Harry didn't know it, after leaving the office and following Filch towards the second floor, but the next seven days were going to be some of the most challenging in his young life so far.

It was difficult, with his over-large clothes and smaller size, to keep up with Filch. Yet Harry dutifully followed him around, until they reached their destination. He'd been promised a tour, but it hadn't been what the ten-year-old had hoped for. Mostly it consisted of anything he could glimpse at while passing by it, as Filch led him to various locations - such as the grand staircase, hospital wing, staffroom, and the second floor corridor where they came to a predetermined halt. Harry might be used to running from his cousin Dudley, or Aunt Marge's dog Ripper, but walking was something quite different. His legs were already aching from the unfamiliar strides and the lack of energy required to fuel his paces.

Distracted by the polished shine of a nearby suit of armour towering over him, Harry was startled when Filch abruptly spoke. The boy had become so accustomed to following him around the castle for a while, that he'd forgotten the figure of guidance wasn't just a shadow choosing his path.

'There you are, my sweet.' Filch said in a voice Harry was surprised by.

The child moved around Filch to see who he was speaking to, and noticed the cat sitting in plain sight below one of the flaming torches lined along the stone wall. Harry, used to befriending small mice in his cupboard under the stairs, cringed at the sight of the mangled creature trapped under the paw of the smug cat. She appeared to be enjoying her lunch, but Harry had to force his gaze from such a sight. The boy easily guessed this was Mrs Norris, which was shortly confirmed when Filch introduced them as though she was a beloved member of his close family.

'Um, hello.' Harry slowly crouched in front of the cat.

His uncertainty reflected in every ounce of his form. He wasn't sure what to do at first, because the only cats he'd ever been around belonged to Mrs Figg. Despite having heard every name and seen every picture of each one she'd ever owned, Harry still knew very little about the animal themselves. His interactions had been minimal, and often he was too miserable about Mrs Figg droning on about them that he'd had no interest in knowing more about cats. He wished he had now. It was obvious this particular cat was not only immeasurably important to Filch, but would also become a regular sight to Harry now he was at Hogwarts.

While he crouched there, his green eyes alight with determination, Harry was unaware of the way Filch watched their movements with an intense gaze.

Mrs Norris glanced up from her half-eaten mouse and fixed Harry with a yellow stare. She sniffed his cautiously offered hand, and blinked. The cat watched the boy for a moment, then sniffed him again, before she finally released a purr of approval and returned to her meal.

Both man and child were relieved by her acceptance of Harry, though neither commented on it. Harry straightened and turned to face Filch, who immediately set about to begin teaching the boy which jobs he would be doing and where he'll start his work.

-- 

Harry felt mentally exhausted after an entire hour of doing his best to remember everything he was told about how to find the broom closets, which staircases required what methods or cautions to evade getting lost or being delayed, and how to know which portraits could be trusted on their words as opposed to those who were unreliable and ought to be avoided or ignored. It was a lot for a ten-year-old to take in - even Aunt Petunia had written down a list for him rather than pressure him to remember every specified chore, but Harry didn't want to let Filch down. This unmagical man had saved him from going back to the Dursleys, and also made sure Harry wouldn't be a complete outsider from both the muggle and magical worlds.

Harry had a lot to be thankful for.

He followed Filch and Mrs Norris outside, where the child longed to stop and stare at the amazing sights all around him. Filch took none of that into consideration, as he urged Harry to keep up with him and not wander off. When they began to cross the lawn, the boy tilted his head back to get his first proper sight of the towering castle he now resided in. Harry almost toppled over some stones as he did so, causing Filch to reluctantly grab his wrist to prevent the boy from falling.

'Sorry.' Harry blushed.

He twisted to look at the amazing castle again, then realised he couldn't hear the footsteps of his new guardian.

The boy ran to keep up with Filch and felt nervous about the pending meeting with another member of the staff. He'd been cautioned about Hagrid, the keeper of keys and grounds. Filch said he was a half-giant and owned a very annoying dog. Harry still wasn't sure how he should feel about meeting Hagrid, though he was under the impression that Filch and Hagrid spent a lot of time working together yet didn't like each other much.

