"ARE YOU CRAZY!? Have you gone MENTAL?!" Ron shrieked at the top of his lungs, throwing his hands up in the air and his right eye twitching.

"Maybe, Ron…" Harry said in relative quiet. He couldn't help but add a sheepish grin though. If Ron thought his plan was outrageous, then it really must be a doozy.

They were in the newly rebuilt Burrow living room, on the afternoon of a particularly rainy day. Harry and Hermione were staying over with the rest of the surviving Weasley clan until they got on their feet. It had been a tough year after the War ended, and the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts was fast approaching. It would be the first year in over a millenia that the school of witchcraft and wizardry would not open her doors. Repairs were still underway, and the special wards that needed to be restored took months to reach full strength. No one was quite sure actually, as they were among the oldest in wizard history, many developed just for the school and used only once—by the Founders themselves.

At any rate,the entire Wizarding world was in repair as well. Things were no longer a hustle and bustle, but slow recovery and healing. Diagon was as dim as her dark sister alley, Knockturn, and the vibrant colors of their world had turned to melancholy greys. McGonagall said it was because so many were still in mourning. Magic had a habit of reflecting emotion, she said.

Presently, Hermione stood on their side, hands on her hips and an undecipherable look on her face. She had some circles around her once lovely caramel eyes, and Harry knew that his best friends suffered from the same nightmares that plagued him in the dead of night. In fact, he knew it from experience. It had only been the last few weeks that the three had become comfortable sleeping in different bedrooms. After camping together for almost a year, they just hadn't felt safe being far from one another. They had been conditioned over months to be alert and fearful, you see. Sleep was a luxury, and safety a gift. It was often that Molly Weasley found them in the living room, Ron and Harry on makeshift beds on the floor and Hermione on the couch, a small blue flame of hers in a jar glowing on the coffee table. Sometimes, George would join them when Percy was off on Ministry business.
Oddly enough George had clung to Percy after Fred was killed; though nothing could replace Fred, it did George some good to bond again, however little. And Percy had mellowed a great deal after the War. He had realized for a long while now that family was precious.

Luckily today was a day everyone was out for some reason or other except the three of them and a certain guest Harry had invited. Harry had planned it this way.

"Calm dow—" Draco Malfoy said, with a careless wave of a silky dark green glove. Ronald cut him off with a freckled finger of his jabbed right in the blonde's face. Draco was Harry's unannounced guest. He wasn't in a particularly good mood as when he had called upon their residence (their Floo was secure from most if not all fireplaces these days) Ron had laughed in his face, slammed the door shut and left him standing in the rain until Harry happened by twenty minutes later and saw him scowling from the window.

"SHUT it, Malfoy."

"Merlin, Weasel, I'm only trying to help you." Draco sniffed, a flicker of his once vibrant silver eyes flashing with strength of his youth. He wasn't even twenty yet, same as the Trio, but along with them he had lost much of his youth because of the last few years.

"Help me? Bloody twit, where was your 'help' at the beginning of the war?!" Ron said with a mirthless laugh. Draco narrowed his pale silver eyes. Harry sighed and wiped his face with a hand. Hermione still remained quiet but looking on with worried but bright eyes. She often kept things to herself now, as she had nothing more to prove and was confident and secure in her knowledge. She had gained a quiet intelligence and wisdom that would impress even Snape, had he still been alive.

"Try to get it through your thick peasant skull—The. War. Is. Over." Draco enunciated every word, standing deadly close in Ron's face, making the red-head turn a shade of purple that Harry mused rivaled his old Uncle Vernon's. The two purebloods stood there, breathing deeply at one another, but silence fell like a cold blanket. Until Harry spoke up.

"Not for everyone…" He murmured. The others turned to look at him.

"The War is everywhere we look." Harry continued, failing to meet the on looking eyes he felt on himself as he spoke. "It's still fresh in our minds. When we look at something we thought would last forever…" Ron chanced a look at a photograph of them during First year hanging on the wall, Hogwarts in the background, tall and untouched by war and death…

"When we see history repeating itself, though we tried everything to stop it."

Hermione thought of Andromeda and Teddy, and the child who would never know his parents except by the stories of others, quite like another boy she knew…

"When we look in the mirror."

George saw who he missed every day. Every time he looked in his reflection. It was his own Mirror of Erised, Ginny would say quietly when Harry mentioned how worried he was over the surviving twin's quietness. They were lucky he was strong enough not to be overcome by grief. Most days at least…

"When we realize who we had…" Harry's voice cracked here, "But it was too late…"

Here Harry's thoughts went backto months ago…

He had received an answer to an owl he had sent Headmistress McGonagall, an answer he did not like one bit. He Flooed over immediately, making the witch startle and wield her wand with surprising quickness. He found himself in the ruins of Dumble-no, the Headmaster/Headmistress' office of Hogwarts.

Who was he kidding? It would always be Dumbledore's.

This was also the first time since, well, forever, he had a wand pointed at him and he with none in his own hands. His Holly remained in his back pocket of his worn jeans. The Elder wand lay safe and sound bundled in his Invisibility Cloak in his old school trunk (which had survived somehow through everything).

"Harry James Potter!" Minerva squeaked, her silvering bun disheveled in her fast movement. Harry stared blankly at her, and she stared back before narrowing her eyes.

"How did your first class with me begin, Mr. Potter?" Minerva asked in a voice that sounded in her old teaching tone, when she quizzed in class on a particularly hard but vital topic.

Harry had blinked but relaxed, remembering the day well.

" Ron and I were late and you were still in your animagus form. Ron thought you were brilliant when you changed in midair, even after that bit of tongue lashing about tardiness." Harry smiled, blushing still at the thought of his eleven year old self getting into trouble the very first day of school.

McGonagall lowered her wand and smiled kindly, straightening her bun and stepping over a pile of parchment left on the floor. Harry felt relief at passing the test (there were still a few stragglers about that remained loyal to the Dark Lord's cause and precautions were needed…and it was instinct now to take them), and he too stepped over piled of rubbish and damaged goods to welcome Minerva's embrace.

"Still 'Professor' is it?" She said in her thick Scottish accent and with a warm but tired smile.

Harry merely blushed again. "I probably won't ever be able to call you just…Minerva. Ron'll have fits if he found out." Harry chuckled.

"Indeed, well, it's open for the three of you, hmm?" Harry grinned at that. The past few months Harry, Ron and Hermione had been helping fix up things when they could…and when it didn't hurt so much. And their old teachers who were left kept insisting on them calling them by their first names. It was a bit surreal for Harry. They viewed him as equal and he still felt like an awkward Firstie.

"What can I do for you do be in such a rush up here? It'd be a great deal better kept had I started up sooner…but I've…I've left it…(she sighed here)…finally girded my loins and started on…this." She waved an arm to encompass the crumbling tapestries and torn portraits, the broken knick-knacks and burned carpeting. It was rather off-putting to see the office in such a wreck. Even when he had that horrible outburst, it hadn't been this completely destroyed. And Dumbledore had the skill to repair it all to perfect shape.

Thinking of Dumbledore made Harry look about for his portrait. He smiled to himself as he saw his old headmaster snoozing in a comfy chair with purple doilies.

"I got your owl." Harry managed to say from his deep thoughts.

Minerva sighed. "I know then why you're here. But there's no way, Mr. Potter, as he had abandoned his post upon his…passing…"

Harry turned to her and Minerva was taken aback by how much life remained in his emerald green eyes. He held an age far beyond his years and yet his eyes…they spoke volumes of pain and anguish but also of truth and hope. It wasn't often Harry had this look nowadays, and she was impressed that on this particular subject he would feel so strongly.

"I realize that Professor…but…he deserves it." Harry simply said.

"I know, my dear child." Minerva said quietly."If it were up to me, I would allow it as swiftly as possible."

"I'll have a talk with the Board then. For once I'll actually use my fame to do some good. Hermione's still got that Skeeter woman's number if it comes to that." Harry said in all seriousness.

Minerva smiled again, seeing that old determination in her little lion.

"I wish you luck then and await your owl."

Harry nodded and was about to step out onto the Floo when he suddenly stopped and put a hand on the mantle, as if what he were about to say required him to gain extra support.

It took him a moment to work up the courage to ask, and when he did he never turned back to see how it was received.

"Do you miss him?"

He was met with a quiet as he knew McGonagall would need to form an answer.

"I miss them both." She finally said, a tremor in her voice. "I will always regret that last meeting with Severus. Looking back I see the things he did as they were. He was protecting us all while looking for you, to warn you. But we were all so blinded by distrust…I was blinded." She shook her head and sighed again. "He didn't help matters with his demeanor and sharp tongue over the years. He was just so…so bloody good at his job. Kept us guessing till the very end." She laughed softly, as if recalling fond memories of Snape's melancholy attitude and unfortunate role as teacher/spy. "Severus and Albus will be sorely missed."

Harry's heart clenched and he nodded then was swept away by the green flames.

…

Harry shook his head free from the relatively fresh memories. He didn't need to think about when he actually met Snape's portrait…not now. He needed his mind clear for what he was about to propose.

"Harry's right." Hermione said somewhere far away. Draco snapped his fingers in his face and Harry snapped back to reality.

"You can't be serious, 'Mione! You're the sensible one!" Ron gasped.

"Look, if we have a shot, then let's do it. If we can save the ones we loved…do things right the first time…maybe the War will never have happened. There are scars we all have to live with…scars we should never have had." At this, Hermione rubbed the scar on her forearm where Bellatrix had carved out 'mudblood' in her skin, making a magical scar that would never fully heal. Draco glanced at it and if possible paled even further and looked away. He caught himself touching his left arm, shuddered and let both arms fall limply to his sides.

Ron looked from Harry to Hermione and then Draco, as if searching for a sane person amidst the insane. His blue eyes narrowed however as they lingered on the lanky Slytherin.

"You talked Harry into this, didn't you?" He accused.

"I certainly did not!" Draco replied in a scandalized tone. "Potter…well, we've been talking—"

"'Talking?'" Ron repeated. Harry winced as he was sure he heard some tone of hurt there.

"Yes, is there an echo?" Draco snided back.

"YOU—" Ron began to bellow as Hermione put a hand on his chest, shushing him and Harry stepped in between his best friend and their former enemy.

"Yes, Ron. At the ministry. You know Draco and his father have been helping us search out former supporters of Riddle. We've been paired up more than once and we got to talking…about what happened. Why we all did what we did…" Harry calmly explained, putting his hands on Ron's arms and making his friend look him in the eyes. "He wishes us well—"

"Malfoy wanted Hermione dead in second year, he said so himself!" Ron accused, making Draco widen his eyes in surprise.

"You remember that?" He asked, a tremble in his voice Ron was surprised to hear.

"That was a million years ago, Ronald." Hermione said softly, rubbing the small of his back to calm him.

"But a death wish just the same." Ron replied.

"I was twelve!" Draco almost yelled back in fright. He was clutching his robes and looked extremely pale now, paler than normal. This made Ron stop his train of thought for a moment.

"What's got into you?"

"What's…? Merlin's beard, do you not realize what they'd do to me if the Ministry found out I said that?" Draco almost whispered. Ron blinked at that, thrown off kilter.

"It was because of Potter's testimony that my mother helped him….and…and yours that I did not turn him in when I had the chance back at the manor….that kept me out of Azkaban. I owe you three my life in more ways than one! Why would I destroy my only saviors in this world?" Draco said through closed but pained eyes. He was wringing his robes, causing wrinkles. Something very un-Malfoy-like to do.

"And I'm sorry I said that, Weasley…Granger…. I was young and didn't know what it truly meant…"He opened his eyes again after silence followed his statement. He saw Hermione's gaze soften, Harry's sad but believing and Ron's gobsmacked.

"There was a lot I didn't understand back then. I learned it the hard way. As did we all I imagine." Draco continued, his voice low and eyes staring at nothing.

"Well, I honestly don't see how this can even work, regardless of the madness that is your plan, Harry." Ron huffed. Harry grinned, knowing his best friend had just reluctantly accepted Draco's apology.

"Draco and me—" Harry began but was interrupted.

"Draco and I, Potter." Draco corrected absently. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Will you shut it for two seconds?" Ron snapped. Draco folded his arms but obliged.

"Draco and I have worked out all the details. After altering Hermione's old time turner—" Harry was again cut off.

"My time turner?" Hermione gasped. "But I thought all of them had been destroyed—"

"Not yours. The one from third year. McGonagall found it in a cracked safe of knick-knacks Dumbledore had saved over the years. She said he most likely kept it because of what we did with it that year. It was sentimental to him because of us and Sirius." Harry explained.

"I for one thought Potter was joking when he first told me that story." Draco said with a wry smile. "It explained a few things though."

"Boy, we sure could have used a time turner a few times over the years." Ron said sadly, shaking his head.

"Hence why we're here now." Draco drawled, but it wasn't mocking, but oddly gentle.

Ron sighed, "So, you two altered it. How?"

The two in question shared a look and then Draco took over.

"At first we had hoped to…go very far back…to before the Dark Lord murdered the Potters." Ron glared at the 'the dark lord' bit.

"But it's just not possible. The magic we're using now on this is stretching it already. Time turners are meant only to go back minutes, hours…a few days at most." Draco continued, and Hermione looked like her old curious self listening to his theory that Ron hadn't the heart to interrupt him.

"So, if we can't stop Voldemort from marking Harry, or even from him making any horcruxes, then how far back can we go?" Hermione asked, scared the answer may be more recent than she'd like.

"We're thinking between second and third year, possibly." Harry murmured.

"That's a heck of a big gap there, Harry." Ron replied.

"Oh but that's perfect!" Hermione said excitedly. "Voldemort hadn't come back yet…but we'd become friends already…oh it's wonderful!"

"Not for Ginny." Ron grumped and Hermione tinged pink at forgetting about the almost fateful end of the youngest Weasley second year. "On Ron, I didn't mean—"

"It's okay. I know. Besides, maybe we can stop it? If we go back far enough?"

"Maybe. But I'll still have to kill that Basilisk." Harry grimaced. Draco groaned.

"I forgot about that." The blonde moaned.

"It wasn't as if you were there the first time, Malfoy." Ron glared.

"Doesn't mean the entire school hadn't heard all about it the next day, Weasley." Draco shot back.

"Oh, but…we'd have to be careful regardless…we can't let our past-selves see us!" Hermione gasped, suddenly remembering.

"Oh we took care of that too." Draco waved nonchalantly.

"Excuse you." Ron glared again, stepping closer to Harry.

"Well, we did." Draco huffed. Honestly, that Weasley was possessive of his friends. Hmph.

"Um, well, you know how real time just plays out once you go back?" Harry asked, and his friends nodded. "Well, we decided that instead of complicating things with doubles of ourselves, we'd try something along the lines of displacement….or rather, replacement."

"Oh, but how could that work? Where would our younger selves go? Even you can't pass for a firstie anymore, Harry." Hermione smiled teasingly, though a spark of sadness underlay somewhere there.

"Well, what I mean is…we'll be replacing ourselves permanently."

"WHOA, we can't kill ourselves!" Ron freaked out.

"It's nothing so underhanded, you fool. We developed a kind of magic that is stronger than simple displacement charms. When we turn the time turner, it will locate our magical signatures and transport our consciousness into our respective younger bodies. It's like a port key in a way." Draco explained.

"No…that means…Harry, you'll be a horcrux again!" Hermione gasped.

"We don't know that for sure, Granger. The spell is tricky. It not only replaces but fuses certain elements rather than simply doing away with them." Draco replied.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron asked, exasperated.

"It means that there's a chance the spell won't allow the part of my young self with the horcrux to fuse to me, so it'll be erased in a way. It's complicated to explain..." Harry shrugged. "All I know for sure is that our memories will be intact."

"This is so risky Harry. I can't see you die again…" Hermione welled up with tears now.

"Hermione…" Harry took her in his arms. "It's worth it, isn't it? Everyone who died…they'll be alive. It's a price I'm willing to pay if I can see them alive and safe, and keep them that way." Here Ron took both his smaller friends in his arms and they held each other as Hermione gave soft sobs into Harry's chest.

Draco stood to the side, head bowed and staring at his shoes, feeling out of place and a certain emptiness envelop him.

After a moment the trio gently unfolded, Harry wiping his own eyes under his bulky glasses, Ron muttering about something having gotten into his own.

"Well, are you three done with your water works? I'm quite ready to get this over with." Draco said, but Harry noted his discomfort and perhaps even fear.

"Draco, you'll be okay, alright? We'll convince your family to join the Light sooner. Somehow we will." He put a scarred hand on Draco's shoulder, the blonde amazed that Harry knew what he was nervous about. His father would be at the height of following the Dark Lord during the time frame they'd be going back. Convincing him would be difficult. His mother, hopefully, not so much.

"Okay, so I think I've got most things straight on all this. But what do we do when we get there? What do we change or stop from happening? Do we tell anyone when we're even from?" Ron rambled.

"I don't know, Ron. We'll have to work on that when we get there and know exactly what we're dealing with. If we're not together when we come out of this, we'll need to establish contact as soon as possible, but remember, do it cryptically. The war has taught us subtly, I suggest we use that to our advantage."

"I think we should also have some sort of code word, to make sure it's us we're talking with. Anything could go wrong…"Hermione suggested.

"Or infiltrate…" Ron growled.

"You've both got a point…" Draco conceded, the pair blinked at that.

"Let's see…" Harry tapped his chin with a finger in thought. "It has to be something significant to us, but that no one else can understand…"

"That narrows it down." Ron rolled his eyes. Draco wondered when the red-head had become so sarcastic/pessimistic.

Ah, the war. That's when.

The four were standing there in a circle of sorts, racking their brains for anything that they could use.

Harry looked up, a bright and gentle smile on his face. "I've got it." He said, and the three facing him waited in the quiet. Harry told them his suggestion for the code word—or rather phrase. Hermione and Ron understood what it meant to Harry, but Draco remained confused. Harry, with a look of wariness from Ron and one of encouragement from Hermione, explained its significance, as simple as possible, to Draco.

"It's fitting really, if you think about it." Harry mused, more to himself.

"It's perfect." Hermione smiled.

Ron clapped Harry on the back and Draco just stood there, looking solemn. It was very unlike him, but then, a lot of his expressions were these days.

"Well, if we're all agreed, then we better go on before we change our minds." Harry sighed, knowing in his own heart he never would.

"If it were up to me, I don't know if I could go through it all again. I'm tired, Harry." Ron said wearily, and Harry knew he meant a deeper fatigue than that of exertion. Harry could relate. But then, he never was one to quit.

"I am too." Harry agreed. "But I need to save them, Ron. Stop Riddle before he even got started again. I've got the chance and I won't pass it up. But if you want, I…I can go alone."

"NO!" the three announced back in alarm, making Harry jump back in surprise.

"We'd never let you do this alone." Hermione said furiously.

"And you're going to need an ally from the other side." Draco chimed in.

"You need us. Just like we need you, Harry." Ron said in finality. Draco somehow knew Ron didn't particularly include him in that statement. But he wasn't sure why he cared in the first place.

Harry let that ink in for a moment, then Ron spoke again.

"What will happen….to y'know…the family?"

"I researched this magic we're using…"Harry explained, earning a beaming smile from Hermione for that," Long story short, the Ginny, George, Percy…everyone we know now won't really exist. They'll all be restarted like the timeline. In a way, it's better…they won't carry our burdens. And they won't exist in a world we left forever." Harry explained quietly. He was going to miss his Ginny though. They'd gone through so much, and their love was strong. But he knew if it was meant to be, then they'd find each other in that same love again. And he knew they would.

"Alright." Ron gulped, trying to remember the last words he's said to his siblings and parents. He knew he'd see them again soon…but they'd be versions he hadn't seen in almost a decade.

"Ready?" Harry said, a sparkle of light in his otherwise dull green eyes. He held out his hand, the one with Umbridge's scar.

"Ready." Hermione replied, grasping his hand in her own.

"Ready." Ron's voice cracked, placing his larger, freckled hand atop his friends'.

"Ready." Draco whispered, placing his slender gloved hand over Ron's, who flinched at the coldness of Draco's palm, even through the glove.

Harry stretched the gold chain necklace around them all, then with his free hand turned the orb with the click if the buttons on the side. He did this about seven times. Then once more in the other direction to seal the count and let the altered magic take place.

Nothing happened.

They stood there huddled in the room, then Harry let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

He was about to say something when the lights began to flicker. The lights clipped on and off, as if it were a power surge and the flickering became more pronounced and rapid. Bulbs exploded. Vases cracked and broke apart, making Hermione jump and cling to Ron, who had pulled her and Harry against him. Harry linked his arm with Draco's, pulling him into their protective huddle.

The clock to their side began to whir. It had everyone's faces (except Draco's of course). Harry's, Ron's and Hermione's pointed to 'mortal peril', Fred's said 'unknown' (and had been since his death) while the rest pointed to 'abroad'. But now it began to spin, and everyone's pointers began to blur in the movement. Only the trio remained in 'mortal peril'.

Their surroundings began to blur with movement, not unlike what Harry and Hermione experienced in their first time-travelling trip. Gusts of wind seemed to surround them, whipping their hair in all directions. Darkness blanketed the four, with flashes of multicolored light and various flashes of noise no one had time to decipher. Nothing was visible now, and so they each closed their eyes shut, waiting the 'storm' out. Harry felt the floor drop from beneath them and wondered for a second if they were falling. But they stood upright. Soon he felt his grip on Draco and Ron dissolve, and yelled out their names. The last thing Harry remembered was hearing Hedwig's soft hoot and seeing a flash of green light before the darkness swallowed him up.

Harry James Potter had been bracing himself for anything really. He had been working on this for a few months, and had plenty of time to think about the ramifications implied.

He knew the time would be anywhere from the beginning of his second year to almost his fourth. As Ron said, a pretty big gap. A lot had happened back then, and with Harry's luck, he'd be thrown into the midst of one of his more sticky situations.

But that hadn't happened.

Instead Harry was on his back and gazing at a sky full of stars. They weren't as vibrant as at Hogwarts though, because several streetlamps set soft glows of blue and gold all through the street. Harry took in several lungfulls of the clean, cool night air. He closed his eyes. All he heard were distant sounds of cars or people, crickets, and a few dogs barking in the far distance. He was alive and felt no pain. It was better than Harry expected.

But then he heard a whimper. He jumped to a sitting position and there, in the bushes past an old bench that sat near the sidewalk Harry found himself occupying, was a dark blob of shadow.

Harry squinted and then his eyes widened. Two silver orbs stared right into his green ones, and tentatively, a dark and raggedy paw took a step forward. Its back was hunched and fur matted and in need of washing. It was a huge black dog, and for a split second Harry didn't realize and immediately thought of the Grim.

But then he thought of his godfather an instant later, sending through him a jolt of recognition, elation, fear that he was hallucinating, and a dozen other intense feelings and emotions.

"S-Sirius?" Harry breathed in an almost whisper, his arms shaking beneath him as he held himself upright. The dog stopped dead cold and perked its ears up, letting out a confused but desperate whine. Its eyes seemed to widen to match Harry's and the two stared at one another in silence.

But the moment was lost as in a flash a double-decker bus had appeared. A gangly young man, one older than Harry, stepped off and looked over the boy. He has messy, shaggy hair and a bus cap on sideways. His face was peppered with blemish (something Harry was happy he hadn't been cursed with in his own youth) but his eyes were kind and warm, if a little mischievous. He may have been young and probably a dropout, but he had some street smarts.

"Oiy, what are you doin' on tha' floor then?" The man asked Harry who had broken his gaze of the dog to the bus. Harry looked back and found the dog gone. Harry sighed a shaky breath.

"I…tripped." Harry explained.

"Well, come on then. Me name's Stan. Stan Shunpike at your service." Stan gave a little bow and Harry had to smile to himself. He had almost forgotten who this man was…but now he knew exactly where and when he had travelled and couldn't believe his luck.

He turned and took in his only possessions in the world. A sturdy trunk and…a cage.

With a beautiful fluffy snowy owl inside.

Harry gulped back tears as Hedwig eyed him in concern. Harry vowed to tell her just how much he appreciated her once they were fully alone again. Right now he had to act nonchalant.

Harry hopped to his feet, but was still wobbly as his frame was significantly lighter (which was a real problem since he was already deathly skinny before in his own time) and his limbs were a bit awkward. He rolled his eyes at himself as he wasn't sure he wanted to see what he looked like as a lanky young teen again.

"Watch ye'self me lad." Stan commented, holding out an arm for Harry to grasp and helped him onto the bus. Stan then chucked Harry's luggage beside him on the rickety bed Harry now sat upon, as well as setting Hedwig on his other side, albeit gentler.

"So who are ya and where to then?"

"I'm Neville…Neville Longbottom." Harry replied fast, inwardly wincing at using his friend's name as an alias. "And the Leaky Cauldron if you don't mind." Harry grinned. He was at ease for he knew exactly what was going to happen. Well, from what he remembered anyway.

"All-wright Nev. Ern! You 'erd 'im! Off we go-o!" Stan shouted though Erne was right beside him. Ernie nodded, adjusted his huge bifocals that made him like an owl, and sped off, jolting the entire bus and its contents.

Harry landed on his back with a soft 'oof!' before righting himself again. Stan was leaning casually on a side bar near the door, flipping through the Daily Prophet. Harry stared at the face of his loving godfather on the front page, snarling at the photographer as he held his incarceration number, a haunted and wild look as he screamed. Harry felt his heart sink to know that Sirius had been in that awful place for almost twelve years or so only to die a fugitive from freedom in the next two. Harry glared then, a determined look upon him. He would make sure that didn't happen again.

Stan saw the intense scrutiny Harry gave the front of his newspaper and turned it over, a comprehending look dawning over his own features.

"Ah, I see you're just as int'rest'd in the ol' Black case as me." Stan nodded at Harry.

"Yeah…I hear even the muggles are looking for him." Harry said neutrally.

"Aye, they sure is. Think he's a regular muggle homicidal lunatic o'course. But we know bettah', don we Ern?" Stan shouted the last part to the driver who had just slammed on the brakes then hit the gas as if he were racing for NASCAR. He gave a gruff affirmation which Stan naturally understood. Stan then turned back to Harry.

"If'n you asks me, I'd suppose the bugger is after his poor li'ile godson, that 'Arry Pottah. Finish off the job he started all them years ago, says I." Stan continued, flipping through the paper. He flipped past a column by that Skeeter reporter and Harry made a noise of disgust at seeing her picture. He's have to remember to get leverage back on her and fast this time around.

Stan simply thought Harry's guttural noise was in response to his spiel and merely said, "Me thoughts exactly." Harry though was lost in his out thought as he thrashed about on the rickety bed. Hedwig hooted furiously within her cage. Harry murmured quiet comfort to her, to which she responded with coos of affection, unused to super attentiveness in her young master.

They finally reached the Leaky Cauldron and Stan helped Harry heft out his belongings which were few and the two parted ways. But before Stan turned his back on the Boy Who Lived, Harry found himself remembering more of the Stan in his time and couldn't help himself saying his warning.

"Stan…look. I don't know you at all...but I'm good with intuition." Harry began, encouraged by Stan's curious gaze. "All I'm saying is that these are dark times coming…"Harry winced at what he said next, "What with that Sirius Black running loose. Don't associate yourself with it. The Ministry is paranoid as is, and it'll only get worse." Harry finished and turned away, hoping this was the first life he could save.

"Er, thanks Neville." Stan replied slowly after Harry's retreating form, and in an instant, he was gone.

Harry sighed to himself. He remembered vaguely that Stan Shunpike had implied to friends that he'd some inside information on the darker parts of wizard society. By that time the Ministry was all over such blatant accusations and Stan found himself with a one way ticket to Azkaban, later aiding the Death Eaters under the Imperius….his final fate unknown.

Harry knew he never had anything to do with them and had just done it for the attention. Stan may not have been the sharpest quill in the inkwell, but he had a good heart. And to Harry that was enough.

Sighing again he gently carried Hedwig and her cage under one arm and lugged his trunk in the other. He was gasping once he made it to the entrance. He noted he'd need to get healthier if he were to accomplish half of what he had in the previous timeline. He mentally cursed his Aunt and Uncle for being such prats to him and almost starving him to this degree. He truly hadn't noticed until the last few years he'd not been in their total care for the summer. Hmm. Maybe he could try to talk some sense into them too. Dudley at least showed true promise if their last spoken words were any inclination.

Harry walked into the inn/pub/gateway to the wizarding world and easily found the innkeeper, Tom.

"Bless my soul, Harry!" Tom happily exclaimed. "Pleasure as always." He shook Harry's hand and Harry grinned back at him. "What can I do you for?"

"I'd like a room to stay in sir, if it's not too much trouble? I daresay I'll be leaving for Hogwarts soon enough." Harry said conversationally. He was at perfect ease right now, content that only a convicted killer seemed the only one truly out to get him at this point in time.

"Ah, that's fine Mr. Potter." Tom smiled. "Anything I can get for ya? A spot of herbal tea? A soup perhaps?" Harry smiled at the thought of food but the two were interrupted by another voice behind them.

"I believe shall be welcome to dine with me, Tom. We've a few things to discuss." Harry closed his eyes and willed his expression not to darken and successfully blanked his face when he turned around to meet the Minister.

"Good evening Minister Fudge." Harry said quietly. He was thankful that the place was virtually empty this time of night. Probably why Fudge had allowed the bus to cart Harry here the first time around.

"Mr. Potter?" Tom asked, not too fond of taking orders from someone he clearly didn't approve of.

"It'll be fine Tom." Harry smiled warmly. "Do take special care of Hedwig. She's my prized companion." Harry winked and Tom nodded with a grin. Harry then followed Fudge to a back room not too far and lighted well. Harry noticed the furtive glances Cornelius kept shooting his way, but Harry wasn't fazed.

"Have a seat Harry." Fudge said in fake warmness, sitting himself down across from the boy, a smile forced on his face.

"Thanks sir." Harry murmured.

"I know this must be about my Aunt, sir." Harry dove in, wanting to get this particular meeting over with. He was just happy he had a good meal to root through as the political puppet recited his script.

"Hmm? What? Oh! Yes…your…Aunt…well, no worries child. We all have our bouts of emotion, and blowing up your relative isn't really cause for expulsion. Accidental magic and all." Fudge shrugged and Harry hoped his faked relief would pass Fudge's anxious expression. Harry took a bite out of his roast and closed his eyes in delight.

"Thanks so much." Harry added for extra believability, and through a mouthful to emphasize his naïve youth. It worked.

"Of course, my boy." Harry prickled at that. Only Dumbledore could call him that.

"The Ministry is looking out for you, Harry. We always will." Yeah right, Harry thought as he sipped his juice. Huh, it was apple this time. Neato.

"And as such, upon hearing of your...impromptu journey from home—" The word you're looking for is runawayHarry thought again. "—I felt it necessary to warn you never to do so again. There are dangers out there Harry…especially now." Harry inwardly groaned as he yet again had to look appropriately confused and scared at the bumbling minister's foreboding tone. "Don't leave the protection of your home unless it is absolutely needful, do you understand?"

Harry nodded.

"Good. Off to bed with you then!" Fudge seemed wholly relieved and somewhat smug as if he was a guiding influence in Harry's life. Harry merely humored him and was excited to get back to Hedwig and his trunk. He paid Tom with the gold he had left and settled into his bed after doing countless spells and protective charms he'd learned from Hermione during their stay on the run all those months.

Harry delighted just lying on the soft bed, alone and quite sure he was safe. For now anyway. Hedwig made a fuss and Harry sat back up. He looked to the door and muttered a silencing charm just to be on the safe side. Harry would take all precautions needed this time around.

"Hey there girl." Harry murmured lovingly and Hedwig stopped her tantrum to look into her master's solemn but caring eyes. Harry opened the cage and let her perch on his arm. Harry then sat himself back on the bed, gently stroking Hedwig's soft chest plumage. Hedwig then commenced her soft coos and began to blink sleepily.

"Hedwig, I know you know it's me." Harry began. "But I've grown up. And I saw some things…things I don't want to happen." Harry found himself choking up and Hedwig looked at him curiously.

"I love you, Hedwig. And…and I don't want to lose you. Not ever." Harry's tears began to fall, just a few mind, but enough to make Hedwig ruffle her feathers as they fell on her and give Harry a giggle.

"I'd tell you never to try to save my life…but somehow I've got a feeling you wouldn't listen to me." Hedwig merely hooted and fluffed up herself.

"You remind me of someone…" Harry trailed off and then it dawned on him. He had almost the exact conversation with another overly loyal creature, years ago for him but in reality not yet a year.

Dobby.

"I'll have to check up on him." Harry said with a nod to himself. Yet another life to save. And Harry was glad for it.

Hedwig nibbled at his collar and Harry nudged her with his head. Somehow he realized Hedwig must've considered him something akin to her chick. The idea made Harry giggle some more.

The sound of bells chimed in another part of the inn and Harry glanced at the clock on the wall. This, he noted, was normal as far as wizard clocks go. It simply said the time like a regular muggle clock. It was nearing midnight already. If he remembered correctly, he had almost two weeks till the term began.

He had some letters to write.

He got up after setting Hedwig down in her still open cage and began to rummage through his trunk. He sat on his knees and slowly went through all of his belongings. Everything looked so new and he found himself smiling softly.

He gently took out the album Hagrid had given him at the end of first year. It had only a few pictures, ones of him and his parents, or James and Lily on their own. And one of him, Ron and Hermione. He frowned slightly, wondering where, if any, pictures of Remus and Sirius were. And—dare he dream!—some of his very young mother and equally young Potions Master. He craved those pictures now. Wanted to see them all. It had never occurred to him before now that such pictures must exist. He made another mental note to ask around once he got settled.

Setting the beloved album aside, he saw his broom. It was shrunken slightly to fit inside and he trailed a finger along the sleek wood. He sighed. It reminded him of McGonagall and their bond that he'd left behind. The war had brought them close, just like he had been with Dumbledore almost. He hoped he could form that bond again.

He shook his head of racing thoughts and gently moved aside his Quidditch Through The Ages for his spare parchment, a quill and ink.

He sat down on the desk beside his bed and began to write.

Dear Hermione,

I hope this letter finds you well. I find myself in alternate lodgings now. If I remember correctly, I had a row with the Dursleys, and you remember how they used to get.

Harry hoped his wording was clear enough for her to catch on. He of course remembered exactly what happened that night so long ago. Marge had the mouth of a sailor and the temperament of a banshee. But, if things hadn't gone well, and this Hermione wasn't the one he hoped for (or if this got intercepted) he needed to make sure it wouldn't give him away.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure you know where I am. I'm going to see if I can stay at the Burrow once I settle some things here and we can arrange to get our school supplies together. Maybe your parents will let you stay over too? We've got loads of figuring to do, what with this term coming up and everything we'll have to deal with.

Well, I better get to writing Ron. He's got a tougher job of it right now I imagine. Scabbers will likely cause him some trouble.

By the way, have you thought about getting a pet for school? Perhaps a cat?

Love, Harry

Well, it wasn't too abnormal. And he hoped Hermione would get his suggestions.

He folded it up neatly and sealed the envelope. He then wrote on the cover their code.

I open at the close.

He liked that it could simply mean just what it said. If worse came to worse, he could just tell Hermione he liked riddles. But he very much hoped his Hermione would be getting this. It would make things a whole lot easier.

Next he began his letter to Ron.

Dear Ron,

I hope everything at home is safe and sound. I'm sure you and the twins are up to some mischief.

Harry didn't what to feel about that line. Thinking of Fred and the map made him happy and sad all at once. He couldn't imagine how Ron must be feeling if he too made it home.

But I just wanted to remind you to keep Scabbers out of it. We all know that fool rat can cause us some real trouble. Don't do anything rash…just find a way to keep him quiet and out of sight until the time is right. Padfoot is anxious to meet him I bet, but we need to make sure it's a full party. We may just invite the minister.

Tell your mum I've arrived at the Cauldron and I was hoping I could stay over until term begins. I've written Hermione and hopefully we can get together and study what we can to deal with the coming year.

Tell Ginny I said hi.

Love, Harry.

Harry smiled. He knew he had to be a bit more…literal…when coding this letter to Ron. But he just hoped he got to him in time before he let his anger slip and Pettigrew along with it. Should this Ron not be his own…well…he'd just chalk it up to being weirder than usual due to his exposure to the Dursleys. He also knew his young self didn't usually end his letters with 'love'. But the three had gotten into the habit since they were all he had, and in ways vice versa. Harry valued his friendships a hundred times over now, and would not be afraid to show it, even if it would be out of character during this time.

Harry sealed the letter like the first, the code on the front instead of a name. He knew Hedwig was clever enough to know which went to who. He undid his spells and cautiously stepped out of his room, Hedwig in his shoulder packed with his two letters. He knew he should have written a third…but he was at a loss of a believable excuse to be sending Draco Malfoy a letter. He hoped he could think of one soon and in the meantime would see where he and his two-thirds of Trio stood. Perhaps Draco would initiate contact? That'd be far easier, but then with Draco nothing ever was.

