"Will you get in trouble?" Hermione asked as he sat down next to her.

"Don't know," Harry said, but he began filling up his plate with eggs and was glad there was no portrait here to protest his presence with his real house mates.

"How was it?" Ron's voice seemed.... edgy.

"I survived," his voice was flat. "But I was warned not to cause any trouble, and also to watch my back. I think Draco wants to thrash me."

"If anyone hurts you Harry you have to tell a teacher."

He laughed then. "Like who? Snape told me not to come to him and the prefect told me pretty much the same thing."

"Git," Ron muttered.

"But you can tell Professor McGonagall still," Hermione hedged.

"And make Snape more pissed off?"

"He's right Hermione," Ron said, "Harry can't go to the Gryffindor head of house for problems in Slytherin. Snape would thrash him himself if McGonagall went and complained on Harry's behalf." And the last thing I need is more thrashings, Harry thought. He was only just now healing from uncle Vernon's last punishment.

Hermione looked like she understood, but didn't agree, but chose to remain quiet anyway.

"They're glaring at you," Ron said, nodding his head towards Slytherin table across the hall, and Harry glanced briefly.

"Let them. I don't belong there."

"But you're going to be spending a lot of time with them," Hermione said.

"Not likely."

"They don't have the same schedule as us though." Hermione pulled out a piece of parchment and tapped it with her wand, and said, "Harry Potter's schedule."

The Slytherin crest appeared at the top with the number two below it, and a new schedule. Harry felt sick. He was only going to have Potions, Herbology, and Defense with his friends, and the rest of the day he'd be with the Slytherins. Ron stared at the schedule too.

"I don't like it," he said.

"The hat promised I might not like the outcome of putting it on," Harry said, putting his head face down on the table.

"And you did it anyway?"

"Apparently it was foolish."

* * *

For the first time, Harry really wished he had friends in other houses. He really didn't know anyone in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, and he didn't want to sit with any of the Slytherins during classes. If he'd have been smart he would have already made friends with people like Ernie McMillan or Hannah Abbot so he could sit with them during lessons. As it was now, he sat alone in the back of the classroom through Charms (the same exact lesson he had yesterday), and later Transfiguration and History of Magic. He was even more displeased to earn two points for answering a question right in Charms, and received jeers from Draco and Crabbe.

"Keep earning us points Potter," Draco had said after class. "Your old house will disown you in no time."

Harry wanted to ignore him but feared it was true, and so did not raise his hand or correctly answer questions in any of his other classes that day, even though he knew the answers.

At lunch and dinner he sat with Ron and Hermione again, and tried to spend as much time with them as he could in the library before curfew getting help with his homework. Unfortunately curfew was 7:30 for first and second years, and he soon found himself alone and returning to the dungeons.

In the Slytherin common room, Harry found twenty or more students playing games and talking instead of doing homework since it was a Friday night. When a third year caught him staring at their exploding snap game, he glared until Harry moved, and having nowhere else to go he went to his new dormitory, where he was displeased to find Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle.

"Ah, there he is, the big man himself," Draco taunted from the desk where his homework sat half finished next to the biggest bag of candy Harry had ever seen. Harry hadn't had much candy in his life, usually only after Halloween if he managed to find a few pieces of candy dropped by trick or treaters in the Dursley's neighborhood. He also didn't have anyone to send him candy and dared not spend the little money his parents had left him on sweets either.

"Look, I think Potter wants a piece of candy," Draco said, standing up. "Well you can't have any, this is for Slytherins only." He cast a spell on the bag and the top cinched up and Draco tossed it to Goyle over Harry's head. Harry flinched. This was just like being home with Dudley and his overlarge friends only here it was more dangerous because these bullies could use magic.

Harry moved for his bed but Draco stepped in front of him to block his path. "No no, see, you misunderstand. Nothing in here is for you. It's all ours. All for Slytherins."

"It's got my name on it," Harry said flatly, and tried to push past Draco, but Draco took it as a cue to start something bigger, and shoved Harry backwards into either Crabbe or Goyle, he couldn't be sure. He tried to stand upright, but it was too late, and before he knew what was happening, Crabbe and Goyle were hitting him in the face and ribs and stomach. Only after he was down and Crabbe and Goyle had finished, did Draco come over and give Harry a good kick in the side with his heavy boots.

