not st st stupid p p p professor!"

Snape glared at him. "Then why are you out starting fights in the dead of night?"

Harry shook his head. "I d d didn't st st st st start it!" The more angry he got the less he could even think what to say, and the worse he got.

"Somehow I find that hard to believe Potter." With this the man turned and strode from the room, leaving him alone with the medi-witch.

"Don't mind him now Harry, just lie back and let me finish with the bruises. That's a good boy."

Madam Pomfrey was finished soon enough and instructed Harry to get some sleep, and that she would release him in the morning. For Harry sleep was out of the question however. Too many angry thoughts kept circling his mind. Snape didn't really think he had a stutter? How could he not believe it? And he had no proof at all, but he automatically jumped to the conclusion that it was all Harry's fault.

Harry didn't know why but it hurt him more than he liked to admit that the man had made fun of him calling him ‘disabled and daft.' A teacher had never made fun of him before, and in general, the only adults to make jokes about his stutter were Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.

‘It's the result of bad breeding,' Aunt Marge always used to say when she came to visit Privet Drive. And then Aunt Petunia would always nod and say something like, ‘I always knew there was something wrong with that Potter boy when he came hanging around. Doesn't surprise me the boy is strange in his head if his father wasn't all there to start with.'

Heaving a sigh, Harry rolled over onto his side. His face was still tender where the bruise balm had been applied. He hoped Draco and his friends hadn't ganged up on Ron too. What must his new friend think that he hadn't come back to the tower for the night?

Eventually Harry did fall to sleep in the early hours of the morning, but it was a sleep filled with Snape pointing and laughing at him as Draco cornered him and rolled up his sleeves.

Harry explained everything to Ron at breakfast the next morning, and Ron made a fist at Draco as he passed by their table. Draco only laughed however as he pointed at Harry, and threw his hands up over his face, mocking Harry for how he hadn't been able to defend himself.

"I w w wish I c c could d do spells," Harry said, pushing his eggs around his plate. "Th then I, I c could g get h him back."

"Yeah," said Ron, "that would be nice. Can't you control the stutter at all?"

Harry shook his head. "O only sm sm small w words l like my n n name. S s see? Harry Harry Harry." He said his name in rapid succession and Ron wriggled his nose as if he were trying to figure something out.

"You know, my brothers told me they teach wordless magic here, but only in seventh year because it's difficult. You just think the incantation and wave your wand and it happens."

"B b bet sh sh she c c could d do it." Harry pointed to Hermione Granger, the smart girl down the table who always got good grades and seemed to know every answer to every question.

Ron looked at her and said, "Nah. She's just a girl."

From down the table Harry saw Hermione shoot a glare in their direction, and then go back to the book spread out before her on the table where a plate should have been.

"W w well I h h have t to try!"

Ron shrugged and said, "I'll look for a book in the Library after dinner... I bet there's one in there. There are lots of old school books in there."

Harry raised his brows. He didn't know his friend had spent any time in the library.

Defensively Ron said, "My mum told me. We couldn't afford all of my school books this year so I have to go in there to read Herbology and Charms."

Reaching below the bench they sat on where his book bag lay on the floor, Harry pulled out his books and gestured to Ron.

"U use mine."

"Really?"

Harry nodded.

"Thanks mate!"

He waved him off, and went back to his eggs, feeling a little better at the prospect of doing magic without words.

As promised, Ron came back to the common room that night with a seventh year Charms book with instructions on doing magic without words. He and Harry read the instructions together and then Ron set a quill on the table in front of them. Eyebrows scrunched up in concentration, Ron tried to levitate the quill without words, but nothing happened.

"Guess it doesn't matter if I can't do it," Ron said with a shrug. "You try."

Harry concentrated hard, but was also unable to get any result.

"Practice I guess."

Harry nodded again and said, "I I'll d do it. W wait a and s s see."