The first day back at school, Harry didn't care to do anything. He didn't want to have breakfast because having to talk to people seemed unpleasant. He wanted to stay in bed, but knew that he'd never get away with it. Mainly due to his friends, and for the first time ever, he didn't want to be around them, either. It was an odd feeling to want to be alone; he'd grown up longing to be a part of a family and to have friends.

All summer he'd been angry, violence brewing inside of him even without provocation. Going to Ron's home had somehow made things worse. His heart ached as he was around the Weasley family, and he didn't know why. They treated him like a son, but he couldn't accept that feeling and he'd been acutely uncomfortable. Maybe here at Hogwarts he'd find a way to change back to the way he'd felt as a first year. Happier? Grateful to no longer be alone? He was lost in a sea of emotions he couldn't identify or manage.

He dragged himself down from his dormitory and on to his first class, Potions. Harry shook his head at the idea of starting the term with Potions. Things were looking crappy from the start. Ron and Hermione were waiting for him at the classroom door.

"Are you feeling okay, Harry?" Hermione asked. She had a look of concern that made him want to cringe.

"I'm fine," he answered. "Didn't feel like getting up, that's all."

They walked in and took seats in the back of the room. Other students entering the class grimaced when they saw the only available seats left were in the front. Harry chuckled to himself at their misfortune. Sucks for them. It didn't matter where he sat, though; he was going to get called on and mocked by Snape regardless. Last year it had made him so angry and upset, but today he didn't give a damn. No, he might even give it back. The idea of it gave him a bit of a thrill.

Snape took his place at the head of the class and Harry found himself jittery. He was tapping on the table, drumming his fingers, beating out a little song. Thankfully, Potions wasn't a class where there'd be any niceties, any happy queries from the professor about whether or not they had a good summer.

As expected, they got out their books and prepared to take notes from the lecture. Harry took his time, digging in his bag for a quill. He let out a big yawn. He had no idea how he was going to make it through this class without dropping his head on the table and passing out. Suddenly his shoulders started shaking and he had the overwhelming urge to start laughing. It didn't go unnoticed.

"Something funny, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked, glaring at Harry.

He couldn't help himself and started laughing out loud, and watching his professor getting more pissed off by the second only made him laugh harder.

"No, sir," he replied, trying to choke back the laughter. The whole class was watching him in horror, and Ron smacked him under the table.

"Control yourself or get out, Potter!" Snape barked.

"I will, I will," said Harry, as he looked down and concentrated on getting serious. He made it through class and bolted out the door the second it was over.

"Harry, what was that?" Hermione's eyes were wide. Ron was just as stunned, standing next to her, gawking at Harry.

"I don't know," he answered, shaking his head. "Really, I have no idea. I just started laughing over nothing. I thought I wasn't going to be able to stop." He felt laughter coming on again, and as confusing as it was, it felt great. He hadn't laughed like this in months, and it was a relief.

"You're lucky, mate," Ron said. "Holy shite, laughing in Potions!" Ron started chuckling, too. Soon the two boys were giggling, walking down the hall with Hermione looking exasperated. What was her problem? What was wrong with having a little fun? Her disapproval was starting to piss him off.

The laughter was gone by late afternoon. During lunchtime things all went pear-shaped, and Harry was frustrated at his inability to focus in class. With his arm up to keep anyone from reading his parchment, he'd scribbled and written snippets of poems instead of listening to the lectures and taking notes. Dinner seemed like an overwhelming task. Too many people wanted to talk to him, excited about the things they'd done over summer. He was done with fake smiles, pretending to be happy for his friends. His life sucked, and it wasn't going to get better any time soon.

In Gryffindor Tower, he scowled at the idea of sitting in the common room. He walked up into the boys' dormitory and sat cross-legged on his bed. When Neville came in, Harry found himself snapping at his friend, feeling guilty immediately when Neville's face fell. Harry wanted to disappear, but there was nowhere to go. Pretending to go to sleep early and simmering in his thoughts seemed like the best plan.

As soon as Ron appeared in the dorm, Harry felt anger welling up in his chest. Ron was going to ask if everything was okay, and he didn't want to talk. Didn't want anyone to ask if something was wrong. Ron surprised him by asking about sports instead.

"Are you excited about Quidditch, Harry?" Ron asked, smiling.

"I guess," Harry answered. Honestly, Harry was thinking about quitting the team.

"You guess?" Ron looked confused. Harry had never noticed how expressive Ron's face was before. He wore his emotions on his sleeve. Harry wanted to keep his own facial expressions in check.

"I'm having a hard time getting excited about Quidditch," Harry said. His voice sounded flat in his ears. He felt bad about disappointing Ron, but that was part of the problem. He was done putting on a front and being the kid everyone wanted him to be.

"Once you get on your broom it'll all come back," Ron was nodding his head. "You'll see."

"I hope so," said Harry. He gave Ron a fake smile and then pulled it back, irritated with himself for giving in and pretending.

Harry rose and went into the bathroom, knowing that when he came back out he'd climb into bed and pretend to sleep.