Despite his forewarning, Harry could not prevent the gasp from escaping his lips when he stared upwards at Hagrid, when the gamekeeper left his hut to approach them. He remained quiet while Filch briefly explained Harry was a semi-squib and would be staying with him, serving as a junior assistant caretaker to earn his keep.

This news had a dramatic and emotional impact on the half-giant, which the boy was rather alarmed by.

'Knew 'im since 'e was a baby!' Hagrid blew into a huge chequered handkerchief. 'Lily an' James' boy has no magic?'

'Pull yourself together, man.' Filch grumbled. 'We're on a busy schedule.'

Hagrid heard him and nodded, yet his company could see his ongoing struggle as he tried to focus on the task Filch had assigned him. Hagrid, tears still in his eyes, taught Harry a bit about the grounds. He also made a point of sharing which areas to avoid – such as the dark forest and the whomping willow tree. They were both places Harry had no intention of going near, after hearing about hungry beasts and crushing branches.

While Hagrid wailed some more, Harry got to meet Fang and decided he quite liked the friendly dog. He tried not to show it, when he saw the way Filch held Mrs Norris in his arms from where the pair each gave the dog loathing glares several feet away.

'If yeh need anythin', 'Arry...' Hagrid said gruffly. 'Anythin' at all. Yeh let me know, alrigh'?'

'Okay, Hagrid.' Harry nodded, wincing as he endured a squishing hug from the tearful half-giant.

Harry wanted to stay a bit longer to question Hagrid about how he knew his parents, but the boy didn't get the chance to when Filch nudged him back towards the castle.

Harry slacked back a bit in disappointment, until he could no longer find the energy to be regretful of his missed opportunity with Hagrid. Filch revealed the secret location to the kitchens, where a rather startling sight within took all of Harry's attention. The boy was overwhelmed to meet the house-elves for the first time, and constantly blushed when they served his lunch as per his humbling shy request.

Harry thought it was the nicest ham and cheese sandwich he had ever tasted.

-- 

The first half of the afternoon was much harder.

Filch wasted no time with his teaching, preferring for Harry to know as much as he had to and as quickly as possible. It started with the rules of Hogwarts itself, which Harry had to recite and was quizzed on until Filch was convinced they were making progress.

Afterwards, Harry felt his legs ache again when he had to walk around the first and second floors with only Mrs Norris at his side, and Filch's instructions ringing in his ears. He had to become familiar with the surroundings of those floors more than others, as it was where he would be working the next day.

The last part of the afternoon, much to Harry's relief, was spent back in their office/living quarters.

Filch sat at his desk to write on scraps of parchment while Harry ducked behind his blue curtain for some time to himself. He set about unpacking things into his drawers and once again relished the fact he now had his own space. One that wouldn't involve padlocks or whacking his head on the underside of stairs or shelves.

Sighing, the boy sat on the edge of his bed and glanced around his otherwise plain room.

Hogwarts seemed incredibly great, though Harry knew it wasn't going to be about sights and enlightenments for him. It wasn't just because he'd be cleaning most days leading up to the school term and learning the art of guarding corridors at night alongside Filch, but because there would always be a bitter reminder that he should be there. Not as a junior assistant caretaker, but as a student learning to cast spells and brew potions. Seeing magic and being around it every day was a million times better than anything back when he was stuck at Privet Drive. Even so, the boy knew Filch was entirely right when he said there would always be a part of Harry that would envy his inability to ever use magic himself.

Harry supposed he would just have to learn to cope with the undeniable truth.

-- 

There were only few staff members remaining behind at Hogwarts during the summer. Despite their lessened number, most of them still gathered at their table inside the Great Hall for dinner almost every nights. Filch, however, never participated in such a gathering.

As a result, the house-elves often brought his meal earlier than the usual serving time for the rest of the castle's occupants. Harry, new as he was to Hogwarts without yet seeing the insides of the hall to know otherwise, presumed this was the expected mealtime.