"Slytherin's only Potter. Remember your place." Then they left the room, leaving him bruised and battered on the floor. If he had never been beaten like this before, he wouldn't know what to do with himself, and he might have even cried, but this wasn't the first time. He lay there for long quiet moments on the cold hard floor staring at the ceiling and wondering what he'd done to deserve this as he tried to catch his breath, and eventually, he picked himself up and put himself to bed. Tomorrow was Saturday. There were no classes. Maybe he could sneak to the library when everyone was out enjoying the last of the warm weather and look up a healing spell or at least something to hide the bruises on his face and arms. He pulled the curtains closed, and missed Ron and Hermione and the safety of his own bed in his own dorm more than ever. He was completely alone here.

* * *

Harry rose earlier than the rest of the house, thinking that he'd better shower now and head to the library before breakfast. He didn't even think Hermione ventured to the library to study before the first meal of the day.

The water stung on his injured body as he bathed, and he assessed the damage to his face and chest in the mirror when he was done. Both of his eyes were black and he had a fat lip. His nose didn't feel broken but it looked a right mess being all black and blue. Even his right ear was black from where they had pounded on it repeatedly.

Putting on a long sleeve shirt and jeans to cover the evidence on his body, Harry planned on just lowering his head if he met anyone in the corridors on the way up to the library. What he hadn't counted on was meeting someone in the common room this early. It was only five o'clock after all.

"Potter, what are you doing out of bed so early?"

The voice had come from behind him, and Harry hung his head low as he'd planned at the sound of Thomas' voice.

"Going to the library to study," he said.

"You've got no books," Thomas observed, and it was true. Maybe Harry should have thought of that.

"Go on then, tell me the truth. If you're planning on doing something to lose house points, I wouldn't."

"Not going to lose any points." He still hadn't turned around, which had seemed to confirm in the Prefect's mind that Harry was up to no good.

"Look me in the eye and say that."

Harry turned around and looked up.

"Bloody hell, got you good didn't they. When did this happen?"

"Last night after curfew."

"Anything broken?"

"No."

He stood up and came around to look at Harry's face better. "If you go to the Hospital Wing there will be questions and you'll lose the house points for fighting."

"I didn't fight though."

"Doesn't matter. By telling, the house loses points."

"Are you forbidding me to go?"

He looked at Harry carefully. "No. Just reminding you that you'll cause more trouble than it's worth. Come on, there's some bruise balm in the supply closet." He walked over to a door by the dark window and opened it to reveal shelves and shelves of potions, each labeled and sorted according to purpose.

"These are all for Slytherin?" Harry asked in awe, coming up behind Thomas. Gryffindor didn't have anything like this. There were draughts for stomach aches, headaches and colds, bruise balm, hair gels, tooth paste and extra tooth brushes, hair brushes, shampoo and conditioners, stacks of soap, and even some... well, female items Harry supposed since there was a sign on the bottom shelf that said, ‘Boy's touch and die.'

"Doesn't Gryffindor have a supply closet?"

"No." He shook his head. "They give us shampoo and conditioner and toothpaste, but that's it."

He eyed the new toothbrushes. They came in a variety of colors, even red. He hadn't had a new toothbrush since he was a kid and had been given one at school when the dentist came to teach them about brushing teeth. He still had it, but its bristles hurt against his gums when he used it because they were all out of place.

Thomas pulled down a container of bruise balm and watched as Harry reached up for a toothbrush and some toothpaste. He supposed he was giving the toothbrush a funny look or something because when he looked back up at Thomas, the boy seemed to be trying to figure something out.

Harry remained silent though he turned a little red. It was hard to see under the bruises.

"Go to the bathroom and put this on. The bruises should be gone by Monday. I'd stay out of sight until then."

"What about food?"

"All you have to do is go lay in bed and say, ‘I'm sick' and something will appear on your night stand. Seriously, they don't do that for Gryffindor?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know, nobody ever said anything about it."

"Go on, before everybody else wakes up."

Harry walked gingerly to the door leading to the dorms, but turned back with a little smile that hurt to make. "Thanks," he said, and hurried to the bathroom. He was back in bed by the time the other boys got up, and though he listened, none of them talked about him or tried to curse him through the curtains. When he was sure they'd all gone up to breakfast, he whispered, "I'm sick," and opened the curtains to find a bowl of warm soup, a piece of bread, and a glass of water.

As he ate, he thought his face felt a little better since applying the bruise balm, and after breakfast he hurried into the bathroom across the hall to have a look in the mirror, and was pleased to see that while still dark, the bruises were starting to fade.

