Harry James Potter was very angry; he stormed up the stairs to his bedroom and slammed the door with all his might but he still didn't feel better. He looked around the room for something to take his anger out on but didn't find any suitable victims. Instead, he flopped down on his bed with a sigh and tried to take a few deep breaths. He hated him. No, correction, he hated them. He felt a bit bad for that sentiment and again corrected himself to think that he didn't hate his mum. She was the only parent he had, in his book, and he loved her very much.

He was angry with her, though; that was what she had always taught him, "Harry, you might not like someone's actions and you might be angry with them but I don't want you to say that you hate anyone. Hate is a strong word and I don't want you to use it lightly."

He did hate Snape, though. Of that he was certain. Harry didn't feel guilty about this, however, because he was fairly certain the feeling was mutual.

The reason that he was angry with Lily was because she never took his side. She wouldn't listen to him when he tried to tell her about what an awful person Snape was; like the fact that he was mean and that he picked on Harry even when he was trying very hard to follow the rules and the fact that he didn't wash his hair nearly enough. Lily did seem willing, however, to listen to the never-ending list of faults Snape found with Harry. Also, she let Snape boss him around and made Harry listen to the man even though he was completely unreasonable.
Remus would listen to his complaints, though he always encouraged Harry to try to get along with his step-father. Sirius was the only person who seemed to get it. He would listen to Harry's home life woes with a sympathetic nod of his head. That was what the most recent fight had been about. Tonight was one of the nights he was supposed to go visit his godfather and he'd been looking forward to it all week. A whole weekend free of Snape where he could do mostly what he wanted without being criticized. However, he had apparently committed some transgression tonight; he had been helping with dinner and Snape had snapped at Harry to use a cutting board and Harry had snapped at Snape to wash his hair. Snape had decided that Harry couldn't go visit Sirius tonight as punishment. Harry had loudly protested and looked at his mum for her support.

"Maybe tonight isn't the best night, Harry. You can go some other time."

"Uh, no. No, I can't," Harry told her angrily, "I start school in two weeks and I'll be there until the Christmas break."

"Maybe Sirius can take you to Diagon Alley next week to get your supplies? That would be fun, don't you think?" Lily really did try to mediate which mostly involved upholding Severus' authority while trying to make Harry see that she was willing to compromise only if he would.

"You don't understand!" He was practically yelling at her now and she was giving him a disappointed look. Snape was giving him a warning look. Harry didn't care and then he'd done it.

He was a little ashamed of his actions though he would never admit to feeling that way. Although he was angry, admittedly the best way to express that had probably not been to throw dinner on the floor, hot skillet and all. His mother had cried out and even Snape looked surprised to which Harry could only think 'good.' Snape had muttered something about him being a menace and had grounded him until school started. And Snape couldn't ground him like a normal person and confine him to his room where he could feel sorry for himself. No, Harry would spend the next two weeks enjoying the privilege of scrubbing cauldrons and taking inventory of ingredients all under the watchful eye of his step-father. As though he were capable of screwing up something as simple as cleaning out a cauldron. Just what he needed, more time with the git.

The thing was that he and Sirius had plans for tonight. A few times a year, they would go visit James Potter's grave in Godric's Hollow. James Potter was Harry's real father who had died when he was just a baby. He didn't remember him at all but by all accounts he had been popular and brave and good-looking. Harry didn't understand how his mum could go from being married to someone like that to being married to someone like Snape. She had tried to tell him, once, the story of how they had gotten together but Harry had cut her off after he found out they had been married only nine months after his father's death. How could she betray him like that? Lily had given him that smile that adults give children that said it was beyond the child's comprehension.

Lily had used to go with him to visit James but it had caused a lot of fights when Harry was younger and eventually she had stopped going though she encouraged her son to go. Harry hated when they fought. Well, really, it wasn't so much that he hated them fighting as he hated them fighting about him which seemed to be their main point of conflict. He had asked Lily once how she could just not go visit his father and she had just smiled at him and brushed back his messy hair, "I don't need to go to the graveyard to remember your father."
So now he wouldn't be able to go there until Christmas break. It wasn't so much going to the graveyard as listening to Sirius reminiscing about his friendship with James. He had every story committed to memory, forever putting together a clearer picture of the man his father had been. Harry wondered if he explained to his mum why he wanted to go so bad she would change her mind and let him go. Unlikely, though, he thought; she would probably just take Snape's side.