Filch ate his dinner at his desk, which he hadn't moved from in several hours, whereas Harry felt rather odd about seating himself on the larger-than-his-cupboard space of floor of his sort-of bedroom to eat. Even stranger than the placement itself was the plate of food prepared just for him. The steamed vegetables, roasted potatoes, and slices of pork weren't leftovers or scraps in any form.

Harry's mouth drooled at the mere scent of his highly anticipated meal, knowing he could eat his fill without any concern other than not to choke. He also had a large goblet of juice to accompany his meal, which kept refilling itself if the liquid reached minimal quantity. The food tasted even better than the ten-year-old could ever have imagined. He was relieved and blissful about never having to worry about food again, unlike the nightmare of living with his relatives had been.

It was still briefly on his mind when Harry lay down to sleep that night.

He'd learned a horrible truth about himself, and yet he found little energy to be bitter or upset. A whole world of problems and discomforts had been lifted from his shoulders already. Other than having a guardian who watched over him rather than lock him away from sight and mind, Harry no longer had to struggle or suffer for the basic needs he'd always been deprived of – such as food, a warm shower, and comfortable bed.

While he stared into the upwards darkness of his room, Harry felt a smile form on his face. He was glad for his new life, however it had happened, and regardless how awful he'd felt to be told about magic only to realise he had none of his own to use. Instead of of mentally listing all the things he'd longed for, but never had a chance at until now, Harry considered his predicament. He wondered if his magic was truly gone forever. He assumed so, because Filch was said to be just like him and the man had shown no signs of being able to use magic either.

The boy was startled from his far-from-sleepy thoughts when he felt an odd pressure on his bed. He reached across the blankets, since it was too dark to see properly, and relaxed when his fingers brushed over the warm fur of Mrs Norris. Apparently she had left Filch's bed in preference to Harry's, though the boy knew nothing of her developing fondness of the strange boy her master had welcomed into their home.

He didn't dare to whisper to his new feline friend in case he woke Filch, where the man was heard snoring on the other side of the curtain.

Harry leaned back against his mattress and soft pillow, deciding he quite liked the cat he'd initially been very cautious of. He was glad she appeared to feel the same way about him, which the boy judged from her actions of moving to sleep at the end of his bed. Harry closed his emerald eyes, a smile still on his face, and drifted to sleep.

His last conscious thoughts centered around how much he liked the idea of having a cat around for company.

The following morning, Harry was abruptly woken by Filch moving around in the main room. He'd slammed a filing cabinet closed, which was what had Harry sitting upright with mingled confusion and alarm. He'd been dreaming about endless corridors and a mysterious black-haired man, then had to gather himself to work out where he was.

Harry, yawning into the back of his hand, had no way of knowing what the time was unless he asked.

He still felt unfamiliar around his new guardian, so the boy decided to get up regardless, and felt awake enough to do so. Reaching for the mostly-unpacked bag Dumbledore had given him to transport his small amount of belongings, Harry changed into a pair of dark pants and a long-sleeved blue shirt - both which he rolled and folded the sleeves up enough to reveal his feet and hands.

He peered around his blue curtain, seeing Filch grumbling beside his desk, and dashed for the bathroom.

Harry brushed his teeth and used the facilities, then inched his head outside the bathroom to look at his guardian. Inhaling a short breath in attempt to feel braver and more sure of himself, Harry stepped from the room and approached Filch. Old habits from Privet Drive continued to linger, though he was determined to overcome them and adjust to his new lifestyle.

'Good Mornin', Sir.' Harry mumbled, despite his intention to sound lively and polite.

'Ah, you're awake.' Filch nodded with approval. 'Have breakfast, then meet me in the first floor corridor.'

Before Harry could reply, the man strode out of the room and shut the door behind himself.

Harry remained standing in the middle of the main room with a frantic expression forming on his face. He could not believe Filch had just left him there without any solid instructions or an ounce of patience. He had no idea the man had done it only to test the boy's memory from the previous day. They'd walked to and from the first floor several times and he expected Harry to be able to retrace the path by now. He hadn't completely abandoned the child to his task, as Mrs Norris sat dutifully at Harry's feet to assist him if needed.