Harry made it gingerly to the back alley, the cool night air grazing his cheeks and tufts of hair.

"I want you to send Hermione's first, then Ron's. Stay if they mean to reply straight away, okay girl? I'll set a charm to alert me when you come back and I'll meet you here. Be careful, luv. I don't want you getting hurt." Harry spoke softly and nudged her forehead with his own, earning a loving chirp in response. She stretched her wings and took off, the moonlight dancing on her feathers.

Harry stood there and watched as her form faded away. He found himself staring at the moon. It was almost full, and would be within the week. He sighed, knowing that for Remus this meant a torturing pain endured alone. It hurt Harry to think of it.

Harry made sure all was secure before plopping back down on his pillow. He was exhausted but he couldn't sleep. A part of him was alert now that he knew he was in a world that Voldemort was still technically alive. And in his sleepy haze times blurred and he had that familiar fear of the Snatchers or Death Eaters who could barge in at any minute. It was around four or five that morning that Harry felt the gentle surge of magic, alerting him Hedwig was back. He climbed out of the bed, having laid atop the covers in his street clothes, and went back outside.

Hedwig was waiting for him, perched on an old stump that had once been a tree growing through the cobble stone.

"Good job, girl." Harry beamed. Hedwig nipped his hand and cooed concern.

"I'll get some rest later. I'm used to it." Harry assured her. "Have you anything for me?" Hedwig stuck out her leg in response and Harry was happy to see two letters attached to her little leg.

Harry gathered the letters and fluffy white owl in his arms and left quickly inside.

Hedwig was quite comfortable in his arms and squawked a bit when he moved to put her back in her cold cage.

Harry reached into his trunk, hoping he remembered right about where he kept her treats. He gave her some, bade her goodnight and gently covered her cage with a blanket to keep her warm and comfy.

Harry turned around and sat at his desk. He felt very…anxious. More so than earlier. It was now that he would see if his best friends in the entire world made it here as he had.

He first opened Hermione's.

Dear Harry,

I can't tell you how happy I was to receive your letter! I was about to write you but…I lost myself in just spending time with mum and dad. I guess it was nice pretending nothing happened, y'know? And in a way, it hasn't. Not yet.

Harry's heart finally calmed down. This was his Hermione!

I'm not surprised you decided to remove yourself from the Dursleys. They were never too sympathetic to our cause. And I'm happy you made it to safety. I'll ask mum and Mrs. Weasley about staying over at the Burrow. And you're absolutely right, we've loads to cover in a small amount of time. I've written Ronald and we should have everything organized, but regardless you'll be there before me most likely.

Merlin help us if he loses Scabbers before we even get there.

And yes! I'll need to pick up Crookshanks and explain to him the situation. I'm sure he'll help us like he did Padfoot.

Anyway, stay safe Harry. I'll be seeing you soon!

Love, Hermione

Harry could almost shout with joy. He felt his hope falter a bit though as he picked up Ron's. Well, he might as well bite the bullet, as the Muggles say.

Dear Harry,

Mate! I can't tell you how crazy these past few hours have been! It's been like walking in a dream. Everything is the same, just how I remember it! Anyway, I won't say too much til' me meet up but blimey, it's been amazing.

Fred especially, Harry. He's doing great. They just look so young though!

Harry was elated once again but rolling his eyes at the near transparent way his best friend was describing things. Of course, Harry was extremely happy for him and knew what he must be feeling. He didn't blame him. Hermione's joy had been more subdued, since in a way her parents were still with her, not forever gone like Fred. But he also knew both his friends felt just as ecstatic and overwhelmed with joy at seeing their family intact, untouched by war and alive.

Harry felt lonelier than ever for a moment. He hadn't really met anyone yet…and in a way didn't have anyone yet. Other than Dumbledore. He sighed. He'd have his turn soon enough. Back to Ron's humorous inflection.

I found the nasty rat asleep on my bed when I came in. I slipped him some of the twins' experimental sleeping potion. I'll try to keep him sedated until we can find a more permanent solution. Like a werewolf accident. Or Crookshanks.

I hope Herms finds him again at that petshop.

Anyway, it's pretty late now (and you better get some rest!) but I'll ask mum and dad about you staying over until term. Keep an eye out alright? And be careful.

Love, Ron

P.S. Ginny blushed so bad when I told her you said hi to her especially! I forgot how adorable she was at this age. I'll try to get her to see you as a regular bloke instead of a wizard hero, haha.

Harry swelled with affection for his friends, and marveled at how motherly Ron had become under Hermione's influence. He was truly lucky for the friends he had.

He held the letters close for a moment, cherishing the words of his friends before putting them in the fire. He couldn't risk them being found.

It was almost six. Harry supposed he should start getting ready for the day. He had a few errands to run today and he needed to look rested. He rummaged again through his trunk, noting he should repack it later, and neatly. He finally found his old black jacket with the two white stripes down the sleeve.

He also found an old grey shirt, one of Dudley's, and some jeans. Harry sighed, reckoning he'd better get some clothes today. He never truly bothered when he was younger. But now he appreciated having shirts and pants that actually fit, and even robes if he found some he liked. He quietly shrugged off his shirt and old slacks he was forced to wear to please his "Aunt" Marge the night before. Harry then put on his chosen outfit and old trainers that were far more comfortable than Dudley's ratty dress shoes he'd also been forced to wear. He then chanced a look into the mirror above the dresser.

"You look like a ragamuffin." It said, and Harry chuckled, quite agreeing. His face wasn't as angular as when he last saw himself. His hair was a tad bit longer but wilder too. His glasses were the same at least. But his eyes were still a dull green, even a bit haunted. Dark circles graced beneath them and his skin was pale, even for him. Harry lifted a hand to the mirror to touch his reflection then gasped.

His own writing stared back at him from the small but permanent scar.

I must not tell lies.

Harry furrowed his brow at that. So the spell made him keep that? Weird. He sighed, knowing this scar and the way his eyes looked were vestiges from his past but also future. A future he was determined to erase. Rubbing his hand absently he wondered how he would explain if someone noticed it. He shrugged it off though, remembering no one had the first time around. And now it wasn't nearly so pronounced, just a soft white scar in Harry's handwriting right below his knuckles.

Stashing his vault key in his pocket, Harry left his room (casting powerful protective spells, especially over Hedwig) and made his way out into the secret entrance to Diagon Alley.

It was a warm day, but not overly so. It was early too, which helped Harry evade the usual crowds. He spotted his first destination and proceeded to make his way, glancing at the Quidditch shop, the shopkeeper just now opening doors and putting up the newest model broom: the Firebolt. Harry looked away quickly, as it made him think of his godfather and that in turn made him worry.

It was funny in a way, because the first time around he'd been confused, a bit scared and then angered at the mention of the wondering dog once he found out who he was supposed to be. Now Harry knew the truth, and only hoped he could arrange things to keep Sirius safe, no matter the cost.

Harry stepped up the steps of Gringotts and handed a clerk his key. Surprisingly, Griphook was assigned to escort him to his vault.

"It's been a while, Griphook." Harry said conversationally as they rode the short ride to his vault on the cart. The Goblin merely raised a brow at that and then replied.

"I'm surprised you remember me, Mr. Potter. Everyone usually refers to us as just the Goblins."

"Well, I'm not everyone." Harry smiled. Somewhere near the surface Harry felt a sort of bitter hate for the creature. He had betrayed them in Bellatrix's vault and stole away Godric's sword. But after hearing what befell him and the others later on…well, Harry would never have wished that on him. Perhaps if he could make a stronger good impression this time, the Goblin may be of use later.

That is if Bella still had Helena's cup.

Griphook didn't say much else after that, but continued to dart suspicious, and somewhat curious looks towards Harry as he continued to be civil. Harry grabbed only what he supposed he should need this coming year and then they made their way back up. Harry couldn't help but shudder a couple times, flashbacks of his last trip down deeper within these caverns still fresh in his mind.

Bidding goodbye to the Goblins Harry then made his way to Malkin's. He reckoned he'd ought to get his clothes since it would take longer this time around.

Harry was surprised it was open this early as he walked in, bells above him jingling at his arrival.

"Hello hello hello! What can I do you for?" Madame Malkin bustled in.

"Hi." Harry said shyly. "I'd like to be fitted for my school robes, and I'd also like to get some casual wear, muggle and wizard style if that's agreeable."

"Ah, well come right here, Mr. Potter. Gryffindor yes?" Madame said, swishing her wand to gather her magical measuring tapes and some nice fresh robes ready to be fitted.

"Yes ma'am." Harry smiled.

"Alright…ah! There we go. "She muttered, carefully taking his measurements and he stood there. Harry heard another jingle as someone else arrived into the store but since Harry's back was to the door (curse it! Years of paranoia and he'd already made a rookie mistake!) he didn't see who it was.

"I'll be right with you dear. I've just got to get some of these patches attached in the back. I wont be but a moment!" And she hurried off, Harry tunring to face silver eyes staring back.

"Potter." Draco Malfoy drawled.

"Malfoy." Harry nodded minutely in greeting, something his younger self would have puked before doing.

The two stared at one another for a moment and then Draco spoke again.

"I heard something rather…interesting…yesterday."

"Oh? And what was that?" Harry asked, as he began to peruse the clothes racks to hide his nervousness. He had no idea if this was the Draco he knew or the Malfoy from now.

"It was a sort of riddle…'I open at the close'. Mean anything to you?" Draco was met with green eyes, a bit duller than he expected but hopeful and happy at what he had said. He felt warm at having caused that reaction.

"Indeed it does, Draco." Harry chuckled happily, hugging the blonde who was sputtering incoherently at the contact.

"Merlin, get off me. People will talk!" Draco said, though he didn't throw Harry off as the later would have expected.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked excitedly.

"Getting my robes before you and your little entourage do. Obviously I'm too late." Draco sniffed.

"Nah, it's just me right now. I reckon we'll get our books and all later after I meet up with them."

"Thank goodness."

Harry rolled his eyes and then began to genuinely search the racks for things he liked. He found a nice green muggle-style t-shirt and slung it over an arm, continuing his search.

"Oh you can't be getting that." Draco sneered.

"It's nicer than what I have on now." Harry replied, not looking up.

"Tch, trash is not better than rubbish, Potter. They are the same thing."

"Don't you have some diamond cuffs to buy or something?" Harry smirked.

"No, that will be next year, when we attend the Yule Ball." Draco huffed, opting to look at some shinny leather shoes.

"Ugh, don't remind me." Harry grumped, but his scowl softened as he found a nice maroon button up he could roll up at the arms.

"You know that muggle shirt is a Slytherin color." Draco commented from his side of the room.

"Mmm-hmm."

"You don't mind?"

"Hmm? Oh no. I've always liked green. Well, more of a dark teal green, but the general color is nice too."

Draco made a noncommittal sound at that. It was bit surreal that here he was, causally shopping for clothing with the savior of their world. It made him stop and stare at Harry for a moment.

Harry noticed Malfoy had ceased making small noises of movement and looked up to see the blonde looking at him. Just looking, as if in awe.

"What?" Harry asked self-consciously, wiping at his face and looking at his rumpled jacket.

"Heh, nothing Harry." Draco replied softly, realizing just how humble and normal Harry really was. Meanwhile Harry was amazed Draco had called him by his first name.

"Look, we haven't much time. Have you heard from Weasel and Granger?" Draco decided to change the subject as Harry had that 'I knew you were my friend!' look again. Plus, they really were running out of time.

"Yup." Harry answered, picking out a nice dark, warm green sweater with silver stripes. Draco rolled his eyes, knowing Harry meant to make some statements this coming year, and apparently was starting with his choice of clothing.

"Well?"

"Ron and Hermione are fine and no one suspects anything." Harry said in a whisper. Draco nodded.

"What about you? Is your father with you?"

"Yes. Things are fine, thought I think my parents were suspicious when I didn't act so…pompous." Draco wrinkled his nose from admitting that. "Father had some ministry business to do, likely to with Lupin's placement on Hogwarts's pay roll. He doesn't seem to take to the man. I'm just thankful he hasn't found out what he is." Draco whispered back. It was Harry's turn to nod.

"Hopefully your Head of House won't have such a loose tongue this time." Harry said a bit harshly.

"Yeah." Draco sighed.

At that moment Madame Malkin tutted back into the main room, fetching Draco to fit while handing Harry his new robes. Draco noticed Harry's reverent look as he held them, a hand gently going over the Gryffindor badge.

"You're much taller dear, let me get some longer base robes…" Madame mumbled more to herself. Draco smirked at Harry who rolled his eyes. Madame summoned the robes and began to fiddle with the tape.

Harry meanwhile found a few more items he really liked, as well as a couple casual robes, one green and the other a dark maroon with brown accents. The latter reminded him of Remus.

By the time he was ready, Draco was as well.

They took their turns paying and then travelled back out into the street, which was slowly filled but was still virtually empty.

"Well, where are you off to then?" Draco asked, tucking his package under an arm.

"Probably back to the Leaky Cauldron. I'm waiting to hear from the Weasleys. You?"

"I might as well get my books, including that ghastly book Hagrid made us buy."

Harry chuckled. "At least we know how to tame it now. Besides, Hagrid really knows his stuff when it comes to magical creatures. And it means a lot to him."

"I know that now." Draco replied softly. They continued their walk down the street, keeping a relatively slow pace. A few stares came their way as one or two people recognized them both, but overall they looked like two friends enjoying a casual conversation. Harry stopped at one point and Draco, feeling his presence leave turned back and came to his side.

"What's the hold up Potter?" He asked.

"It's just…well…it's where their shop would be. Weasleys Wizard Wheezes." Harry replied, looking at the corner apartment and shop, empty and dull with a sign saying it was available for rent.

"Oh yes…I vaguely remember that place." Draco said, taking the scene in.

"It was brilliant y'know. The twins are right geniuses."

"Well, maybe it'll be back."

"I hope so." Harry smiled. And they continued on.

They arrived at the bookshop, Flourish and Blotts. It was nearing 10 am and so Harry had become quite hungry, or so his stomach reminded both the boys with a particularly large growl.

"That's my cue." Draco tried to say with a straight face but couldn't. Harry laughed with him.

"Go on Potter, I'll see you on the train."

"See ya, Draco."

And with that the two parted ways. Harry was barely in the thresh hold of the inn when Tom stopped him.

"Harry, dear boy. I received a letter for you. The owl nearly killed himself running into that stump outside, the ruddy thing."

Harry chuckled his thanks and took the letter, amused that Errol was still as wobbly and blind as he remembered.

Harry carefully peeled away his spells, reinstated them once he got in his room, then plopped on his bed, packages beside him. It was a letter from the Weasleys alright. Harry commenced to open it.

Dear Harry-kins,

Mum made me write this, as she's currently occupied with swatting my brother with a spoon. George has got to learn to be more careful with our experiments I tell you! Silly prat let some of our sleeping potion spill on the carpet in the hall somehow, but denies ever leaving our room with it. My bum still smarts! At least your relatives just put bars on your windows, we get a full on wooden utensil!

Harry couldn't help but laugh out right at that.

Ooop, Mum is telling me to hurry up. Anyway, dear Harry-kins, ickle Ronnie told us about you hedging for a place to stay with us at the lavish apartments within the Burrow. Say no more! Mum and Dad will be glad to have you, and we kids suppose one more can't hurt! (we'll outnumber those pesky adults!) You can Floo over with Dad, who will be coming by to get you around noon. See you then little brother!

-Fred W.

Harry's eyes welled up when he realized this letter was written by Fred Weasley. And what was more, he had been called his brother.

Harry decided it was safe to keep this letter and so he gently folded it and stuck it into his family album. He glanced at the clock, sighed and began to undress once again, opting for actual clothes he bought for himself, intending to burn Dudley's clothes once and for all. It wasn't like he was bitter toward his family, though if he were honest with himself, it still hurt after all these years, but he honestly hated what they represented. That the people who he had left didn't care to give him proper clothes, much less love that a family should. He knew they had the means, but simply chose not to. And that was something he was done with dealing with. Harry chose to wear a blue t-shirt he had gotten and dark blue jeans. Harry had even gotten some converse, but how Madame Malkin had acquired them Merlin only knew.

After that he emptied his trunk, sorted his things carefully then placed them back in one by one, laying Dudley's hand-me-downs on top so he could get rid of them later. He had just sat down on the bed again when there was a knock at his door. Hedwig rustled awake at the noise and Harry took off her blanket and laid it on the bed. He then straightened his shirt, tried to flatten his unruly hair and took don his lingering spells.

Harry then took a breath and opened the door.

Harry grinned as the sight of Arthur Weasley entered his line of sight as he opened the door. The younger but still older man was brushing some soot off his robes and trousers. His hair wasn't nearly as greying as when Harry last saw him and his face contained less worry lines and paleness. As Mr. Weasley looked up to Harry with his own warm smile and bright eyes full of mirth and wisdom from a father of seven children, Harry had to stop himself from giving the man a full on bear hug. As it was, Harry gripped the door handle and blew some fringe off of his face and simply grinned back some more.

"Ah Harry!" Arthur greeted the small Potter boy, gripping his hand in a firm handshake. Harry returned the shake firmly.

"It's great to see you sir!" Harry said happily, moving back to let the older man in and gently closing the door behind him.

"Nice room you've got here Harry." Arthur commented, hands on his hips. "You sure you want to ditch this peace and quiet for a full house at the Burrow?" he winked.

"Yes sir, I'd choose your home over anywhere else in the world." Harry said with feeling, but let his smile stay just as bright.

A flicker of gratitude, surprise and humble pride showed in Arthur's eyes at that for a moment before it was replace with his usual mirth.

"Well, it just so happens we've got enough room for one more rabbit in the hutch." He laughed as he settled on the end of Harry's bed. Harry took the small wooden chair across from him at the desk he had used the night before.

"So, young Ron says you had a spat with those Muggles again…"

Harry sighed, more for show than actual frustration. "They were more…unpleasant than usual. My Uncle Vernon's sister came to stay and started spouting all this nonsense about my parents and I sort of…blew her up."

Arthur's eyes went wide and Harry realized how he had put it. "Oh! Not like that—I mean like a balloon. She flew off into the sky." Arthur looked relieved but understanding just the same.

"You know Harry, accidental magic is nothing to ashamed of. It's to be expected, especially when you're under stress."

"Yes sir. The Minister said about as much last night."

"The Minister? Was here with you?"

"Yeah, he had the scene cleaned up and Marge's—that's that awful sister of my Uncle's—memory obliviated. Said not to worry but that I shouldn't go off on my own like that. Something about dangers and some such." Harry shrugged.

Arthur just gave Harry a long look, as if deciding whether or not to say something he'd been thinking about.

"Harry…there's a bit of truth there. There are dangers…ones that could kill you without a second's hesitation." Arthur said gravely. Harry blinked as he realized he was alluding to Sirius.

That's right…Harry thought. Mr. Weasley was the one who warned me about him last time around…

"I suppose you've heard about the escapee from Azkaban, Sirius Black." Arthur began. Harry decided partial ignorance was the best way to play this.

"Yes sir, but I don't see what that has to do with me."

Arthur looked uncomfortable with what he was about to choose to say. "He was a follower of…You-Know-Who. One of the most loyal. He's vowed to take up where You-Know-Who left off, and that means coming after you, Harry."

Harry did his best to widen his eyes and look fearful at this revelation.

Seemingly satisfied at having Harry's undivided and serious attention, Arthur went on. "Whatever you may hear about him, promise me you won't go looking for him."

"Why would I go looking for someone who wants to kill me?" Harry said, his incredulity not faked. He'd forgotten how naïve people seemed to think him at his time. Of course, he was pretty act first, ask questions later at this age too he supposed.

"Promise me, Harry. Please."

"I promise sir." Harry replied, feeling a bit bad at knowing he'd technically be breaking that promise at some point.

Looking relieved, as if a weight was off his shoulders, Mr. Weasley stood up, knees cracking a bit as he did. Harry stood up as well.

"Well now, where's your things?"

Harry lugged his trunk and his prized owl from her cage. He coerced her into staying in it as he shut the latch. He was thankful Hedwig was far too sleepy to care to fuss.

"Excellent! Let me take your trunk, you look like you're liable to snap in two carting it about, mm? No offence, haha, but Molly'll see to fattening you up this next couple weeks!" Arthur chuckled and Harry laughed along with him.

Harry paid Tom, bid farewell and his thanks, and met Mr. Weasley at the Floo. Arthur had shrunk the trunk and put it in a pocket and was now handing Harry a bit of Floo Powder from the mantle.

"Just yell 'The Weasley Burrow'. And uh, let's not have a repeat of last year hmm?" Arthur chuckled, "Molly almost had a right fit when you didn't come through!"

Harry laughed, remembering the day well. It was quite lucky Hagrid happened to be in Knockturn Alley too.

"The Weasley Burrow!" Harry said crisply, having had much more experience with the form of transportation than Mr. Weasley could ever realize, and stepped through the grate of green flames and made it with just a hint of a stumble to the other side. He was immediately met with a suffocating hug and flurry of red hair. A moment later the fire went alive again and out stepped Mr. Weasley who looked at Harry and his hugger with a bit of surprise.

"Ron! Son, you're making Harry there turn blue!" Arthur chuckled.

"R-Ron?" Harry gasped, as the strong grip around him lessened and pulled back to reveal it was indeed Ron and not Mrs. Weasley as he had expected.

"Hey Harry." Ron looked quite sheepish, ears already turning pink. Harry grabbed him by the neck and pulled his best friend into another hug.

"We made it." Harry whispered.

"I know." Ron replied, and Harry could feel his smile that mirrored his own.

"Come here, Harry dear! My turn!" Mrs. Weasley bustled over, cooking apron still on and hair a bit frazzled, but looking much younger and lively than Harry remembered her last. She positively glowed, he thought as she took him in his arms. Harry returned her hug, surprising her a bit.

"It's good to be back, Mrs. Weasley. Thanks again for letting me stay." Harry said, his green eyes while still a bit dull finally showing signs of their old sparkle Ron noted.

"Think nothing of it dear, you're always welcome." Molly smiled, and then began to cluck motherly at her other children to quit gawking at the stairs and greet Harry then to be washed up for lunch which was soon to be ready.

"Oh Merlin, lunch sounds good." Harry sighed blissfully, rubbing his stomach.

"When did you last eat?" Ron asked eyeing his shorter, more waif-like friend.

Harry just rolled his eyed in good humor when George and Fred slipped into their conversation, a twin on each side of Harry's.

"Someone's been getting a bit too motherly lately…" George winked.

"Indeed! Hugging us constantly!" Fred chimed in in mock despair.

"And now even little Harry is not immune!" George finished, giving his already tangled mop of hair a good noogie.

"Shut up you two! I just happen to appreciate my family!" Ron scowled, his freckles getting lost in his deep blush.

"Since when?" The twins said unanimously. Harry chuckled and Ron grumbled something unintelligible.

The twins then laughed, the sound almost like an echo or harmony, and they stood to face Harry and their younger brother.

Harry again felt his head go light in glee at seeing Fred alive. It was amazing how he could tell which was which now. He sometimes would look at the family albums with George, keeping the lonely twin company and he'd often comment to Harry and Ron the little differences between him and his then dead brother that most people failed to see. They had their subtle differences, such as Fred's hair was a shade redder than his brother's but you could only tell if you were really looking. George had denser freckles on his nose, but only just. After countless hours just reminiscing and perusing countless pictures with George, Harry had become an expert on the subject. Forgetting himself almost for a moment, Harry greeted them formally.

"Fred." Harry turned to the correct twin with a nod. "George." Another nod to the right twin. "It's great to see you two together again."

The twins shared a look, their smiled almost faltering in utmost surprise that Harry of all people had recognized who was who. Their own mum had a bit of trouble with it! That fact alone made them forget Harry's wording of 'together again' almost completely.

"How'd you-?" George smirked, as if wanting to be let in on a prank.

"Know?" Fred finished, sharing the same look but with more shock than mirth.

Harry's eyes widened only a fraction as he realized but he in turn only shrugged. He was much too old and tired to be panicked by such a small slip.

"Details." Harry replied. The twins just thought this a vague reply rather than an actual answer as it was and turned around laughing at his antics. They led the way for the kitchen, tackling Percy who had been taking a swig of water from his glass.

"Bit close, eh?" Ron murmured.

"It's fine." Harry replied with a contented sigh.

"If anyone's good at finding things out, it's them."

"Aw, Ron, look at them though. They're so little!" Harry whispered back.

The two were now in the doorway, leaning against either side as the rest of the family bustled about. Arthur was whapping Percy on the back as he coughed (from the impromptu tackle earlier) while the Twins looked a bit sorry but more so amused by Percy's sputtering. Ginny was already seated at the table, holding a cat that had on a jumper. She met Harry's eyes and quickly looked away in a blush. Harry lovingly smiled a bit at that. They turned and walked back into the living room and sat down on the fraying old couch, seeking a quiet more comfy and private place to talk for a moment.

"I know, right?" Ron replied. "I came to in my bed, after the uh, y'know. And it's a bit dark and I have no real idea where I am and then I heard it—a loud bang! Merlin, you can only imagine what I thought."

Harry nodded sympathetically. He would've had a ghastly flash back at that kind of sudden blast. Even after a year most veterans from the war—Harry included—would still jump at odd noises or spin a wand faster than someone could blink. It had become reflex. Poor Ron.

"I jumped up, wand at the ready. I cast Lumos and I see all my old posters. It wasn't till I heard Mum yelling at the twins to knock it off that I knew where I had ended up."

"That's amazing." Harry smiled.

"Yeah, took me a bit longer to figure out what time though. I couldn't just up and ask, they'd think I was nutters. But I did come out as Percy had begun shouting at George and Fred for slipping a gnome in his room. Ginny came down and threw pillows at them then went back upstairs. It was hilarious. I finally remembered my spelled Chudley Cannons calendar back in my room and saw the date. That was around the time your letter came."

Harry nodded this time, lost in thought at imagining the story.

"How about you?"

"Oh, woke up lying on a sidewalk." Harry said off-handedly.

"Oh wow. Nice."

"Not as comfy, but I remembered quicker because of it. Then I saw…You-Know-Who."

"WHAT?! HE'S NOT SUPPOSED TO BE BA—" Ron paled and began to yell. Harry covered his mouth.

"I don't mean that You-Know-Who! I mean, er, Snuffles!" Ron visibly relaxed at this and Harry removed his hand.

"Well, why didn't you say so?"

Harry rolled his eyes.

As if on cue, Mrs. Weasley began to call everyone to dinner, though most had lingered about the table already.

Harry and Ron sat together, Ron opting to sit on Fred's unoccupied side. Percy sat by Harry and then Ginny. Arthur and Molly near the head.

"Wow, this looks fantastic. Just like old times." Harry said quietly, and Ron nodded. The twins overheard, shared a look but didn't comment.

"Now, back to my earlier question. When did you last eat?" Ron narrowed his blue eyes at Harry, taking a reasonable bite out of a biscuit, making his parents' eyebrows raise in surprise.

Harry groaned.

"Muggles starving you again, Harrykins?" George asked.

"We can prank em for ya'." Fred said, a twinkle in his eye.

Harry chuckled despite himself. "Nah. I mean, sure, they don't feed me too well, but that's normal. I just haven't eaten since last night."

"Mmmph." Ron replied, stuffing the rest of the biscuit into his mouth, calming his slightly alarmed parents at the almost-different behavior.

"Well, eat up Harry, as much as you like." Molly commented, a bit of concern lacing her tone.

"There's plenty!" Arthur said happily, though he too felt a bit of pity for the boy. He wished they knew more about who those Muggles were that Harry lived with.

"Thanks!" Harry replied and promptly added more mashed potatoes to his plate, easily falling into the conversation around him.

It was mid-afternoon when Harry and Ron found themselves sitting beneath a nice shady tree in the lush green grass. Percy, Fred and George and Ginny were playing two-on-two Quidditch, allowing the two friends to talk some more.

"It was easier than I thought. Getting used to this, I mean. The way were all were." Ron said, leaning back against the tree.

"I know. Me too." Harry replied, idly drawing in the dirt with a twig. Another companionable silence went by.

"Did Padfoot say anything?"

"No. I saw him for only a moment, like last time." Harry said, a bit disappointed at that.

"We'll find him, once we get our bearings at Hogwarts."

Harry smiled, hopeful for that.

"Hermione owled me after you did. So I reckon the three of us check out."

"I talked to Draco at Madam Malkin's this morning. He's made it too." Harry said, trying to draw Hedwig now. She had arrived after lunch and was again asleep, but safely tucked away in Ron's room.

"Did you now? What'd the little snake have to say?" Ron asked skeptically.

"Oh, not much. He's concerned about me making some changes this year…"

"I thought that's the entire point."

"Well, yeah." Harry laughed, thinking of his slytherin colored shirts.

"Stupid git."

"Ron, c'mon. We can trust him." Harry looked around, spying the other Weasleys still playing in the air and their parents off in the garden. He still lowered his voice, paranoia still strong.

"Look Ron, you know what happened last time. A lot came from not trusting each other. We know who we can trust now and who we can't. Don't let it eat you up like it did Sirius, okay?" Harry's voice broke at the mention of his godfather. Ron looked ashamed for making Harry bring it up and put an arm around him.

"I'll try, mate. I really will. This is too important to mess up."

"Yeah."

The leaves rustled above them in the soft warm breeze and Harry let his eyes close and his worries melt into the sounds around him and the way the wind ruffled his hair. The air smelled of flowers and the sun allowed a soft glow as it lazed lower in the sky. It was perfect for Harry. Peaceful.

Harry felt like he could doze off for once and not be plagued with bad memories or the nightmares that usually took precious sleep from him.

"Oiy! Are you two gonna nap in the grass all day or are you gonna play some Quidditch?" Said a voice above them. Harry blinked and dazily saw a tall red-headed figure loom above on an old model broom. One of the twins by the sound of his voice.

"Keep it down, Harry's tryin' to sleep!" Ron all but yelled back. Harry chuckled in his haze. Ron noticed and sheepishly muttered an apology to him.

"Oh Come on then. He's got plenty time to do that later. Ginny's sided with George and all I've got is Percy—"

"Hey!" an indignant yelp said in response a ways off. It was Percy.

"Let's go, Ron. Besides, I'm a little rusty. I've been meaning to get in shape again." Harry replied, standing up and stretching. Ron was beside him in moments, ruffling his hair as the wind was steadily making it wild, much like Harry's on a good day.

"Yeah, I reckon you're right." Ron half smiled. In truth, it was difficult for Ron to be as exuberant about such things as Quidditch anymore. Like Harry, he still held that melancholy that permeated the world they left behind. After all they saw, trivial things didn't really matter anymore. And he hated it. He wanted to be carefree and not worry about the dangers of Voldemort or his followers. He felt restless because he wanted to get going; get it all over with. But then, this wasn't his seventh year and his parents would likely disapprove (even more) if he, Harry and Hermione went AWOL like last time. It just wasn't plausible, no matter how much he wanted to do it. But a part of him was content to just be here and relish in the simplicity of life he took for granted the first time around. He supposed Harry felt the same, only he was better at being calm about it. Harry had learned great patience after the war. Ron only wished he had half the capacity Harry had. With a sigh he tried to put behind him his anxiety and fretting and joined his siblings (including Harry, who was as much a brother as the rest of the clan) into the air.

It had been a few days by the time Hermione was able to join them. Mr. Weasley had her fireplace connected to the Floo and she gracefully came through, making Harry huff a bit at the ease she did so. After all these years and he still wasn't able to master it. Ah well, couldn't win them all.

In a flurry of brown bushy hair, Harry and Ron were enveloped in a fierce hug by a much younger Hermione than they remembered.

"Harry! Ron!" she said through happy tears. "Oh, but look at you both!" she gasped as she pulled back at arm's length to get a better look. She was beaming, eyes bright and hair flying frizzed in several directions.

"You're so pudgy!" she giggled as she poked Ron's stomach, who swatted her away.

"I am not!" He shouted as his ears went pink. "Look at you! You're…all…knobby!" Hermione just spun around happily. "I wouldn't have it any other way, my dear Ronald." Harry realized, rather belatedly, that while they were amazed at how young others looked, they themselves were in the bodies of thirteen year olds. Gangly, awkward and just beginning to grow into teenagers. Unfortunately, Harry knew now that he could expect a lag in his growth spurt in the next few years. Destined for greatness Ollivander told him. Yeah, right. Destined for shortness was more like it.

"Ohhh! Your voice is just beginning to deepen too! That's so cute!" Hermione continued to gush, making Ron blush several shades of red and look scandalized. Harry just laughed and rolled his eyes at his friends. Mr. Weasley had, by this point, lugged Hermione's trunk in after unshrinking it as he did Harry's earlier that week.

"Thank you Mr. Weasley!" Hermione beamed as Arthur bid them a happy farewell as he left back out the Floo for the Ministry. Molly was cleaning the attic (and trying to talk some sense into their ghoul about keeping the noise down) and the other Weasley children were about in various activities. The Trio was left to their own devices, if only for a while.

"Oh I just can't get over this. I mean look at us!" Hermione giggled again. Harry and Ron shared a bewildered but elated look. But then a shadow crossed over Ron's gaze and he held out his wand.

"What color dress did you wear at my brother's wedding?" Ron asked quietly, but his eyes blazed with anticipation. Harry just stood there, gaping. He hadn't thought to make sure it was her. In all honesty, the idea seemed a bit over the top, but then Ron had to be sure. He loved her, and would make sure this wasn't a trick. They all learned never to be underprepared.

Hermione's smile faltered, but came back full force as she answered. "Lilac, of course!" Ron heaved a relaxed sigh and hugged her again. Harry just stood there awkwardly before Ron and Hermione pulled him into the hug as well.

After helping the little witch cart her things up the rickety stairs to the room she shared with Ginny (with a sneaked levitation spell by Ron) they all settled in Ron's room to discuss what to do next. Harry had just finished telling about his trip to Diagon Alley and meeting up with Malfoy.

"Oh, that's brilliant. I'm so happy we all made it! Things are actually going good the first time around." Hermione sighed happily.

"Well, we still need to be alert. We all know how our luck usually runs out rather quickly." Harry said solemnly. The other two nodded.

"Okay, so what do we know?" He continued.

"Well, generally speaking for us, we all retained memories. Even scars…" Her voice faded as she looked down. Ron's eyes widened and gently pushed up her sleeve. 'Mudblood' was still etched in her forearm by Bellatrix. But it was faded, more so than it had ever been.

"Bloody witch. I hope she stays in Azkaban." Ron muttered darkly, then turned to Harry as Hermione smiled weakly and pulled her sleeve back down. Harry was gently running a finger over the lines Umbridge made him do to himself.

"I swear, if I see that Toad, I won't be responsible for what I do to her." Ron muttered darkly again, folding his arms to somehow physically hold in his anger on Harry's behalf. Harry merely smiled back at him.

"We'll need to be careful about these I suppose. Mine you can't really see unless you look at my hand close, and Hermione, yours is faded a good deal. I think the same can go for you. Though, long sleeves may be a good failsafe regardless. Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Alright, next on our list is something I've been wondering. Do you guys think we've still got the trace?" Harry asked barely above a whisper. Hermione blinked as did Ron.

"Oh wow, I didn't even think of that." Hermione replied, the tip of her hand touching her mouth.

"And here…they wouldn't notice since it's an already magical home." Ron added.

The three sat there for a moment.

"Well, it won't matter if we're at Hogwarts. If we do go back on the run—" Hermione was interrupted by a small explosion, signature of Weasley Twin experiments. Harry cast a silencing charm just in case.

"You were saying?" Harry said as he placed his wand back up his sleeve.

"Er, well, if we do go on the run, we'll just have to cross that bridge when we get to it."

"Or we can find out somehow before then if we have time. A little research can go a long way." Ron added, making his two friends gawk at him.

"Who are you and what have you done with my Ronald?" Hermione smiled. Ron just shrugged.

"Hey, I'm doing this by the book, no pun intended." He grinned.

"Excellent. We should have plenty of time anyway. We won't need to study too much to keep ahead of classes. It may have been a few years but it's basic stuff compared to what we know now." Harry pondered aloud.

"And being in the library will be good cover." Hermione commented.

"Alright, so we'll save that to look over later." Harry muttered, writing it down on some spare parchment

"I suppose the next pressing issue is Wormtail and S-er, Snuffles." Harry murmured.

"Oh yes, Ron, what did you do with that rat?" Hermione asked, a bit alarmed.

"He's been under a sleep potion for almost a week now, under a stasis spell, a body binding spell and a couple others that alert me if he somehow awakens or gets free. He'll be staying put nice and quiet and oblivious until we need him." Ron replied.

"Yes, I suppose that'll do for now. We need to act relatively quickly however. He can't survive on doses of potion and a stasis spell. Those are meant for temporary use. If he's killed it will make getting Snuffles innocent a harder job to do." Hermione twirled a piece of hair as she thought, creating more tangles.