He was sure Ron and Hermione were worrying about him and didn't want them to go to McGonagall, so he scribbled a note telling them that he was ok but couldn't leave the dungeons. His plan was to go to one of the windows to call Hedwig. Somehow she could always hear him from the Owlery and would always come to him no matter where he was out on the grounds. When he left the room again however, he was surprised to see that it was finally light enough to see out the window at the end of the hall... where he expected to see some sort of grass or something (he figured the dungeons must butt up to a cliff where they could see out), he found himself staring at water.

His mouth hung open. They were under water? As something swished past the window, startling him, Harry remembered rule number one: don't agitate the squid. Now it made sense at least, though why he would want to agitate the squid, or why it was a rule, he didn't know.

Well, that ruined that plan. He'd have to leave the Dungeons to deliver the letter and if he had to leave he might as well just go and find them.

The door at the end of the hall opened then and Thomas stuck his head in. "Did you eat?"

Harry nodded. "My friends are going to come looking or tell McGonagall though, and I can't get a letter to them without my owl and a window."

"Here." He came down the hall and held out his hand. "I'll give it to an owl."

"Why are you doing this?"

"We're twenty points ahead of Gryffindor. I'm not about to lose points just because some little snots decided to beat up their new dorm mate."

Harry hesitated, but then handed him the note. "Ok, thanks."

"And I told you to keep your head down. Maybe you'll listen next time," Thomas said as he left with the note.

"Yeah, maybe," Harry said, feeling irritated. It wasn't his fault, none of it was. It was all the hat, and Draco, and his father for being with his mother in the first place if he was determined to hate any child they had together.

Harry spent the rest of the day on his bed studying and doing his homework. He heard his dorm mates come in and out a few times but none of them called for him to see if he was ok. No, they wouldn't though he thought. He hated that it was Saturday and he couldn't be with his friends. Maybe if he put more of the bruise balm on he'd look good enough to go out tomorrow, and set to work slathering it on his body as thick as he could.

* * *

The weekend passed uneventfully and by Sunday night, Harry was thoroughly tired of eating soup, bread, and water. He looked in a mirror after everyone had gone to bed and was pleased to see that the bruises on his face were almost gone aside from a little discoloration around his right eye. He still ached, but at least he looked near enough to normal again.

On Monday morning, Harry emerged from the Slytherin common room and found Ron waiting for him in the corridor leading to Slytherin.

"There you are!"

He hurried over. "Hermione's been having a fit over you."

"Sorry," Harry said.

"The note you left made no sense."

"They said they'd ruin everything I own. I had to stay and guard it. I don't want them to thrash my broom."

"We'll look up some locking spells for your wardrobe."

"I wish that would work. I share the wardrobe with Theodore Knott."

"Great," Ron muttered. "We can lock your trunk."

"Yeah," Harry said, hoping that they wouldn't attack him again when Friday rolled around, because then he wouldn't have an excuse to give to Ron and Hermione.

"At least I got all my homework done," Harry said.

"Better stop or else you'll earn house points for them."

"We don't earn house points for getting good grades like in Gryffindor, we just lose points if we get bad grades."

"Great!" Ron said with a laugh. "You can sabotage them from inside! Just get bad grades."

"I wish. For every five house points I lose I have to do detention with Snape."

"Ugh."

Harry practically shoveled his breakfast into his mouth when they got to the Great Hall and went back for seconds.

"You hungry or what?"

"If you stay in bed and say ‘I'm sick' the house elves send up food, but only a roll, broth, and water. It's not much."

"And you ate that all weekend Harry?" Hermione asked him, and he nodded.

"You should start taking fruit and stuff from the table and keeping it in your trunk."

"They'd poison it," Harry said, and Ron laughed but he wasn't joking. He would have to find some way to keep food with him and keep it safe.

After breakfast Harry had to split up with his friends to go to classes with the Slytherins, and spent most of the day pulling spit wads out of the back of his hair, because Draco had been choosing to sit directly behind him in every class. He sat with them again at lunch and during the classes that Slytherin shared with Gryffindor. When he got to sit next to Ron and Hermione in class was the only time he felt somewhat comfortable during the day, but even that was starting to fade. The other Gryffindor second years didn't seem to be so certain of his loyalty anymore, especially when Harry forgot what house he was in and answered a question in class right in front of his friends, and earned points for Slytherin. This always made Draco smirk or make snide remarks.

"You've got to stop that Harry," Ron said in a low, conspiratorial voice on their way to dinner. "Slytherin will win the cup."