The cat was extremely clever, and knew she would be called upon to act if the child got lost.

Harry wanted to skip breakfast and chase after Filch, though he knew he'd need his strength for the day. He refused to allow himself to miss the opportunity to have his morning meal simply because he could. Fidgeting with uncertainty, he struggled to remember the name of the house-elf responsible for his and Filch's meals.

'Keppy!' Harry called, relieved he'd gotten it right. He rather liked that elf, more so than the others, as she was smaller than the rest of the elves and Harry could relate to her lack of sureness because of it.

He ordered a bowl of cereal with milk, and some of the unknown drink he'd had the night before – which he was surprised to learn was pumpkin juice. The meal arrived precisely two seconds later, which was yet another thing Harry hoped he would get used to.

Eating quickly, Harry stayed a few seconds longer to watch his bowl and goblet vanish, then rushed from the room.

He stood inside the entrance hall, looking left and right in anxious effort to remember the exact path to the first floor. Feeling something against his leg, Harry glanced downwards and felt a bit calmer to know Mrs Norris had remained loyally by his side. Exhaling, Harry marched forward and ventured towards the first floor.

Harry didn't want to keep Filch waiting for too long, in worry he'd made his new guardian disappointed or angry with him.

He made a total of eight wrong turns, and was often sidetracked by the fright received from forgetting the portraits along the walls came to “life”. He remembered the advice about which ones not to talk to, so Harry decided not to speak and charged onwards.

He gasped with pride and relief when he finally spotted Filch, though the man was not alone.

Harry slowed his paces, in case he was interrupting as the Dursleys were extremely furious whenever he was noticed when he was so very unwelcome. More than usual. Harry wondered who the professor was – he knew she was one because it was the only word he'd heard Filch say to address her by.

'There you are.' Filch was a hard one for Harry to read, but the boy could see the approval lining in the man's usually-scowling face. 'This is Professor McGonagall. Head of Gryffindor house, and Headmistress of Hogwarts.'

'Pleased to meet you, Ma'am.' Harry said shyly, feeling as though he was being introduced to a queen.

He pretended to recall what Gryffindor was, but didn't ask for a confirmation out of shame towards not remembering the answer right away.

'You too, Mr Potter.' Minerva smiled sadly at the boy. 'Your parents were both members of my house. I consider it an honour to meet their son.'

'They were?' Harry's lifted his chin, his eyes widening at the news. 'Cool.' He added, unsure of what else to say.

He didn't know if she would have known his parents personally like Hagrid hinted at, or if it was even considered proper to ask such a question. He'd learned from his relatives that asking the wrong questions were never worth the effort and consequences.

At least he'd remembered what Gryffindor was.

'You're allowing the boy to wander around by himself, Filch?' Minerva cast the caretaker a firm expression of heavy disapproval. 'Are you sure that is wise?'

Her expression concealed nothing of her disagreement to the situation as a whole, though she could not argue there was a better place for the child to go. After all, Hagrid hadn't been that much older than Harry when he'd been expelled and lived at Hogwarts as a junior staff member.

The only difference was Dumbledore had taken young Hagrid under his wing, whereas Harry Potter was left to the mercy of Filch.

'I was testing him, Ma'am.' Filch replied. 'The boy needs to learn his way around to do his job. Mrs Norris was with him.'

'Hm.' Minerva accepted the answer, but didn't seem too convinced.

Instead of commenting further, she cast Harry another look and sighed.

Minerva raised her hand, as though she considered placing it on his head in sympathy, then instead bid farewell and walked away. She had other matters to attend to, and knew the longer she stayed the more tempted she would be to challenge the situation Dumbledore had allowed.

'She's a Professor, right?' Harry checked. Though she'd been introduced as one, he felt it was better to make absolutely sure – and it seemed more polite to do so. 'What does she teach?'

'Transfiguration.' Filch said gruffly, as though the class was not a happy topic for him. 'Come on. You'll be mopping down here...'