Harry supposed that he was lucky that he hadn't been punished worse for an outburst like that. He'd certainly been spanked for a lot less; Snape made no sense sometimes and he had long since stopped trying to figure him out. He hated being spanked and it certainly made him strive to follow the rules more than even scrubbing out cauldrons. It didn't really hurt that much, honestly, because Snape used a rather thin switch. It stung like hell but it was over quickly. Harry sometimes wished that he would leave a mark so that he would really have something to complain about. Maybe then his mum could see what an awful person he was. But Snape never hit him hard enough for that to happen.

No, the reason Harry hated it was because he always made an idiot out of himself. He usually started out putting on a brave front but usually ended up in tears. He didn't know why, but he was elven years old for crying out loud. It was humiliating to cry about a few swats. He had the vague idea that he really felt Snape hated him during these sessions but never let the thought fully form. He didn't care if Snape hated him. He didn't. Why would he when the feeling was completely mutual? Snape had never commented on the tears, if he even noticed, for which Harry was actually grateful. The last thing he wanted was to talk about it with the man.

Harry was feeling calmer now that he had been in his room for a while which was his sanctuary. It wasn't particularly spacious but it fit his bed and a dresser and a desk. It was always a bit of a mess which Snape had given up on persuading him to clean as long as it didn't spill out into the rest of the house. He had a couple of novels piled on his desk and his broom leaning up against the wall in one of the corners. There were a couple of Quiddich posters on the walls and a picture of him mum and dad - the real one - on his bedside table. His favorite feature, however, was that the window overlooked a large field that gave way to a small cluster of trees that he had thought quite a grand forest when he was little.

He wasn't really looking forward to going to Hogwarts which he knew made him an anomaly for his age. He would miss his room, though, and his mum and Sirius and Remus. He would miss the few Muggle boys who he played kickball with out in the street during the summer. He wasn't sure he'd call them friends since all they did was play kickball and never talked about much aside from that, but they certainly helped pass the time. Worst of all was that his step-father was a professor there so it's not like they'd even get some time apart. Snape must be delighted that he would soon have a wealth of new things to criticize Harry about. He soon drifted off to sleep, thinking if only his both his parents were still alive.

SSHPSSHPSSHPSSHP

It was the morning of his first day of school and he'd dressed in some of his better Muggle clothing which consisted of a dark blue shirt and pair of jeans. He and his mum had bickered pleasantly about the jeans. She thought he should wear something a bit nicer and he was thinking he didn't want to get beat up. Snape had taken the floo to the castle earlier that day so it was just him and Lily to eat breakfast together. Lily was more excited than he was and chattered happily about her first day at Hogwarts and how she still remembered it like it was yesterday.

They arrived at King's Cross a little too early but Lily suggested it might give him extra time to get to know the other kids on the train. She hugged him fiercely and kissed him on the cheek, "Harry, I know you're going to make me very proud. Now, I want you to listen to Severus and the other teachers and be a good boy, okay?"

"Yes, Mum."

Then she was gone and he was alone and he missed her already. He shook his head; it was too early to get homesick. He got in line to get on the train behind none other than Draco Malfoy. Malfoy turned his head ever so slightly to look at the other boy and said by way of greeting, "Potter."

"Malfoy. How was your summer?"

"Fine. Mother and I went to France on vacation for a week."

"Of course you did," Harry barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Malfoy was such a braggart.

"What about you? What did you do all summer?"

"Cleaned cauldrons," Harry said a little bitterly.

He could have sworn Malfoy had given him a pitying look. Malfoy was Snape's godson and knew better than anyone that Snape expected a lot. The boys were not friends; in fact, they didn't really get along. They had learned a long time ago, however, that it benefited them both to be civil to one another. The boys parted ways and Harry went to find somewhere to sit on the train.

Although he knew quite a few of the students already, he wasn't really involved in their little social groups. Luckily, he ran into Neville Longbottom who invited him to sit with him. Neville's parents, Alice and Frank Longbottom, were friends of his mum and the boys had gotten to know each other pretty well. They talked about what classes they were looking forward to and the teachers but were soon interrupted by the compartment door opening to reveal a gangly red headed boy.

"Can I sit in here? I thought I'd be able to sit with Fred and George, but they told me to get lost. Oh, hi, Neville."

"Hi, Ron. Sure, come on in. Harry, this is Ron Weasley. Ron, this is Harry Potter."