"It'll keep for a month hopefully. It'll take that long to work everything just so if we play our cards right." Harry countered as he bit the end of his quill in thought.

"What's cards got to do with it?" Ron asked, confused by the reference.

"Muggle reference, Ron." Hermione waved off-handedly. "Now, about Snuffles."

"Yeah. The real question is do we want him to roam around half-cocked and send the school into a panic like last time, or do we take a more direct approach and contact him?" Harry mused.

"We, I don't know about you, but I don't want some Azkaban escapee to wake me up in the middle of the night with a knife as he looms over my bed with that crazy look in his eyes. Thanks but no thanks." Ron huffed. Hermione chuckled and rubbed his back.

"I agree. I just hope with us doing so won't bring back repercussions we aren't ready for. Our main advantage is experience and memory. Changing things will result in different outcomes. Some we may not be prepared for." Harry explained. As much as Harry planned to change things, they had to be smart about it. Tampering with time was serious business.

"That does seem logical." Hermione conceded. "We'll owl him when we know he's close. Wasn't he sighted near Hogsmede?"

"Yeah, he was. Right before I saw him at the Quidditch game I think." Harry struggled to remember.

"Well, regardless we'll have to owl him within the month when we reach Hogwarts. Time is of the essence." Hermione decided.

"Yeah, besides, we've got horcruxes to find and dark wizards to kill." Ron grimaced.

"Harry…do…do you know if, well…you're.." Hermione stopped as her voice broke.

"I don't. Not yet. That's another thing we'll likely have to research. Unless I can get Professor Snape to show me his mark, I see a snake and can talk to it, or I have visions again." Harry said quietly.

"But you don't know if being a Parselmouth was retained while Voldemort's soul wasn't…
Hermione ventured.

"All this what ifs and no solid answers. It makes me sick." Ron glared at nothing in particular. In reality he was worried for Harry and it came out as anger.

"It's alright. We'll cross that bridge too when it becomes a problem. Like I said when we started this, I'm here to save lives. I don't care if something happens to me." Harry tried to explain.

"We care!" Hermione and Ron shot back.

"And we'll find a way, Harry. We will." Ron said in a tone of finality. Harry nodded with a small smile, and scribbled some more on his parchment.

"Next is do we reveal ourselves?"

"Oh my, you think we should?" Hermione gasped quietly.

"Not right now, no," Harry amended, "But at some point we've got to convince the Order to allow us a place in their ranks. Dumbledore was too afraid of taking away our childhoods that he often kept things from us until he thought we could take them. That won't work now. (here Ron mumbled something about it never working in the first place) Plus, your parents Ron, and Remus and Sirius won't be too keen on us hunting horcruxes. But I'm not about to let them do it. We know how to handle them and won't be as affected this time around. But it'll be nice to have some backup."

"And it's likely to come up once they ask how we knew about Wormtail." Hermione sighed. "We could lie…but what's the use?"

"Right."Harry agreed, scrawling again with his quill.

"I feel bad about planning all this without Malfoy.."Hermione said after a moment, and Ron scoffed at that.

"I'm completely fine with it. The little bugger."

"Ron." Harry lightly scolded. "I'll fill him in when I get the chance. His priority is keeping an ear out in his house and trying to sway the would-be Death Eaters back to the light. Most are young enough that they may just turn."

"And we won't be shunning him." Hermione gave Ron a stern look.

"It'll be good to have him as an ally, and will curb the other Slytherins from trying to sabotage our work in class. The less mishaps the better." Harry agreed. It wasn't so much worry for their work however as it was for the safety of the students. The Trio had gotten fairly advanced in dueling and reflexes from the war were still fresh. House rivalries would be difficult to deal with only because a stay jinx from them would earn a powerful hex from the Trio.

"Well, he just better watch himself." Ron muttered. The three then began to plan and rack their brains for what exactly happened and when. Within the next few days they had also begun their homework (Hermione had already had hers done by the time she arrived. Apparently she started it every year at the beginning of summer. Ron huffed at the over-achieving attitude, just like old times, but actually dove right into his. Harry did as well, and it looked like for once he'd have all his work done before getting to Hogwarts. He even gave effort than rushing to get it done as he used to do.

Meanwhile the Weasleys eyed the Trio and their efforts. They could tell something was…different…about the three. For one, Ron wasn't as moody with his siblings and was more forgiving. He was doing his homework for school without complaint, and even helping Ginny with hers. Hermione wasn't bossing the boys into doing any type of study (however they had already done some on their own) and wasn't shooting off random long-winded explanations. She remained quiet and thoughtful but with an air of wisdom. Harry was the biggest change to them. He was carefree for the first time they'd ever really seen. Confident, full of mirth. His eyes were unusually dull, a murky green full of sadness, but they brightened whenever he interacted with the family. When he thought none of them were watching he would slip into a longing expression, almost pained. As if there was something he wanted to get over with, something he accepted yet was still wary of.

"It'll be good when he meets Remus." Molly whispered to Arthur as they cleaned up and shooed the children into the living room the afternoon before they were to go to Diagon Alley. Arthur had nicked an old muggle radio from work (it had been cursed by a witch to play the same sad love song to spite a muggle man she fancied but didn't return her affection) and had asked Hermione and Harry to have a look.

"I agree. I hope they hit it off." Arthur said with a sad smile. "I think they both need each other."

"I wish he hadn't been such a recluse after the Potters passed. But then losing poor Peter…and then Sirius…" Molly shook her head wearily. "He needed to find peace, not lock himself away with only his grief to keep him company."

"Then we will pray he can find a family again with Harry. He's a good boy, and I think Harry'll take to him. Even if he finds out about…y'know." Arthur shrugged, referencing Lupin's lycanthropy. Molly nodded sadly. Remus had always been shy at the old Order meetings unless he was with his three friends. He was afraid people hated him, and yet didn't blame them one bit for it. After losing his friends he had left the country for a time, making contact every year or so. He couldn't bear to see Harry, knowing he could never truly adopt him (that craving of family was too hurtful back then, knowing he wasn't worth it) and he never wanted Harry to see him in that horrible grief stricken state those first few years. Apparently he had been back in London these last couple years, and had agreed to come teach at Hogwarts. He must've finally come to terms with everything. Albus mentioned he was excited to meet Harry again, but also nervous. He had been virtually absent all these years and wondered if Harry would forgive him that. Little did he know Harry's great capacity to love and forgive.

It was with a sigh that Harry eased off the wall by the door, having eavesdropped (casually) and returned to the crowd by the little radio. It was rectangular and small; a handheld Hermione said in answer to one of the twins. Harry pondered now how his first meeting, and eventual relationship with Remus would develop now that Harry knew his future. He never really thought about things as the Weasley parents had just discussed. He never questioned why Remus just popped into his life, where he'd been…or anything. He also didn't realize that Remus, like Harry and Sirius, needed a family just as much. Well. Harry now knew. And he was going to make sure that Remus didn't only live but would have a family.

Turning back to the now, Harry smiled as Ron reverently flicked on the radio, as if he had done so many times before. Blinking, Harry now remembered the little device. It was the one Ron took with them during their 'camping'; when they were horcrux hunting. He met Ron's gaze, then Hermione's, and they all gave a small smile (which promptly had the others a tad confused if they noticed at all) and he turned the station.

It was a beautiful day as the Weasleys (plus Hermione and Harry) stepped foot on the platform of Nine and Three Quarters. Harry stood in place for a moment and closed his eyes, once again taking in the delightful sounds about him; the whistle of the train, the chatter of students and families, hooting owls and chirping toads and the overall happiness he could feel. It was a sight sorely missed to Harry's weary eyes, and so he opened them again, a small grin on his face.

Molly and Arthur were busy scolding the twins about getting better grades, expressing confidence of Percy's Head Boy position, gathering Ginny's things and making sure Ron didn't forget Scabbers. Ron assured them he had the rat safely tucked away in his pack and tried not to express his disgust at the creature.

"Alright, so the compartment should be right….there. C'mon, before someone snags it." Harry said, carting his luggage and Hedwig, with Hermione and Ron close behind. Harry's insides were almost full to bursting with anxiety. He couldn't wait to see Remus again, and yet was afraid now that he was who he was (war undoubtedly changes a person) he wondered if Remus would indeed befriend him again, or in reality for the first time.

Harry stopped in front of the sliding door, and reached ever-so slowly as his heart began to beat faster and his hand began to shake. He suddenly felt a heavy thud on his shoulder and nearly jumped his skin. But it was only Ron, nodding him on. Trying to ignore the giddiness at just seeing the blurred form of Lupin through the glass, Harry opened the door.

They quietly entered, careful not to disturb Remus, and sat down. Ron and Hermione took the seat opposite and Harry sat beside the rumpled teacher. Harry was closer to Remus than was normal for what should have been strangers, but he didn't care. Besides, Remus was all hunched over in the corner against the window, bundled up and obscuring his face from view as he napped. Harry stretched his neck to peer over at him closer.

"Merlin, you're going to give him the creeps, Potter." Said a whisper at the door. No one had heard it open again as the noise was drowned in the train finally taking off. It was Draco, already clad in his uniform.

"Buzz off Malfoy." Ron said, but with less bite than usual.

Draco merely closed the door and leaned against it, arms folded.

"Take a picture, it lasts longer." Draco said after watching Harry watch Lupin as he continued to nap, peacefully oblivious to the four teens currently staring at him.

"I taught you that one." Harry smirked, finally making eye contact, emerald gazing at grey.

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Look, I haven't much time since Pansy is looking for me. But I wanted to ask what you plan on doing should anything…unusual happen on this train ride." Draco whispered, wary of the slumbering man. He now knew not to underestimate the cleverness of Gryffindors, especially werewolf ones. He may look asleep but, who honestly knew?

"Never mind that." Harry waved dismissively. "Are you going to stay here? We can make room..." He added much to Ron's obvious horror.

"No, no. I better get back. Don't want rumors to fly before we get there, do we?" Draco replied quietly with a small sneer, though he still looked put off. Harry didn't want to leave Remus so soon, but got up anyway to follow Draco outside into the hall, gently closing the door behind them. This left Ron, Hermione and their newfound accomplice Crookshanks to watch over Remus.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked quietly, startling Draco who hadn't realized Harry followed him.

"I don't…I don't know how to conjure a patronous." Draco replied, clearly stressed. Harry looked surprised, but then understood. Draco would have much more unpleasantness to surface due to the dementors this time around. Harry was used to it, but Draco…he liked to bury it all down.

"The spell is simple enough, I can teach you now if—"

"No, I must go. Besides, out of all of us, only Snape could conjure one. I doubt I could now." Harry caught that the 'us' meant Voldemort's circle of followers. It saddened Harry, and so he put a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'll manage it somehow then. Who knows? I may start up the DA again."

Draco looked exasperated at that but somehow hopeful, and with a sly smirk but friendly eyes he returned down the corridor of the train. Harry slipped back in to his friends.

"Have a nice chat with your best mate there?" Ron huffed and Hermione playfully slapped him on the arm. Harry just rolled his eyes.

"No, my best mate in right here, being a jealous prat at the moment." Ron blushed at that but seemed satisfied.

"Oh, I wish we could give him another blanket or a pillow…" Hermione changed the subject, gazing at Lupin.

"I know." Harry replied softly.

It had been about twenty minutes into their ride when the train began to slow to a halt. Harry caught Ron's and Hermione's eyes. Ron put a hand on the window and the chilled air froze around his handprint. Puffs of their breath could be seen, but each remained still and calm. The train's final jolt of stopping roused Lupin awake as the lights flickered out.

They had discussed what they would do should something like this occur again. They were too early in their journey to lose everything and change the timeline drastically by conjuring a triple patronous, a mean feat by three third years. Too many questions would be asked and their covers likely blown. And so they would risk the effects, even if Lupin was quick it was still a risk. Third year, the real third year, Harry could barely take a few seconds of the thing. Harry now had years of bad memories and torturous experiences under his belt, as did his friends. He just hoped they could resist the temptation to cast.

Lupin was readily alert, and took a quick look at his compartment companions. His eyes lingered on Harry, who even in the darkness he seemed to recognize because a flicker of something filled the older man's golden eyes, making them soften.

"I'll go and have a word with the driver—you three sit tight." He said softly but firmly, quietly slipping out of the room, wand at the ready. Harry thought he would never ever hear that voice again while he lived, yet here he was. He almost didn't hear Ron's gulp and Hermione's gasp.

Harry looked to the door and saw a darkened form reach over and open it. A scaly undead hand reached out as the ragged zombie-like creature seemed dead-set on Harry. Harry didn't move or flinch. He held his breath as he stared straight into the eyes of the dementor—or where he thought the eyes would likely be.

Then Harry heard the scream…his mother's piercing yet melodic, terrifying scream echo in his head. After all these years it was still the worst memory he had. He then heard his father and a high pitched laugh. Darkness wasn't forth coming this time, and his memories played out in the seconds he was exposed. He then heard Bellatrix taunting Sirius, and his scream too as he was hit and fell backward…Harry's own piercing screams and Lupin's choked and pained pleading as he held him back from dashing after his already dead godfather that fateful night. Memories began to overlap and this time Harry slipped down on the ground on his knees as if in a trance, but he fully awake and in agony. He clutched his head and hissed in pain, the voices becoming too much. He felt someone land beside him, then another body. They were deathly cold but held him as he held his head, their tremors mingling with his own. They were trained to be quiet in their pain, and the three sat on the ground in silent agony. A bright flash filled the compartment as a man yelled the freeing charm and all at once the voices stopped. Harry gasped for breath and he began to hear Hermione's soft words of comfort to him and Ron, her own voice trembling.

It was then he felt larger, warmer hands on his back and without stopping himself Harry clung onto the man who had knelt beside him. Lupin stiffened for a moment—only a moment—before wrapping his arms around the frail form of Harry Potter. To say the old Maurader was surprised was an understatement, but he was glad to be of some use, even if only to comfort the child.

"Thanks." Harry whispered, tightened his grip for a moment, relishing in the contact he had taken for granted the first time around, and gently withdrew so as not to completely startle the man. Harry then helped Ron and Hermione up as the lights flickered back on. Ron's freckles stood out like a photo negative of a starry sky against his pale cheeks. Hermione's hair was frazzled and her own skin pale, but they remained silent, their eyes the only testimony of what they must've relived as well.

"Here, it's chocolate. It'll help." Lupin said, handing each a generous chunk of a bar he seemed to carry in his pocket. Harry chuckled softly, remembering the man's soft spot for the confection. The train jolted back as it began its trip anew. "I'm going to talk to the driver again, I'll be back soon. We'll be arriving shortly so I suggest you pop on your uniforms." He smiled softly and left, but not without another look at Harry.

Ron sat down on the cushion as if he were a hundred years old and regarded his piece of chocolate.

"I forgot how he liked this stuff." He said weakly with a smile, taking a nibble. Hermione sat beside him and munched on hers. "Me too." She whispered. Harry curled up opposite them beside the window, the spot still warm where Lupin had been sitting.

"I know one thing, I'll never get used to that." Ron said, he being a bit stronger and gaining more color as he continued into his candy.

"I agree, it's too much. Even for us." Hermione replied drowsily.

"I'll make sure you two won't have to again." Harry replied. He felt horribly guilty at indirectly causing them pain—again. He would take a thousand such tortures if it could keep them safe and happy.

"What d'you mean?" Ron asked, chocolate around his mouth. Harry giggled tiredly at that. "I just mean I'll look out for you better, alright?" Harry replied with a crooked smile.

"Hey now, this wasn't your fault—"

"It's my choice. I'll figure out an excuse if we need to use the charm again before Remus teaches me." Harry calmly argued. Ron seemed too tired to counter him so allowed Hermione and Crookshanks to cuddle up to him. They were asleep by the time Lupin walked back in.

"Mmm, fell asleep so soon did they?" He almost whispered, sitting next to Harry but giving him quite a bit more space than Harry did earlier when Lupin was asleep himself.

"It was draining to say the least. Was that a dementor?" Harry asked. He assumed partial truths would be best for now, instead of outright lies. He would just be subtle about how much he knew and feign partial ignorance.

"Yes it was." Lupin replied, seriousness flooding his expression. "Though they should not have attacked our train…"

Harry let him trail off and after a moment brought up another truth, to help keep the timeline so far relatively intact. "Did you hear a woman screaming?"

Lupin blinked, then answered slowly. "No, I didn't…did you?"

Harry nodded, opting to look out the window. He supposed he was being a tad bit too calm about this but he was so tired and had no energy for acting just now. He felt too comfortable with Remus.

"Hermione told us about dememtors…after we heard about Sirius Black escaping." He felt Lupin stiffen again, but remain so this time. "She said they bring your worst memories to light in a way. I think the woman I hear…I know who she was."

"Who?" Lupin prompted cautiously, though catching the past tense with a twist in his stomach.

"My mother. I hear my dad too…and a laugh…a high-pitched laugh." For the first time in a long time he thought back to those memories…and then even farther, before he knew he was a wizard, " I used to always have the same nightmare when I was younger…and all I could remember was a flash of green light." Harry had no idea why he was rambling now. He didn't need to say this much now, or ever…but he held things in so long he was going to start being more open.

"I guess I remember bits of it, y'know?" Harry turned back, sure he would see Lupin staring back in fear or disgust of the strange kid being all morbid. But all he saw was a deep sadness that mirrored his own and a craving to comfort but not knowing how. It was the barrier of strangers and it made Harry's heart twinge painfully, though he understood why.

"I know." Lupin sighed, voice breaking just a bit. He scooted a bit closer to Harry and regarded him evenly.

"I know you just met me, but…I want you to know I knew your parents. They were great friends of mine." He seemed to be holding his breath, as if he hadn't meant to say this so soon—and originally hadn't—and waited for Harry's reaction with a wolf-like intensity. Harry smiled and for a moment his eyes sparkled just like Lily's used to before turning a murky dull color again.

"Then I'm glad to finally meet you, Professor Lupin." Harry replied, holding out his hand. Lupin grinned, relieved for some reason and shook Harry's hand, but then taking a curious look. "How'd you know my name?"

Harry nodded to the luggage. "Being friends with Hermione has taught me a thing or two about deductive reasoning." Lupin laughed at that, and Harry was so happy to hear the sound once again in his life.

It was clear that evening, and neither too warm nor too cool. Not that the Trio really noticed (and their plus one member, though Draco would've never said so out loud that he too missed the old castle). As the train pulled in, Harry, Ron and Hermione had rushed to the window, seeing the twinkling lights of Hogwarts like winking stars welcoming them back home. Lupin was taken aback by their excitement but then remembered he had to leave right as the train stopped and meet the other teachers to be seated before the students, so he bade the children good bye and slipped away.

Meanwhile, the Trio gingerly stepped off of the train and heard Hagrid's booming voice down the way and saw him warmly greeting the tiny first years with his swinging lantern and gentle eyes. He glanced at Harry, Ron and Hermione and called out a hello to them, to which they happily replied and waved, Neville noticing the greeting being a bit too excited, even for them. But he shrugged it off, trying to escape a certain blonde Slytherin before he caught his attention.

Said Slytherin however was not up to pranking the poor Gryffindor, in fact he had plans to never do anything of the sort ever again. But it wasn't like he would go running up to the kid giving him friendship hugs either. Draco had a reputation right now to uphold (as long as he had to at any rate) and he truly did still hold a disdain for most of the resident student body of the scarlet and gold. He spotted Potter and his two…friends…who were happily climbing into a carriage with that blond girl who was a bit spacey if anyone asked him. Draco then turned to see Crabbe and Goyle waving him over to a carriage with an impatient Pansy and bored looking Nott and Zabini. Well, he sure had his own work cut out for him with that crew. Running a hand through his platinum hair, he strutted on over to them, careful to avoid looking at the thestrals, that among his group only he could see.

"This one taken?" Harry asked happily, gazing at the girl already seated and reading a magazine upside down, her wand tucked behind her ear in her blonde curls and radish earrings. She looked up, though not exactly reaching his face and said in a faraway voice, "No, not really. If you don't mind nargles….and of course the dabberblimps, though those will be around the Firsties more since they're going on the water…" Harry smiled even wider and replied with an "Awesome!" and effortlessly climbed in, his two friends sharing a bewildered but fond look as they followed suit. Neville joined them as well, clutching onto Trevor and sitting beside the new girl.

The carriage soon began to move and Harry was happy the top was down and they had a clear sight of the stars above and the gentle breeze upon them. He jolted as if remembering something and extended his hand to the rather spacey girl. "Sorry, I forgot—I'm Harry Potter, pleasure to uh, meet you." Harry smiled warmly, with a fondness as if he were actually greeting a dear friend. To him and his two-thirds trio, he was.

The girl blinked at the offered hand and took it in her own smaller and slender one, which was a bit cold despite the lukewarm night. She smiled faintly, "I'm Luna Lovegood."

The others followed Harry's example and introduced themselves.

"You're a second year, right? I think I've heard Ginny talk about you…you're partners sometimes in herbology." Neville said shyly.

"Indeed, Ginny is very nice to me. It's…new to me." Luna said cryptically but in her own way of aloofness that was normal for her. Harry and the others felt a bit bad at that, all of them (except Neville) knowing what she often went through, the girls in her dorm shunning her and the rumors about her…unique personality. It had never occurred to Harry before but he wondered what her life was like before they became friends, before he was able to help look out for her. Once again he felt that need to right a wrong, and while he knew it wasn't his fault he realized he couldn't bear for her to be made fun of to the extent she was the first time around. He'd look out for her better this time.

"Yeah…" Was all Neville could come up with to reply in the awkward silence. In fact, he noticed Hermione had barely said anything and Ron had yet to complain about the trip taking so long he'd starve and how he'd have to stay up finishing Snape's essay or something. And Harry…Harry was the most changed. He looked older, and more than some over-the-summer growth thing (because he was still short, shortest of the guys in class again this year it looked like) but his eyes…his eyes were old, almost haunted from some faraway dream…

After a moment Luna caught Harry staring straight ahead at the front of the carriage. She turned to look in the same direction then back to him.

"You can see them too, can't you?" She asked. At Harry's surprised look but nod in answer she turned to Ron, who sat beside him and Hermione who sat beside Ron. The two had glanced ahead too then back at Harry and Luna. Luna turned to Neville who looked utterly confused but curious. Suddenly, Luna's eyes brightened and cleared for the time being.

"You three can see them." Hermione looked down and Ron looked tired all of a sudden.

"Yeah. We can." Ron replied quietly, his voice sounding hoarse.

"See what?" Neville asked, looking behind him but seeing nothing but the front of their buggy being magically pulled as always and the back of the buggy before them. He turned back expecting an answer.

"Something I hope you never have to see." Harry smiled sadly.

Neville now looked totally confused and furrowed his brow.

"What aren't you telling me?" He asked quietly, the same look in his eyes as when he tried to block them in first year from going after the Stone.

"I don't think we're ready to hear his story." Luna replied softly, putting a hand on Neville's arm, making him blush slightly in the moonlight. "Not yet anyway." She smiled knowingly at Harry who returned the smile gratefully and they continued the ride, getting Neville's mind off of things by Hermione asking him about their herbology essay from over the summer break.

It was that time of year again. The time when his headache would return full force and the sounds light pitter patter of hundreds of feet would echo the castle's stony interior. Only this year would be far worse than any other to date in his career of teaching, he just knew it. For one, one fourth of his mortal enemies stood there, chatting up Dumbledore with that ridiculous grin and tattered robes. Oh, he looked innocent but Severus Snape knew better. He'd witnessed the monster within the small, lanky wizard first hand. Now that Black was on the run, Lupin here just now decides it'd be nice to teach at his old stomping grounds? Did Dumbledore not see how suspicious this was? The man was a menace, and would likely take Precious Potter under his tattered wing and the two would resume the old Marauder ways and oh Merlin, Snape's life was going to be an inferno of despair wasn't it? It's not enough his life was crap already, Albus had to actually top the proverbial cake with this nasty little lemon drop. Now he was going to be forced to be in Lupin's presence every day, and MERLIN FORBID witness him and Saint Potter bonding…oh, he was about to puke. It was literally making his insides twist painfully, oh no, was this a panic attack? He hadn't had one in years! He was the right hand of the Dark Lord, he could deal with this of all things, right? Right. Oh wow, now Lupin was chuckling with Albus and Hagrid about something as they made their way towards the table. Is…is he…? No. He is NOT sitting beside Albus, thank you very much. That's right move along, Moony. ((How did I remember his stupid nickname?! BLOCK IT OUT BLOCK. IT. OUT.)) Wait. Oh no, he's sitting beside me! Why why why WHY why-

"Dear Merlin, your eyes are actually twitching, did you know that?" came a voice that startled Snape out of his own mind, a rare feat.

Minerva McGonagall stood there, peering at the taller but much younger colleague of hers as he stood stock still but staring off at the others as they made their way to the table and greeting their new staff member. He glared at her and began to walk on, to the table and his now dreaded place beside Lupin.

Minerva was not one to be brushed off so easily and she took his arm, making him stop and roll his eyes at her.

"Don't give me that attitude, young man. I may not be an Occlumens like you, but I can still tell you're obsessing over Remus teaching here this year." Minerva said, hands on her hips.

"I don't know what you mean, Minerva." Snape drawled out without emotion, his face carefully blank. Minerva huffed.

"Don't play coy Severus. You are exhausting, do you realize that?"

Snape narrowed his eyes. "I don't expect any of you to understand or even look beyond this apparent fondness for the man that has blinded you all into submissive little sheep. But I have a right to feel as I do—or did you conveniently forget the escapades your precious little Gryffindor indulged in while we were students?" Snape hissed back, eyes flashing. Minerva had the decency to flush—which for her was an unnoticeable tinge of pink on her sharp features.

"People change, Severus. You know better than most what that means." Minerva replied and walked away before Snape would retort. He looked at her retreating form then focused beyond her to Remus, who had been staring his way. Caught staring, Lupin blushed and gave an awkward wave and shy grin. Snape simply glared, took a deep breath and steeled himself for a very unpleasant evening ahead.

"You sure you'll be alright?" Harry asked softly to his friend as they stepped reverently up into the castle.

The faery-like girl simply hummed an odd tune and nodded, meeting his gaze but smiling just the same. "I'll be fine. See you later, Harry Potter!" And she skipped on over to the gaggle of Ravenclaws forming near their side of the Great Hall. Harry waved, chuckling at his good friend. He then realized they had arrived at the entrance to the Great Hall.

Harry, Ron and Hermione took a deep breath, staying there a moment, several students rushing by. Harry dimly realized the friendly pat of Seamus and Dean as they popped through and practically galloped to the Gryffindor table. Hermione grabbed his wrist and Ron's and they shared a look, eyes glistening at the sight.

Back in their time, these halls has just been cleared, but remained broken and empty. Filch was working overtime, but had plenty of help from Ministry workers and those close to the Order who had taken upon themselves to fix up the wounded castle. The enchanted ceiling was broken and rain was dripping through. Candles and torches were seared away or melted and smashed. The floors were grimy but Harry was thankful this was due to the elements of nature and not…blood.

The blood shed there had long ago been cleaned up.

But taking in this sight was beautiful and surreal. Harry often dreamed of his time here, before he really had to fear Voldemort. Before the war. It smelled the same too. Rich in herbs and spices, the wax of fresh candles—it was a dream come true.

"Oiy! Out of the way, you lot. Some of us want to be seated sometime this year." Shouted a voice behind them. Turning, Harry came face-to-face with his old blonde nemesis. He could tell though there was humor in his normally sharp grey eyes and color had finally tinged his overly pale skin. Hermione and Ron stepped a bit to the side, looking a bit embarrassed (or in Ron's case disgruntled) and allowed Draco's entourage to walk past, sneering and joking as they did so. Blaise did a fake faint and they laughed, Pansy pointing to Harry. Harry felt indifferent this time to their jokes at his expense, then noticed Draco was still standing there, but the blonde's gaze had drifted upwards to the enchanted ceiling. The candlelight danced in the reflection of his eyes.

"It's just as beautiful as we remembered it, eh Potter?" He whispered, held Harry's gaze for a moment to which Harry nodded with a knowing smile, then with a swish of his robes went to join his friends at the Slytherin table.

"Come on guys!" Ginny called from the crowd at Gryffindor's table and the Trio grinned at one another then hastily joined her.

"What do you suppose that was about?" Said a mild voice to his left. Severus wished he had a fork right now so he could stab the man just for kicks and to relieve his stress. Unfortunately, the elves didn't let anything appear until after Albus's ridiculous welcoming speech. And it was a tad impolite to do such.

"What are you babbling about now Lupin?" Snape decided a sharp tongue was his only weapon at the moment.

Remus flinched at the tone a bit and flushed, as if not meaning to have said what he did out loud, especially to the man he was seated next to.

"Harry and the Malfoy boy…"Lupin mumbled, making Snape that much more upset. He hated people who mumbled.

"What about them?" Snape snapped. By this time, Albus had his attention drawn to the pair, curious.

"I just saw them talking at the entrance. But it seemed…I don't know. Companionable. I expected something rasher I suppose. Minerva warned me to watch out for them together. Said they get into tiffs rather easily." Remus chuckled as if this fact was to be expected and was endearing in a way. Snape narrowed his eyes at the man, unsure what he was getting at.

"You'll find the two often share battles of wits as well as physical encounter, my dear boy." Albus chuckled. "Why, from the stories I heard from last year's dueling club mishap—" Snape cut him off.

"Can we please speak of something other than Potter and the intricate details of his petty social disputes?" Snape seemed even more rankled by the fact that Flitwick was covering a laugh with a fake cough and that Albus referred to Lupin as 'his dear boy'. Worthless wolf didn't deserve—

"Quite right Severus. Mustn't gossip about our young students I daresay." Albus chuckled. Snape rolled his eyes. He would often hear his colleagues chat about the students in the lounge or over meals such as now. Who would likely end up with who; who was fighting with who; who got the latest howler and why—it was all utter nonsense to him. As if he cared one iota about any of these things concerning these brats. He simply resumed staring ahead, though found plenty of opportunity to send death glares to Lupin.

Though, he would admit later to himself that he noticed the pair too, as Lupin had mentioned. It was rather tame for the two compared to the last couple of years. He for one was thankful. The less trouble Potter got his whelp of a self into the less work for Severus Snape.

"I'm surprised I haven't heard you whine about food yet." Seamus commented from a few seats down the table. Ron's ears turned pink and he turned away from the ongoing sorting taking place.

"Patience is a virtue." This caused the other third year boys to laugh quietly and Ron grumbled about immature kids. He heard someone say Hermione was finally rubbing off on him, and they continued chuckling, then started clapping as their house gained another Firstie. Harry leaned into him and whispered.

"Were we ever that young?" They looked on to their round-faced friends and dorm mates. Oliver Wood was several seats down but even he looked young to them now. Everyone they knew, several dead in their time, but all inevitably touched by the harshness of war. It was again so surreal to see them all so innocent and happy as they were now.

"Hard to imagine." Ron replied with a wistful sigh. "It was so long ago."

"A world away." Hermione agreed and the clapping died down as they listened to another name called from the huddled bunch of newbies.

Soon the sorting was over, Dumbledore gave his speech, warned about the dementors (Teddy did a fake faint this time and Slytherin chuckled darkly as they darted looks to an unconcerned Harry and glaring Ron. Draco seemed the only one unamused) and introduced the new teacher (who received noticeably louder, excitable claps from three certain Gryffindors) and Hagrid as the new Care of Magical Creatures professor (once again loud enthusiastic claps from a certain trio, though this time joined in by peers who were also fond of the half giant) and invited all to tuck in.

Loads of freshly cooked food popped into existence and adorned the already lavish hall. Loud chatter began instantly, and the room filled with good-will and companionship. Finally hearing it in real life once again, and not almost-forgotten echoes, was mesmerizing.

"Guys? Aren't you hungry?" The Trio snapped to attention to Neville who had sat across from them, next to Ginny and The Twins. Harry then noticed their plates were the only ones that were not filled to the brim already.

"Course mate, don't be daft!" Ron replied heartily, earning a chuckle from the normally shy boy. Hermione and Harry followed suit and conservatively loaded their own plates. In a rush the table bumped from an impact of a rushing and a sloshing close behind. Harry looked behind him and saw Colin Creevey, all grins and with his trusty camera round his neck once again. Harry's heart clenched painfully at seeing the boy. Colin had been one of the many that had snuck back to fight the Battle of Hogwarts, losing his life in the process. Harry had thought a long time about his death, among the countless others he knew personally. He always regretted not being more of a friend to the overly loyal and brave little guy.

The tiny second year who was literally all teeth and eyes at the moment, stood aside to reveal a slightly smaller boy with darker hair but the same smile and big eyes. He was wet from head to foot, and Harry wondered why no one had dried him off yet. He vaguely remembered Hagrid giving the boy his coat during the sorting. If he remembered correctly from the first time, the younger Creevey brother had fallen into the Great Lake, but helped back onto his boat by the Giant Squid, quite ecstatic about the entire adventure. Harry couldn't help but smile at the two, though it was somewhat sad as if in grief. He remembered Dennis hadn't been found among the dead. No trace had been found. That is, among the dead that could be identified. He shook his head from these morose thoughts and just as Colin was taking a huge breath to get in as much as he could before the usual dismissal Harry would give, Harry spoke up first.

"Ahhh, Colin. And Dennis. Another fine young lion in Gryffindor house, congratulations." Harry spoke with such warmth as he shook the young boy's hand that his mates around him took interest in the interaction. Even Colin looked surprised.

"Y-you remembered my name? Our names?" Colin looked almost beside himself.

"Of course." Harry said as if it was absurd to think otherwise. "Colin here is a dear friend of mine you know." He said to Dennis who in turn looked to his brother in awe that THE Harry Potter was good friends with his very own brother. Colin was speechless for once.

"Now, you two get along and eat up! The food is delicious, as always." He gave Colin a pat on the shoulder and a wink to Dennis, and the two grinned wide and rushed back to their seats among the younger years.

"That was really nice of you, Harry." Ginny spoke up timidly. Harry blushed and just shrugged. Ron elbowed him and waggled his eyebrows when his sister turned to tell Neville something. Harry rolled his eyes in good nature and Hermione giggled at the two.

"So, what do you think of all this business about Sirius Black eh?" Asked Dean as they began on their pudding.

"I think it's rubbish sending a bunch of Azkaban guards here." Ron replied, trying for a vague topic.

"Oh I do too. They're so creepy!" Lavender Brown replied shivering with the thought. Hermione made a face Harry hoped the young girl didn't catch. A moment later Hermione looked regretful at whatever thought she had and simply chimed in an agreement with her. Harry had an inkling where his friend's train of thought went. Lavender, while a distinct damper on Ron's and Hermione's relationship in sixth year, had fought bravely in the Battle. She too was a victim however, dying of her injuries inflicted savagely by the werewolf Fenrir Greyback. Harry didn't want to see that happen this time.

"Yeah, but what of him? Why's he broken out for all of a sudden? What's he after I wonder?" Seamus pondered with a mouth full of pudding.

Ron and Harry shared a small look before Harry answered. "Maybe he's after someone."

Hermione looked shocked he'd admit such. Ron stabbed his mashed potatoes a bit forcefully with his spoon, thinking of that someone still incapacitated in his trunk. Harry just shrugged, as if it was just a thought he could care less about. Ron reckoned Harry could be a good actor when he wanted to be.

Dean and Seamus got into a conversation about the merits of Harry's theory, Neville piping up an opinion or two once in a while. Harry tuned out their conversations and looked to the Head Table, his heart once again clenching terribly at who he saw there. Albus Dumbledore sat there, happily chatting away with McGonagall and Madam Hooch. Remus Lupin was laughing with something Hagrid was saying, Flitwick patting his hand in comfort. He likely had the jitters about his new classes. Charity Burbage was nibbling a cookie as Madam Pomfrey spoke. The other teachers were also chatting away happily, just like their students. All but one. He was seated in the middle of the group almost and yet looked like he dreaded it with every fiber of his being.

Severus Snape.

Harry took a gulp as he continued to dare staring at the older wizard. Even with his glasses he didn't have a clear view as he was a bit far away. But there he was, scowling sideways as Lupin and gripping his pumpkin juice a bit harder than necessary. Snape then stiffened and within a moment caught Harry's gaze. Snape had felt it and found the source, his spy senses honed and unmarred. Harry held the gaze that was full of loathing for a fraction of a second before lowering his emerald eyes to the table.

He missed the spark of confusion that momentarily surfaced the Potions Master's normally stoic façade, before he too turned away.

Harry meanwhile was trying his best not to get over-emotional. If he couldn't keep it together after just having barely a glance at the men he honored in his heart, the men he saw die yet now lived—well, he'd fail his mission. He needed to act normal. Well, with his new attitude adjustment curtesy of his years of knowledge and maturity. Besides, he would meet them all again soon. He'd get to greet them properly this coming week. It was with this thought he pushed down his grief.