--

Harry had spent most of his time at Privet Drive doing chores. Much like his uncle and cousin, the list kept getting bigger every year.

At Hogwarts, he found a new level of work to be just as tiring and yet not as physically painful. He had to admit, after all he'd seen and heard, Filch never pushed him too hard. It didn't mean there weren't moments Harry wanted to lie down or that Filch hadn't urged him to keep going, but overall at the end of the day the boy could handle it.

Harry collapsed onto the large sofa in his living quarters sometime in mid-afternoon. He rested his head against the back of the furniture and exhaled, glad to be done for the day. He'd mopped until his feet slipped across the floor, he'd shined surfaces until he could see his reflection, and he'd scrubbed so hard his hands went numb.

During it all, he continued to learn more than he ever had at once in all his life.

Filch taught him which products to use for cleaning, and warned to be careful as most were magical products that could have ill effects if Harry didn't pay attention to which ones he used or the correct amount. By the end of the long hours, Harry gathered the courage to ask how they were expected to keep an entire castle clean if it took so long to do just one floor.

'You need to learn this stuff.' Filch had told him. 'Our job is to maintain the castle, not scrub it all day long. The house-elves handle most of the everyday cleaning, we're just there for the rest. You may be called upon to fix or clean something those beastly fiends have left in their wake.'

'Er, beastly fiends?' Harry frowned.

'The students.' Filch rolled his eyes, as though it was supposed to be obvious. 'Keep mopping. I've got a few weeks to teach you the skills you'll need to survive this job.'

His words hadn't instilled much confidence in Harry, who was now under the impression the students at Hogwarts weren't going to be as interesting or friendly as he'd hoped. His thoughts of possibly befriending some of them were dashed in that moment.

Sighing, and eagerly looking forward to dinner in a few hours, Harry closed his eyes and smiled. Jerking when he'd heard a sound outside the office, Harry rose from the sofa and approached the doorway.

The corridor was empty, though the boy was certain he'd heard something.

'What is it?' Filch appeared in front of him, making Harry jump in alarm. 'Did you hear something, boy?'

'I-uh, yes.' Harry gulped nervously.

He was surprised when Filch took his words very seriously without any ounce of disbelief, unlike anyone had ever done before. It made him anxious in case what he heard wasn't a big deal and he was just wasting Filch's time or confidence in him.

'I thought someone dropped something loud.' Harry shared. 'But there's no one there.'

'Probably Peeves.' Filch growled.

'Who's Peeves?' Harry wondered.

'The worse thing in this castle.' Filch complained.

Harry tried to listen, but the caretaker began ranting much too fast for Harry to keep up with.

'Er, Sir, what do I do now?' Harry wondered.

There were still several hours until dinner, and Harry had never owned many books or toys to occupy his time with. It was strange to even have free time, as his relatives liked to keep him busy and out of their sight in any chance they had to do so.

'I have things to file.' Filch stated. 'You can wander, but not far. Be back in an hour.'

'Okay!' Harry grinned with excitement.

He was glad for the opportunity to have a proper look around, and felt honoured Filch trusted him to be unsupervised even if he couldn't go very far from their living quarters.

'Stay with him, my sweet.' Filch added, watching momentarily as Mrs Norris hurried after the enthusiastic child.

-- 

Harry was conflicted between taking each pace slowly to savour the moment, or running around wildly in his overwhelming freedom brought on by being the only one in a long, stone corridor. Apart from his feline company, of course.

'Wow!' Harry gasped, his eyes wide with amazement as he passed a set of windows and looked over the grounds. He stood there for a while, staring at the incredible afternoon sight, then turned quickly to continue his explorations.

However, he didn't get very far.

'Oof!' Harry winced when he collided with something tall and black.

'Do watch where you're going!' Severus snapped, hiding his own startled state from when the boy had whirled around to crash him.

'Sorry.' Harry blushed, then looked up. 'Professor Snape?'

The child remembered the name easier than any of the rules he'd been learning all day. Filch had pointed him out during the single glance the child had cast towards the dark-dressed man when Harry had first arrived at the castle.