Ron glanced furtively at Harry and seemed considerably more interested in the other boy. Harry got this sometimes; although his mum was considerably more famous than he was, he still generated a lot of interest when he met strangers. He disliked the attention but offered the boy a smile anyway. It wasn't really any use to make enemies, especially when Ron was only naturally curious. Luckily, he didn't ask any embarrassing questions that Harry didn't know the answer to considering he had been little more than a toddler when his family had been attacked. The three boys chatted companionably and the train ride went by fairly quickly and was uneventful other than the appearance of a bushy-haired girl who was frantically looking for her bag that had gone missing.
"It had two of my school books in it and if I can't find it I don't know what I'll do tomorrow when classes start."

"Why didn't you have your school books in your trunk in the first place?" Ron asked with his mouth half full of chocolate frogs.

"I was trying to review what I read this summer. I wasn't sure how much time we would have tonight." This drew a blank look from both Neville and Ron, but Harry felt the corner of his lip twitch. Ravenclaw, definitely.
She was clearly Muggleborn and Harry had a pretty good idea who would have been messing with her stuff. It wasn't his job to babysit anyone, though, and he told her he was sorry but he hadn't heard anything. He felt sorry maybe twenty minutes after she left their compartment, though, and wondered if maybe he should have made more of an effort to help her. What kind of idiot Slytherin picked on a first year girl, Muggleborn or not?

They arrived at the castle and were led by the half-giant groundskeeper to boats that allowed for a grand view of the castle. They were greeted by Professor McGonagall when they finally got inside the castle. Harry was tired from the long train ride and was grateful for the opportunity to stretch his legs. He had met McGonagall a handful of times as she worked with Snape and generally liked her. She was strict but fair which some people could stand to learn a lot from. She told them to wait there and disappeared into the Great Hall again, presumably to make some last moment preparations.

"Weasley," hissed a voice that Harry recognized all too well. He rolled his eyes; now Malfoy was a menace, especially when he was bored. "Hey, Weasley. I think your robes might have belonged to my great grandfather when he went to Hogwarts."

Malfoy was petty and a bully, there was no doubt about that, but in Harry's opinion he was mostly harmless. He swore, though, that one of these days the other boy was going to get stomped into the ground. Weasley seemed to be a likely candidate from the way he was clenching his fists. He had let the insult get to him which was the first mistake when dealing with a Slytherin. Blood in the shark tank.

"Just because his robes aren't brand new doesn't mean anything. That's so superficial. Don't you have anything better to do?" It was the bushy-haired girl he had met on the train earlier. He reassessed her; Gryffindor, then? Ron looked more mortified that he had the slightly nerdy girl come to his rescue than he had been by the initial insult. Malfoy opened his mouth to retaliate, and Harry didn't need to be a mind reader to know it would have to do with her blood status. Luckily, McGonagall chose that moment to return.

"Come along, then, let's see where you'll all end up this year."

They filed into the Great Hall. Harry's eyes drifted to the table where the teachers sat long enough to note that Snape was ignoring him. For some reason this infuriated him but soon the sorting began and he tried to focus on that instead. The bushy-haired girl was indeed sorted into Gryffindor along with an extremely pleased Neville. Malfoy was sorted into Slytherin, no surprise there, and before Harry knew it his name was being called.

The hat was so big and floppy that it dropped over his eyes obscuring the view of his classmates. He knew it would speak to him, but still jumped a little bit when it finally did, "Harry Potter. Hm, yes, I remember both of your parents. Both Gryffindors, I believe."

Harry wouldn't mind being sorted into Gryffindor. Most of the person he had gotten on with during the train ride had been sorted there and he had a feeling that was where Ron was going considering his family's track record.

"Yes, Gryffindor is a great house, but I'm not sure how happy you would be there." Harry had a bad feeling all of a sudden. "I think you would find yourself with more ties in . . ."

"SLYTHERIN!"

Oh, perfect. Just bloody perfect. Snape was probably already inventing new house rules just for him. There was polite applause. Harry looked around for any of the people he had met on the train but all the faces kind of blurred together. He walked toward the Slytherin table and glanced, despite his best effort not to, back up at his step-father. Snape was most definitely looking at him now. When their eyes caught each other, Snape sneered a bit. Harry wondered if he could convince his mum to home school him.

He sat down next with the other first years in the Slytherin house and tried to look happy about the hat's selection. He didn't want to offend anyone on his first day at the school and knew that Slytherins could be touchy about house pride. Harry barely paid attention to the rest of the sorting and soon the table was laden with dishes.

Malfoy was buttering a piece of bread when they simultaneously happened to glance at each other. The blonde boy offered an ironic smile and said, "Congratulations, Potter."

"Thanks, Malfoy," Harry muttered.

"No problem." Malfoy looked far too delighted by the situation, "I bet the potions classroom will be absolutely spotless this year."