After dessert, all the third years had scrolled forms appear before them as the other years began to leave the great hall for their dormitories.

"What's this then?" Dean asked, confused but reading over what was written on his.

"It's our schedules. This is the year we choose our electives in accordance to what careers we are interested in pursuing." Hermione explained quietly, her bossy tone lost as she gently pointed out the electives on Dean's scroll. "We take our core classes as well as two or more electives."

Dean blinked, unused to the shy tone Hermione had used. "Er, alright. Thanks Herms."

Hermione smiled in return and went back to her own scroll.

"I've no idea what to take this time." Ron grumbled.

"Definitely not Divination." Hermione muttered back. Harry chuckled. They read over the scrolls for a moment or two. Harry noticed Ginny leave, thumping Fred on the head with a roll and giggling as he tried to playfully smack her right back.

"You going to take all those classes this time?" Ron whispered across Harry to Hermione. Ron and Hermione had taken the habit of sitting around Harry more often than not, as if protecting him. Unless Ginny was there, or on the rare occasion Ron and Hermione went out alone, Harry always found his two friends grouping about him when they were with him. He had to admit it was comforting to be thought of like that. He loved the peace their presence brought. It eased the pain he always felt deep in his heart.

"No, I haven't the need to do so." Hermione replied, not looking up. The others around them had all chosen by this point, and their scrolls had popped into thin air, back to McGonagall most likely to assign them their classes. It was them, and a few scattered older years down the table, too far to hear their conversation.

Ron huffed. "But doesn't that…y'know….create some kind of paradoxie thing? You not getting the time-turner and all." Harry looked surprised at that and Hermione beamed.

"You mean a paradox?" She smiled. Harry was sure this wasn't a good thing, but assumed she smiled because Ron was being intelligent about it…in his own way.

"Yeah, that." He blushed.

"No. Like I said before we got here, this isn't some alternate reality we're creating. We are effectively re-writing our own history. Paradoxes don't apply because the timeline we left does not exist anymore. However, we've got only one shot at this. No mistakes. History cannot repeat itself." Harry whispered, not meeting their eyes, afraid at the pain they might see in his own.

"Merlin." Ron gasped, leaning back a bit as if blown away.

"Don't worry Ronald. We've got the advantage. If we don't change too much, we'll be able to predict the events as they happened the first time, because the ripple effect will be too small to drastically change the outcomes." Hermione replied, putting a hand on Ron's which was now gripping the table. He relaxed.

"So, Harry mate…what are we taking?" Ron asked. Harry nibbled on his quill, considering the answer.

"Well, obviously Hagrid's class." Harry said after a moment. His two friends nodded happily at that and marked it.

"I think I'll go into Muggle Studies—" Hermione said but Ron cut her off.

"But you were raised by Muggles!"

"I already told you—it'd be interesting to see them from a wizard's point of view." She huffed, her old spark back for a moment.

"But you already took it!" Ron hissed.

"No, I dropped it!"

"Okay okay okay—look. I barely remember how to do Arithmancy, Dinvination is out, I don't want to study Runes…so I think I'll go with Hermione." Harry replied, marking it as well.

"But-!? You were raised by Muggles too Harry!"

"Oh come on Ron, we're not here to study! Remember?" Ron blinked a moment, his older self catching up.

"Harry's right, Ronald. We can help you and get through the class with ease. It'll give us more time to plan." Hermione piped up.

"Right, yeah…sorry." Ron blinked again, scribbling down for the class. After a moment their scrolls popped out of existence. Harry slapped his back in good humor and the two shared a chuckle.

The three got up and while the Great Hall was still relatively full, decided to leave.

Chancing a look to the Head Table, they caught the eye of Dumbledore who smiled at them. Harry enthusiastically waved, causing the old wizard to blink in surprise but returned the wave gladly. Harry then left with his friends, decidedly happier than he was.

"Wait, Harry! This isn't the way to the common room!" Ron called out as Harry led the way downstairs.

"I know mate."

"But..?"

Harry turned back, another sad look on his features. "I'm going to see a friend."

Hermione and Ron looked at each other as Harry continued down, then it clicked and they rushed to catch up.

Turning a corner they found the portrait of fruit but just as Harry reached over to it a voice called at the end of the hallway. The three spun around and Harry's stomach flipped.

A boy with tidy but wavy brown hair and warm grey eyes approached them. He was older, but not by too much. He had an angular face and pleasant air about him. His uniform was in Hufflepuff colors, and was well kept other than his tie being undone. A prefect badge shone on his robes.

Cedric Diggory.

He would be about sixteen this year. A fifth year, the Hufflepuff Quidditch captain and rival seeker. Harry blocked out his last memory of the boy who now stood before him, determined to hide his grief. It took everything Harry had not to pounce on the boy in a tight bear hug and tears at him being alright. Alive.

His was the first death Harry experienced in the second war. The one that haunted him the longest. But seeing him now made him light-headed with happiness. He was once again eternally grateful to have come back.

"Potter? What are you Gryffindors doing here? The Tower is, well, up there." Cedric gave a lopsided grin and pointed upwards.

"We know." Hermione replied shyly.

"Hey Cedric." Harry managed to say. "We're just here to see someone."

"Oh? Anyone I can get for you? Our common room is just down the way there, I was on my way there myself." Harry just smiled, Cedric being the helpful 'Puff he always was.

"No, someone in the kitchens. But thanks." Harry said, and meant it. Cedric looked a bit confused at that but shrugged and waved goodbye, reminding them curfew was in an hour. He left and soon the three were alone once again.

Harry wasted no time in tickling the pear, which then laughed and turned into a door knob. They opened it and filed into the vast kitchen directly below the Great Hall. Numerous tiny elves pattered about, the chinking of pots and pans and bubbles from washing filled the air.

"Somethings Dwicky can help yous with?" asked a shrill voice near the trio's knees. There stood a tiny elf with a clean pillowcase, Hogwarts' crest on the side.

"Yes. I'd like to speak with Dobby, if that's not too much trouble." Harry asked kindly, bending a bit down so as not to intimidate the little thing.

"Oh, never too much trouble for young sir!" Dwicky replied and called for the elf. "DOBBY!" The shriek startled Ron and Hermione but Harry just chuckled.

"Excuse me! Excuse me, Dobby is called! Dobby must see what—" A little elf yapped on, dodging the masses and almost slipping on some bubble puddles on the floor. He stopped though as he caught sight of Harry, blue eyes immediately widening.

"HARRY POTTER SIR!" Dobby squealed in delight and approached them happily.

"Dobby!" Harry exclaimed just as enthusiastically, scooping up the little creature and hugging him close. Dobby looked flabbergasted but not unwelcoming, just surprised.

"Oh Mr. Harry Potter sir! Yous mustn't do so, yous is a wizard sir! Dobby is just a lowly house-elf." Harry held him at arms' length and fixed a determined look onto the elf.

"Nonsense Dobby. I am your friend. You're my friend." Harry said with such conviction that the other elves looked shocked and in awe. Dobby just teared up and wailed his thanks, hugging Harry a second time. Harry laughed and Ron and Hermione joined him in greeting the humble creature.

"Love the socks." Harry commented, and Dobby blushed but grinned. In fact he was wearing a Hogwarts House Elf pillowcase, but with several pairs of mismatched socks on, layered upon one another. The top layer were bright purple wool ones.

"Yeah mate, very…uh-er…fashionable." Ron tried. Harry snorted.

"Headmaster Dumbledore made them for Dobby. Dobby was so surprised he cried for a whole day."

"Figured he did. No one likes bright colors like Dumbledore." Ron chuckled.

"What if I knitted you a hat to match? Would you like that Dobby?" Hermione found herself asking. Her old feelings for S.P.E.W. were still strong, but she realized these elves were happy. And knowing Dobby made her want to do something in return for the loyal and brave elf.

"Oh, Dobby would like that!" Dobby perked up, ears flopping. Harry ruffled what little hair he had on his head and smiled warmly.

"We'll see you around Dobby." Harry said softly.

"S'right. Don't be a stranger." Ron added. Dobby beamed. Harry didn't mind Ron's offer like he would have when he was truly thirteen. Now, the company was not taken for granted. Hermione added her soft farewell and the three scampered out and back up to Gryffindor Tower.

They needed to rest for tomorrow was Monday and class would begin. And that was looking to be an adventure in itself for the three (and their plus one) time travelers.

It was incredibly early when Harry awoke. He let out an anxious sigh, and did a spell to see what time it was.

5:30am

He sighed again, trying to dispel whatever anxiety he was feeling and calm himself. He waved his wand once again, removing his one-way silencing charm and swung his legs off the bed after pulling his curtains back. He caught Ron's eye, as he too was up, clutching his pillow as he stared at Harry. It wasn't as odd as it sounded, just soft and a bit bleary as if he had gotten up only a few minutes before. He immediately got up and sat beside the green-eyed boy.

The other three boys—along with all of Gryffindor Tower—were still sound asleep.

"Well?" Ron asked after a moment, though softly so as not to wake the others.

Harry rubbed his eyes and picked up his spectacles, gently placing them on his nose.

"Nightmares. Not as bad though, but still made for a rotten sleep experience." Harry replied, as if expecting as much.

"Me too." Ron sighed.

"Mine were of the Fourth Task." Harry supplied in barely a whisper, just in case the others were lighter sleepers than he reckoned. It was a habit they had now, to simply discuss the nightmares they routinely had. McGonagall and Molly Weasley had said it was therapeutic and would ease the pains they experienced in war. And it did help. So, several times a week the Trio found themselves talking just as the two were now. Recently it had definitely gotten better, nightmares plaguing them only once or twice in as many weeks apart. The talking truly helped. It was one aspect of their system they used to survive being survivors.

Ron nodded, not entirely surprised. "It was the Manor again for me." He bowed his head. Malfoy's Manor Harry realized and sighed. That was a particularly bad one for his best mate.

"Hey mate, no worries yeah?" Harry whispered, patting Ron's back, returning some warmth there. Ron smiled and nodded.

In half an hour they were dressed and ready to go. Seamus had snorted in his sleep but smacked his lips and turned over, making Harry and Ron share a grin before heading downstairs to the common room. They were pleased to meet Hermione there, curled up into the arm of the couch and knitting, Crookshanks playing with the hem of her uniform skirt below on the carpet.

"Good morning boys." Hermione said with a touch of humor.

"Mornin' love." Ron said, with a touch of a blush. He plopped down next to her. She tsk'd and straightened his tie, a blush to match his on her cheeks. Harry smiled, though felt a bit like a third wheel upon seeing their interaction, and sat a bit away at the other end of the couch to give them some space. Ron huffed after a moment and slung an arm out to drag Harry close by his side, Harry's surprised look gaining knowing ones in return.

"Well, 'Mione? Good sleep yeah?" Ron asked after a moment, Harry curling up beside him for warmth.

She hesitated a moment before answering, "It was as expected. I assume the same for you two as well." She sighed. "Mine was about the Snatchers. Probably from sleeping in a place I'm not used to." Ron nodded and Harry fingered his scar on his hand.

"Your hair is even more impossible than I remember." Hermione said to lessen the tension, her smile warming the room more than the fire crackling below.

"Aw what? Really?" Harry asked, trying—and failing—to rub down the parts he felt were sticking up. Ron chuckled and ran a rough hand about on Harry's mop, despite Harry's "Oiy!'s" of protest, making the hair decidedly worse.

Of course, Harry's hair had never actually looked bad, just…excitable.

"Well, shall we go to breakfast? It's still incredibly early, but it'll be nice to get there without such a crowd." Hermione asked after they sat listening to her knit and the fire cackle, an occasional purr from the ginger cat.

"I'm for that. It'll be nice to get used to the place." Ron yawned, stretching. They heard the rustlings of a few others finally waking up. Hermione stuffed her knitting into the couch cushion, amusing Harry, and they set off out the portrait and into the chilled corridor. They slung their bags with ease over their shoulders, having known extendable and lightening charms appropriate to aide them.

They stayed rather close and found themselves at the Great Hall not too long after, though they had taken a rather leisurely pace. Ravenclaw had the most students present, with Slytherin next, and Gryffindor and Hufflepuff pretty much tied at this early hour. Chatter was subdued as a whole, with the hall practically empty relative to the previous night. The only ones present at the Head Table were the Headmaster, Snape, McGonagall and Sprout. As the trio sat down a bit away from a couple seventh years in their house, they began to fill their plates.

"Want to tell us what we've got today?" Ron asked Hermione as he chomped on a muffin. Banana, Harry determined, and grabbed one for himself with elation. He loved banana bread and muffins.

"Well, we've got Care of Magical Creatures first period." Hermione replied softly, gently spreading butter on her toast. "Next is a free period for us, then Transfiguration and Lunch."

Harry nodded as Ron gulped some pumpkin juice.

"After that is Potions, then Defense Against the Dark Arts—back-to-back. After that and Dinner, we're free."

"Not too bad I suppose." Harry replied quietly.

"We'll do fine. All we have to do is act normal and remember what it was like." Hermione said, sensing his emotions.

"Yeah, just so Malfoy doesn't do anything stupid again—" Ron added but a snort made him trail off.

"Can't stop talking about me eh, Ginger Snap?" Draco scoffed, taking a seat nonchalantly right beside Harry and facing Ron and Hermione, who were seated on the other side of the table. The trio was huddled together though, as if the table barely existed between them.

"Morning Draco." Harry beamed, though worry laced his eyes faintly, and Draco wondered if it was due to him sitting with them or because Ronald would get his bloomers in a twist at the Slytherin's mere presence. Draco seemed to determine it was the latter.

"Good morning, Harry." Draco replied, staring right at Ron, knowing it'd ruffle him to call Potter by first name.

Down the table the two seventh years gawked at the Slytherin sitting with the trio. Harry didn't notice them though, or the stares coming from the Head Table, in particular from a certain Potions Master.

"Shove off, this isn't your table, ferret." Ron hissed.

"And where in the rules does it say I can't sit here?" Draco sniffed, taking a plate and setting food on it with grace and poise.

"He's got a point, Ron." Hermione confirmed, a soft smile to calm him. It did, if only a bit.

"There you have it. So, what's your schedules look like today mmm?" Draco asked, choosing a few grapes and talking as if this was a normal occurrence. Harry decided grapes would be nice to add to his plate as well and Draco obliged, plucking some and plopping them onto the shorter boy's plate. Ron narrowed his eyes at the unusual kindness.

"Like we'd tell you." Ron said then stuffed some egg in his mouth, Draco rolled his eyes.

"Grow up, Weasel."

"Get lost, Prince Malfoy."

"Get a grip."

"Get a life!"

Harry interrupted the banter with a groan and slapping a hand over his face. Hermione was smiling despite the tension of the two. It was fun to watch.

"Can we please have one drama-free meal, hmm? That'd be nice." Harry said wearily, though mirth danced in his eyes.

"Then reign in your pet ginger."

Ron mumbled something about death eaters into his cup and Draco full on glowered at that but said nothing.

"My my my, aren't you kids up early." Said a mild and happy voice and Harry turned to see Lupin smiling as he walked over to them, though he gave a confused and surprised glance at Malfoy, before nodding to the others.

"Hey Re-uh, Professor Lupin!" Harry caught himself and beamed, his eyes sparkling.

"Early birds get the worm." Hermione said humbly, then nibbling a piece of toast as she gazed at her old professor.

"Ah yes, I've heard that saying before. Muggle isn't it?" Remus asked, Hermione nodded with a smile.

"We've got Hagrid's class this morning. It's gonna be great." Harry smiled. Lupin couldn't help but return it.

"I've heard you three are particularly close to him." They nodded enthusiastically, while Draco just sipped on some juice, trying to look like he didn't care.

"Yeah, he's a great friend." Ron said genuinely, his warm smile startling Draco for a moment. All Ron did in his presence was scowl. Though, to be fair, so did Draco.

"I'm glad. He's a kind soul, someone good to get to know." Remus said with a wise sort of way about him in that statement. More students had begun to trickle in, and those who noticed Draco's choice of seat stared in bewilderment. Several Gryffindors shot him incredibly dark looks.

"Well, I must be off, but I'll likely see you four later today. Don't be late!" Remus said with a wave and trotted on ahead to the Head Table, where just as he arrived Snape sent him a glare and immediately left. He made a pit stop as he glided through.

"Potter."

Harry was startled by that deep voice behind him moments after Lupin had left them, causing his hand holding his goblet to jump and slosh pumpkin juice on the table. He grimaced, knowing just what kind of impression that left, and turned to look into the face of Severus Snape. Harry decided looking the man in the eye was worth the risk, and occluded best he could to prevent any stray emotions to latch onto the man's radar.

It was definitely surreal to say the least. Harry hadn't gotten a good enough look at the man yet. He looked so much younger, less worry lines and a healthier pallor to his skin (which was saying something). His frame wasn't nearly as thin and worn as when Harry last saw him (again saying something as the man was super thin to begin with). He stood tall, confident and not nearly as haunted as he was in the end. His dark eyes glittered dangerously, but Harry could now tell they weren't as menacing as he once thought, and that the wizard before him wasn't as scary as he may have liked to be regarded. Not that Harry was about to forget to be on his toes, the Slytherin was cunning and held quite a presence. And it put Harry's nerves on edge.

Of course, Harry shut down his retrospective analysis of his old professor and fellow Order member to file away for later thought. It opened far too many feelings…and regrets.

"Good morning sir." Harry replied, inwardly relieved at his achievement of not stuttering. Draco looked on with fierce curiosity, and Ron and Hermione seemed to have stopped breathing.

"Indeed." Snape ground out, not returning the pleasantry. "I noticed you and Miss Granger have chosen Muggle Studies as an elective." He began without preamble.

Had this been Past Harry, he would have surely said something about it not being the old Slytherin's business and secured his first detention of the year already. But this was not that Harry. This Harry respected the old dungeon bat.

"Yessir." Harry replied with a nod, keeping his face blank while his heart beat rapidly in his chest, threatening to break out of his chest in a right bloody mess. After all this time the man was still able to scare him half to death.

"I find this interesting as you are both Muggle-raised, as I've come to understand." Snape said in that quiet way that meant storms were brewing in the cauldron of his mind.

Harry told himself to calm down, he was an Auror for Merlin's sake! The Boy Who Lived! Twice, if we were being technical…

"As such, I find your choice rather…redundant, don't you?" Snape continued, his tone suggesting he thought this a typical Gryffindor maneuver into the land of furthering stupidity.

"I've already studied those other subjects." Hermione said, barely above a whisper, causing Snape to lift a brow in disbelief. He said nothing however as he turned to Harry, who decided going with the truth as well was best.

"My relatives don't let me go out much. Or see much. Or do much." Harry shrugged, regretting the action as Snape responded with a repulsed sneer, though he did catch a flash of confusion amidst Snape's apparent hatred for him. Harry just continued, rubbing his scarred hand absentmindedly. "It'll be nice to re-learn some of the Muggle part of my heritage I guess." Harry chanced this next line, "My mother was a—"

"Yes yes, very well." Snape cut him off quickly. Too quickly, which made Harry smile inside. It was mingled with sadness though, knowing what this man went through. He'd figure him out somehow, though.

"I don't particularly care. I am not your Head of House, therefore it is not my concern." Snape continued, pointedly not looking at Harry now, making the boy deflate a bit. Snape looked like he wanted to say more on the subject, perhaps add an insult. But in the end, he simply glared at the trio, nodded to Draco (with a spark of wary curiosity in his eye at the blonde) and strode off.

"Git." Ron huffed.

"Ron, you know he can't help it." Harry replied, forking some egg on his plate to eat.

"He can too. If you can survive those Durselys without being a prat, then he could at least try to be civil."

Draco perked up at that statement, throwing a confused look to Harry. "What's he mean by that? Who's the Dursleys?" Ron looked from him to Harry, a triumphant look on his face, as if to say ha! So Harry doesn't trust you enough to tell you about them huh?

"Long story, Draco." Harry replied, not looking up. Draco furrowed his brow at that.

"I love long stories." Said a voice and flash of red hair to Draco's other side, making him jump. Another identical flash of red on his other side added, "And we'd love to hear how you came about sitting at our table, Snake." The voices were mild, a bit teasing, but also with a bit of an edge. Draco gulped, recognizing the voices immediately.

"Fred, George! Good morning." Harry beamed.

"You botherin' Harry?" One twin asked after they both released their narrowed gaze at Draco to grin at Harry in reply, then straightaway resumed said cold look as they turned back to the Malfoy.

"And Herms and ickle Ronniekins?" The other added. Draco now knew the edge to be protectiveness of Potter and his gang.

Ron blushed at the nicknames, but surprisingly kept quiet. He missed this, even if he was being teased by the two—in front of Draco Malfoy no less.

"No guys. Draco's just…hanging out." Harry shrugged. George and Fred shared a look and raised brow.

"I'm not imperiused." Harry rolled his eyes, smiling.

"What's that?" Ginny asked, sitting beside Hermione, but shooting a hard look at Draco. She hadn't forgiven him about his crack the year before when she defended Harry, nor the fact that his father slipped her that horrid diary. The Malfoy heir decided his new task would most likely be getting these Weasleys to not hate him. Ron looked like his best friend compared to the looks he was receiving now. He even saw Percy shoot him a glare as he walked past their group, catching the eyes of the twins and continued on at their subtle nod, as if to say we've got this handled. He tried not to imagine what the two eldest Weasley boys would do. If he remembered correctly, one was a dragon trainer…

At Hermione's lack of explanation (everyone assumed she would pipe up the answer like she always did), Fred replied. "Uh, it's one of the Unforgivables."

"It controls your mind and stuff." George finished lamely.

"Oh." Ginny made a face at that. "Why are you lot talking about that for?"

"Your elder brothers think I've cast it on precious Potter." Draco answered for them. He then turned to the twins in question. "Perhaps people can learn to grow up and get along, hmmm?"

They instead turned to Harry, who looked imploringly at them. "He's trying." Draco huffed when they finally left and joined Lee Jordan a few places down the table. Draco felt his hair at the back of his neck stand on end as he continued to feel stares, then as he saw his own little troupe saunter in he jumped up, startling Harry.

"Wha-?" Harry murmured.

"Unlike you lot, I have an image to maintain." Draco sniffed, looking down at them as he stood. Hermione and Harry just stared with humor in their eyes and Ron had his mouth open in disbelief.

"You tosser, you came over here!"

"Details." And Draco swept away, gliding off to sit beside Pansy who immediately began whispering in his ear and throwing dark looks toward Harry and his friends. Blaise and Theodore joined in the aristocratic glare, Crabbe and Goyle being oblivious as they ate.

Ron looked simply put out. "Can you believe that? He can't just walk in here all casual in our group then run off to his lackeys. It's either us or them!" Ron spat food as he spoke, making Hermione cringe and Harry chuckle. Ginny looked over Hermione at her brother as if he were mad.

"Them or us, Ronald?" Harry asked, sipping his goblet. There was nothing left but he liked the show of sipping casually to bring about his point of nonchalance. Ron looked at him like he was off for repeating what he said but then blinked, realizing the inflection.

"I'm just saying he has to pick a side." Ron grumbled. "And don't call me Ronald, you sound like mum. Or Hermione." The girls giggled at that.

"That's not why we are here." Harry replied in reference to Ron's earlier statement. Ginny looked a tad confused. Harry made a pinched look, as if straining to remember something. He finally did and said "A house divided cannot stand." Hermione nodded, smiling.

"There's some truth in that. Muggle saying right?" They turned to see Neville approach. Hermione nodded brightly, surprised he knew that. Two in a row, perhaps wizards weren't as bad at muggle references as she thought."Yeah, uh, so Harry, what was that all about?" Neville asked, joining them with an already filled plate. He had obviously been waiting for Malfoy to leave to sit with them.

"It's just something…we're trying out, Nev." Harry said, patting the nervous boy's shoulder. He was a stark difference from the man Harry once knew, capable of taking the cruciatus in place of firsties under the rule of the Carrow Twins, a man who told off Voldemort himself and cut the head off the hideous snake that took Snape's (and so many others') life. But Harry would not be daunted, because that man would still be what the boy here and now grew into. Neville had the bravery, heart and discernment of right. He just lacked confidence. The needs brought on by war thrust Neville into growing up far too fast, as it had for a lot of Harry's former DA members. Harry decided to help nurture the confidence in Neville like one of the plants the boy cared for so much. And to do this, Harry would begin by being a friend.

"You know everyone is going to talk about this." Neville warned, eyes hooded as he knew how Harry got about rumors, especially after last year.

"Well, let them talk." Harry shrugged, causing Neville and Ginny to share a surprised look. Hermione smiled and Ron snorted, as if expecting that answer.

"I wouldn't trust him Harry. Whatever Malfoy's said. I know you like to see the good in people but…all he's been is a prat to you. He's jealous I think, and hasn't forgiven you for snubbing him first year." Neville sighed and Harry gazed at him in curiosity. Neville actually noticed a lot, Harry mused. He also noticed however that Neville had hunched a bit into himself, and it dawned on Harry that he also feared he would be forgotten in this new chain of events. Harry smiled warmly at his friend, trying to reassure him.

"That's exactly what I've been saying, Neville." Ron butted in. "The little ferret is nothing but trouble. So what if he's turned a new leaf? I don't trust him. He's oaty." Hermione sighed in exasperation, trying to keep the laughter from bubbling in her throat because she ought to disapprove of Ron's behavior.

"Flaky, Ron. Not oaty."

"Whatever."

Ginny spoke up, blushing a bit as she felt Harry's eyes on her. "Ferret?"

"Our pet name for the sneaky Slytherin git." Ron said with fake fondess.

"Your pet name." Harry reminded him. Ron scowled.

"Was yours too once upon a time."

"Ron…"

"FINE. You know what, I'm going. I'm not up for this, it's too early in the morning." Ron huffed quietly, surprising both his sister and Neville. Ron usually yelled when he was in a mood like this, but his voice was oddly soft, as if he took great care in controlling his volume. He got up, slung his bag over his shoulder with admittedly more force than necessary, and stalked out, catching Draco's eye for a moment. But he was far too busy walking away to notice.

Harry sighed, looking at him walk away, feeling his heart pull painfully. He felt incredibly bad now. Hermione put a hand on his as he gripped the table.

"C'mon. You know he'll end up walking into a tree. He doesn't watch where he's going when he's upset." Harry nodded, a rueful smile coming to life…Hmmm, yes. Harry remembered another time Ron stormed off…apperating away before coming to his senses. And this time Ron didn't have Dumbledore's deluminator in hand to guide him back.

Of course, Harry rather doubted it would come to that. Ron had learned his lesson long ago after that particular escapade.

"See you at Hagrid's Neville! See you at lunch, Gin!" Harry called as he and Hermione left to go after their friend, leaving two very confused ones behind.

"Who does Severus think he is, walking over there like that?" Minerva scowled, squinting beyond her spectacles. Snape had been long gone by now, but it still irked her that he went over to the Trio (plus one Slytherin). She was sure Harry must have a detention already. She sighed in utter frustration with the man.

"Minerva, you know how Severus is. He's far too curious for his own good." Albus chuckled behind his goblet. Lupin nodded vigorously in agreement but didn't comment. He remembered clearly their Hogwarts days when Snape would often trail the Marauders, wondering what the group was up to. It was none of his business, but that didn't deter Snape. Remus shook his head. Old memories brought back more pain than he'd like to admit. The good old days, he thought bitterly. Didn't do much good in the end, did they?

"Well, if he was such a good spy, you'd think he'd be less obvious." She huffed airily. Remus wondered where this annoyance was stemming from. It was common knowledge that she and Snape had gotten on relatively well once he had taught here for a few years. Broke the ice as it were. Remus knew, because he had asked the other staff. He too was curious by nature.

"I do believe you are just upset he beat you to the punch, as the Muggles say." Albus out right laughed now, and Minerva glared at the wise old wizard. Ah…so that's why she's all grumpy. Remus smiled faintly, amused at his old professors.

"Well, I promise you I'll get it out of him. You watch and see." Minerva replied, not denying Albus's teasing.

For a moment, Remus pondered on how playful they all seemed, especially around Snape. Never in a million years would he have thought the old bat could form such comradery. He seemed incapable of any such relationships—though Remus supposed that was a bit harsh. Lily had been Snape's friend once he recalled, so he obviously had some kind of quality about him, however dark he seemed to be. And here…here, Snape was at least respected. Trusted. He belonged, however much he stood out and snarled, scattering first years in his wake, snapping at his colleagues. Remus had watched them, and it seemed to be a running joke of sorts, with friendly undertones and warmth as the others interacted with Snape. Most were amused more than annoyed by his sharp tongue and harsh wit. It was never a dull conversation when they finally got him involved. He sensed Snape was still an outcast, but it felt like it was his choosing rather than reluctance by the others, for the most part. Remus envied him all of this. Remus had become a drifter, and a stranger to the son of his most treasured friend. Snape had watched him grow up in the last two, going on three years—time Remus would never get back. Snape had a career, a home. His pain had stopped (Remus assumed) the day Harry defeated Voldemort.

And as he muddled over these thoughts, Remus felt extremely alone and broken.

"Hey! Ron, hold on!" Harry huffed as he struggled to catch up. Was he truly that small and frail the first time he was this age? It was ridiculous how Harry thought he was so capable of things when he was truly this young. How in Merlin's toe-socks did he defeat a Basilisk?

Ron glanced back, and his gaze softened and he stopped to let a staggering Harry almost flop into his arms in a dead faint. They were just out beyond the courtyard, on the way to the trail that lead to Hagrid's hut.

"You are too skinny to be running about like that." Ron observed. Harry blushed.

"It's a work *pant* in progress, like…*pant* chasing butterflies. " Harry grinned, a tuft of hair over half his face. Ron looked up to the heavens as if exasperated by Harry's crazy smile, unsure what Harry even meant by that remark. Sometimes Harry would say something completely nutters. Side effect of dying most likely, a dark part of his mind whispered. It reminded him too much of Dumbledore, actually.

Little did he know Harry enjoyed saying random things and getting away with it. It was a favorite pastime when he was in the mood. So he was a bit eccentric. He could afford it, being the hero of their world and all. Harry mused he should have some perks with the title.

"I'm sorry I snapped." Ron mumbled, shuffling his foot against the grass.

"I understand your worries, y'know. It was hard for me to trust him too at first, to be honest." Harry admitted. Ron perked up at that.

"Yeah?"

Harry smiled, sadly though. "Yeah." He looked around, but as they were still very early, everyone was still either asleep or in the Great Hall. Hermione's form was approaching, but that was it. He spoke a bit quieter though just to be safe.

"You remember the trials." Harry began. Ron nodded. "Draco was under the truth serum when he was interrogated, and his remorse was genuine." Ron nodded again, remembering the day well. He frowned, Narcissa's sobs echoing in the otherwise quiet room still fresh in his mind.

"We talked a lot over the months following," Harry continued and Ron scowled anew at this mention again, "and I saw a broken man, Ron. He was broken long before I confronted him in that bathroom." Harry winced at the memory and Ron's gaze softened. "But he's got purpose now, a second chance. Just like we do. I doubt he'll make the same mistakes again. Sitting with us today was a bold gesture, you realize." Ron huffed a sigh, expelling his own pent up tension.

Hermione caught up, at a more reasonable pace. She caught the last part of Harry's speech.

"I won't be naïve, I just can't be anymore. It was beaten out of us by hardship. Draco has admittedly spent more time against us than not. He'll have to earn mine and Ronald's trust." She calmly said. Harry nodded and Ron looked relieved at this.

"Of course."

"We just have to be civil, and not act like savages." She said pointedly to Ron who looked back blankly, as if unaware the rebuke was directed to him specifically. He knows, Harry smiled, noticing the heat rise up faintly about his freckles. The three laughed after a moment and began the trek down the path to Hagrid's humble abode.

"What is up with you Drakey?" Pansy hissed, making Draco grimace at the absurd nickname.

"What ever are you squawking about now, Pansy?" Draco answered tensely, still cross with the nickname.

Pansy gave him a genuinely hurt look.

"Someone fell off the wrong side of the broomstick." Theodore Nott snorted, his light, almost pale green eyes lacking the warmth of Harry's deep emerald. Draco grimaced again.

"And landed on his head." Blaise retorted as he reached over Gregory for a muffin.

"I beg your pardon?" Draco sniffed, knowing full well where this was going. But they were Slytherins, and it was their job to be outlandishly coy.

"You are being mean." Pansy pouted, making the other boys snicker quietly at her girlishness. And it was then Draco felt a veil had been lifted. He had been especially worried coming back, because unlike Potter and the street urchins he called friends, he himself was surrounded by the children of Death Eaters. While Draco was one himself, his allegiances had irrevocably switched to the side of the Light. The events of his last year at Hogwarts were heavy on his mind, seeing the people he had once called friends grow up into…well, Draco didn't like remembering. It was why, today—the first day—Draco chose to sit beside Potter. Much as he was loathe to admit it, Potter's presence gave him peace of mind and he drew on the small boy's strength. Potter just seemed stronger somehow, and Draco craved the healing his presence gave. Even the bookworm and red-head helped him feel safe. Especially as now he was in a den of snakes he felt he no longer connected to.

But now he saw his old friends as they truly were right now: children. They were newly teens, baby fat still apparent and with the light-humored giggling it gave Draco a totally new perspective on his situation. Sure, they were stuffy and far too clever, but they weren't corrupted. Not yet. Draco figured this too would be an interesting task to take on. Perhaps he wasn't as alone in his house as he once thought.

"Al'righ, al'righ, settle down theh're kids!" Hagrid boomed jovially over the chattering crowd of students. There were two distinct groups of scarlet/gold and emerald/silver, except for the very middle where Harry decided to insert himself. People were chattering collectively, excited for the new day and their first class with the newly appointed professor, Rubeus Hagrid. Harry usually steered clear of any Slytherins, and hated being up front when he was a child…but Hagrid was his friend and Harry knew few people he felt completely safe with like he did with the kind half-giant. Plus, he was excited to see things go well this time for new professor. At least, he hoped they would.

The day itself was beautiful. The coolness of the morning was still present but the gentle sunshine that reached past the fluffy white clouds warmed and balanced the temperature to an incredibly pleasant level. It was the farthest edge of summer and the near beginning of fall, and as such the weather was agreeable and had a peaceful air to it. Harry closed his eyes as a breeze drifted by and he could hear the rustling of trees in the Forbidden Forest (which they were right beside as Hagrid's Hut was located on its edge) and could smell some late blooming flowers still. Opening his eyes, Harry let the happy sounds of classmates and the grounds of his beloved school to fill his ever anxious heart. Because it was not easy for him to be here, so very soon, in this forest. The memory of his last visit here was decidedly unpleasant.

Draco Malfoy had arrived by this time, seeing Hagrid jovially greeting some students, his trusty hound Fang by his side in front of his hut. He too was sharing a bit of the same thoughts that Harry did, his own trepidation while small was still present. Pansy was chattering on while smoothing out her hair from the rustling breeze. Draco hummed his usual non-committed sounds to show he was still listening when he really wasn't. It was a trait he had learned from his father, who would often have to entertain aristocratic guests and politicians in their home. Lucius Malfoy's charm did him wonders, as he seemed polite enough when he wanted to. But if you knew him well, you could tell when he was disinterested and snubbing you.

Draco shook his head, trying not to get anxious about dealing with his father just yet. That bridge did not bear a need to cross for a while yet. And he was confident Potter would be there alongside every step of the way.

As Hagrid tried to shush the kids, Draco noticed Longbottom struggling with his pack, he being towards the back of the Gryffindor group. With a sigh of pity for the boy, he walked over.

"Stop that, Longbottom, or you'll get eaten alive by the thing." Just as Draco said this, a shriek came from where he had just come from and he turned—along with everyone else—and saw Theodore jumping about, his Monster Book of Monsters nipping at his heels. Hagrid deftly (well, as much as a half-giant could be) swiped up the book. It squealed a bit and then growled.

"What on earth were you thinking, assigning us this…this thing?" Theo yelled. Draco winced at the look in Hagrid's eyes.

"Well, I though' they were funny…" Hagrid replied, a bit uncertain.

Before the Trio had a chance to say anything, the blond Slytherin beat them to it with a small but uncharacteristically genuine smile.

"I think they are, too." Everyone looked at him as if he had gone nuts.

"And it's not so hard to tame them, right Hagr—I mean, Professor? See—" Draco reached into Neville's growling pack and snatched out the Monster Book, ran a couple fingers down the spine, and let it coo a growl of submission as it opened peaceably enough.

Harry and Hermione beamed, Ron looking contemplative.

Draco handed the book back to a wide-eyed Neville before rejoining his fellow Slytherins.

"Good job, Mr. Malfoy!" Hagrid beamed, and totally surprised. "Er, five points to Slytherin for helping a classmate!" Ron groaned and Hagrid sent him a somewhat apologetic look.

"He earned it, you know." Harry leaned into the red-head and said.