Severus took little notice of the boy knowing his name, as he was too focused on the striking emerald eyes staring up at him. The familiar orbs were filled with recognisable curiosity and excitement, which were so strong Severus had to focus his gaze away before he lost himself to their transfixing emotion.

Without another word, Severus headed for a corner and disappeared from sight.

Harry remained standing in the corridor to watch the figure leave, tilting his head slightly in wonder.

'He's a bit weird.' Harry commented quietly. 'Do you like him, Mrs Norris?' He looked down at the cat, asking for her opinion.

She answered with a single meow, though Harry wasn't sure if it was of approval or rejection of the dark-clad professor. Harry looked back towards the corner in consideration, wondering why that one teacher seemed so interesting to him. It wasn't just his overall black appearance, but something else deep down. Something Harry felt was almost familiar, and yet entirely foreign at the same time.

He turned on the spot to visually retrace where the man had come from, seeing the path led towards the dungeons.

Harry headed elsewhere, staying to his permitted route, and continued to think upon Professor Snape. The ten-year-old didn't know it yet, but he was going to be seeing a lot more of that particular staff member. At times he would think it was strange how Snape just happened to be around, and other moments the boy wouldn't be able to curb his curiosity and fight the temptation of following the man. It was something he could never do until his boundaries were increased – and to gain that, Harry had to learn his skills before the new school term begun.

'I have to know more.' Harry whispered to Mrs Norris on the walk back to their living quarters. 'There's something about him. I can't explain it. I think I've seen him before...Before Hogwarts.'

He walked into the room and headed to his section to await the arrival of his highly anticipated dinner. Harry sat on the edge of his bed, still deep in consideration, and accepted he now had additional motivation to be the best junior assistant caretaker he could be. He had to gain more access to the castle so he could look around and work out where to find Professor Snape.

He had to - it was very important to him, yet ten-year-old Harry had no idea why.

Professor Snape remained on Harry's mind over the next few days.

The boy was constantly busy, but his mind remained actively wondering on the black-clad teacher. Filch left him alone with Mrs Norris for longer periods each day. He had his own work to do as well, and Harry have proven to not only be a fast learner but a reliable one as well.

However, after a week, Harry found less time to think about Snape when his tasks increased.

With each new knowledge he recited and skills he obtained, Filch would give him more to work on. Not unreasonably, but Harry was only ten and it all seemed like quite a lot to absorb in only a week or so. He understood most days wouldn't be like that once the school term begun; he wouldn't be working for most of the day. It was essentially to ensure he would be able to do anything he may need to.

Even so, it was tiring and the boy became irritable when things started going horribly wrong. At first it was small things, like missing a spot or accidentally knocking something over. Harry assumed it was just the clumsiness his relatives so frequently insisted he was prone to.

The boy was none the wiser, until he gradually began to notice more flaws as the days passed by.

It was an early afternoon when Harry was faced with a rather unusual problem with his work. He was practising the speed of his cleaning, using a self-cleaning rag to wipe shiny surfaces or the parts of portrait frames he could reach. Mrs Norris sat dutifully towards the end of the second-floor corridor, where she minded her own business prior to being suddenly startled by a loud sound.

Harry, his mind thinking about how he couldn't get to know Filch better when he hardly saw the man as much as he thought he would, almost fell over with shock. Looking around wildly, he noticed the visor of a nearby suit of armour had slammed itself shut. Exhaling, the boy resumed his work. His sharply-tuned instincts made him leap aside when a loud clang carried through the corridor, brought on by the falling helmet.

The child had only just moved in time to prevent being hit by the solid object.

Harry yelped and fell backwards onto the floor, staring fixated on the object that had narrowly missed his head. He got up and wondered what happened to cause an instability in the suit of armour. He looked around to check the corridor, though it remained empty apart from himself...

'Mrs Norris?' Harry gulped.

Worry crept into his senses when he looked towards the space the cat had been sitting at for the past hour, only to see she was gone. Had the noise scared her away? Harry didn't know, but was afraid she had just up and abandoned him for the first time since he'd met her.