"But Harry's a Slytherin now," Hermione reminded him.

"No I'm not," Harry said at the same time as Ron said, "No he's not." They both gave Harry a playful shove.

"No, you're not," Hermione agreed, "but you're there." Harry got the feeling that although she'd been supportive of the change, she was actually hiding that she was upset.

They were quiet as they walked down the hall and turned to go down a set of stairs.

"You're not playing Quidditch for them," Ron said. It wasn't a request.

"No," Harry said. He was sad that his Quidditch career seemed to be over though. He loved flying. Maybe he could take his broom out on the weekend.

"Do you think Fred or George would let you borrow their brooms?" Harry asked Ron then.

"Probably not, why?"

"I miss flying already. I thought we could go together on the weekend."

"I'll ask and if they say no, I'll sneak a broom out."

* * *

Flying on the weekend it turned out, was not meant to be. Harry received a note from Ron delivered by Thomas Friday night saying that the twins had boobytrapped their brooms and he would be spending the weekend in the Hospital Wing having boils and other curses removed. Even if Ron could have gone flying, Harry could not. When Harry got out of bed to go to the bathroom near midnight, he came back to find Crabbe, Goyle, Draco, and Blaise waiting for him in the dorm room. Just like the week before, Draco watched laughin (this time along with Blaise) as Crabbe and Goyle did the dirty work, and only after Harry was covered in bruises did they take their chance to kick him while he was down. They left Harry on the cold floor and went back to bed. Harry didn't wait for morning to go for bruise balm this time. He went to the supply cabinet in the common room and tried to ignore the stares he was getting from the older students that were still awake and studying. Thomas was not one of them but the Head Boy was. He kept his head down, grabbed the bruise balm and went into the bathroom to put it on.

He winced as he spread it thickly on his face and then took of his shirt and began smearing it on the bruises there. He was almost done when the door behind him opened and Quincy Andrews, the Head Boy walked in. Harry looked at him through the reflection in the mirror and then averted his eyes and went back to the bruise balm.

"You going to tell?" Quincy asked.

"Didn't tell last weekend," he said quietly, hoping that Quincy wouldn't come after him too. Quincy kept watching him.

"Why not?"

"Not supposed to cause trouble."

"And getting beat up causes trouble?"

Harry wasn't going to answer but decided to anyway. "Not supposed to lose house points, not supposed to cause trouble, not supposed to complain to Snape."

"I heard he's your father."

"Yeah I heard that too," Harry said.

"What'd you do to him to make him so pissed off?"

Harry turned around to stare at him, open jar of bruise balm still in one hand. "Be alive."

"I got an old man like that too. The only thing I was able to do to get him to be proud was become Head Boy so that's what I did." He turned to walk out of the bathroom, looking tired like he might be headed to bed, but turned back, hand on the door and said, "You should do something to stop them. Show them you won't take it." And then he was gone.

Yeah, right, Harry thought to himself. Fighting back, giving Draco a black eye, that was all he needed. They would all tell Snape that Harry had started it and they were only defending themselves and Harry would get detention. Stupid hat. He hardly saw how this 'arrangement' was supposed to help him get to know his father better. The only thing he wanted to do was stay out of trouble so he didn't have to encounter the man at all under any circumstances aside from in classes.

Harry woke early to put the bruise balm on again, and applied it throughout the day on Saturday. On Sunday morning he was pleased to see that his efforts had paid off, and while his body was still covered in bruises, his face was clear. He headed to breakfast and found Hermione.

"There you are."

"Here I am. Is Ron still in the Hospital Wing?"

"Yes. Ginny sent an owl to Mrs. Weasley and yesterday the twins received a double howler in the common room for cursing their brother."

Harry laughed a little as he piled food high onto his plate.

"How have you been Harry?"

He shrugged and Hermione could tell that he was feeling down.

"I don't have a broom to go flying with you, but we can study or go for a walk if you want."

"I guess we could study," Harry agreed. When they were finished eating, Harry followed Hermione to the library. She already had her books with her and Harry had no desire to go back to the Slytherin dorms and chancing another encounter with the second year boys. They studied until lunch and then went to see Ron in the Hospital Wing.

"Why didn't you come to see me Harry?" Ron asked, seeming put out.

"I couldn't," Harry said.

"I thought I was more important than your stuff. I'm your best mate."

Harry didn't have any way of telling Ron about the bruises with Hermione right there. "Hermione, do you have notes from Charms? I didn't get any on Friday."