"Bloody nuisance is what he is. What's he trying to prove?" Ron grumbled as the entire class about forgot the book drama as Hagrid unveiled the beautiful Hippogriffs.

Harry smiled as he spot Buckbeak, then replied, "Everything, Ron."

"Did you see that?" Neville came up to them and whispered, darting unsure looks at the creatures and then Draco.

"Yeah, mate." Harry replied, smiling thoughtfully. "Looks like Dr-er, Malfoy might not hate us after all." Ron snorted and muttered under his breath "bloody likely."

Hagrid had a time shushing the excited and wary chatter from the about-thirteen-year-olds. He then asked, a bit loudly to ensure attention was on him, "Now then! Who can tell me abou' what these lurv'ley creature are?" Hagrid asked and all eyes almost immediately went to Hermione. But she ignored it and kept an attentive gaze on Hagrid, who was also looking at her expectedly now. Harry frowned softly, filing this action away to think about later when Ron cleared his throat and raised a hand. Hagrid blinked and then said "Oh-ah! Mr. Weasley? What kind of answer have ye' got fer me, lad?" Hagrid looked prepared for a wrong one, but still had hope in his eyes.

"It's a Hippogriff, sir." Ron explained. "They're proud creatures, but also really loyal." He gulped, not used to being academic like this and wondering what on earth Hermione ever liked about it when they were children.

"Wh-well! Right ye' are, Ronald!" Hagrid exclaimed, whapping him on the back with a friendly hand and awarding him with five points. Harry beamed as he saw Ron's ears turn pink and Hermione smile and place a hand on his wrist, which trembled slightly.

Draco smirked while the others whispered, wondering when Ron Weasley had started paying attention to something other than food and Quidditch. The class oo'ed and ahh'ed when Hagrid once again took control of the floor.

"Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' hippogriffs is, like Ron ere' said, is they're proud. Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do. Yeh always wait fer the hippogriff ter make the firs' move. It's polite, see? Yeh walk towards him, and yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed to touch him. If he doesn' bow, then get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt."

A majority of the group, Gryffindors and Slytherins alike, were looking at Hagrid as if he had grown two heads. Harry just smiled fondly. He then leaned into Ron,

"You know we can't answer questions like that…it's not fair." But the smirk his wore told he had an inkling why Ron did it.

"I'm not gonna let Malfoy one-up us on points, thanks." He huffed and Harry chuckled.

Zabini was absentmindedly petting the edge of his monster book as he grazed the writing on the page about hippogriffs. Nott was straightening his tie, trying to look disinterested. Pansy was biting her lip and clutching her chest, an odd glimmer in her eye as if she longed to pet the creatures. Draco just stuck his hands in his pockets and stood there lazily, completely unfazed by the magical creatures. He had seen far worse and intimidating in his day. But with a smile he did concede they were beautiful just the same. Buckbeak's feathers glistened small rainbows in the sheen of the specked grey colors, proving a particularly lovely specimen.

"Now then! 'Ny volunt'ere's to approach one?" Hagrid clapped his hands happily.

Harry then had a wild thought, and taking a bit of a risk, he jabbed Neville (who had inched a bit in front of him now to peer into the paddock) sharply in the side, making the poor boy jump and squeak. A number of Slytherins and a couple Gryffindors giggled and made Neville flush, he turning to Harry with a confused look of betrayal.

"Ah! Good man, Longbottom! C'mon then! In yeh go!" Hagrid wrongly assumed Neville's shriek was his way of volunteering, much to Harry's delight. Harry saw Neville's eyes widen, not daring to take them off of Harry. Harry however winked, turned him around and gently pushed the boy through the gate, whispering, "You'll do great, I know it."

The class then witnessed Neville Longbottom of all people follow Hagrid's instructions to a 't' and after being thrust atop the creature (Neville whimpering unintelligibly) and without another delay, Buckbeak and Neville flew straightaway into the air, most of Gryffindor running after and cheering loudly.

And that was how Hagrid's first ever class ended. A complete success.

"That was brilliant!" Hermione gushed happily as the trio hiked back up the hill after the class finished. They had stayed behind to congratulate Hagrid's wonderful teaching skills (and because they missed hanging out with him) and so were just now coming back to the castle.

"Yeah, good thing Malfoy didn't muck it up this time." Ron sniffed. Harry rolled his eyes. They now found the steps and were popping up them and through the huge doors and entering the first floor.

"Why is it you are always going on about me? Must be an obsession." Draco suavely joined them from behind a pillar as they walked by, nearly startling Ron. His ears did turn pink again though at being caught off guard.

"How come you're always stalking us, huh? I'd say that looks more obsessive, thanks." Ron exclaimed.

"I'm not stalking...least of all you. Merlin knows I'd have more fun watching grass grow." Draco stuck his nose up in the air, folding his hands behind him in a dignified position as they continued to walk through the hallways.

"Can't we all just get along?" Harry sighed.

"Malfoy had his chance." Ron replied hatefully. Draco looked surprisingly hurt but didn't argue.

"Everyone deserves a second chance, Ron." Harry said softly but with meaning. Ron looked a bit ashamed then, but didn't say anything else.

"Well?" Minerva practically pounced on the man in dark billowy robes. She had waited almost five minutes for him to pass this corner (he was so predictable in his usual rounds of stalking the corridors).

"Well is a deep subject." He simply replied. Minerva huffed.

"How dare you be cheeky with me, you scamp. Keep it up and I'll let slip Slytherin's entrance passwords to the Weasley twins." She snarked right back, managing to keep up with Snape's long-legged stride (he hadn't broken rhythm since she popped up).

Snape just raised a brow at the threat. "Blackmail? Hmm...how positively Slytherin of you, Minerva."

Minerva stopped in her tracks and scoffed in a huffed outrage, before hiking up her robes and running to catch up to the lanky Potions Master.

"Cheek! That's what I get for my efforts—"

He snorted. It was a wonder, but then he was usually more relaxed with McGonagall and Dumbledore when no one else was around. They had by now stopped in front of an empty classroom entrance.

"I want you to tell me what's going on with Potter and the Malfoy boy." Minerva finally confessed, cheeks tinging a slight shade of pink for having to give in like that. But darn it all to Merlin's outhouse, her curiosity had been nagging her all morning. Maybe her animagus had more influence on her than she knew…

"You need me to give you an update on one of your atrocious lions? My, we are slipping…"

McGonagall's bun frizzed, making him smirk. "You know what I meant."

Snape actually rolled his eyes at her.

"I am still assessing their collective motives and ruling out any….foul play afoot."

Minerva put her hands on her hips. "You don't know either, you little tease." Her accent deepened as her eyes sparkled with mirth. Snape scowled horribly.

"Mark my words, Professor McGonagall, I will find out. Because if this is some cruel prank by Potter and his cronies, you better believe I will put an end to it!" He hissed.

Minerva gasped. "Severus! You know Harry wouldn't do something like that! I just thought…"

"What? What did you think?! That he would welcome a Slytherin?"

"Draco joined their table!"

"And why would he voluntarily involve himself with them, hmm?" Snape asked sarcastically. Minerva was getting frustrated, Snape always found a way to spoil her fun and turn things into an argument.

"Maybe—" But Snape shushed her and glided over to a corner, back to the wall. He knew those voices…

"What—"

Snape shushed her again with a hiss and she practically stomped over to him in sheer spite.

"Will you be quiet, you sound like a herd of hippogriffs!" He whispered furiously. If she wasn't so interested in his peculiarities right now she'd have boxed his ears for that, co-worker or not.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, what are we doing—" But she stopped dead silent as steps were clearly coming that way.

"…Must be an obsession." Minerva and Snape shared a look as it was Malfoy's voice.

"How come you're always stalking us, huh? I'd say that looks more obsessive, thanks." This was the Weasley boy in Potter's year. Ronald.

"I'm not stalking...least of all you. Merlin knows I'd have more fun watching grass grow." Snape snorted softly at that despite himself. Young Draco certainly had his father's wit coupled with his mother's sass. He felt Minerva glaring at him.

"Can't we all just get along?" Harry sighed. They had passed with the two overly curious professors undetected.

"Malfoy had his chance."

"Everyone deserves a second chance, Ron."

And that was all they heard before the foursome turned a corner to go up the staircase.

"Did you hear that? Foul play my right paw!" Minerva spouted in pride, while Snape had a distant look about his eyes, brows crinkled in deep thought.

"Then it's Potter." Snape declared in suspicion, eyes narrowed, and for the second time that day Minerva's bubble burst because of him.

"What diabolical plan has your paranoid mind made up now?" She sighed, folding her arms and containing her glee. She couldn't wait to tell Albus, he would be ecstatic.

"That if a Potter doesn't act like a Potter, then there's got to be a reason. And I'm going to find out what that reason is." And he twisted away, robes swirling perfectly, heading back to the dungeons for his next class.

Minerva stared after him at a complete loss. What on this good green earth did that mean?

A few feet away, in the empty classroom, Lupin stood out of sight but within hearing. In his hands clutched was an old lesson book, one he had dug around for to find. It had scribbles all over, tattered binding and some loose pages. But it was precious to him, something to ease the ache settling in his heart.

It was an old DADA textbook, one that had belonged to Sirius Black. He was surprised it was still where they had left it, in this room's old cabinet. It was here where they had had the class back then, and Sirius was one of the students who utilized storing his books under desks or in the room themselves. He never liked bringing them along unless absolutely necessary. And he usually mooched off of James or Peter or even Lupin himself for homework. Not that they minded, he remembered with a sad smile.

The scribbles inside were from all four of them, notes and comments, doodles and drawings. Some of the drawings were even still animated, he noted as he flipped through it before snapping it shut as he heard Snape and McGonagall outside. His chest pinched a bit in anxiety, he wasn't too much in the mood for Snape's bitterness at the moment.

The ensuing banter and slight bickering though let him see a side he had never had before of the man. He had a humor for one thing.

It saddened him to hear how deep the man's bitterness ran though…and how he suspected Harry of awful deeds. Was Harry like that? Lupin didn't know…but doubted that since meeting him, and hearing such admiration in Minerva's voice. Besides, James Potter through the biased lenses of Severus Snape was one thing, but his son was quite another. Happy anticipation filled a bit of his chest then, realizing Harry would be in his first class later this day. He hugged the book, asking James and Peter in his heart to give him their luck that he didn't mess anything up this time.

"Thanks for what you did back there by the way." Harry said, clasping Draco's shoulder in a warm friendly half-hug. The blonde immediately blushed and shrugged off the affection, smoothing out his robes.

"Careful Potter, you'll wrinkle my clothes!" But then a tiny smile crept his face. "But you're welcome. I figured Hagrid needed the backup."

"Yeah, at least this time things went the way they should have in the first place." Ron mumbled.

"Well I think it was brilliant, Malfoy." Hermione smiled back, but sure to take Ron's elbow to let him know he was still her number one.

Draco just huffed with his nose slightly in the air, but remained walking with them up the stairs.

"Isn't your dormitory in the opposite direction?" Ron commented, eyes squinted.

"Oh, I um…so it is." Draco stopped in his tracks looking blank and completely lost for a moment.

"C'mon with us, it's alright." Harry said, pulling on Draco's robes up to him. "We're just going to grab a few things, drop off these monster books." Ron looked wary of the Slytherin coming into Gryffindor territory. It was one thing to come to the defense of Hagrid, but completely another to just waltz into the lion's den!

Draco waited most awkwardly outside the hole behind the portrait where Harry and his two friends climbed through. Neville had come by, absolutely shocked to see Draco there, who noticed the timid Gryffindor's face fall upon the realization before he too climbed through (whispering the password so Draco could not hear, much as Weasley had done a few minutes before).

The snake in the lion's den leaned back on the wall, arms folded and expression lazy at best. Inside he was very anxious but right now he had to pull on a façade in case any other impetuous lions stomped by.

This was how a certain Potions Master found him.

"Draco." He greeted, startling Draco out of his thoughts.

"Oh, um, hello sir." Draco replied, completely taken off guard by the man's appearance. He was surprisingly light on his feet, given how tall he was.

Snape held up a long-sleeved hand and motioned him to approach his place near the corner, where it wasn't so brightly lit. Draco did so obediently, but his heart thudded as if a house elf decided to jump up and down on it with rocks attached at the feet. It gave him a nasty flashback to those dark days during Sixth Year when Snape would often try to guide him and give him advice in the rare moments they found alone (or Potter-free); his motions and expression were the same. It made him sick to even think about those moments. He had been so stupid. And Snape had been trying to help.

When he was close, Snape mirrored his former position in folding his arms, but his eyes were bright and alert. Draco silently reminded himself he was not a Death Eater, this was not Sixth Year and that Harry would be coming any minute now. He was safe, and Snape was on his side.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing up here?" he hissed softly. Draco furrowed his brow.

"I'm waiting on Har—I mean, Potter." Draco decided anything but the truth Snape could detect as an outright lie.

"For what possible reason?" Snape's tone was harsh still, even as his voice was barely above a whisper, but there was a concern there that Draco had rarely heard in the man's tone. Even in Sixth Year.

"We're going to do some studying in the library before our next class." Draco answered honestly. He didn't have to tell the man what they were studying had nothing to do with any class taught at Hogwarts.

"Forgive me," Snape began, his tone laced heavily in irony and sarcasm, "but I was under the impression, as was this entire school, that the two of you would rather lick the mud off Filch's boots than willingly spend time with one other."

Draco crinkled up his nose, much like his mother did when she saw a dirty spot in her china. "That's disgusting, why did you put it that way?"

"Watch your cheek. My point is, this does not make sense." Snape narrowed his eyes. "If you mean to take advantage of him, you're not being very Slytherin about it."

Draco felt something inside himself wilt just a bit, first for the implication that he would use Harry in such a way, and the other being the fact that Snape seemingly had no problem with that other than it being a bit blatant and obvious. Knowing what he knew about Harry's feelings toward the man, this made him more angry than offended.

"I'm not trying to use him!" Draco hissed back, throwing caution to the wind in his emotion. "He's my friend!" He suddenly back peddled and clasped his hand to his mouth, not meaning to have said that out loud yet.

Snape also looked surprised, and straightened his vest in his discomfort, merely for something to do with his hands.

"Since when?" Snape asked, incredulous.

Draco looked to the floor and shrugged. "I don't know…" he answered honestly. "It just…sort of happened."

Snape narrowed his eyes in thought, the silence filling the space between them for a moment. And then he spoke evenly,

"I would advise you to be careful, Mr. Malfoy. Potter and his band of misfits will likely try to use you in some fashion, and in Gryffindor terms that means humiliation rather than to achieve something valuable like a Slytherin would. Gryffindors and Slytherins do not mix."

Draco was about to further defend Harry when said Gryffindor slid out of the portrait hole.

"Tread carefully, Draco." Snape said in farewell, and Draco couldn't help feeling it was almost a threat.

"So what did he want?" Harry asked as Malfoy joined him, Ron popping through the hole next.

"He was concerned about our...relationship."

"Bloody git ought to stick his big nose in something other than our business." Huffed Ron, dusting off his pants.

"Ronnnn." Harry reprimanded. "He's just worried about Draco."

Ron huffed again but said nothing as he helped Hermione out. Draco decided to keep the first part of his conversation to himself for now. It's not like Harry needed more evidence of how little the man thought of him as a person. And it bothered him how much that knowledge would hurt the Boy Who Lived.

They walked down the staircase, Harry waving to a jovial Colin on his way up with a gaggle of other Second Years.

"I suppose we shouldn't have been so obvious." Harry muttered as they trotted down. Malfoy huffed.

"Having second thoughts on being seen with a Slytherin?" he spat, looking where his feet were stepping and not at Harry. No matter how much he believed in Potter, Snape's words cut deeply. Deeply into a very real fear and insecurity inside himself.

"Yes." Ron answered without missing a beat. Malfoy shot him a glare and Hermione sighed heavily.

"Draco! No, of course not!" Harry gasped, clasping his shoulder.

"I just don't want to make this harder on you." Malfoy nodded at Harry's words, comforted.
"Besides," Harry continued, "It's going to be difficult to explain away our fast friendship. I just wasn't aware Snape was watching us so closely." He wiped his face beneath his glasses, making them askew a bit before straightening them. "I suppose we need to be aware of all the teachers watching us. Waiting, even. Especially if we're hanging out and not hexing one another."

Malfoy chuckled at that. "They'll be surprised then."

Harry smiled. "I certainly hope so."

"I remember there being a few books on time travel theory around this section somewhere…" Hermione said, walking quickly about the library shelves, hands touching books as she passed. Ron was carrying a few of her selections already, two volumes on magic and its effect in children, one specializing in the implementation of the Trace, a volume on sleeping draughts, one on Ministry law, a small one on healing creams and was now perusing (having found the section finally) a hefty volume called Time Travel and You: What Was, Is and Could Still Be. Harry and Draco were following close behind, Harry lingering over a section on magical creatures, and by extension, Animagi. Draco was chuckling softly as Ron struggled in silence with the heap pf Hermione's books, Hermione being unaware as she was engrossed in scanning the text to see if it had what they were looking for.

"You..mmyaph…help a guy out, you tosser." Ron mumbled aside to Draco.

"And keep you from building those muscles? Perish the thought, my dear Weasley." Draco deadpanned with a smirk. Ron merely rolled his eyes, expecting an answer like that.

"Yes! This has what we need!" Hermione yelped happily suddenly, slapping the book shut and looking bright like her old self. Madam Pince shushed her, to which she immediately blushed and then led the boys back to a comfortable nook in the farthest corner, away from earshot from everyone.

Harry joined them moments later, a few thinner books in his possession, and added them to the pile. Draco grabbed one and looked curiously at the title.

"'Magical Creatures and the Magical Folk: Understanding Incurable Transformations'?" He read aloud, but softly so Pince wouldn't come over just to shoosh them again.

Harry smiled sheepishly. "I want to better understand Lycanthropy, maybe to ease Remus's time of it if I can later."

Ron grabbed the other two. "'Animagi and You'…'Herbs and Potions: Using the Earth Around Us for the Betterment of Wizardkind'?"

Harry chuckled now. "Why are you both questioning me when Hermione has a book five inches thick?"

The three laughed softly at her, engrossed in said book.

"So," Draco began after the companionable moment, "What are our first priorities?"

"Well…" Harry replied, taking out a bunched bit of parchment from his bag. "We've got a few pressing things first on our list."

"First being if Harry is still…" Ron continued, then leaned in. "A you-know-what." Draco widened his eyes in dread.

"No…" he whispered, looking at Harry as if he would waste away this very moment. Harry merely rolled his eyes, patting his arm to calm him.

"Don't worry, it's just a precaution we need to consider. The other being our scars." Harry looked pointedly at Ron, who flushed a bit.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked, slightly annoyed at him just because he was Ronald Weasley.

Ron merely lifted one of his sleeves, and there on his pale, pinkish and freckled skin were the tendrils of scars lifting from his hands up to almost his elbows. They were faint but definitely noticeable.

"They appeared last night." Ron explained. "The spell must've lagged on mine. Bloody thing."

"Where did you get those?!" Draco's voice cracked in fear and the strain of keeping a whisper.

"In the Department of Ministries." Harry explained. "In the Thought Chamber."

"My father told me about that place…the brains got you?" Draco asked in morbid awe.

"Seems your father didn't tell you he saw it happen." Ron replied hatefully, pushing the sleeve back down and tucking his arms inside his robes.

Draco looked away sadly, not sure what to say to that. Harry didn't either.

"Well, 'Mione? Anything we can use?" Ron asked after an awkward moment.

"Hmm? What?" she finally looked up, having missed the entire conversation. "Oh! No…I'm still going over some the theory behind setting the Trace in a magical sense to better understand the practicum."

"Ah." Was all Ron said.

"Come on, Ronald. This makes reference to a companion book about tracking individuals magically and how the Ministry regulates it…I think I saw that title in the third bookcase to the left." She hopped up and Ron contentedly followed.

Harry thumbed through his animagi book when Draco piped up.

"Do you think he'll ever stop hating me?" his tone was soft and unusually vulnerable. Harry looked at him a long moment before forming a reply.

"He's not keen on betrayal, Draco. When one of his older brothers, Percy, first distanced himself from the family in order to further his career in the Ministry, he was livid. When he thought I had slipped my name in the Goblet of Fire and was lying to him about it, he completely stopped talking to me until after I almost got killed by that dragon." Harry looked back at his book, flipping a page. "He doesn't do well with jealousy and, in a greater sense, doesn't think much of himself and rather believes when things look as if those close to him are moving on to bigger and better things, leaving him in the dust so to speak."

"But I was never close to him." Draco commented, fidgeting with the binding of a different book.

"Therein lies the problem. He has never trusted you, and so it will be harder for him to forgive you." Harry glanced at him then, smiling. "But he will. And I promise, it will be worth it to earn his trust. Ron Weasley is a warm, loving and steadfast friend."

Draco returned a small smile as well, just as Ron plopped another book unceremoniously in Draco's face, ruining the moment.

"Watch it, you oaf!" Draco spat, coughing from the loosened dust of the volume.

"Keeping you on your toes, Malfart." Draco, offended, motioned to Harry to witness the injustice. Harry chuckled and whapped Ron in the shoulder lightly in reprimand.

"There we go, this is more like it." Hermione beamed, settling back in her chair, making the retort Draco had ready die in his throat.

It was in this position, the group huddled around a sizeable pile of dusty and worn old books, that Minerva McGonagall found them. She approached and they immediately stopped chattering. Harry looked surprised to see her, Ron looked as if they were in trouble somehow, Hermione curious and Draco as if he were a deer caught in some headlights.

"Ah, I was on an errand and I am happy to find you all here." She eyed the open books approvingly, mistaking them for their classes. And she had a wary twinkle in her eyes when her gaze momentarily rested On Draco. "I was meaning to speak with you, Miss Granger; Mr. Potter. If you two would just come with me to the empty classroom next door, this won't take too long." She then eyed Draco again. "I daresay you've got a class soon, Mr. Malfoy. Charms I believe?"

Draco blinked then nodded sheepishly. She smirked then left with Harry and Hermione in tow.

"How'd she know my schedule?" Draco asked in awe.

Ron shrugged, righting a book he had opened upside down. "I dunno mate, she's a bit scary like that."

Draco chanced a look at the red-head, now engrossed in the book about Animagi and mused on the fact he had called him mate. He was distracted, of course. But still. Maybe there was hope for him and Weasley after all.

Minerva closed the old wood door to a creaked close (with a small gap so not shut completely) with a flick of her wand and turned to face the students as she leaned on the old desk there. Harry looked around and felt a bit uneasy. This had been Quirrell's preferred classroom for the first years.

"It was brought to my attention, no doubt in his personal vendetta to one up me on something, by Professor Snape that you both have signed up for Muggle Studies. I wished to speak with you both about that."

Harry and Hermione shared a look, then decided to sit in a couple desks before her; this was going to be a bit of a chat.

"I hope you understand why I'm a bit…concerned." Minerva looked down at the duo, her spectacles slipping a fraction off her nose.

"Because we're both Muggle-raised, you think it's inappropriate." Harry provided with a slight sigh. Minerva blinked a bit, the wording not quite what she expected of a thirteen-year old. But she nodded, affirming his assumption.

"Quite right, Mr. Potter. Young Mr. Weasley, along with a few other choice third years that have also signed up, I can understand; they are from solely magical families, or mixed families that decided to live in our world rather than the Muggle one. But Miss Granger, you are Muggle-born; Mr. Potter, Muggle-raised. This class would be like, for you both, learning to tie your shoes." McGonagall lectured, though her tone soft and not nearly as demanding as in the classroom setting.

Hermione shared another look at Harry, then turned back to their teacher to explain what she could.

"I did some extra studies abroad this past summer, ma'am." Hermione explained, twisting a lie in the truth. "And I decided I was…proficient enough in the other available subjects. But I have never understood the wizarding point of view of Muggles, and thought it an interesting subject." Hermione's voice was small, shy almost. And she fiddled with the cuff of her uniform, only making eye contact as much as was necessary. The was not the Hermione Minerva remembered from the previous two years before. But the more pressing topic was at hand

"You believe a summer of studying has enabled you to skip an entire semester of classes in these other subjects?" Minerva asked in a genuine tone. Had it been any other student, she would have scoffed. But this was Hermione Granger—the witch that had solved Severus Snape's potion conundrum in her first year, a feat not even Minerva could have done. And she had tried. If Granger honestly thought this, then she had to validate it, if only for record purposes.

Hermione had nodded a yes to her posed question, and so Minerva took a moment to think.

"I would not believe you if you were any other student. But…knowing your grade average here, as well as your…extracurricular activities…" she chanced a soft glare at Harry, but smirked, making him relax slightly. "…I would like to ensure you get the proper credit. I will schedule placement tests with the other professors, and depending on your grades, you may skip them and credit for the courses will go on your record. If not, we will simply place you in one or more of the classes you prefer." McGonagall replied. Hermione looked hopeful now, brighter than before.

"And you, Mr. Potter?" Minerva turned her piercing gaze at him now.

Shifting in his seat, Harry decided to throw his dear family under the bus for once.

"You know I live with my mother's sister, right? Petunia Dursley." He began and Minerva merely nodded for him to go on.

"Well, she and her husband—and their son, Dudley—rather hate magic." This was quite surreal. He had never discussed his family's opinion of him with Minerva, not until after the war during a couple of group therapy sessions.

"They hate magic." Minerva repeated to confirm.

Harry nodded, rubbing the back of his neck as he felt himself blush slightly. He knew now that McGonagall had disliked his family during that time before Dumbledore placed him with them. She had watched them all day and found herself not approving of their attitudes. He hoped that knowledge would help him now.

"Well, they hate me. I've never been quite sure if it was because of the magic or because of my mother." Harry shrugged sighing. "But either way, my point is, they never include me unless they have to. So, while I know what basic things are, like a toaster or telly, I don't really understand how other things work. What muggle society is like, what I've missed. My knowledge of that stopped when I turned eleven and finished Primary in a Muggle school. So, I feel sort of…behind, in that regard. And it is a part of who I am."

Minerva looked deeply touched, but by what Harry didn't understand. He was afraid she would think he was lying to get into a "easy" class, as most students liked to call it. But quite the opposite happened.

"I now understand your reasoning, Mr. Potter. Thank you." She put her hands on her hips. "And you, Miss Granger. You will both attend Muggle Studies without incident, I'll make sure of that. Miss Granger, your attendance will be on probation until I can accurately assess your proficiency at the other classes. If you are as advanced as you believe, you may stick to Muggle Studies." She then checked an old but lovely watch on her wrist Harry hadn't noticed before.

"Dear me, my class is about to begin. We must hurry or we will all be late. Come along then!" And in a flash what was once Professor McGonagall was now a quickly trotting cat, slipping out of the door. Hermione and Harry laughed in relief and upon finding Ron and Draco again in the library, gathered their books, checked them out, and then parted ways.

Transfiguration awaited them.

Transfiguration had been an interesting but uneventful class. Being adults (at least in spirit) the Trio found it to be, well, child's play. Harry had to whisper a reminder to hamper their skill as Ron transfigured a walnut into a small cup almost exactly as instructed. And such perfection just would not do for the newly teenaged Ronald Weasley. With an extra twist, he added back the ridges of the shell and removed the bottom completely right as McGonagall passed by, giving him a comment of encouragement at his progress. Hermione remained silent again during the class, gaining concerned glances from the others in their house. But her perfect cup gained their house an extra five points so no one really thought of it afterwards. It was normal for Hermione to get things right on the first try, after all.

On the way down, Harry caught sight of Filch mopping some distance away, his cat Miss Norris lazing about at the feet of a suit of armor that stood there. Harry had a flash of recollection to the time he accidentally saw Filch's pamphlet on the Kwikspell course in his cramped office once, while he was in detention for something or other. The thought rather pained Harry now that he knew what it meant.

He and Filch had never got on during his youth, but after the Battle of Hogwarts Harry had been one of the only wizards to do most of the cleaning up by hand. Filch—Argus—found this odd of the Boy Who Lived Twice (as was his new nickname for Harry on occasion). Harry had expressed a need to do it "The Right Way" and Argus had found the attitude singular to a wizard that could do magic. Eventually, the two began to talk during their duties to the school they had both loved fiercely. And while Harry would not have said they were close, he knew Argus could have been a friend once upon a time. Mellowed in his age, Harry found the man worn and tired but still holding onto the magic that was around him if not running through his veins. And it was an interesting parallel they shared, as Harry was hated in in his world for having the ability of magic; Argus was hated in his for not. Sighing, Harry added the man to his ever-growing list. He had been a rather ghastly individual, but Harry understood where a lot of his anger came from now.

Reaching the bottom of the steps they walked serenely to the Great Hall where happy chatter was emanating from. Harry smiled; it was good to hear the sounds of children laughing in these great halls once again.

When they reached their table (Neville having saved them a seat and was still rather pink-faced and disheveled but in very good spirits after his flight with Buckbeak that morning) all three were far lighter in mood merely by being together. Quickly they melded into the innocent chatter about the first half of the day.

The meal was delightful, but Harry noticed Neville barely touching his food towards the end of the meal hour. He was sat beside Ginny, on Ron's other side. Harry sat opposite them both. And the stark contrast in his mood from earlier concerned the green-eyed wizard.

"Something wrong, Neville?" Harry asked, scooping up a bit of peas he had mixed into his mashed potatoes.

Neville shrugged dejectedly, aimlessly pushing his fork back and forth in his own peas. Seamus leaned over Dean who had joined Harry's free side.

"Potions is next, remember?" The round-faced brunette explained with some sympathy for Longbottom. Off-handedly Harry noted Finnigan had a bit of ash about his freckles. Always an affinity with pyrotechnics. Harry would need to remember that.

"And me'thinks with Snape all inna' twist abou' losing the DADA position again, he's not gon' be very pleasant." Seamus finished in his heavy accent.

Ron snorted. "When is the man ever pleasant?" Hermione elbowed him softly and Harry shot him a warning look. But he didn't apologize.

Harry by now though was also feeling the intensity of anxiety that Neville probably shared, though his reasons were far different. His stomach churned unhappily now, and Harry wished he hadn't eaten what little he had. His body often had to adjust to having more food anyway during the first few weeks back from Privet Drive, and he knew his digestive system was always in a tizzy especially when he was upset.

In what Harry thought were mere moments, lunch was over and the students were all leaving to their respective destinations. Harry remained seated on the bench of the table, wringing his uniform vest and staring at the wood grain of the table that had since been cleared magically. Idly, Harry wondered if this was due to a set spell or if the elves kept track of a schedule and did it themselves. A hand clasped his, stopping his fidgeting. He looked up to see a concerned Hermione with Ron and Neville beside her.

"You coming, Harry?" Neville piped up, frankly surprised to see Harry in such a state; he was usually the brave one wasn't he? Not that he didn't seem brave anymore, but Harry usually got mad because of Potions class…not nervous.

"Yeah, I'm coming." Harry gulped, and let himself be led away by his friends.

It was with hushed wariness that the trio (and Neville) entered the dungeons. They spotted Malfoy just outside the doorway to their classroom chatting amicably with Theodore and Pansy. Malfoy darted a look to them before slipping inside. Harry noted the rather forced calm he was taking on. Harry could relate.

Looking around for seats proved unlucky as Harry's delay had caused them to be stuck with the front row. Glancing to his friends in pure remorse at making them suffer too, Harry mouthed a "sorry". Ron simply shrugged, Hermione's eyes downcast and Neville looking about as pale as the Bloody Baron.

The four slipped in, Neville punctuating their group by taking the aisle seat. Snape was at his desk during the whole affair of students walking in, scratching with a quill in red ink. Harry grimaced, feeling immediately sorry for whoever it was that essay belonged to; it was covered in corrections and likely scathing remarks on the content.

Harry looked around the room and caught Draco's eye. He was sitting in the aisle seat in his own row across from Neville. Theodore, Pansy and Blaise sat beside him; Vincent and Gregory right behind him like his dutiful body guards. The blonde Slytherin seemed completely at ease aside from his grey eyes that looked almost petrified. Harry's green ones softened and this eased his friend, who nodded slightly before their attention was turned to Snape who abruptly slammed the door closed with a flick of his wand—his eyes still on the essay he was correcting.

"You will be working on the potion outlined in page sixteen—Shrinking Solution." Snape called out, his tone of voice immediately dissuading any quiet chatter students dared to utter in his presence. He was standing now, tall as ever with his richly black robes falling over him like a depressing but majestic waterfall. It was surreal to Harry. Snape continued to talk and Harry found himself glued to his seat, unable to focus on anything but the man's voice.

"It is new to you only in its result; the process of its completion requires skills you should have by now mastered. You are in your Third Year, let's see if you can act like it." Snape ended rather nastily. Harry noticed the Gryffindors glare moodily at Snape, but the Slytherins seemed relatively calm. It figured as Harry knew Snape to favor his snakes more than any other house. But it was interesting to see a calculating gleam in their eyes. They were taking at as a challenge, and this was a thought Harry had never had occur to him in quite this way. Possibly because the first time he was too busy dealing with the hate the man radiated off him in waves, especially in this class. And with this, Harry's anxiety returned.

Snape flicked his wand to a board at the other end of the classroom and further instructions appeared in chalk. This also surprised Harry, as he had not noticed before the minuscule but clearly present attributes from the Muggle world that Snape had instilled in his classroom. An old but elegant blackboard sat on the wall behind the students, to peer at for any additional changes he often made to the text of their books. Charmed chalk sat on the shelf. On the other end of the room sat an old canister with an oddly shaped umbrella. Harry had never seen anyone in the wizarding world have use for the muggle contraption; the magical alternative took on the same shape but was employed by the wand to repel water. By another shelf, Harry squinted just in time to see a jar of plain old marbles next to a jar of armadillo bile and pixie wings. Odd.

"You will need only one rat spleen and a dash of leech juice for this potion." Sanpe quickly added, as if in an afterthought. Millicent raised her hand, and Snape went over to answer her question. In this distraction Harry let out a breath as he gathered some ingredients for his potion. First would be cutting some daisy roots. Returning to his station, Harry dutifully lost himself in his work.

In his own time, Harry had gotten quite good at potion making, in no small part thanks to Snape himself, though it was by proxy of the Half-Blood Prince. Harry stopped his cutting a moment to realize he still needed to find that book again. Turning back to his work, cutting deftly, his mind wondered again. The words of the book, or rather those scribbled in by the hand of a sixteen-year-old Snape, were kind in their instruction, concise and to the point. Well, perhaps not kind, but they lacked any insults and death-glares that Harry long remembered from the man. So they could be considered by Harry Potter as generally kind. Pushing these thoughts down into somewhere deep, Harry continued his work. If nothing else, focusing on his current task enabled him to ease his train of thought. Especially as ample distraction of knowing the man he saw die in a flash of blood and agony was here, standing just off to his left and walking back and forth slowly as he gauged the children at work. Harry did not want to think, only do. He was not ready to confront the man now, after all. In any form.

The class progressed dully, as Snape required almost absolute silence while the children worked. And as Malfoy had no "hurt" arm from Buckbeak this time, there was also no retaliation of him getting into a squabble with Ron. Harry quickly found it peaceful. Ron, as he had done the first time around, took advantage of the next half hour to carefully dice his own roots. He and Hermione worked seamlessly side by side, exchanging tools and ingredients in perfect silence, like a well-oiled muggle machine. Neville had taken to staring down at them, and then to Harry's progress. The tufty-haired Harry was also making quick work of his own potion. He lightly ran a finger along the small and cramped text of his book and deftly continued through each step without difficulty. This made Neville more scared than curious as to the change. His own wavering self-esteem faltered in his thoughts as he considered he may just be the only person in the room who did not know what to do next. He had skipped a line in reading his own potions text without realizing and now was afraid he was just too thick to understand why the next line of instructions did not make sense in the order he had been following.

And there was no force on earth save from Voldemort himself that could make Neville Longbottom ask Severus Snape a question in class.

That growing panic was quickly hindered by a soft "psst" coming from across the way. Harry glanced up to see Draco's piercing grey eyes staring at Neville who had a grip on something squishy about to plop into his cauldron. Draco glanced down the walkway, where Snape had glided to and out of earshot for a small whisper.

"One spleen, Longbottom. Not two." Draco nodded up at the tightly and slightly trembling hand above Neville's cauldron. Neville blinked, then glared slightly even in his own anxiety. He clearly did not believe any sort of advice coming from a boy who had often tormented him.

Draco's expression saddened just a bit, but he then jerked his head to the back of the room, where the instructions were written out about the rat spleens and leech juice. Neville was stock still, then dared a quick glance himself. He did this twice, before settling his gaze at Draco, who now had the eyes of Theodore Nott on him from his side, a calculating gleam in his own pale eyes.

Nott seemed to wonder what Malfoy was playing at; so was Neville in all honesty.