He shook the thoughts from his head and reminded himself she was a cat not a human, so Mrs Norris had probably just moved somewhere nearby that wasn't as loud and disruptive. Harry inhaled a deep breath to remain calm, and tried to reason why the helmet had fallen onto the stone floor. Filch's lessons were not easily forgotten; Harry's first rational thought was the knowledge that the helmet needed to be returned to its rightful place on the armoured shoulders of the suit. Part of his job would be to fix things if needed, so Harry decided to wait until later to figure out the mystery of how or why the object had slipped from its place.

With dutiful determination, Harry shoved the rag into the back pocket of his faded jeans. He spotted a broom closet nearby and hurried to it for a step ladder. Pulling open the door, he found one under a shelf of cleaning potions and carried it from the closet with a grunt.

Dropping it in front of the suit of armour, Harry went to retrieve the helmet.

He grabbed it with both hands and groaned when it was much too heavy for him to lift. Frowning, the boy put all his strength into grabbing it, and his knees almost buckled from the weight when he managed to hug it to his chest. Abruptly, Harry released the object and let it clang loudly on the floor. He cringed at the sound, but knew he wouldn't be able to raise it above his head in order to return it to the suit of armour.

He needed help.

Harry looked around and wished Professor Snape was there, though he wondered why when it was Filch he should be seeking out. However, before he had the chance to plan his next move, Harry felt abruptly cold all over. He wasn't near any windows, which filled him with confusion and returned worrying regarding what could possibly be going on.

He'd been mopping not too long ago, as evidenced by his bucket of soapy water nearby. Harry hurried to it and dipped his finger into the water to feel its temperature. It was still warm, so the chilly breeze had nothing to do with the air in the corridor itself.

Something else was the cause.

Harry yelled when, without warning, the bucket flew at him. It raised slightly and dropped upside-down onto his head, obscuring his vision and nearly knocking his glasses from his face. The wet, unclean water soaked through his clothes and caused the boy to shiver as the odd coldness continued. Struggling to pull the bucket from his head, Harry tripped backwards and almost hit his head against the wall.

Gasping for breath, in fear of what was going on, the ten-year-old was utterly at loss of what to do. He considered yelling for help, but doubted anyone would come or hear him. He also didn't want to seem like a scared crybaby for freaking out over nothing. It wasn't nothing, and yet he couldn’t see a cause or work out where the strangeness was coming from.

Still shivering, Harry slowly rose to his feet and retrieved the bucket from where it had clattered nearby. He grabbed the mop leaning against the wall and mopped up the floor, not wanting to get into trouble for it if someone came along to see the state the corridor was in.

It reminded him of his time at the Dursleys, as so many things did now he was somewhere else where cleaning duties were still expected of him.

Harry very rarely did anything to truly warrant his relatives anger. Things were in their favour, when all they had to do was look at a scene and know there wasn't any way Harry could prove his innocence when he was the only apparent culprit. Dudley lying about what happened hadn't helped the situation either, and no one ever believed Harry. Not the Dursleys, and not his teachers. He wasn't about to let Filch or one of the other staff members at Hogwarts blame him for the mess either. This was supposed to be his chance to start over and prove himself, and yet things were still not going in Harry's favour.

His efforts were tiresome.

The bucket overturned at least three more times, and the suit of armour now missed an arm as well. The boy was tempted to yell at the unseen force behind his misfortune, but was worried someone would hear him and he'd get in trouble. There weren't even any portraits around to ask for help, or if they knew what was going on.

'Stop it!' Harry finally shouted when the bucket flew to hit a wall right near his knee, once again spraying him with water. 'Whatever you are, stop it!'

A chuckling was heard above him.

Harry looked up and gasped, unknowingly catching his first sight of Peeves the poltergeist. Filch hadn't been very descriptive of the being's appearance, therefore Harry experienced no recognition - all he saw was a strange ghost that laughed at him.

'Stop laughing.' Harry growled. He ducked his head to hide the deep blush spreading over his already-flushed cheeks.