"You didn't take notes!? There's a big test Monday Harry!" She hurried off to get her notes from the tower, looking worried, and Harry turned back to Ron. He gave a quick look to be certain that Madam Pomfrey wasn't around and then lifted up the front of his shirt.

"Bloody hell Harry. How come you're not in here?"

"They got me Friday night. I spent all day Saturday putting bruise balm on my face so I could come out. I would have visited you otherwise."

"They did this last weekend too, didn't they? That's why you didn't come to see us."

Harry nodded.

"Slimy gits, the lot of them."

"One of the fourth year Prefects isn't so bad," Harry said, but Ron gave him a dirty look.

"The lot of them Harry, mark my words. Just look at ol' Snape. Do you think they'll get you again next weekend?"

"I don't know. The Head Boy said I should do something about it, but if I do you know Malfoy will twist it in his favor and I'll end up being the one in trouble."

Ron nodded in agreement. "Maybe we can curse him..."

"Curse him? Got any good ones in mind?" Harry laughed thinking of the possibilites but knowing he'd never be able to carry any of their plans out. He and Ron talked for another few minutes before Hermoine burst back into the Hospital Wing and made Harry and Ron partake in a study session for Charms right there. In the end that study session was in Harry's favor because he got an O on the test the next morning.

As it turned out, Harry didn't have to wait until Friday to get attacked again. Crabbe and Goyle were taking every opportunity to elbow him hard in the ribs when no one was looking, shove him hard into walls, and punch him anywhere but his face. Harry was very sore by Friday and thought that one of his ribs might have been cracked. He wasn't feeling well either. He'd been putting on bruise balm by the container several times a day and for the first time was wondering if there might be side effects from using too much of it. He was in the hallway with all of the boys dorms thinking that he would just go to bed early when someone punched him hard from behind in the ribs. He felt something snap and felt a sharp pain. It was so bad he couldn't get a breath. He fell to his knees, clutching his chest and heard Goyle snigger.

"Doesn't take much does it Gryffindor?" he asked. Harry labored to get in a breath but wasn't getting anything in. He turned, panick on his face as he clutched his chest, and saw the look reflected on Goyle's face.

"What?" Goyle asked, but Harry couldn't speak because he couldn't breath. Goyle turned and hurried out of the hallway. Harry crawled, the gravity of his situation finally reaching him. He was going to die there if he couldn't get to Thomas or the Head Boy or hopefully any other Slytherin who might have an ounce of compassion to fetch help for him.

When he got to the door to the common room he reached up, fumbled the door handle twice, and finally turned it. Leaning on the door he fell into the common room, drawing the attention of the others who were there playing games and visiting like they did every Friday night.

Someone said, "Fetch Professor Snape," but Harry didn't recognize the voice. People crowded around him but no one moved to help. His vision blurred and finally turned dark. It was strange to lay there, unseeing, but still hearing muffled voices as he did. It was like he had gone blind and almost deaf, but not quite. He could have laid there for hours, but wasn't certain. Suddenly his lungs filled with air and he gasped, breathing hard. He tried to open his eyes but they felt heavy.

"Come on." It was Snape's voice. That was strange. What was he doing there? He wouldn't come to help Harry. He opened his eyes to verify that the man was indeed kneeling there, looking both angry and perhaps slightly worried. His features hardened when Harry opened his eyes though. Slytherins were still crowded around them in a circle, looking down at him. Goyle was there too, looking anxious like he was going to be in trouble.

Harry coughed blinked hard several times. He didn't want to be there in the midst of them, but felt too weak to move away from any of them.

"Everyone move," Snape said and they backed away, clearing a path to the common room entrance. Harry didn't know what was happening but he was suddenly up in the air. They were out in the corridor before he realized that someone was carrying him and that it was Snape. Too weak to lift his head, he let it loll to the side. He was in trouble, he knew it in his bones. Snape would make him pay for making him come to his aide. He would make him pay for making him carry him up through the castle to the Hospital Wing.

He must have lost time, perhaps passed out because one moment they were ascending the stairs out of the dungeons and the next Harry was being deposited into a bed in the Hospital Wing.

"What's happened Severus?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

"He had a punctured lung. I do not know what happened. They said he came out of the dorm hall like that."

With a wave of her wand, Harry's shirt was gone and his face was red from embarrassment.

"Harry!" she exlaimed in shock. He didn't look at her face or down at his torso. He knew what it looked like.