"He's right, Neville." Piped up Harry, much to Draco's relief. Neville turned to him and exhaled rather heavily, about to lower his hand when a stark shadow hovered above him. Snape had noted the lingering form of Neville and decided it was time to give him some rather unwanted attention by way of humiliation, much to Harry's dismay.

"Well, Longbottom, going to just hold your fist of crushed rat spleens above your cauldron, or will you be dropping them in sometime this century?" Snape sneered. Neville gulped. His entire body trembled and the entire class had stopped their quiet murmur of working to look on at the new spectacle between Snape and Longbottom. Harry couldn't quite believe it, though he really should not have been surprised. The man found fault in most anything if he tried.

"Go on, Neville—just the one, remember?" Harry commented in a normal voice, not even trying to hide he was helping his house mate, something he knew would tick off the old former death eater.

Neville nodded and dropped only one, with a rather anticlimactic splash into the bubbling potion in progress. But Snape's wrath was in full force via his stare at Harry.

"I seem to recall this was an individual practicum, Mr. Potter." Snape said in a deathly low tone. Some of the Slytherins looked eager to see him get ripped into again, aside from Malfoy who had, if possible, paled further as he looked on.

Harry tried to push his emotions deep into his chest and looked up at the man, his heart slightly breaking at seeing how much hate resided in the man's eyes for him. But his held his own as he certainly was not afraid of the man. Not anymore.

"I understand that, sir, but you're making him nervous. A little encouragement goes a long way, rather than expecting the worst of someone you have not even given the chance to prove himself." Harry replied evenly, even in eerily calm. Snape's glittered a moment, not expecting such sentiment from Potter of all people. And he clearly gathered the double meaning there, though he was not about to give into it.

"Your dear Mr. Longbottom has proven how inept he is in this particular subject, Mr. Potter." Snape countered in an awful grin. "And I would rather dissuade him from further atrocity in my classroom as his abysmal skill concerning my subject is very apparent." Neville wilted visibly at that. He did not know which was worse: being yelled at by Snape publicly, or the casual way Snape could strip him down with mere words.

Harry said nothing in return, just narrowed his gaze slightly, not deigning to play into the man's trap in trying to get a rise out of him. This seemed to sour the older wizard's mood however, unable to verbally release his anger on the whelps, and therefore barked irrational deductions and rule changes.

"Five points from Gryffindor for disobeying today's practical instruction." Snape spat, daring Harry to come out with an outburst. Harry however merely sighed and looked away. It was Weasley who looked murderous, but even he held back any retort. And the Granger girl had not looked up from staring at her hands.

Neville looked like he would cry but thankfully held that in as well.

"And Longbottom, take care with your sub-par skills as we will be testing the resulting glop on your precious little toad at the end of class." Snape added hatefully, then glanced at the room (which was still staring at the scene) and said (though this was directed pointedly to the Gryffindor side of the room),

"No one is to help him, am I understood?" No one dared argue with him and murmurs of "yessir" echoed in the damp, drafty old room.

Harry placed a hand on Neville's forearm and squeezed, a silent sign of support for his friend. Neville gulped, but nodded as he put on a brave face—an expression betrayed by the slight sheen on his forehead and still trembling hands. Right as Harry removed his hand however, Neville noticed a slight silver scarring there, and looked confused at a Harry that was now engrossed in skinning a shrivelfig.

Was it just a part of his imagination? Neville wondered so but was immediately distracted by Snape's constant sneer every time he passed their table in his rounds about the class. All thoughts concerning the glimpse of a hopefully-imaginary-scar disappeared. Trevor chirped in his pocket and Neville shushed him softly, his heart racing at the facts he did have: Snape hated his guts, he was pants at potions and that Trevor's life was on the line.

Meanwhile, Draco was cutting through his caterpillar, feeling pale eyes scrutinize his minute movements.

"May I help you with something, Theodore?" Draco murmured quietly without looking up.

"If you're not busy helping Longbottom, sure." Nott hissed back, and Draco looked up to merely raise an eyebrow at the accusation.

"Problem?"

"Yes, actually." Nott whispered before they both shot back to looking at their work as Snape passed again, uttering a slight clearing of the throat to deter them from chatting without taking points like he surely would have done if they were not in his house. Once he was gone further down the room once more, they continued in softer tones.

"Why help him? He's an imbecile." Nott continued, accidentally slicing off the head of a caterpillar in his anger.

"He's not an imbecile, Theo. It would do you well to remember that." Draco glared at the boy beside him. He did not like having issues with those in his house, but most of all Theodore. Draco found the stringy boy unusually intelligent for his age, with a quietness about him that did not mean he was shy; Theodore was merely contemplative…cunning. Having their fathers be relatively close had meant they too had grown up together, and Draco saw him as one of the few he could call an equal. But he came from a pure-blood family whose ideals coincided with those of darker perspectives of the wizarding world. And this concerned him greatly now.

"Yeah? He can barely utter an answer without adding ten syllables to each word in his stuttering." Blaise leaned over Pansy to put in, clearly eavesdropping on the conversation. Pansy shoved him aside, blowing on a strand of hair that had fallen out of her hair band and onto her face. Theodore nodded in agreement, turning to Draco with a bland expression, as if to disagreeing with that logic would make him a dunderhead. The other two leaned forward, expecting Draco's reply. Draco shifted a bit in his seat to face them more fully, caterpillar in hand, and glancing to Gregory and Vincent behind them. Those two were also looking at him expectantly. They may have been a bit thick, but they were still Slytherins for a reason.

Draco felt incredibly claustrophobic in that moment. Another clearing of the throat caught the group's attention at once however (letting Draco release a breath he had not realized he was holding) as Snape had once again snuck up on them. He stood at the end of the table, expression unfathomable aside from his own raised brow. The children immediately straightened their postures and turned their attention to their work.

Once Snape had moved again (to peer into Neville's cauldron with a distasteful look) Draco whispered one last time to the others.

"This is not the time to speak of this. We can talk in the courtyard after class." The others seemed pacified at this. Theodore did keep skirting glances at Draco though, a look of…concern on his face perhaps? Worry? Emotions Draco could not really remember seeing on his face. But then, the last time he saw Theodore Nott was at his trial.

And the only emotion that graced his face then had been pure and unhindered hatred…

"You traitorous trash, Malfoy! We trusted you! And you turned on us to help Potter?!" the snarling form of Theodore Nott gnashed his teeth and struggled in the grip of the Aurors leading him away. Draco sat there, in the stand where he had just voluntarily named several of his cohorts in the Battle of Hogwarts and beyond; those sympathetic to the Dark Lord. Harry was there, standing just off to the side, fingering his wand and looking tired and stricken from the sight. Nott let out a choked sob of anguish and it made Draco grip so hard his nails dug deep into his skin drawing blood. His testimony had sentenced Nott to prison—thankfully not Azkaban as he had not been made a Death Eater—for several years. But Nott's reputation and career were ruined without question. His pale green eyes flickered in the reflection of the torches and he cursed Malfoy's name to high heaven in his screams of sorrow. And Draco crumpled in silent sobs once the door had slammed shut on his once-friend. His heavy, broken breathing echoed in the room as Shacklebolt grimly called in the next named in Draco's testimony.

Draco's hands nearly let his brass scales slip in the memory's sharp turn, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and then continuing his work while pushing any memories of those horrible months away for the time being.

Snape had by now returned to his desk, scratching at his parchment once again. Seamus chanced to speak with Harry as he leaned over to borrow the brass scales beside him.

"Hey Harry, have you seen the Daily Prophet this morning?"

Harry looked up at him, having a terrible daze of dejavu. "Haven't had a chance, what happened?" Now remembering the answer, Harry tried to keep his face blank.

"They reckon Sirius Black's been sighted."

Harry shared a look with Ron, with the red-head taking up the next question. "Where?"

"Not too far from here." Seamus all excited now with the news. "'Was a Muggle that saw 'im. Didn't rightly understand though, now could she? Muggles just think he's a regular criminal, don't they? So she phoned the telephone hot line. Bloke was gone by the time the Ministry got any wind of it."

Seamus left to go back to his station after a right nasty look from Snape who noticed him standing far too long beside Harry's table.

"Not far from here…" Ron said significantly, and Harry sighed as this new worry was again brought to the forefront of his mind.

"We need to send him that letter." Hermione piped up quietly so only they could hear her.

Harry nodded, then flinched violently when something crashed down on their tabletop. Snape had slammed his hand on the top. Harry was breathing erratically at the sudden swift movement and noise and had his wand drawn out, looking at Snape for a moment as if he could not recognize the man. Snape blinked, surprised, but quickly drew himself up in an air of threatening, quiet menace.

"Put that wand away, you foolish boy. Or do you mean to hex your own teacher?" Snape hissed, eyes so narrowed that no light shone from the darkened orbs of his pupils.

"N-no sir." Harry sounded out of breath, and felt quite dizzy at the magic he was trying to control. His reflexes from the war were still quite active. He put the wand back into his robes, staring downward as his face remained rather paled.

"You startled him!" Ron spat back in such vitriol that everyone looked taken aback—even some Slytherins. Snape raised a brow, lips curling into a terrible and cruel smile. Neville meanwhile looked like he was going to faint straightaway from the stress.

And Draco's eyes had widened considerably at the confrontation. Even Theo, despite himself, looked impressed.

"Me? Startle the Boy Who Lived? Now I daresay this is a new feat." Snape sounded completely unapologetic, perhaps excited at finding a new way to torment the boy. Harry's cheeks tinged pink but he remained looking downward.

"I daresay I'll hex you into the next millennium if you EVER—" Ron almost lunged for the man, and Harry and Hermione had to stop him.

"Ron, stop!" Harry said in a forceful tone and Ron immediately ceased fighting their hold on him. However, the damage was done.

"Two weeks' detention for threatening a teacher. Maybe next time you'll think twice before uttering every fool thing that pops into that minuscule mind of yours, Weasley." Snape sneered, to his credit having not budged an inch from where he stood. "And a week for you, Potter, for pulling a wand on a teacher." Harry then looked up at him, his green eyes looking hurt and betrayed, for reasons beyond Severus's comprehension. But because of this, Snape quickly broke eye-contact, moving to glide to the back of the room, erasing the board with a flick of his wand. Almost as if he needed something to do.

Harry and Ron began to pack away their unused ingredients, as most of the others were now doing as the latest spectacle was over and the end of the lesson within sight. Harry went over to wash his ladle and hands in the basin in the corner, where a particularly gruesome gargoyle head served as the faucet. Harry had never understood why such a thing existed, and distractedly wondered if this was by Salazar Slytherin's design. This was his part of the castle…

"I'm sorry." Ron's voice whispered in melancholy when he joined in using the icy cold jet of water. "For making a scene, I mean. Not for threatening Snape. The git." He then swore, calling Snape a few very unpleasant names and making Harry wince.

"I appreciate your help, Ron, I really do. But he won't hurt me. You need to remember that. This…this was my fault." Harry tried to explain, digging a bit of crud out of the bowl of the ladle.

"Bloody likely. I don't care if he fought on our side, he's got it in for you. You've got nothin' to be at fault for." Ron huffed, tapping his ladle on the basin to clear some of its own gunk.

"He's just angry." Harry tried to justify, but his voice plainly said he was more hurt than he would care to admit. Now that he did not hate the man, what filled that hole was now respect. And being so hated by someone he greatly respected made Harry's chest heavy.

"We all are." Ron spat, then returned to their station. Harry sighed, flicked some water off his hands, then joined him. Snape eyed them as they slid in to their spots. Ron risked a hateful glare, but Harry ignored him completely.

No matter. Snape had a new target.

"Gather 'round everyone," Snape said in an even voice, as if nothing had happened mere minutes before. "and watch what happens to Longbottom's toad. If he has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink into a tadpole. If not, as I do not doubt, the toad will be poisoned."

Neville gulped fearfully as he held Trevor up and gently placed him in Snape's left hand. Snape then ladled a bit of the potion—which was a sickly acid green—onto the amphibian. Trevor gulped, not aware his very life was in danger, and with a quick pop! a wriggling tadpole was in his place. Neville sighed openly in relief and Snape rolled his eyes. Taking a phial of something from his inner robes he quickly put Trevor right once again, dropped him roughly on the table, then regarded Neville with a new look of hate. He then looked at all the gawking students then almost yelled,

"Well? Class is dismissed!" and a scuttering of feet and clinging of ladles and cauldrons filled the silence.

Harry was one of the first to slip out the door, not giving Draco a chance to pull him aside and see if he was okay. Sighing, and readying himself for the conversation he was to have with his own group of friends, he slung his pack on his shoulder and proceeded out the door. He chose not to look at Snape for fear he would also snap and lunge at the man as Ron had.

The courtyard was a beautiful place for students to do a bit of studying or hanging about outside. But it reminded Draco when he jumped from the tree near the middle of the yard in order to taunt Harry during Fourth Year, before he was turned into a ferret by that piece of human garbage, Crouch Jr masquerading as Mad Eye. It made his stomach turn to think of his own follies…to think how he himself used to think.

He knew he had been followed by his year-mates, and so he chose a spot a bit away from a couple of Hufflepuff seventh years who were making flower crowns as well as Diggory who was in a tutoring session with Cho Chang, though by the looks of it they weren't getting much studying done.

Typical, Draco thought. However, the sight of Diggory made Draco's hair stand on end and he quickly walked past their spot.

Settling on a place with a bench near a stone wall, he hopped on the wall to sit, carelessly dropping his book bag at his feet, looking on as his friends walked down to join him.

"Well, who's going to start?" Draco lazily called as the group gathered about him. Vince and Greg stood at his side, as they always did, but eyed him carefully as if uncertain of him now. Pansy flawlessly hopped to sit beside Draco, though enough space between them to give him room—or to distance herself as she too was concerned for his loyalties. Blaise leaned on the bench, arms folded and staring at Draco's form while Theodore stood at his side, hand clasped behind him and a calculating look once again gracing his features.

"I might as well lay it on the table then; What. The. Hell?" Blaise was never good at hiding his emotions and this made Theodore roll his eyes.

"Way to be subtle, Zabini." Theodore said as he pinched his nose in frustration. Draco almost smiled fondly though as the sight had he not been the subject of this teenage inquisition. It reminded him of Umbridge's little band of purebloods he had been a part of and the memory sobered him up quickly.

"You'll have to be more specific, Blaise." Draco drawled, causing Vince and Greg to snicker.

"Alright, fine. What were you thinking, helping Longbottom in Potions? In fact, while we're at it, why are you all of a sudden palling around with Potter and his Gryffindork friends?" Blaise accused. The others silently waited an explanation.

Draco sighed, running a hand through his platinum hair.

"I'm changing tactics." He said after a moment, finding the best way to explain himself in Slytherin terms. He had been hanging around Harry far too long, for he had taken to looking at things in his way—straightforward. But he was still a Slytherin, and he always would be. And he knew that the best way to gain his friends on his side—and eventually the side of the Light—would be to appeal to their inner Snake.

"We're listening." Theodore prompted, obviously intrigued by this answer. Just as Draco had hoped.

"We've all grown up hearing his name, Harry Potter. Correct?" Draco began, having gone over this speech for a while now since he had been back. This conversation had been inevitable.

"Yeah, so what?" Pansy asked as she pressed a tiny wrinkle out of her skirt.

"My point is, we've been looking at this the wrong way. Potter has had influence since he was almost a year old. None of us can say that for ourselves, no matter how distinguished we make our careers here at school and onward. He will always be known for who—and what—he is." Draco explained, kicking his trainers against the wall as he swung his legs. The action was to make him look relaxed but inside his heart was again beating very hard and very fast.

"You wish to use his popularity in some way? That seems a bit beneath you, Draco." Theodore commented, his expression looking almost disappointed if this were the case.

"No, I mean that we cannot afford to have him as an enemy. Don't you see?" Draco jumped off the wall and began pacing back and forth.

"Harry—Potter, I mean—not only defeated the most powerful dark wizard of our time, as an infant mind you, but he has since defeated him twice more in as many years." Draco continued. He of course knew this to be a partly half-truth, as Harry's mother's sacrifice had been what defeated Voldemort in the beginning (Harry had explained this during the trials with the Ministry) but he would use what weapons he had in his arsenal, twisting them to conform to his needs. As any Slytherin would.

"You really believe all that rot, about the Dark Lord coming back those times? That Potter really killed a Basilisk?" Blaise spat. Draco blinked.

"You do not?"

"I do." Theodore replied quietly, but his gaze every bit blazing in intensity. This was a dangerous point in their shared path, Draco knew.
"But I also know the Dark Lord was not to his full strength both times. If he had been, Potter might not even be alive."

Draco pursed his lips in thought. Then said with uncharacteristic conviction,

"He will be, one day. And I want to be on the winning side."

"How can you be so sure?" Theodore had taken up the role of inquisitor it seemed, and in Draco's stilled pacing had taken up circling him slowly, much like a buzzard that had sensed a dying animal.
"How can you be so certain that Potter will be strong enough, smart enough, clever enough to outwit the, as you said, greatest dark wizard of our age? If he indeed will come back."

"Because I am not a fool, Nott." Draco hissed. "I see the value in keeping Potter close."

Blaise's eyes narrowed at that, Theodore's brow furrowed.

"Then what proof do you have Potter's is a side you would risk status, family and friends to join?" Theo challenged, his expression betraying a hint of concern. All eyes trained on Draco once again, and he once again sighed.

"Because he's Harry Potter, that's why."

Vincent and Greggory seemed to take that as proof enough really, loathe as they were to admit it. But the others wanted more to go on.

"And you expect us to understand that kind of Gryffindorish logic because...?" Blaise prompted with an insult, rolling his hands in gesture for Draco to elaborate.

"I am not at liberty to say just now. I would rather not put all my dragon eggs in one basket, especially since you lot seem to think I've gone barmy." Draco spat.

"I simply wish to understand." Theodore replied softly. It was then that Draco caught the bit of fear there in his eyes. Fear and sadness. Draco though was fairly uncertain why Theodore would be sad of all things.

"What, is he your boyfriend now or something?" Blaise mocked, making Pansy gasp and look crushed. Vincent and Greggory looked scandalized. But again, Theodore looked calculating, as if truly measuring if this was a possibility.

"What?! No! Of course not, you idiot!" Draco threw up his hands in frustration. Of all things…!

"Then what?" Blaise pressed.

"Listen, all of you. Listen to me and listen good." Draco began in a voice he had heard his father use on several occasions when he was talking of something very important. It worked to capture his friends' attention.

"As Slytherins it's time to start thinking outside of the box." Draco saw some eyes widen or narrow in response, but was encouraged no one had interrupted yet. This meant they were willing to hear him out. Since birth, Draco knew, this particular group of his friends had been drilled on the ways of the Dark Lord. Not blatantly so, as most of the death eaters had believed Voldemort truly dead (or tried to deny him, as his own father had done). But there were still leanings in that direction none of them could readily deny having been taught, especially if their fathers had been in his inner circle, as all of them had been directly aside from Parkinson and Zabini.

"And I think the winning side is with Potter." Draco's voice was low as their group had attracted a bit of attention by now. Slytherins did not normally travel in groups—and they did not converse in them either.

"You keep talking about sides, what sides? Do you expect another war?" Blaise scoffed.

"You never know." Draco answered evenly, seriously. Blaise had the grace to look thrown off kilter.

"What on Merlin's green earth makes you believe that?" Pansy finally spoke up, her voice slightly scared.

"Inevitability, Pansy." Draco turned his head slightly to answer her. He flicked his eyes to the other boys. "The odds are against us and we will need a friend."

"Sentiment and kindness…even friends…are weaknesses." Theodore said hollowly, as if repeating something he had heard countless times rather than feeling them with his own conviction.

"Potter is able to use that as his strength." Draco countered easily.

"The kid can't even stand to be in Professor Snape's class without shying away like a ninny!" Blaise squawked, hands on his hips. "Did you see how he jumped? And he almost fainted on the train from a single Dementor!"

"There is a reason for that as well, one that is not my place to divulge." Draco kicked up some grass, his voice softer. He looked up again though after another moment. "Suffice it to say Potter has the power, whatever you may think of him personally. You can't deny he does when he's slain a bloody Basilisk."

"He's got a point." Theodore acknowledged, a finger to his lips as he considered the reasoning in that favor.

"I still don't believe that." Blaise mumbled. Draco was reminded of Finnigan all those years ago when the Irish boy had almost gotten into a fight with Harry when he too did not believe Voldemort had returned. It seemed Blaise was the "seeing is believing" type, small minded though it was. No matter, Draco had enough faith in Harry for the both of them.

"Ask him to show you the scar." Draco smiled almost wickedly—it was a veiled challenge.

"Alright, I will!" Blaise would not be one-upped by Malfoy of all people.

"So…" Pansy daintily tucked some hair behind her ear. "Back to the matter at hand. You've got some good reasons as to why you want to be on Potter's good side. Okay. But what about Longbottom?"

Draco sighed, once again, leaning on the wall in a huff. "I just figured I'd rather not have his cauldron explode on my new robes first day of class." The others laughed softly at that, Theo even managing a smirk. It made Draco feel bad, but he couldn't very well tell them he felt pity for the boy. Even comradery with him. No one here would understand it, as it had not happened yet. And Neville…he was also powerful. And Draco knew he did not want him as an enemy either. It would do him well to nurture that relationship, if he were able.

Of course, there was a better chance of seeing kneazles fly.

Pansy asked for Draco's help off the wall, with Blaise making obnoxious kissing noises that made Greg and Vice giggle once again and Draco cuff him good-naturedly.

"Now what?" Pansy asked with a flick of her pin-straight hair.

Draco peered at the sky, which was gloomy as ever. Overcast as well. It made it hard to determine what time it was, only that it was later than it had been as it was not so brightly lit. Theo cast a spell and determined they had about half an hour before dinner. So, they decided to drop their books off in their common room before the mealtime.

They happened past a distracted Peeves, wailing about something stuck in his nose and "Nasty Marauders" before popping through the walls. With a shared look of bewilderment, they continued on.

Draco, usually the lead, had let himself drift to the back as Pansy and Blaise got into a heated argument over whether the new Defense Professor was poor or just didn't have time to fix his clothing from his obvious dueling. Pansy thought the former, Blaise arguing the latter, surprisingly. Draco supposed he did not know the man was a member of the crimson and gold, or else he would not defend the man so heartily.

Vincent and Crabbe had trouble ping-ponging looks as the two bickered, unsure which was the right opinion among them. It was as they descended in the darker part of the castle where laid the dungeons that Draco noted Nott drift to his side.

"This conversation is only postponed, you know." Theo remarked quietly as they walked. Blaise exhaled dramatically and almost shouted something to the effect that even if the man was poor he at least didn't want them to buy multiple volumes of some ridiculous book he authored as Lockhart had done the year before. Pansy huffed and then tried to defend Lockhart because at least he knew how to dress properly in public.

"I gathered." Draco replied, hands stuffed in his pockets and books weighing down his shoulder.

"You will need to prove to us what you're doing is…" Theo seemed at a loss of words here, looking for the right one. Draco helped him.

"Wise?" Draco smirked. Theo gave in a true, if small, smile and nodded.

"We shall see." Draco replied with small smirk.

Little did Draco know that gaining the confidence of his fellow Slytherins would soon be the least of his—and Harry's—problems.

"I don't think we should go."

"We can't just skip it! That's a core class, Ronald!"

"She's right; I can handle it."

"After what happened in there? In that nasty bat's dungeon?!"

"Ron, calm down, I'm…I'm over it, see?"

"No you're not."

"Excuse me?"

"You are shaking like a leaf on the Whomping Willow!"

"I am not!"

"You are too!"

"Boys, BOYS! Will you both shut it, I can't even hear myself think!"

"Sorry luv."

"Yeah, sorry."

"Thank you."

The Golden Trio had side-stepped into a less-used passageway to their next class. It was a good thing, because for the first time in a long time, Harry was feeling the woes of being gawked at. And being a teenager again made those feelings intensify excruciatingly. After that fiasco in Snape's classroom Harry felt like taking a nap for the next century. The man was so volatile and cruel; Harry had almost forgotten by how much. And despite his best intentions, Harry now had ended up with a week's worth detention on the first day of class this term.

And the flash of fire and confusion in Snape's eyes the split second he was taken off guard by Harry's action was very, very concerning. The man was far too curious for his own good—Harry knew this much from experience.

Harry quickened his step and the other two matched his pace with ease. This passage was less used because it was the long way around, and Harry (despite his new depression at how fantastically he failed his first class with Severus Snape since he had come back) did not want to be late.

"Harry, I'm sure Remus will understand if you're a bit late…you need to calm your nerves yeah?" Hermione put an arm around his shoulders and tried to comfort him. In all honesty, the contact by his beloved friend did in fact lighten the weight currently in his chest.

"Thanks 'Mione, but I don't want to make a bad impression with him…Snape, well, I need to accept I've always been on his bad side since birth I suppose." Harry finally smiled at this, surprisingly. Ron clapped his back and mirrored the grin.

"Guys! Wait up!" a voice called and the three stopped to turn around at who was running after them. It was Neville, looking terribly disheveled and huffing as he ran to catch up.

"'Lo Neville!" Ron called and gave a firm wave at the boy as he approached. They continued their pace once he joined Harry's other side.

"I hoped I'd catch up to you lot, figured you mighta' took this way once I didn't see you with the others." Neville breathed, hoisting his potions book into his pack, Trevor on his shoulder looking ill from the rough ride of his human running about.

"You know about this way?" Hermione asked. It wasn't unusual, some students did explore beyond the paths clearly best used by students. But some of them were not so apparent; this particular path they had only known about because of the Marauder's Map.

"Oh yeah, I take it lots of times. 'Easier that way, when I want to be alone and stuff." Neville replied easily, still struggling with his pack. Harry couldn't help the concerned look he gave the boy at that statement.

"Sorry about Potions, by the way." Neville said shyly as they walked. Harry and Ron shared a confused glance.

"For what?" Harry asked.

"Well…y'know…for needing to stick up for me because I'm pants at Potions and Snape knows it. You both ended up getting under his skin and now you've got detention." The boy huffed dejectedly. He thought it was his fault.

"Neville, no…that was not your fault." Harry tried to impress upon his friend. Ron looked mad, but on Neville's behalf now.

"Neville, that greasy bat—" "RON!" "—has no right to treat you or any of us that way. I'm glad I got to tell him off, the git." Ron all but yelled, with Hermione trying to calm him.

Neville blushed but did not try to argue. His small smile meant he was glad they did not blame him for the bubbling tension.

"Well, are you two alright then?" he continued after Ron's outburst. "I saw how bad you f-flinched Harry," Neville was looking at his feet here, as if he really shouldn't have brought it up…but he pushed onward like a true Gryffindor. "…though I mean, Snape gives me the willies too so I understand."

Harry gave Neville a fond, warm grin. Neville chanced to look up and the sight made his heart swell with returned affection, but somewhere there, in Harry's eyes was a murky melancholy he could not place. And there were definitely remnants of dark circles beneath them, obscured mostly by his glasses unless someone were close enough to notice as Neville was now.

What was going on with Harry Potter…?

The thought was interrupted by Harry's voice. "I was just taken off guard, Neville. I guess…I guess I just got used to a Snape-free summer." He shrugged and his smile turned into a slight grimace. But Neville understood the sentiment, even if he still thought Harry was being a bit…vague.

Harry was doing a lot of that lately, wasn't he…?

But again this was pushed to the back of his mind when they arrived to the assigned classroom where their Defense Against the Dark Arts Class would take place. Several students were trickling in or already seated, and everyone seemed a bit surprised (aside from the Trio) that their teacher was not there yet. So they set out their books, bits of parchment and quills as they all began to chat amicably. This was one of the few classes Gryffindor had on its own for Third Year, and they all seemed pleased to be able to de-stress after that horrid Potions class.

Harry chose a seat in the very back this time, not quite sure if he could handle this next class. While he knew this teacher certainly did not hate him (or want to kill him as those in the same position had the past few years before and after this one) Harry still felt a bit wired because of Snape. Plus, he knew that Lupin would be making today's lesson…a practical one.

With Boggarts.

And having discussed this with Ron and Hermione back at the Burrow, he decided they could get through this if only they focused on lesser fears for the Boggart to latch onto…perhaps if they remained in the back they would not even get a chance to take a turn with it before it became dispelled completely like last time.

At least, Harry was hoping very, very hard this would be the case.

Ron slid in beside him, with Hermione sliding in moments after. Neville had taken Harry's other side, sitting in with another huff, running a hand through his hair and visibly relaxing a bit by merely being in a physically different room than Potions.

Dean passed by but stopped to give Harry a comforting grin, a bit lopsided as if he felt sorry for him but would not have switched places with him for all the Galleons in Gringotts.

"Doin' alright there, Harry?" he asked. Harry sighed but managed a smile; a wane one but it seemed to satisfy his friend. "Yeah, I feel ya mate. I don't envy you…but we all agree Snape's a right snotty git."

That…didn't make Harry feel any better, but he supposed Dean's heart was in the right place. He didn't know…

Parvati, who was sitting beside Seamus and Lavender, looked sympathetic as well. "He had no right to do what he did. Looked like he gave you a right heart attack. Almost gave me one with that great smack on the table."

Lavender nodded in agreement. "The man is daft. I almost dropped the whole bottle of leech juice it scared me so bad. He keeps that room so dead silent otherwise." She rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of Professor Snape.

"And did you see the look he gave me when I was at their table for more than a few seconds?" Seamus piped up, wanting to chime in with the girls. "But he just lets Malfoy and his goons chat the class away without so much as a cough in their direction." The others thought this another grievance that Snape accosted them with unjustly.

Harry murmured agreements he didn't really feel but was touched by the support from his friends. Hermione (and Ron thankfully) had nothing to add to the string of insults at the unfairness of it all. Hermione was happy just doodling on her parchment—a new design for an elf hat it seemed—and Ron seemed to notice Harry was continuing to feel uncomfortable and so laid off in respect for his best friend. Soon, everyone was seated and chatting on various topics (thankfully Potions was quickly set aside for more interesting and happy trains of thought) when in walked Professor Remus J. Lupin.

Harry straightened considerably in his seat, watching the man with an almost hungry look in his eyes. He couldn't help it, he adored the man. But it was likely for the best that he be so far away, as Harry was itching to touch him again, if only to feel he was really and truly there and that this wasn't some beautiful, tragic dream.

Lupin, bless his heart, had on worn robes and carried a tatty old briefcase that he settled on his desk at the front of the room. But his smile, while also vague, was warm and generous. And while shabby, he looked far better than he had on the train. Some good square meals seemed to have done him good, much as they did for Harry whenever he first came back (even if he did feel queasy at first trying to get used to it again from the summer).

"Good afternoon," Lupin said happily, but firmly to wordlessly request chatter to cease so he could gain the attention of his class. "If you would, place your things back into your bags—today's lesson will be a practical one. You will need only your wands."

Harry watched the curious looks of his year-mates and almost chuckled at what he found there. Some looked excited, some wary and some out right confused. It was well warranted, as up to now they had not had a practical DADA lesson, aside from that disaster last year with the pixies.

"Right then, if you're all ready, just follow me." Lupin said as everyone had done as he asked of them. The Trio stayed in place to allow the others to take the lead in following him out, but not before Harry caught Lupin's eye who seemed to beam at seeing him, before leaving out the room. Harry quickly brought up the rear with his two-thirds trio (plus Neville), hope and joy bubbling up in his chest where dark despair had resided since leaving Snape's class.

It was amazing what drastic effects a good teacher had compared to a terrible one. Harry could admit Snape was brilliant, but he was a very bad teacher, hands down. Lupin instilled obedience and confidence in his class mere minutes into his first day, all with his kindness.

Rounding a corner, Harry saw that Lupin was already engaged in conversation with Peeves, who was currently still upside down and stuffing chewing gum into a keyhole, chanting "Loony Lupin" over and over. Harry winced, wondering how Filch managed to clean after that menace without magic.

"I'd take that gum out of the keyhole if I were you, Peeves." Lupin was saying rather pleasantly as Harry and his friends arrived to stand with the group. "Mr. Filch won't be able to get in to his brooms." Harry almost nodded with that statement. Poor Filch. He was mean and nasty, but honestly the man had enough on his hands without that poltergeist making it ten times harder. If nothing else, Harry did not want to bear the brunt of Filch's frustrations in the future as was usual when he was grouchy. Which was all the time.

Peeves blew his nasty wet raspberry at Lupin and Ron rolled his eyes at that. Seemed he was tired of this already too. Lupin then showed them a new handy little spell, which he demonstrated and the gum shot out of the keyhole and into Peeve's nose. The ghost wailed and wailed, zooming off cursing. Lupin merely looked serene aside from a notable mischievious spark in his eyes. Harry grinned widely at that more than anything else.

"Cool, sir!" Dean exclaimed in amazement.

"Thank you, Dean." Lupin said while putting his wand away in his robes. He then offered for the group to continue on their way and they happily obliged.

A new note on Harry's list of thoughts was how Remus knew Dean's name. It then occurred to him that he had known all their names as the class went on, without having to ask for them. His heart warmed at knowing the man probably prepared so thoroughly for the job that he also strived to memorize and learn all the names of his students. That realization blew Harry away.

He would make sure he could keep the job this time around. No exceptions.

Walking along the second corridor they soon found themselves outside the staffroom door. Lupin ushered them in the long room filled with mismatched chairs. Harry then spotted Snape with a thrill of discomfort. Grimacing, he grabbed Neville and ushered him a bit behind him to protect the boy from the man's glare. Neville looked surprised at the action before looking up to see the man's glittering and darkened gaze at them as the Gryffindors piled in. Neville looked like a small bunny staring into the teeth of a viscous wolf. An odd thought, Harry admitted, when the real wolf in the room was one of the kindest men he had ever known.

Snape was sitting in a highbacked chair, reading the Quibbler of all things. He quickly shuffled it out of sight, but not before Harry caught it. He sneered as the Gryffindors refused to step anywhere near his side of the room. Lupin made to close the door when he called out, deftly jumping up from his seat, "Leave it open, Lupin. I'd rather not witness this."

Harry almost scoffed at that, not feeling particularly fond of the man right now, his hand still holding onto Neville's wrist and standing in front of him like a shield for the man's hateful gaze.

Snape meanwhile was striding past the class, the grace and billow of his robes lost on them as they simply watched with disgruntled looks for the man who had berated their own just last class. Lupin seemed surprised to see them all crowded about him instead of dispersing into the room, but with one glance at Snape's retreating form a look of understanding crossed his face. But it mingled with a touch of sadness, which he hid when the man in question turned back to address him before leaving.

"Possibly no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom." Harry closed his eyes in another grimace before opening them to look back at Snape. He could feel Neville warm in his hand and knew the boy was turning scarlet as the man continued.

"I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless dear Mr. Potter is there to swoop in and save the day." Harry merely regarded Snape with a blank face, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing how angry he was with him over this.

Lupin had raised his brows. "I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation." He smiled such a smile that he looked like a ray of sunshine that Snape wanted to trod underfoot. "And I am sure he will perform it admirably."

Snape's lip curled before shutting the door with a snap.

Harry turned to Neville as the others in his class broke out in upset murmurs, making Lupin have to settle them down.

Neville looked, if possible, redder than when Snape first insulted him, due to Lupin's following confidence in him. "Alright there, Nev?" Ron asked as Harry let go of the boy now that Snape was gone.

"Y-yeah…th-thanks guys…" Neville gave a weak grin, and Hermione rubbed his arm for good measure, which he appreciated. They then turned to the class that Lupin was now having a bit of trouble settling.

"Come on now, calm yourselves…" Lupin tried, honestly confused as to where this antagonism was coming from in his previously well-behaving Third Years. Surely this small confrontation with Snape couldn't be it…right?

Wrong.

"It's Snape, sir." Seamus almost yelled in frustration. Lupin didn't have a chance to correct him on using the man's title as the boy continued. "He's made Neville's life hell, and gave Harry a right scare in class before we came here."

Harry looked mortified. This didn't happen before.

Lupin's eyes flicked to Harry at the mention of that, a certain protectiveness shadowing his features now before his attention was directed to one of the girls who now spoke.

"And he knows it!" Lavender rallied next to Seamus. "He bullies Neville and Harry most and acts like Hermione's brilliance is some sort of undeserved trick, but he hates all of us."

Harry covered his face in his hands, completely ready to sink into the floor. He didn't want this to be the first thing Lupin heard about him from the school. This was ruining the lesson as well. Plus, this was not helping anything. There was a reason Snape was angry all the time. Harry knew. It didn't condone his actions, but it wasn't like he woke up one day and stated "Hmm…I think I'll hate all Gryffindors now."

Hatred, Harry knew from experience, was a learned trait.

And this was exactly what he wanted to stop.

"I agree that Professor Snape is a bit…rough around the edges…but—" Lupin tried but Harry interrupted.

"He's got a bit of a bias against our house, professor." Harry spoke, his voice rather soft. "But we're Gryffindors and…and we won't let it get us down. Will we mates?" Harry encouraged positively, gaining several "here here's!" in response from his year-mates. Lupin looked rather relieved from being saved from having to defend Snape. It wasn't that he didn't want to, but he didn't exactly have a lot to work with.