'Shan't stop 'til it ain't funny!' Peeves mocked. 'What is this, a little Filchy? Are you making a mess, little Filchy boy?' He teased.

'I'm not!' Harry said hotly, glaring upwards at the floating ghost. 'You did! You're wrecking everything. Go away.'

'Or else what?' Peeves challenged. 'What is little ickle filchy boy gonna do to?'

'I-' Harry halted, his bravery beginning to resolve slightly.

What could he possibly do against a ghost? He had no magic, and no authority. He was just a ten-year-old boy with a mop. Filch was the one who could do something, except he wasn't anywhere in sight or reach.

'I'll tell Mr Filch!' Harry warned. 'He'll get mad at you.'

Peeves only laughed harder.

Harry realised his threat was a joke to the ghost, and felt his courage slip. He'd never faced a ghost before, other than seeing one drift by in a distant corridor. He had no idea how to deal with the situation. He was also scared his word won't count against the ghost if he was caught, feeding his previous fears of everything that happened at the Dursley's was going to repeat itself in his new home.

'Go away!' Harry tried again, speaking angrily with honest emotion.

For a brief moment, he thought he'd won.

His tone must have sounded commanding enough because Peeves went quiet, except Harry quickly realised otherwise. The poltergeist frowned at him with an ugly expression, then started shouting about how rude Harry was, and that he didn't like being told to go away. Harry ducked frantically when the ghost flew at him, and was panicked Peeves could hurt him. The being went through him, which was alarming enough without the bone-reaching chill Harry momentarily felt.

It reminded him of something from a distant memory, but he couldn't pinpoint what. All his warmth of determination and bravery were consumed by the poltergeist, filling Harry instead with doubt and fear. He took no further chances, and ran.

Harry fled through the corridors of the first floor and didn't pay much attention to where he was going. He didn't even take notice of anything he ran passed, or which directions he turned. It was only when he went down some curved stairs, and found himself in a very dark corridor, that Harry stopped.

Gasping for breath, yet recovering quickly as he was used to running from Dudley, the boy felt a shiver from natural coldness.

'Where am I?' Harry asked no-one.

He was scared.

Hogwarts was still very new to him. Hearing a sound in a not-so-distant corridor, the boy panicked. His green gaze darted around the area until he spotted a broom closet, just as Filch had taught him to locate when one was needed. Gasping with a mildly unfamiliar fear, Harry hurried to it. He yanked open the door as though it was the only lifeboat in a drowning sea.

Harry scurried inside, and plunged himself into darkness as he shakily pulled the door closed. He couldn't see, but felt he was amongst the brooms and buckets, as the child crouched in a corner. He wrapped his arms around himself and tried to quieten his staggered breath. Hogwarts was a hundred times bigger than anything he'd ever seen before.

His was up against a ghost who could surely pass through the very walls Harry tried to conceal himself within.

With his relatives, Harry had been different – but it was a difference that made them keep their distance when things were less than normal. At Hogwarts, a school where children were taught to understand and use their magic, Harry was even more of an outsider. A sense of renewed difference where he was targeted by a scary, destructive force rather than avoided.

His bravery had fallen when confronted with something so much more powerful than he could ever be - something he had no idea how to face or if anyone would even listen to him once they saw the mess or heard the noise. No one had ever really listened to him before. Harry fretted that if he was kicked out of Hogwarts, he would have nowhere else in the world to go.

Harry, once again sitting locked away inside a dark closet, felt a harsh reality seep through him.

No matter where he went, he felt he never belonged. His magic had helped him before, Harry now knew. In moments years ago, when he'd been running from Dudley and ended up on a school roof, or his hair had grown back after a horrid haircut. Now he was hiding from a ghost – in actual form, and other variations. He'd been strong and determined during his unfortunate stay the Dursleys, but at Hogwarts the boy was completely unravelled by a single incident entirely beyond his control.

He'd never experienced such an overpowering sense of loneliness.

In that harsh moment, ten-year-old Harry Potter felt more alone and useless at Hogwarts than he ever had at Privet Drive.