"It looks like he's been trying to heal the bruises with bruise balm," she said.

"There are jars of it in the common room stores for minor bruises. From the color of his skin he's used too much of it."

"Harry."

He finally looked over at Madam Pomfrey's prodding.

"How much bruise balm did you use?"

"Today?" he asked weakly. She raised her brows.

"At all Potter. This week. Last week. Since you've been in Slytherin." Snape's voice was impatient and Harry could sense the anger there. He turned away.

"Maybe seven jars."

Madam Pomfrey hurried away and Harry tried not to look at Snape. He hated this. He got hurt and his father was nothing but angry at him. What had he done wrong?

Pomfrey came back with a blue potion and helped to lift Harry's head so he could drink it.

"I'll heal your bruises with a spell. You can't have any more bruise balm for at least a week because there's already too much in your system. Too much will make you sick Harry, weak, dizzy. You had to have felt the effects already?" He nodded and she tsked.

"These bruises are at least two weeks old. What happened?" she asked.

"Nothing," Harry said.

"It certainly doesn't look like nothing. It looks like you've been beaten several times."

"No."

"The truth Potter," Snape snapped. "One point from Slytherin for lying."

He chanced a look up at his father and managed a weak glare. Bastard. He wasn't allowed to tell the truth was he? If he did, he'd lose points because the others would be in trouble, and it wasn't life for death either so he'd be breaking another one of Snape's ridiculous rules. He turned away.

"Now is not the time to clam up Harry," Pomfrey admonished him.

"Nothing happened."

She huffed and walked away, probably to get another potion.

Snape leaned in so that only Harry could hear him. It made Harry uncomfortable and made the hairs on his arm and back stand on end.

"I do not tolerate lying Potter," he said in one of his more deadly tones.

Angrily Harry turned his head to stare into his dark eyes. "Yes you do. You told me to lie. You told me not to lose any house points. You told me not to cause trouble. You told me not to complain to you unless it was life or death. If I tell you the truth, I do all three of those things."

Snape stood up though the anger didn't leave his face. "Insolent brat."

"Yeah, that's me," Harry said. Insolent, foolish, asinine brat. Those were Snape's favorite names for him.

Madam Pomfrey came back again. "I've sent a message to Minerva. She'll be up here any moment." Harry was still looking at his father and saw him roll his eyes. The man turned away to wait for Minerva's arrival.

Moments later the door to the ward opened and Professor McGonagall strode in with purpose. Pomfrey told her about the overdose of bruise balm, the punctured lung, the bruises (which she could clearly see for herself since Harry was still laying there on top of the blankets shirtless), and Harry's refusal to tell them what had happened.

She gave him a stern (though still somehow kind look) and said, "Mr. Potter, it is clear to me that you have been treated poorly. I would like to know by who. If you don't tell me I will ask your friends. Miss Granger has already expressed her concern to me that you may not be receiving the best... care, in Slytherin." Snape rolled his eyes again and Harry knew he was going to take this out on Harry at some point. She had practically implied that Snape was neglecting him.

"It is also clear to me that if you would have simply come to the Hospital Wing in the first place, you would not have used too much of the bruise balm."

Still feeling fuzzy, and now starting to feel dizzy as well, Harry blinked hard several times. They weren't going to let this drop. They were going to keep him there, awake, until he told them something.

"I fell," he lied.

"Several times a day, for the last few days?" Pomfrey inquired in disbelief. Harry nodded though the diziness made him wish he hadn't.

"Maybe that's enough for now," Minerva said. Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw her put a hand on Pomfrey's wrist. He didn't know that his bottom lip was trembling or that they'd seen it. He hadn't seen Snape roll his eyes again either at the sight of it.

McGonagall and Snape left, and Madam Pomfrey finished healing him before letting him roll over and go to sleep. This wasn't fair, none of it, Harry thought as he drifted off. The hat had put him in an impossible situation and so had Snape. Harry wished he hadn't carried him up through the castle like that. It was much easier to hate a man that was always strict and mean and unfair to him. It was much harder to hate him when he knew he was capable of being gentle. Harry remembered how warm he felt, and comfortable, even through his anxiety of being in trouble, as Snape had carried him up through the castle to the Hospital Wing. If he hated the man, it didn't hurt as much to know he hated him back. But inside Harry was confused and knew he didn't hate him all that much. In his dreams his father held him tight and told him he wasn't so bad to have as a son. Harry was miserable when he woke up in the morning.