"Well said, Harry." Lupin graced him with a look of pride and Harry instantly lightened at that.

"Now then!" Lupin then turned to face the opposite side of the room and beckoned the children to follow. He even briefly placed his hands on Harry's shoulders to help herd him closer to the spot he indicated and Harry almost melted into the man's mere touch. He felt so very safe with him alive and well, it took all his power not to stand directly at the man's side as he made his way to the front of the others and gesture to the old wardrobe they now faced. The wardrobe made a great rumble and shook a moment, making several of the students jump backward in alarm.

"Nothing to worry about," Lupin said at their surprise, though he noted Harry, Ron and Hermione looked wary but otherwise expectant. Hmm…

"There's a boggart in there." Lupin continued, jabbing a thumb at the wardrobe. Well, that did nothing to calm the class as Neville snapped up to look at Lupin in pure terror, Seamus eyeing the now rattling door knob. As Lupin began his spiel about what sorts of places boggarts like to reside as well as how he had procured this one, Harry leaned into Ron.

"Well, ready?" Harry asked. Ron gulped.

"I dunno if I'm ready for this…it'd be alright if it was just us." Ron replied.

Harry agreed with that readily enough. It wasn't exactly a boggart they were afraid of; it was having their past several years of fears exposed and then having to explain it. Harry decided though that his first priority was protecting his two closest friends from the blasted thing. Lupin was now looking at them though he asked his question in general to the class.

"So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a boggart?"

No one answered, though several eyes turned to look at Hermione who was hugging herself, stepping a bit into Ron's side as if for added support (which he gladly gave her). Once again she was passing up an opportunity to answer a question. Lupin had noted in going over student files that Hermione was a bit of a know-it-all, an attribute regarded rather affectionately from the rest of the staff (aside from, predictably, Snape) and he had expected her to answer right away. But she was hesitant. Perhaps she was shy with a new professor?

"How about you, Miss Granger? Do you have an answer for me maybe?" Lupin asked, his tone far more gentle as he regarded her.

"Uhm…" Hermione began, standing a bit straighter and even dropping one of her arms to the side. "It's a shapeshifter, sir. It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

Ron clapped her back and Harry beamed at her. They knew it took a lot for her to answer as she did.

"Couldn't have put it better myself," said Lupin, and Hermione almost glowed. He went on to explain the mechanics of the boggart's magic and strategy, before turning back to the class, another question on his lips.

"This means," and he gracefully ignored Neville's sputter of terror at the realization that the thing in the closet would, in fact, resume the form of whatever the recipient feared most, "that we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?" Harry jumped at being addressed, having forgot he too had been asked a question in this class the first time. But he gave it a go.

"Because…there are so many of us, it won't know what shape it should be."

"Precisely." Lupin nodded, Harry again feeling relieved by his teacher's—and future friend's—approval.

Lupin then told of the ways this could be advantageous, describing the boggart he saw once try turn into two things at once and becoming awfully nonthreatening because of it. He also showed the class how to perform the charm used to counter the boggart—Riddikulus.

Harry joined the others in practicing saying the spell verbally sans their wands. "Good!" Lupin praised them, and the others looked visibly more confident at this. It faltered only just when Lupin went on to explain that more was needed than just wandwork and a handy spell. He then sought out Neville, who paled at being chosen for the following unknown task he was to help with.

"You've got this Neville. You rode a Hippogriff and showed up Snape in his own class!" Harry whispered happily into his ear as he, for the second time that day, pushed his friend forward in aid of a professor. Neville took on a determined sort of look in his face at Harry's pep talk (and Hermione's thumbs up) and he stepped forward to Lupin's side with more confidence than the first time around.

As the professor went over what Neville feared most, as well as what sorts of things his grandmother usually wore, Harry gently pulled Hermione and Ron backward a bit from the rest of the group. No one noticed.

Lupin then straightened and then asked everyone (once the giggles died down of picturing Snape in a dress) to do the same exercise with the things they feared.

Harry didn't close his eyes as most had done, but he still thought about it true. He seriously thought if Dementors scared him as they had when he was really thirteen. He immediately thought against it. No, he did not fear them in particular. Sure, their effect on him was far worse than the normal person, and if Sirius was around he certainly would be afraid for his godfather's life…but Harry could cast a fully corporeal patronus without hesitation. And it was this ability that enabled him to conquer that fear long, long ago.

So what else in his travels did he discover a new fear for? Death? Never…he did not fear it but he also wished to prevent its prematurity upon his loved ones. And having died once already, Harry knew it was a peaceful experience, just like Sirius had said that night in the woods before his final duel with Voldemort.

Voldemort…Harry scrunched up his face in thought. Did he fear Voldemort now? Again, not really…but Harry supposed he did fear what he was. A wizard bent on hatred to tear apart all he loved, the very world that served as his rescue from that lonely cupboard under the stairs all those years ago. It made Harry rather angry to think about though, instead of fearful.

Harry's thoughts were halted at the laughter filling the room, and he looked up to see the Snape-boggart flailing about in his heels and dress, wearing a hideous hat, scarf and handbag. Harry smirked at the sight. Ron was clapping, as if this were poetic justice. And Hermione had folded arms, looking disapproving but still cracking a smile.

Lupin called on the next student, a delighted look dancing on his face at Neville's success.

"Parvati, forward!"

Crack!

Harry watched as Snape turned into a mummy almost instantaneously.

Seamus was next, after Parvati managed to get the thing to trip on its own bandaged and its head roll off. Harry jumped back just a bit more than necessary, his mind going back to that hideous cave with inferi…no. He would not think about that just now.

Constant Vigilance! Harry let Moody's advice echo instead.

Crack!

Prepared for the wiling shriek of Seamus's banshee, Harry flinched only a bit and gave the other transformations an even wider berth. The others had spread out as well.

"Excellent!" Lupin cried at Dean's flick of the charm. "Ron! You next!"

Ron shot Harry a look, but Harry nodded him on, wand at the ready to help if needed.

Ron darted cautiously at the boggart which immediately transformed…only it took several more seconds than the others had. Ron's disposition of determination faltered a bit and Harry gripped his wand like a vice; Hermione faring no better.

Crack!

At last the boggart settled on a huge spider, much like the one from before. Harry was about to heave a sigh of relief when it then changed again. Ron took a step back, his heart pounding as his concentration had been lost.

Crack!

The boggart swirled in a dark, obsidian, almost sandy substance that swirled like a tornado. But it quickly took the form a woman. Unlike Seamus's, she was no banshee.

She was much, much worse.

"No…" Ron breathed incredulously, hands shaking.

The woman stood there, eyeing everyone with a mocking humor in her otherwise dead eyes. One could have called her beautiful once, but life had not been kind to her—nor her dark activities. Her curly hair was now wild, her once perfect teeth crooked; and her skin as pale as the moon.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

Remus Lupin was completely taken by surprise in that single moment, frozen in momentary shock by the image, a face he had not seen in more than a decade, and right as he was about to dash forward, Harry beat him to it.

"No! Here!" Harry yelled, waving his arms madly to distract it. Bella jerked her head to him and the boggart changed again—but to what Harry was not sure. It began to take form once again when Lupin jumped in front of him.

"Here!" he yelled almost ferally, his heart beating fast at what he thought he saw moments before.

Crack!

Everyone looked wildly about, aside from the Trio who had deftly spotted the silvery orb hanging in midair almost lazily. Lupin had to tear his eyes from Ron and Harry to look up at the thing before glaring at it wearily, tiredly before flicking his wand almost absently.

"Riddikulus." He managed to cast and the orb turned into a balloon that fizzed about the room making the most rude of sounds and easing the tension of the room as nearly everyone giggled at the noise. The balloon landed with a whap! onto the stone floor and Lupin looked to the student he intended would finish off the thing.

"Forward, Neville! Finish him off!"

Neville stepped forward gingerly but with much more courage than before, his brows furrowed in concentration this time. Again with a sickly crack! Snape was back, but before he could so much as sneer he was struck by Neville's charm and back in those ghastly clothes. Letting out one last hearty "HA!" Neville laughed the boggart into oblivion; it exploded into a thousand wisps of smoke before disappearing completely. Everyone clapped and cheered and Neville turned pink with pride.

"Let's see here…"Lupin clearly had regained most of his composure but Harry saw a wariness in his eyes now and it made his heart plummet just a bit.

"Five points to Gryffindor to everyone that faced the boggart…ten to Neville since he did it twice…and five each to Harry and Hermione."

Harry wisely did not dispute this, knowing Remus gave the points for the answered questions earlier.

Lupin once again praised the class, earning beaming looks from the Gryffindors, and he doled out a relevant—if easy—homework assignment and set them on their way.

Harry made his way to leave, almost as quickly as he had left Snape's classroom since somehow he had managed to muck this one up as well, when Lupin called his and Ron's name to stay behind a moment.

Hermione widened her eyes and Ron shot her an almost frightened look. What were they supposed to say?

Harry noticed Neville linger in the doorway for them, a puzzled look of concern on his face. Everyone else was raving happily about the class as they moved out and down the corridor, thankfully. No one seemed to notice them other than Neville. Harry nudged Hermione and said, "It'll be alright, we've got this. Go along with Neville. We'll catch up." Hermione squeezed Ron's arm, gave Harry a parting look of confidence, then padded to Neville, taking his arm and leading him out.

Turning back, Harry and Ron noted Lupin leaning on one of the tables and regarding them both thoughtfully. He motioned for them to come closer.

"Ron, I noticed the form your boggart take—" Lupin began, his voice barely above a whisper as if the possibility he was about to confront pained him.

"I'm sorry I didn't react in time, sir!" Ron blurted out. Lupin blinked, but almost smiled at the interruption.

Yep. Definitely a good teacher. Harry thought.

"Which was my fault sir." Harry took upon himself. Ron jerked his gaze to his friend, a bit disgruntled at him taking some of the blame.

Not everything is your fault, Harry! Ron wanted to scream, but didn't for obvious reasons.

"I just saw Ron in trouble and just…reacted." Harry shrugged.

Lupin tapped his mouth with a couple of fingers, an arm folded across as his other resting on his chest in thought.

"This is not…a rebuke, boys. I understand that sometimes what boggarts take the form of can be fearfully paralyzing at times…but I am rather perturbed by what form your boggart took on, Mr. Weasley."

Ron blinked. It was rare Remus had ever called him that.

Sharing a look, Ron lunged on working from what he heard Seamus all but shouting about as he left with the others.

"My banshee, sir?"

Lupin looked a bit taken aback, as if this were not the answer he was expecting.

"Your…banshee (?), yes Ron. She looked…odd…?" Lupin now looked as if he felt particularly stupid for bringing this up at all and Harry felt bad for him. But there was no viable way they could explain Bellatrix Lestrange. At least, not now. Better for all involved that Remus think it was just a familiar face haunting him from the past in a similar person's visage, not the real deal.

"Yeah, she did look a bit wiggy." Harry chuckled, though it was still in an uneasy tone. "I uh…we, um, watched some movies with them over the summer. And you know, Ron isn't used to muggle horror." Harry lightly elbowed Ron who took that up.

"Er, yeah! Those muggle mooveez, right scary they are." Ron tried to look sheepish, though in reality he had no idea what Harry was on about.

"Ah, I see." A light tinge graced Lupin's cheeks and Harry immediately felt like scum for deceiving the well-meaning teacher. "I just thought…well, never mind what I thought. You two are free to go." He chuckled at himself, getting off the table to begin straightening back the room with his wand.

"Er…" Harry began as Ron made to walk off. Lupin looked back to Harry. Such genuine interest laid in those amber eyes that Harry's voice nearly caught in his throat. He never thought he'd see that look in Remus's eyes again…he pinched himself in his robes to get his voice working again.

"Thanks. I mean, for taking my turn at the boggart."

Lupin's brows raised in surprise.

"I don't think…I don't think mine would have been pleasant." Harry replied vaguely. Lupin's gaze softened in a somewhat understanding look.

"I figured as much, Harry. I'm glad you understood my intentions."

Harry smiled. "Yes sir. See you." With a small wave, Harry and Ron were out the door.

As they walked, Ron was rubbing his neck in embarrassment.

"Um, Harry? What's a moovees?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh.

The nerve. The gall. The absolute cheek of that insolent, Gryffintwit of a boy!

Snape was forcefully jabbing his wand at some shrubbery at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He decided to get in some gatherings he was running low on in his stores before dinner. But really, he was angry and wanted to be alone for a while. Away from Flitwick's jokes, Hagrid's clumsiness, Rolanda's constant yabbering over her personal picks for this year's Quidditch team stars, Pomona's bubbliness and most of all Albus's twinkling paired with Minerva's meddling and that wolf Lupin. Not to mention the other teachers Severus didn't even try to tolerate. He also felt like he was surrounded by Gryffindors on all sides and did not like it one bit. So here he was, in the wilderness, away from awkward social interaction with his colleagues, Lupin's pathetic attempts at friendship (as if!) and those mewling brats he had to teach on a daily basis. One brat in particular plagued his mind however, and it was driving him, well, batty.

He was replaying that overdramatic session of his third year combined class from earlier, when the Longbottom boy managed to beat the odds and produce a barely above decent potion. And where the Weasley boy nearly lunged at his throat, the ungrateful and hot-headed whelp!

And don't get him started on Potter.

The mere thought of him made Snape slash a bit too forcefully at the plant he was gathering cuttings from, making it slice directly in half at the burst of magic from his rising emotion. Crap. Pomona would string him up by his thumbs if she saw. Quickly he mended the dingy thing before moving on.

The way Potter flinched so horribly as Severus slammed down on the table to curb the whisperings they were engaged in…well, it threw Severus for a loop. And with his senses honed from his eh, previous job experience, he could feel the restrained magic in the air emanating from the boy, and upon seeing his wand out, Severus had no idea what the boy was playing at. The heavy breathing, crackling air and even the clouded gaze as if he was seeing something else than reality—they were all signs of PTSD. Snape had experienced it enough those first few years after the war to know the signs. But in Potter? It was inconceivable!

Severus hatefully kicked a mushroom off its stalk in his anger, and scowled at the glittering dust that rose up from the action. Even in death the dreaded thing dared look beautiful. He then picked it up and placed it in his burlap bag that he used for this sort of excursion.

And what was up with Potter's attitude—or lack thereof? He was simultaneously glad and dreaded to see his usual spunk in the moment the boy defended Longbottom from a tongue-lashing. Glad to see it since Potter's arrogance usually led him to assign detentions and thereby allowing him to ruin the boy's life just that much more. But he also dreaded it as it made him so like his prat of a father, Potter Sr.

And now the Golden Boy Who Lived was reunited with his pet wolf, for whatever good that would do to this quickly crumbling situation, at least in Severus's eyes.

But, as he made himself calm enough to coax a few flowers open again (as they had closed abruptly upon his tromping about the forest edge in his vitriol) he also remembered the rather subdued way the boy had taken on once class had begun. In fact, (though he would admit this to no one) his surreptitious glances at the boy had almost been concerned ones. Almost. But he had to grudgingly admit that Potter had been working in unusual focus, with a murkiness that coated his otherwise brilliant emerald eyes. The only beautiful part of Lily he seemed to inherit. And as it had been with her, Snape could easily discern emotion in those same eyes (if he dared look at them for more than a few seconds which, as it happened, was rarely something he could bare). But he was forced to by the whelp, though he made it difficult what with staring down almost the entire time like a reprimanded House Elf, as if Potions was no longer a class he hated with passion but endured with resignation. Apathy on any Potter's face was more unnerving than anger for Severus Snape. And while he appeared to not have noticed any difference, he did. The little wretch only acted normal when it was Longbottom that had caught his negative attention. And even then it had quickly dissipated, far too quickly for normal rule-breaking, angsty Potters.

Snape paused his thoughts to tickle the current bulb that was giving him the hardest time. It smacked his hand away with a leaf and he heard the other flowers he had collected from giggle. Gathering all his strength of will, he strained to keep himself from digging his heel into the impertinent weed and held its leaves down instead with one hand and ticked it again with the other. It finally gave in and unfurled its petals so he could place his vial and collect some of the nectar pouring out. Silly things. He absolutely hated collecting from these particular specimens; they were haughty and uncouth and disturbingly cheerful of a plant.

Sprout thought they were jolly good fun of course, the gratingly bubbly witch.

He stood back up from his previous crouched position and heard several of his bones pop in the process. He grimaced. He was in his thirties, not an old coot like Dumbledore. It was far too premature for a wizard to be suffering from rickety joints in this stage of life.

Of course, he had experienced more than his fair share of torture curses and it was quite possible it was catching up to him. Merlin knew the nightmares had only just stopped a few years now. It was bound, by Severus's terrible luck, that he be now plagued by physical deterioration.

Of course, deterioration was a much stronger word than needed for simple cracks of the knee from getting up too fast, he supposed.

Glancing at his pocket watch Severus scowled. He had wasted enough time skulking in the forest—it was nearly time for dinner. Looking at the beautiful castle and flickering candlelight, he wildly thought of maybe getting himself attacked by centaurs just so he could have a valid excuse not to attend the meal. He was hungry, sure, but he didn't feel like seeing Lupin's face. And admittedly he was still mad at Albus for letting the man work there.

But no, him getting attacked would be unlikely as the human-like creatures lived far deeper into the wood; Snape would probably be eaten by the rumored acromantula population before he caught a glimpse of any centaur. And besides, those blasted spoilt brats would likely see his demise as cause for celebration. Probably led by that hideous wolf.

And Severus just would not give them the satisfaction.

He was halted in his imaginings when he heard what sounded like an engine at a dull roar deeper beyond the clearing he was standing in now. Swiveling about to the noise Severus let his blank mask fade to be replaced with a look of sheer surprise and confusion.

Now that was a sound he had not heard in more than a decade. After reaching his majority he had happily said goodbye to all things Muggle (and by extension anything that reminded him of his father) and moved permanently into a flat in a wizarding village not far from Diagon Alley. His visitations to the Muggle world grew fewer and far between and after Albus took him in as a spy, it ceased altogether. But he still knew his way around an automobile thanks to his father (one of the few things the man found joy in, incidentally) and Severus knew that sound perfectly.

But why in the name of Merlin's tea cozy was it coming from inside an enchanted—and arguably dark—forest?

The engine revved up and it moved closer, causing the ex-death eater to jump back a step. He peered through a curtain of his hair and spotted the faint orbs of headlights. They made a sharp turn and he heard the roar of the engine (and a rather clogged muffler from the sound of it) grow fainter as it moved away.

Blinking and staggering away in confusion, Snape quickly made his way up to the castle, wondering if he should even bring up the odd sighting to the headmaster. Knowing Albus, the conversation would rapidly degrade as he would undoubtedly be peppered with curious questions about Muggle life in general and Snape did not have patience for that. Especially in front of Lupin. Albus could just as easily peruse Burbage's knowledge of such trivialities (as she was the new Muggle Studies Professor Severus had been told) but no. Albus would go out of his way to ask Severus instead, knowing how it annoyed him so. Albus may have more self-control than say, Arthur Weasley (a man Lucius had been apt to declare distaste with for similar enthusiasm over Muggle things) but he was just as bad.

Hearing a faint blare of a car horn in the distance, Snape tugged his robes as he quickened his pace towards the castle.

Hallucination or no, Severus Snape was not about to get run over by a blasted Muggle car in the middle of the woods.

As dinner neared, Harry and Ron had just enough time to make a pit stop in the common room before making the long walk back. Harry was glad for it though, as he was emotionally exhausted and was tired of lugging his books around. Featherlight Charms worked but it still annoying to have something slung about his shoulders for so long. He was far more used to his old hip holster when he was in Auror training before he began his plans with Draco on the time turner.

He and Ron shared a companionable silence as they walked (after Harry had explained—as simply as he could—what exactly a movie was after Ron had asked) and soon they found themselves at the Fat Lady.

"Password?" she asked sassily. Harry smirked, but unable to shake the feeling she looked familiar. He felt like he had seen her face on the telly on one of the rare occasions the Dursleys let him linger for a look during his chores in the house.

Oh well, that was a silly thought, how could he have seen her on the telly of all things?

"Mea Culpa." Harry uttered softly. The Lady looked a tad put out he remembered it and said with a good natured snark, "Oh alright, go on! Get in you two!"

The two boys climbed in and found Ginny sitting on the couch with Neville and Hermione. They got out of the way just in time as a lot of Gryffindors were making their way out to the Great Hall. One of whom being Oliver Wood, who gave Harry a quick ruffle of the hair in greeting before slipping out. Boy, Harry had sure missed Oliver too. He was a good guy, really. Maybe a bit Quidditch obsessed, but as far as vices go, that was a tame one.

"Well, what'd we miss?" Ron asked genially, sitting by Hermione on the arm of the couch which she was nestled into.

"The others have been talking about what happened in your classes after lunch." Ginny answered, though her voice got a bit timid when Harry joined them.

"Great." Harry sighed, letting his bookbag fall on the floor in a thud.

"I reckon it will be all over the school after dinner…" Neville moped, not thrilled either. "Snape's gonna go mental when he finds out what I did to my boggart."

"Don't worry about it. Serves him right." Ron huffed.

Harry just wiped his face beneath his glasses again, tired. Tired of Snape's pettiness, tired of Ron's animosity and tired from the entire day.

"I think I'm gonna skip dinner." Harry declared after a moment, and after another group of students left through the portrait hole. The common room was growing ever more quiet as everyone made their way downstairs.

"Harry…" Hermione chastised, knowing he needed to eat.

"I'll be fine Herms. I just want some peace and quiet…and anyway, my stomach is still in knots. Besides, I don't eat so much in the beginning of term, remember?" Harry said, gathering his books back up.

Neville and Ginny looked rather confused but Ron and Hermione understood. Even at his time in the Burrow Harry had not eaten that much. His body, though stressed from a lot more than normal teenage wizard worries, was still deprived from his time at the Dursleys.

"You want us to stay with you then?" Hermione asked.

"Nah, I'll be fine. See you after." Harry called as he made his way to the Third-Year boy's dormitory.

Harry went to rummage through his trunk for some extra parchment, grabbed one of the books he and Hermione had checked out (this being the one on Animagi) and switched it out with his school books from the afternoon. Oh, but he decided he should get that summary done for Remus as well. Harry stashed his DADA textbook back into the bag. He then plunked back down to see his friends had already left. With a content sigh, he made his own way back out but instead of turning to the direction of the Great Hall he pushed forward to where the library was.

On his way he spotted a Ravenclaw, by the looks of her uniform, gazing in slight concentration at some rafters above.

"Luna?" he called, coming up to where she stood. She turned her gaze to him, her face brightening slightly in recognition.

"Harry Potter, how are you?" she asked, vaguely happy sounding.

Harry, relieved to see her and knowing she wouldn't judge him for being honest, he replied, "I'm a bit twitchy tonight. Had a bit of a rough afternoon."

"Oh, that's too bad." Said Luna but her voice hadn't changed tone so Harry knew she wasn't angry or pitying on his behalf—she just was. "Things will look up for you soon, as even a phoenix but first burst into flames before it is reborn."

Harry smiled at that analogy. "I see. Pain must be endured before the light of a new day, eh?"

Luna gave him a small smile. "Exactly." She turned to looking up into the ceiling almost. "You're much smarter than the others say."

Harry snorted. "Thanks." He knew, coming from Luna, it was not meant to be mean.

"So, what about you? You doing alright?" He asked of her, adjusting the strap of his bag.

"I'm fine, Harry Potter." Luna answered in that breathless, dreamy way she always did.

Harry looked up where she looked, and saw a pair of trainers tied at the end of one of the low rising beams. Glancing down at Luna's feet, he saw that besides her socks they were bare.

"Nargles get at your shoes?" Harry asked seriously. Lune looked back to him with small surprise.

"Why, yes. You've seen them?" she asked, a bit of her almost-white blonde hair falling from her shoulder.

"I've a bit of experience with them. Annoying little blighters." Harry conversationally put. He had a terrible, nagging suspicion that the "Nargles" weren't actually the reason behind Luna's stolen possessions. Harry's countenance darkened when he considered that Luna was being bullied, albeit subtly to escape her notice.

Or perhaps knew but did not see the merit in making a big deal out of it, as Harry had also witnessed in their friendship over the years.

Either way, Luna resumed focusing her gaze on the shoes. They seemed to sway a bit but that was it.

"Have you tried to get them down?" Harry asked, feeling a bit daft for doing so. He was never on the right footing when spending time with Luna. Not that it was uncomfortable, but it did make him feel younger than he was.

But Harry kind of liked that.

"Oh yes." Luna replied simply, now twisting a bit so her skirt twirled in her movements. She looked so calm and at ease. Harry really envied her of that.

"But the Nargles seemed to have used some sort of sticking charm, impervious to my counter-charms." She sighed just a wee bit here. "I have since been trying to see if I can move it with my mind."

Harry tried to hide a chuckle. Luna certainly was full of unconventional ideas. "Any luck?"

"Mmm…not yet. But it's only a matter of time." She confided, knitting her pale eyebrows a bit as she continued to stare down the shoes.

"Here…" Harry set down his pack. "Let me see if I can try it the old-fashioned way. If you don't mind some help?" Luna blinked back to Harry and a wispy smile crossed her features.

"Thank you, I'd appreciate the help Harry." Harry grinned back then trotted over to the suit of armor that was anchored to the wall just below the beam in question. Hands on his hips, Harry inspected his best course of action. He then shed his outer robe and tossed it aside. Then with a crack of his knuckles (mostly for show to give Luna the full experience) he backed up a bit before taking a running leap at the wall, which in his jump he tagged it with a well-placed foot to give him extra leverage before he was again able to quickly catch the ridge of the frame for the armor with the other foot and then pushed from that up to the beam. Harry managed to grab onto the wood of the beam and then pulled himself up until he was sitting on it like a broomstick.

"Oh that was very athletic, Harry." Luna commented faintly, cocking her head to the side in interest.

Harry shrugged. "Drastic times call for drastic measures." He then took out his wand, wondering if proximity might help but 'twas in vain. The shoes continued to sway mockingly at the far end, though no draft could be felt. Harry furrowed his brow in his own concentration then hobbled (as it was rather unwise to slide across the wood, Harry did NOT want splinters in that particular place thank you very much) forward, gripping the wood best he could as he moved. Looking down he fancied it was a bit of a drop even if he had been able to hop up here to begin with. His glasses fell down his nose and he pushed them back in place before stretching out to the shoes.

But he hesitated. Images of Katie Bell lifting into the air from the cursed necklace she had barely brushed flooded his mind and Harry snapped his hand back from where he had it outstretched.

"Are you okay Harry Potter?" Concern lacing Luna's normally airy voice.

"I uh, yeah…I just got to thinking…we should check if it's cursed." Harry licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry.

"Like I said, much smarter than what they say." Luna cocked her head to the other side, eyeing the shoes then Harry. "You think the Nargles capable of that sort of advanced magic?"

Harry shot her a dubious look. "Luna, I think anyone is capable if they put their minds to it."

"You sound a bit like my father." Luna smiled.

"Thanks." Harry gave a breathless laugh. It was a compliment really; Xenophilius Lovegood may have been a tad bit tetched but he was a Ravenclaw back in his day and fairly astute. And as Harry now realized, being eccentric did not always mean one was unintelligent—quite the opposite in fact.

"Do you know any good spells to scan with?" Luna asked. "I'm afraid my expertise may be a bit lacking…" she shrugged and continued to sway back and forth. Harry did not blame her, she was only a Second Year after all. "I do believe Professor Lockhart was a bit distracted last year. And we were unable to get much practice in." She said kindly.

Harry snorted. "Distracted…that's one way to put it." Harry murmured. That man was distracted alright, but with himself.

Harry scooted back a bit then slid out his wand effortlessly, giving it a twirl to release some of the energy he was feeling. He knew more than likely nothing would happen and he could then manually untie the shoes, but one could never be too careful.

"It's alright; I know a few." Harry softly explained to Luna while his eyes remained on the shoes. The first couple of spells he tried required a bit of a complicated swirling of the wand, but being both a survivor of the Second War Yet To Come as well as an Auror In Training, he had all but perfected it.

In the aftermath of it all, Harry found that darker witches and wizards enjoyed leaving nasty little surprises for him and those in the Light to stumble upon. Bill said it came with the job, but Harry was quite sure if it had not been a necessity he would have picked another career whole-heartily. It was like finding a wound up Jack-In-The-Box, but with something far deadlier inside.

The trainers glowed purple for a moment and then it faded—a good sign so far. Harry then twisted his wand and flicked it twice, slashing a quick shot to the right for the last spell he would use. The shoes glowed gold and glittering bits of magic fell from them, fading before hitting the floor.

All was clear.

"Well, they aren't cursed." Harry declared happily, giving his legs a kick or two in relaxed contentment. That was a load off.

"That's good news. I don't know if cursed shoes are that comfortable." Luna sighed, still looking up at him and his efforts with her big soulful eyes.

Harry nodded, agreeing with the somewhat off comment. He then scuttled back across a bit, leaning the rest of his body along the length of the beam and tentatively prodded the knotted laces before beginning to carefully but quickly untie them.

"POTTER!" Harry nearly toppled off, being startled twice that day. Merlin, he had to get used to this in a castle full of people. Whipping his head around he spotted Snape coming, robes black as a moonless night billowing impressively behind him. He had been crossing the corridor to the next on his way back from his office (to set down his procured ingredients) and happened to glance down this way it seemed.

Just Harry's luck.

"'Lo, P'fessor." Harry mumbled dejectedly, straightening up. Snape joined the two and looked at Harry as if he were Up To No Good.

Which, as it looked, Harry couldn't rightly blame him this time.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing up there, you impossible boy!" Snape all but yelled up at him. "I ought to hex you down this instant!"

Luna came to Harry's rescue though, as serene as she was.

"I'm sorry Professor Snape. But Harry was just helping me get my shoes down." Snape shot her a look to determine if she was lying or not, but one look at her robes told him this was a Ravenclaw—Lovegood, if he remembered correctly. He faintly recalled the girl being talked about in his other classes by her peers and his gaze softened, if only microscopically. He then glared back to Harry.

"Potter! Were you harassing Miss Lovegood?" Snape asked in a low tone that begged him to just give a reason so he could justify hexing him into next week. Or taking a bajillion points. Or both.

"No." Harry and Luna both answered in unison. Harry was now back to untying the shoes, looking so casual in Snape's presence that it irked him that much more.

"Then, pray tell, why are your shoes up there, Miss Lovegood?" Snape asked as Harry yanked at the particularly stubborn knot.

"I do believe the Nargles stole them away as I was freshening up for dinner, sir." Luna replied, still looking at Harry when Snape gave her a confused if wary look of his own.

"Nargles." Snape repeated, momentarily distracted from the fact Harry Potter was currently on a beam fairly high up and untying some shoes from the nail they'd been hooked to and knotted impossibly tight against.

"Mmm-hmm." Luna replied noncommittedly.

"Harry?" called a voice from the opposite direction Snape had glided in from. Harry looked up to see Remus breaking into a speed walk, his own robes giving a half-hearted billow in his wake.

Fantastic, just what Harry was trying to avoid. Making a spectacle of himself.

"'Lo Professor Lupin." Harry greeted meekly, continuing his work. He had jabbed his wand behind his ear and looked very determined if a bit ridiculous.

"Um…Severus?" Lupin chanced as he stood on Luna's other side. "What erm, is going on?"

"Don't ask." Snape snapped. Just like that idiotic wolf to stick his snout into business that did not concern him one bit. He then turned back to Harry. "Did you even think of using magic to get them down, you glory-hogging miscreant?" Lupin looked scandalized and shocked.

"Severus!"

"I did, actually, sir." Harry replied calmly, nonplussed by the insults. "Someone stuck them pretty good up here."

"Someone? I was under the impression the Nargles did it." Snape sneered, but more so directed at Harry than anything Luna said. Lupin mouthed 'Nargles' to himself in complete confusion.

"That's…one of our theories." Harry replied vaguely. "But whoever it was didn't reckon someone was fool enough to hop up here and undo it the Muggle way."

"Fool being you, of course." Snape shot back, folding his arms. Lupin once again looked angry enough to spit fire.

"You can't just—" But Harry's voice interrupted.

"That's my middle name…" Harry answered distractedly, but just going along with the idea that Snape would think whatever he wanted regardless of anything Harry tried to say (at least for now). And this knot would be undone if Harry had to work at it till the rise of the Dark Lord.

"Isn't that the truth." Snape muttered, rolling his eyes. Lupin looked aghast with annoyance at Snape, but looked to Harry with new concern.

"Luna, I've almost got it, ready to catch them?" Harry called out, and Luna skipped just beneath him.

He pulled one of the laces straight up and the shoes dropped right into her thin, pale hands.

"Thank you, Harry Potter." Luna happily chirped, her tones still quite faerie-like but otherwise clearly overjoyed.

"Don't mention it, Luna." Harry smiled back.

Luna turned back to the professors standing before her, with somewhat bewildered looks. "I look forward to seeing you both in class tomorrow. Good evening, Professors." She turned back to Harry. "See you later, Harry!" and she skipped back to Snape's original path which led to the Great Hall.

Harry looked after her fondly for a moment before catching the gazes of his two professors.

"Well, Potter? Going to stay up there all day and transfigure yourself into a squirrel?" Snape bitingly suggested. Lupin grimaced at his colleague before gazing back up to Harry.

"Need some help there, Harry?"

"Er…sure, I guess." Harry was rather thankful for the offer; he hadn't really thought of a way down other than jumping.

Lupin come up forward and, with a raise of a brow from Snape, reached out his arms as if to catch Harry.

"Oh uh…" Harry tinged a bit pink.

"Don't be afraid Harry, I've got you." Lupin beamed happily. And it was in this moment Harry felt a tightening of his chest as he was given another flashback, only this one was from when he was a small child.

The room was a blur, but Harry was sure it was a creamy warm color. There were orbs—no, bubbles! Everywhere! They were reflecting the most beautiful light coming from the window. The sound of a baby giggling could be heard all around.

The view was so…strange…it was like Harry was looking down on everything and everyone.

Everyone…

There were people there with him. Straining at the memory, their forms began to take shape. There was a man with a smartly cut beard and shoulder-length, dark wavy hair. He had sharp grey eyes and an infectious grin. Harry felt himself smile in the memory. There was another man there, one on the other side, who was practically jumping up and down with pure joy.

"Harry! Oh Sirius, Remus! Look! Look at him!"

"I can't believe Peter is missing this!"

"Oh where's Lily's enchanted camera…LILY!" The man bounded out the room like a galloping deer.

The person next to him had lighter, almost golden-tan hair cut much shorter but with an excitable fluff on the top. There were a few scratches on his pale skin but his warm amber eyes made Harry feel just as warm and safe as he ever was. Th uncertain pout Harry felt himself give as his father bounded out of the room quickly vanished as the man before him held out his arms and smiled happily. He spoke with a laugh in his voice. It was a friendly, delighted tone that Harry had no problem instantly trusting.

"Don't be afraid Harry, I've got you."

…

"Harry?"

"Harry?"

Harry blinked and sucked in a breath sharply. Lupin still had his arms outstretched but his smile waned a bit in concern because of Harry's lack of response. A quick look to Snape and Harry saw the look of contempt and almost-disgust at the familial sight.

"Sorry, I…I got lost for a second." Harry mumbled and he made to climb off the beam.

"You could easily just levitate Potter, Lupin." Snape snarled, arms still folded but keeping where he stood as if this was just interesting enough to keep his attention.

"Yes well, I think taking Harry's lead…" Lupin simply explained, catching Harry's waist as he dropped down a bit, and helping to set him on the floor, "and doing this the Muggle way is just fine." Merlin but the boy was light…a bit too light if Remus had any say…but Harry had quickly scrambled out of his arms so that thought was saved for later.

Snape looked as if he would burn Lupin on the spot with his glare if he could. He then looked to Harry and narrowed his gaze, a sneer on his lips.

Harry patted his trousers and some dust fell loose.

"So…what was that all about then?" Lupin asked, looking to Snape who was obviously no help in answering that question, so he turned to Harry.

"Luna is a bit…different." Harry explained, straightening up. Snape raised a brow. "In a good way, mind you…but I think it's hard for others to really see that."

Lupin, for once, shared a look with Snape in having a similar curiosity piqued at this.

"And I think…I think the Nargles are in this case…other classmates who think it's funny to misplace her things." Harry looked rather annoyed now, glaring a bit at the beam where the shoes had been.

"I'd appreciate it if you could help me curb that sort of thing." Harry turned to them again, though he was sure anything he asked of Snape would be flat out refused on pure principle. "She doesn't deserve that."

"I…of course, Harry. I'll look after her when I can, especially in my classes." Lupin quickly agreed. Snape rolled his eyes. As if the wolf had any experience protecting innocents being bullied. The opposite more like.

"I appreciate that." Harry smiled a bit sadly.

Thankfully the brat knew better than ask any sort of verbal promise from him, Severus Snape the Dungeon Bat. But still, for some reason this whole situation was making him antsy…and hit far too close to home. And Potter, that little cretin, was again being very Un-Potterlike. Tilting Snape's world just so in the opposite direction from where it was.

He needed to leave, and now.

"Five points from Gryffindor for putting yourself in danger, Potter. Climbing about up there like a monkey…you could have broken your idiotic neck merely for your friend's shoes." Harry graced him with a tired look as he brushed off his pants of more dust. Harry knew the man didn't truly care about that—if he had been, he would have done something about it first glimpse he got of Harry hanging about up there—he simply used a thinly veiled yet-still-valid excuse to punish him more.

Harry was really getting tired of this.

Lupin of course looked like a reprimand was on his lips for the man but such a notion died in his throat when Snape slipped in one last nasty grin before leaving in a swirl of black robes and bitterness.

Harry sighed heavily.

"I wonder if I'll ever get him to stop hating me." Harry murmured. Lupin looked surprised at that but didn't comment.

Harry then went over to pick up his robes he had tossed earlier and slung them over his shoulder. He walked back to Lupin and outstretched his hand.

"Thanks Professor," Harry quietly said as Lupin shook his hand a moment. "You didn't have to do that, but I'm grateful you came along when you did."

"Of course, Harry. Anything to help a student."

Harry sighed a bit, trying not to be a smidge hurt as being considered just a student to the man. In time, they would be family again.

Hopefully.

Lupin then casually slung his hands in the pockets of his inner jacket, beneath his robes, and took on a curious disposition.

"Do you…often help Miss Lovegood?"

Harry blinked, then sighed. "Not until this year, really. I didn't get to know her till then." He gave in partial truth. He did still regret not knowing or truly appreciating her friendship until a long while after they had met.

"I see." Lupin seemed to be considering something, but what Harry was unsure of. He then spotted another question. "Care to walk with me back to the Great Hall? I imagine we'll make it just in time for pudding." He beamed.

"Oh….erm…" Harry shuffled his bag a bit higher on his shoulder. He hadn't expected the offer, though that was rather shortsighted of him. Remus had always been friendly and caring to others, at least for as long as Harry had known him.

"It's alright if you'd rather go alone, I don't mind." Lupin continued after a moment of Harry's indecision. Harry snapped a quick look into the man's face as the curious soft tone he had taken and was almost heart broken at the slight rejected expression his features had taken on.

"Oh no, that's not it at all." Harry genuinely replied, stepping closer to him. Lupin still looked like he was being pacified but he did seem relieved at the denial.

"I was actually on my way to the Library." Harry gestured to the end of the corridor where said room lay.

"Oh? Skipping dinner for a spot of studying?" Lupin now looked doubly concerned for Harry; since in his experience it was unusual for a teenage boy to forgo a hot meal to do dreaded homework that could just as well be done after.

Of course, in his Hogwarts days Lupin had also done the same (before becoming close to James, Peter and Sirius)…but it was still unusual for any son of James Potter to do so.

"Yeah, after today I'm…I'm not very hungry." Harry gave a lopsided grin, this being mostly the truth after all.

"I'm sorry Harry, if I had known the boggart would have such an effect—"

"Oh no, not just that…I er, had a long afternoon." Harry lamely explained. He didn't want to complain exactly, but that coupled with everything else had taken its toll. And knowing that the tale of the Snape-Boggart was likely spreading like wild fire at this very moment, well, Harry would just assume as stay out of it.

Lupin looked thoughtful but didn't interrogate further. "I see. Well, if I don't see you again tonight, have a pleasant evening Harry." He smiled kindly then set back on his way. He then waved a hand in the air without looking back, and said "And ten points to Gryffindor, for aiding a student in another house!"

Harry grinned so widely he thought his cheeks might hurt.

The Library in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was certainly the last place Remus Lupin thought Harry would rather be, considering his parentage. James may have been good in his studies but he usually hated the place; he had often said it was quieter than a graveyard and about as exciting as one too. Lily, who matched Remus's fondness for studying, was more prone to going outside than being cooped up inside; she thought it was a beautiful library but in the end she thought the grounds were even more captivating.

But that was just it wasn't it? Harry was their son but…really, he had only spent barely a year with them before…well…

Lupin absently nodded to Nicholas who glided by, trying to reign in his emotions so he could properly think for once.

So…he had no real reason to expect Harry to be just like them in every way. Even if he had grown up with them, Harry would undoubtedly be his own person. Which, he had in turn rather expected. But still. Perhaps Harry was just more studious than most. That was a comforting thought. Harry certainly had intelligence in his genes, and it would do him well to nurture that. Was he encouraged at home to do so? As far as he knew, Harry had been put to live with Lily's sister, Petunia. Having not met her, he relied on the stories from James when he had visited her with Lily. James had been rather disdainful of the woman, and very upset at her treatment of Lily. As Remus was to understand, she and her husband were vain and somewhat phobic to magic (likely for some row James mentioned Lily had had with her). But, perhaps she was a stronger force in Harry's life now that Lily was gone…maybe she had turned a over a new leaf.

Remus jabbed his hands into his robes a bit more forcefully than needed. He was decidedly upset he knew virtually nothing of Harry. But wasn't that his own fault? He had pushed everyone away when the betrayal and murders happened. He knew he had no right to the boy anyways, being what he was. And it hurt too greatly on top of everything else. As Dumbledore surely intended, it was impossible to hear about The Boy Who Lived in anything other than the occasional wistful article here and there over the years on what he must be up to now, what he may look like…even (unreliable though they were) sightings by the odd witch or wizard in Muggle London. Remus had collected these snippets the last few years. It was when Harry reached Hogwarts that news really broke out.

If the Daily Prophet was to be believed (and Remus was not stupid enough to fully do so) Harry had battled Voldemort twice already. Once, in a daring plot for the Philosopher's Stone, and last year when some kind of Dark Object under Voldemort's influence had somehow wrecked havoc on the school. Rumors told even more than what little the Prophet could (likely to keep whatever did happen all hush hush by Fudge, that incompetent fool), but Remus was not to believe them until he was able to ask Harry himself. But what right did he even have? He was a best friend of a long-dead father Harry never knew, as well as a disgusting creature due to his ailment of lycanthropy. Not to mention his absence from the boy's life all this time.

Remus sighed, very unsettled in his train of thought. At least the class today had been somewhat fruitful. He had gotten to see Harry again (for an extended length of time, not just a greeting here or there), teach him even. It was a gift he was eternally grateful for. And ever since the train Remus had the pleasure of seeing Harry be kind and thoughtful of others. He was somewhat quiet, but very clever. Snape's attitude towards him was gratingly offensive, especially for the wolf inside that felt incurably protective of the boy. He supposed old grudges died hard, and Harry basically confirmed this was not an unusual occurrence. But, he didn't seem to want to exasperate the situation, which Remus thought was very big of him. Harry just took the verbal abuse and left it alone, though it was clear he did not appreciate it.

It was admirable, if a bit alarming.

And then, coming upon Harry up there like that! Remus almost wondered if he'd been caught constructing some sort of prank, but was gratified to see he was helping a younger student! From a different house to boot! Amazingly Snape had found something wrong with the entire affair, but even Remus had noticed it made him uncomfortable to witness, which likely tamed his viper of a tongue. And he seemed terribly curious despite himself. If it was one thing Remus was good at spotting, it was curiosity in others. He had witnessed it so much in himself and his friends.

And then! Harry asking for help in protecting Luna from possible bullying! Oh how Remus's heart soared! It was genuine, he could tell. And he had caught wind of a certain Ravenclaw some students gossiped about already, so this just put the pieces together.

Well, this was certainly so much insight into Who Harry Potter Really Was, and it made Remus terribly giddy as this was all Good News so far. He practically bounced on his heels as he joined the staff table. He found himself sitting beside Charity Burbage and Flitwick, with Snape and Dumbledore just beyond them.

"You look chipper after a first full day of class!" Flitwick commented jovially. Remus smiled happily at the little wizard as he collected food for his plate.

"I rather am, Fillius. I even bumped into Harry on my way here. Had a nice little chat."

"Oh? I don't see him…" McGonagall peered out into the crowd and distinctly missing the usual raven head in the red sea that was the Weasley clan.

"Oh, he wanted to catch up on a bit of studying." Remus explained, dolloping some mashed potatoes.

"He's a good student, he is." Hagrid joined in, taking a place beside Burbage.

Snape looked murderous but said nothing to the praise of the boy.

"You'd be interested to know he was helping one of yours, Fillius." Remus continued conversationally, far too proud of Harry to not mention it.

"Really? Do tell!" Flitwick asked excitedly. He was always happy to hear about his own little Eagles.

"Miss Lovegood had some trainers that were magically stuck and young Harry had come to her aid." Remus elaborated, pinching some steamed broccoli now for his course.

"He was practically dangling from the ceiling." Snape cut in annoyance. Honestly, the nerve of the wolf to be praising the boy at the first opportunity!

"The ceiling?" Flitwick exclaimed in confusion.

"My, that does sound dangerous." Albus replied calmly, eyes bright with humor at the reaction of Severus.

"Exactly my thoughts." Snape jabbed into his roast with more force than necessary.

"Wait a moment," Minerva now had to ask. "How did Miss Lovegood's shoes get stuck to the celing?"

"Well, it was beam actually." Remus grabbed a roll and bit into it.

"A beam?!" Flitwick squeaked. That wasn't as bad as the ceiling but still…

"How'd he even climb up there?" Charity piped up.

"Merlin knows what that boy is up to half the time." Snape almost snarled. Charity looked taken aback, still not used to him as the others were.

"At any rate," Remus tried to smooth, "He got them down for her."

"I'm happy to hear it. She's a lovely girl, if a bit taken with more unconventional trains of thought." Filius remarked warmly. He likely found it endearing. The others murmured similar comments but politely so as she was still doing well in her work and proved to be a good student and pleasant girl. So what if she was a bit of a dreamer? It ran in her family, some of them knew.

And for once, Remus felt relaxed, included and safe. Even with Snape almost cutting his plate in half with his annoyance.

Harry looked about for a nice cozy spot to do some of his research and homework, maybe get started on that letter to Sirius, when he stumbled upon Percy between one of the back sections.

"Hullo Perce." Harry greeted quietly, so as not to incur the wrath of Madam Pince.

Percy looked up straight away at the sound of his nickname and blinked before managing a small smile in return.

"Good evening Harry. Off to dinner?"

"Nah, I wanted to get a head start on some projects. May I join you?" Harry replied, hoping the older Weasley might accept. He had been worrying slightly over Percy, and wanted to create a stronger bond with him now, to avoid some unfortunate mistakes later on.

"Oh…" Percy looked positively surprised but happily so. "Of course!" He moved his books over to make room for Harry and his own stack. It was likely no one really offered to spend time in his company to study companionably. Percy was a bit like Hermione, only he did not have a Harry and Ron to buffer his more insufferable enthusiasm for obeying all rules and getting perfect grades. Which, Harry admitted, were not wholly terrible (and more admirable) goals for one's life.

"What are you on then?" Harry asked conversationally, taking out some parchment and his DADA book.

"An essay for Transfiguration. You?"

"DADA homework and some other things I hope to get to…" Harry pulled out a quill and began to dip it in his inkwell.

"You know Harry, I'm really pleased to see you and Ronnie get on track lately." Percy said in an almost lecturing tone. But Harry knew it was well meant and so accepted the compliment.

"Yes well, we figured it'd be in our best interests to buckle down." Harry chuckled lightly, flipping to the page of boggarts in the text book, quill in his other hand and ready to write. "Especially with our track record the past couple of years."

Percy tutted. "Hmm…yes, that is good reasoning. I hate to say it Harry but you, Ronnie and even Hermione seem to attract a lot of…mishaps…" he fidgeted a bit from saying so and Harry deflated just a bit.

It had been rather apparent that Percy eventually blamed Harry for a lot of the targeted attacks and misfortune the return of Voldemort brought (when he finally accepted that was the truth). And it seemed that the vestiges of such a mindset were beginning to brew in Percy's mind even now, before the full influence of the Ministry was upon him.

Well, Harry would just have to circumvent that and earn the boy's trust. He was a good person despite all the drama he had been involved in because of his wish to be Somebody in the world. And he knew that Percy would be a very powerful ally, especially if he joined his family in the coming conflict.

"I…never got to thank you though." Percy continued, his words coming to Harry's shock.

"For what?" Harry asked, gobsmacked.

"For saving Gin. She…she doesn't like to talk about it. But we learned most of the details, especially from Ron, and well…that was really brave of you. All of you."

Harry blushed. "I couldn't let that monster hurt her. Or the basilisk." He whispered with feeling, looking away. Harry fiddled with the edge of his sleeve, careful that his scarred hand did not surface from the fabric.

"It's why I want to get ahead this year." Harry continued when Percy was almost sure the silence would linger into awkwardness. "There's going to be more dangers," he flicked his eyes to Percy. "Especially since your family is connected to me." Harry sighed, leaning back. "I want to better protect them, and anyone else that may get caught in the crossfire."

Such loyalty to his family impressed Percy, but then the tone gave him goosebumps. "But…you sound like you almost anticipate something happening again. Surely we're in for a quieter year…I mean…" Percy lowered his voice. "Besides Black being on the loose, of course."

Harry almost laughed. There was some truth to that, relatively speaking.

"Let's just say, I have a bit of a hunch. And I'd rather be prepared than caught off guard again. It was, as Professor McGonagall said when we tackled the troll First Year, sheer dumb luck. I'd rather have a head start from now on." Percy actually smiled at that, to Harry's continued surprise.

"Very smart take on things, Harry."

"Well, I'm trying anyway." Harry shrugged. Then an spark dawned on him. "Percy…y'know I have a great idea but I'll need your help."

Percy, having rarely been pulled away fully from his studies, put down his quill and regarded Harry.

"What is it?"

Harry leaned in closer and, with a bright smile and for once glittering emerald eyes, explained,

"How would you like to help me plan a new dueling club?"

"A what!?" Madam Pince shushed Percy as she passed, but he was barely even aware of the reprimand (a rarity for the sole rule-abiding Weasley).

"A dueling club. Remember in 'ninety-t—uh…I mean, last year, when Lockhart started up the club? It was a bit of a flop, but it's still a good idea. We just need a better instructor." Harry was rather animated now, as the idea had just struck him. And what an idea! This would be an all new Dumbledore's Army, only it would be officially sponsored as a dueling club. And as such, Harry could get in remedial lessons with his classmates as he had before, better preparing them to defend themselves should they need to.

He was very determined they not have to, but in case he didn't complete his mission, he would make sure these children not be taken by surprise.

"Who do you think would be helping to instruct the club then?" Percy asked, now invested because 1) Harry Potter had asked for his help, 2) this would look fabulous on his resume and 3) he was a Weasley and well, naturally intrigued for this sort of thing. Especially since DADA had been rather disappointing for a long time now—though he had higher hopes for Remus Lupin, whose class he would have tomorrow.

"Oh well…er…" Harry rubbed his neck. "I was thinking, me and some friends would be heading it…"

"You? And some other Third Years? Harry…"

"Don't get me wrong, Percy, I know my knowledge isn't exceptional…so we'd be getting older years, like you, and perhaps have a professor or two sponsor the club as well as guest teach." Harry halted in his words, coming up with this as he went along, but still just as invested. And it looked like Percy just might be as well.

"Harry, I think you're on to something there." Percy brightened, his essay momentarily forgotten as he slipped out a new clean piece of parchment. "Now let's see, you'll need an official request to submit to our Head of House as well as the Headmaster…" rapid scratching now filled the air between them as Percy dug into the new project. Harry was glad for the help, as he was never much good at such things, and that he had found some common ground with him.

And Harry already had several students in mind to help with the club…

It proved to be a quiet Tuesday morning. It was overcast, with a bit of a chance for rain later in the day, and so Hagrid's class was resigned to a tamer activity for the morning. Flobberworms. Though, in surprisingly good attitude, the students found the chubby little things rather adorable (especially since, Ron had muttered under his breath, if they weren't forced to do so for the next month as in the previous timeline).

The class had gathered under the branches of a particularly thick tree near Hagrid's hut where he had a bunch of the wee grubs in several baskets of fresh hay, writhing and squeaking softly. In a slightly larger basket just off to the side was a large supply of lettuce. Fang had taken it upon himself to guard the vegetables by plopping in a huff beside them and dozing off.

"Alrigh' students!" Hagrid called happily, clasping his calloused hands together. "T'day we're gonna' be a'feedin' these Flobberworms! Not as excitin' as yester'day but as it's a bit o' a cloudy day, I figured it'd be a' easy task. Once we're done, you all can scurry off early, eh?"

Everyone seemed cheered at the prospect of leaving early, even if they were all beginning to adore the gentle half-giant. Even the Slytherins were warming up to him; that is to say, they weren't constantly snickering behind him and were actually half-way respectful.

"Merlin, I had hoped to never have to do this ever again…" Ron whispered and scrunched up his nose when Hagrid turned his back to gather a head of lettuce and demonstrate how to shred them and feed the worms.

"Well, it's only for today…" Harry chuckled. Ron seemed pacified at that. Hermione and the boys queued up to grab some bits of the leafy vegetable, as Neville chatted with Hagrid off to the side about the types of lettuce the Flobberworms seemed to prefer and whether they had differing effects on their growth. Harry even noticed the Slytherins having a guarded interest in the wriggling animals. Pansy fed one of them a piece of lettuce Theo had shredded for her, and she shrieked in grossed delight as the worm began munching. Draco and Blaise laughed at her, but she playfully shoved them back. Vince and Greg found themselves absently nibbling on the lettuce as well as feeding their assigned grubs, as Seamus pointed out to Dean, who had also decided to try a leaf too. Lavender and Parvati giggled at the sight, making the boys inexplicably blush.

Draco seemed content to stay on the Slytherin side of the class this time, though when catching Harry's eye he flashed a soft smile. Harry returned it, then focused back on his worm which was currently being bullied by another, fatter grub.

"Oiy, yours is harassing mine!" Harry laughed, pointing to Ron's grub. Hermione rolled her eyes but there was a definite giggle she was trying to suppress.

"You're right mate, looks like he's had enough to eat for the next week!" Ron snickered.

"I think I'll name him Dudley." Harry shot Ron a sly little grin, his emerald eyes glinting. Ron's smirk grew into a mischievous grin as well.

"Perfect." The red-head replied.

"Oh that's terrible." Hermione huffed, but her light expression betrayed her sternness.

"Well, he's a lot like that flobberworm. At least right now." Harry shrugged. "He didn't get tolerable until…well, you know."

"Yeah, but that's not really fair, is it?" Ron's voice got quieter as this was a subject he wanted to talk with Harry about, but was never sure how to broach it tactfully. "He doesn't try to be decent with you until after his lot had to leave under penalty of death."

Harry shrugged again, picking up his runt of a flobberworm to better feed it. It squeaked at the movement but heartily gobbled the lettuce Harry offered it, its previous fear forgotten in the proximity of food.

"It's not entirely his fault. My aunt and uncle raised him to be like that, however intentional or not it was." Harry countered, feeling a bit bad now for calling his cousin a fat flobberworm. He supposed it wasn't so bad though, the boy was a bit of a constant terror in their shared youth. But his parting words still echoed in Harry's heart…

"I don't think you're a waste of space."

It was not profound in the least, but for someone who had grown up believing the hateful words thrown at him almost constantly in that house on Privet Drive…well, to Harry it meant quite a lot.

"And people…change." Harry replied after a moment of indulging in the memory.

"So I've been told." Ron huffed, a bit cross now though he wasn't entirely sure why.

"If all goes well, I may not have to go back there yeah? So, it's not a big deal." Harry tried to smooth over.

Ron softened his expression, hoping that would be true.

The rest of the class was peaceful and enjoyable despite the subject matter and gloomy skies. It was practically heaven to Harry, especially after the whirlwind that was the day before. And as it was, their day was almost completely free aside from Potions that afternoon and Astronomy at midnight.

Harry, Ron and Hermione plodded up towards the Great Hall when they were once again joined (to Ron's dismay) by a certain Slytherin.

"So…today's a new day; the bees are buzzing, the kneazels are purring…" Draco's voice drawled as he sauntered along.

"The Malfoys are squawking…" Ron muttered and Harry elbowed him.

"I'll ignore that jab because I'm in a good mood, Weasel." Draco sniffed, tugging his robes along as they walked. Ron shot him a half-hearted glare but said nothing in retort.

"You're unusually happy for ten in the morning." Harry chuckled.

Draco looked around, then back at the trio as he leaned in.

"I think I've won some points in your favor, Potter."

Harry's brows raised.

"Points for what?" Ron asked despite himself, first thinking for a split second the blonde meant House Points.

"I've had a bit of a talk with my year-mates. They'll be more cautious about where they put their loyalties I think. I've given them another option for a new power: You, Potter." Draco did his best to look and sound as if this was trivial at best but he was pretty proud of the way he had handled the meeting in the courtyard with his fellow Third Year Slytherins the previous afternoon.

"Me?" Harry almost gasped. "I'm not a power—"

"Oh yes you are, or at least it would be good to work them into that impression."

"That's rather deceitful, isn't it Draco?" Hermione asked. They passed a gaggle of Firsties on their way out to Hagrid's for their own class, Harry looking at the group amusedly. Draco however looked more put off by the cheerful children than by Hermione's question.

"It's how Slytherins work, Granger. We see nothing at face value. They know for a fact there's more to it; but the trick was getting them to see there was something there to begin with."

"Wow…I'm impressed." Ron said. Draco shot him a look; his distrust was rewarded.

"You people really are mental."

"Excuse me?!" Draco stopped, hands on his hips.

"Ron, that's enough." Harry put a hand on his shoulder, but it was friendly, not stern. Ron blushed red, then to Malfoy's astonishment he apologized.

"Sorry Malfoy." Ron mumbled. "I just think…that you and your House act really…weird sometimes."

"Not necessarily weird in a bad way." Hermione tried to placate.

"Weasley…" Draco decided to dip into the patience he inherited from his mother. "I understand that Gryffindors prefer to do things out in the open, but Slytherins do not. We are a House of skeptics and critical thinkers." Ron looked contemplative now as the blonde spoke, and Draco decided to add in an analogy.

"Look at it like this, Weasley: If someone were to bring us a say, a cake for Best House of the Year, you better believe we would wonder why, not because it would be unfounded," Draco smirked here, "but because we would think there's some ulterior motive to the seemingly harmless gift."

The red-head put his hand to his mouth as he thought this over, nodding once that he accepted the example after a moment.

"I just don't see how you can live like that…don't you get…tired of it?" Ron asked as they all began to walk on once more.

Draco shrugged, defying his father's hammering of etiquette.

"You know, Gryffindor's have critical thinking skills too…but they're more direct about it." Hermione offered after a moment of thought. The boys looked to her in interest.

"A Gryffindor might very well accept the gift…but depending on who it came from, they may either tuck in or cast counter-curse spells on the thing. I think the difference is that…for us, threats are considered to be more literal, while for your House, despite all that Dark Arts nonsense, threats are considered on a more figurative level. The political rather than physical." Hermione conjectured, truly enamored with the discourse.

Draco blinked. "I suppose one could put it that way…if only to oversimplify it."

Hermione huffed a laugh at the begrudging Draco.

"Yeah? Tell that to Flint." Ron snorted, and Draco had to agree. Marcus Flint was more of the physical than intellectual when it came to making threats, even to fellow Slytherins.

"Well, there are wildly varying arguments to be made on the effect of House relationships, ideology and even trust, in relation to the perspective of that trust and the choices made long after. One could argue that ultimately everyone has the capacity to be coy or straightforward, if only depending on the people and situation. And that can be said for the politically, physically or intellectually minded." Hermione offered.

The three boys stared at her for a solid five seconds. Hermione smirked.

"Is she always like this?" Draco asked, not sure whether to be impressed or suspicious that she was possibly taking the mickey.

"You have no idea." Ron finally relaxed a bit to smile. "That's our Herms, brightest witch of our age!"

"Ronald…! Stoooop…" Hermione blushed but leaned into him to hide her smile.

"Sweet aren't they?" Harry laughed as Ron's ears went pink and said red-head put an arm around her.

"Disturbingly so." Draco sniffed.

"Oiy, I'm right here!" Ron protested.

They approached the Great Hall now, having walked along slowly. It was empty aside from a few scattered students from all houses and years; plenty of breathing room much to Harry's delight. There were a couple of Professors as well sharing a morning tea—Lupin and McGonagall. Harry warmed at being near the man, but decided to choose a table a bit a ways from where the two teachers sat chatting amicably. Harry spotted a seat though where he could be facing the man, keeping him within sight.

It was still a cherished miracle Harry could see the man alive and well, and he would soak up every second that he could.

Draco sniffed, straightening his already pristine tie as the group headed inside.

"What?" Ron asked him, noticing he wasn't following.

"I've got another class in a few minutes." Draco hummed. "I ought to get going."

"Well good luck, and don't get into any trouble." Harry tried for a silky tone and knew the effect only amused, as well as knowing how ironic that was coming from him.

"Yes mum!" Draco called back, already on his way to his class and catching up to Theo and Millicent who had made it halfway down the corridor. They cast Harry an odd look before turning their backs on him and making their way through another part of the castle.

Hermione and Harry laughed and Ron scowled but it seemed half-hearted. They then made to go on when once again they were stopped, this time by the Headmaster.

"Ahhh, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. Good morning." Dumbledore smiled softly at them, he having approached from the stairway.

"Good morning, Headmaster." The three said in unison, all equally happy to see the man before them in such good spirits.

Dumbledore seemed quite tickled by their unintentional harmony and chuckled.

"I was wondering if I might borrow young Harry here? Only for a moment or two." He clasped his hands before him, looking very much like the grandfather they never knew they had. It rather impressed Harry, who had forgotten how warm and calming the old wizard's presence was. All he had had for the past year or so was a portrait version, and really it wasn't the same.

"Sure thing P'fessor. I'll meet up with you guys in a bit." Harry smiled and waved them off. Hiking his bag up some he followed Dumbledore's lead up the staircase. Dumbledore was probably one of the few people Harry trusted to follow without wanting to question where they were going.

"So Harry, settling in alright for the new term?" Dumbledore asked pleasantly, Harry absently marveling how someone so old could keep such a steady pace up the stairs.

"I am, sir. And you?"

Dumbledore laughed again, having not expected the returned pleasantry. "I am, my dear boy. Thank you." The older wizard managed to jump the trick step without a second look, further amazing Harry. It was kind of ridiculous to be so astonished, he probably knew these halls as well as the Marauders—and Fred and George—did. Plus, the man was a powerful wizard—Harry had witnessed that in his duel with Voldemort in the Ministry.

Shaking his head, Harry decided to stop that train of memory. He was going to enjoy whatever time he spent with Albus, not tainted with darker memories of a past he wasn't supposed to have.

"You don't seem curious as to why I pulled you from the company of your friends, Harry." Dumbledore said after a moment, giving a glance of crystal blue eyes to Harry's emerald.

"Curiosity killed the cat, sir." Harry merely countered, which was true in a way. He had no fear of the man, and he knew for a fact his own curiosity got him in more trouble than necessary over the years….

Dumbledore outright laughed at this. "You surprise me, Mr. Potter." He chuckled. "As luck would have it, someone else told me the exact same thing earlier this morning."

"Oh?" Harry asked conversationally, brightened that he had made the headmaster laugh.

"Ah yes. Though you may be a bit disgruntled to know who…" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled a bit, but not as much as they usually did.

"C'mon sir, you can tell me. Between friends." Harry smiled. Dumbledore looked fairly surprised at that answer but it did encourage him to divulge the information, however trivial it was, as they turned a corner. They were on the way to his office, Harry realized.

"Very well then…it was Professor Snape." Dumbledore seemed to eye Harry, expecting him to get upset probably at the comparison, but Harry merely looked mildly intrigued.

"Great minds think alike I suppose, sir."

"Indeed." Dumbledore raised a brow but they continued on their way. Before Harry knew it, he was sitting in the plush chair set before the desk that Dumbledore was currently settling behind. Fawkes trilled a soft song, gazing directly at Harry almost sorrowfully, his tune taking a melancholy turn.

"My my, Fawkes, that's terribly gloomy you old thing." Albus ruffled Fawkes's feathers, making the phoenix nip at him half in reprimand for interrupting his song and half in affection.

Before Harry could wonder why Fawkes was singing a sad song for him, Albus continued.

"Harry, I wanted to talk to you about…well, about what happened in your Potions class yesterday afternoon."

Harry's heart sank a bit then, resisting the urge to gather his arms about his knees, curling up in the chair.

"Yessir?"

"Well, to begin with, I try to go over most if not all detention slips. It is one of my duties as headmaster of this school, you see. I must keep record of them and determine if there are reoccurring problems that may need my direct involvement."

Harry, despite himself, wondered at this information. It was both comforting yet embarrassing to know the man likely knew of all student-made mishaps in his school, recorded or not. Harry could imagine his file on the Weasley Twins.

"And I came across a rather alarming reason for your slip, Harry."

Here it comes, Harry thought.

"Professor Snape claims you pulled out a wand on him during class?" Dumbledore's voice had gone a bit soft now, the gravity of the accusation in his voice, a touch of sadness if it were true, and perhaps a dash of worry too.

Harry felt himself blush, but sat up straighter to face his mistake head on, like a true Gryffindor.

"I don't know how you'll believe me, sir. But I didn't mean to, and it was certainly not intended for Professor Snape." Harry breathed, his heart oddly steady but his soul scrunching up a bit.

"Then…if you could explain your actions? I wish to understand what happened, Harry, not accuse. I know you and Professor Snape have had a…troubled…relationship…" Harry picked up where he trailed off,

"It wasn't his fault, sir. He just…startled me."

"Startled you?"

"Yes sir. We—the other kids and I—well, we were talking a bit—and he likes to keep his classes pretty quiet—and he slammed a hand on our table to get us to stop. But I sort of wigged out at the noise, not expecting it, and well…my reflexes were faster than my brain I guess." Harry quickly rambled out, wincing at himself as he realized he told the headmaster he had 'wigged out'.

Dumbledore laced his fingers on the desktop, regarding Harry through his spectacles. "I see."

"And well, Ron got upset that he got mad at me for it, and you know how it is. It's hard to get between an immovable object and an unstoppable force." Harry grinned weakly. Dumbledore seemed far more relaxed than moments before.

"I don't mind the detention though, I do deserve it." Harry sighed at himself now. "I've been working on doing better, but old habits die hard."

Having looked down at his trainers to mull over the unfairness of his own body and mind betraying him so much, Harry missed the very guarded and concerned look that passed over Dumbledore's face at the off handed comment. But it was gone when Harry looked back up through his fringe.

"Well Harry, I'm certainly glad to hear it was not something more drastic. We can't have students hexing professors, can we?" Dumbledore tried to lighten the mood, and Harry chuckled with a blush, nodding his agreement.

"You'll be having detention with Professor Snape beginning with this evening, Harry. Directly after dinner. And…" Dumbledore pulled out the slip in question from his drawer, "Oh dear, for the next week." He adjusted his glasses to look at it again, to make sure. He then sighed and looked to Harry a bit sadly. "It seems you have broken a new record with Severus. I don't think even the Twins have been able to rack up such a detention on the first day of class." Albus smiled though, and Harry blushed again, but still smiling too.

"I think I have a special talent for getting under his skin, sir."

There was a huff off to the side, and Harry turned to look at Fawkes, a bit startled to hear such a sound from the bird. He turned his attention back to the headmaster.

Albus sighed again. "Yes, that does seem the case, doesn't it? I assure you, Harry…he does have your best interests at heart. As do all the staff here for their students." Albus tried but Harry's rueful and accepting expression stopped his spiel.

"It's okay, sir. I know he can't help it. There's lots of people that don't really like me. It happens. I just wish we could get on better, but I do trust him with my life regardless." Harry shrugged, knowing Dumbledore of all people would understand this.

"Well…I'm happy to see this change in your perspective, Harry." Dumbledore commended, but regarding Harry with an inscrutable gaze.

"Well…let's just say I've decided to accept the things I won't be able to really change." Harry replied vaguely. He had plenty of changes he wanted to make…but changing the type of person Snape was just could not be done in his opinion. But Harry did still hope to get on the man's better side…and save him from the pain of the war. Whatever the man's opinion was of him, he still had grown to care for the Potions Master.

Even if he was rather cross with him right now.

"Sage words, Harry. I often have trouble doing just that myself." Albus seemed to hesitate before offering one last thing, both sensing the meeting would be over in a moment.

"Is…is there anything you wish to tell me, Harry?" Albus asked, uncharacteristically hesitant. The words, echoed from Harry's Second Year, and Tom Riddle's Fifth, sent a bit of a chill down his spine. Harry decided that once again part of the truth would be wiser than none. History would not repeat itself, he was determined.

"Yes sir, actually. But…it's not the right time. Not yet. I'll come to you when I'm ready." Harry replied softly, his voice almost a whisper but his smile seeming to put Dumbledore more at ease than his answer. Harry then brightened, the murkiness lifted to a brighter hue in his elation.

"Sir? Before I go…I was wanting to start up a club and I wondered if there was a form or something I needed?"

Albus blinked, obviously caught off guard by the request. "Of course, let me see…" He waved his wand and a couple of sheets of parchment flew into his hand. He blew some of the dust off them and handed them to Harry.

"These are the appropriate forms. I look forward to seeing what you'll be requesting as a club." Albus beamed.

"Thanks a billion, sir!" Harry exclaimed, thoroughly happy with this turn of events. Dumbledore looked a bit shocked at his joy at such a small thing but was glad it had a positive effect.

"Of course, Harry." Dumbledore smiled. "I daresay your friends will miss you if I keep you much longer. Run along then! I'll try to put in good word for you to Severus." Albus winked. Harry chuckled a thanks then hurried out of the office.

"What in Merlin's name kind of conversation was that?!" Severus almost roared once he was sure he heard Harry's steps fading away, cancelling the disillusionment charm he had put on himself as he stood in the far corner, somewhat behind Fawkes.

Fawkes gave a mighty squawk at the lanky Potions Master before flying up to another perch.

"Good heavens, I wonder if your talents are slipping a bit Severus…Harry definitely heard you huff in your little corner there…" Albus sidestepped the question.

"Like I care. The boy is an arrogant menace and this does not change my mind." Snape fussed, knowing he was being difficult. He stepped around to face Dumbledore who was now fishing in his drawers for something.

"I think I can safely say you do not believe that with as much conviction as you once did." Albus muttered, still rummaging.

"Well, as I said this morning, it was definitely some kind of PTSD reaction. Perhaps from his little adventure with the Basilisk last term." Snape growled, plopping himself on the chair Harry had been sitting in minutes before. His expression soured even more as he felt it was still warm—it made his skin crawl knowing he was now inadvertently sharing the body warmth of Harry bloody Potter.

"And this does not concern you?" Albus asked, getting up to look in a cabinet on the wall.

"Potter's welfare does not concern me as long as he is alive and breathing." Snape lied.

"Hmph." Dumbledore shot him a look that said he did not believe that one for a second.

"If that were the case, you would not have come to me before breakfast with your concerns."

"It's not concern, you old warlock. It's a report. I'm to look after your precious Golden Boy aren't I? Let you know when something is amiss?"

"That is not the arrangement, Severus. I merely ask you to keep an eye on him. Protect him, if needed. Whatever minute details are of course up to your personal discretion."

"Don't give me that. I will not be maneuvered into one of your little traps to admit some false sense of concern, as you put it, over the brat. I simply thought the action to be…out of character. Even for him." Snape slouched in the chair a bit more, hating and loving that it was unusually plush and comfortable. "And I felt that perhaps being aware that I was threatened would finally shed some truth on those rose-colored lenses you seem to view him and his little sidekicks with—I was naïve to think, anyway." Snape snapped, crossing his arms over his chest and looking much like he did in his Fifth Year when Sirius had tricked him into Remus's den in the Shrieking Shack.

Perhaps this was a feeling that was resurfacing…

"Severus, you know that if he had deliberately tried to curse you, being expelled would have been very low on Harry's list of worries." Albus looked rather pointedly at him, stopping his rummaging for the moment.

"I do not dare think, for a moment, that you would have done anything about it, had that been the case." Snape spat.

"Were he anyone else—"

"Yes yes, of course! Because he's Harry Potter—"

"Will you let me finish?" Albus didn't yell but sounded rather exasperated with the man. "I was going to say that were he anyone else, I would have no qualms about it. But given that I have gotten to know the type of person Harry is—don't give me that look, Severus, if you took the time to get to know him you would understand—I would be more concerned that this be a sign of something far more darker than some need to seek revenge on you for some mild antagonism the two of you have shared these last couple of years."

Severus didn't immediately reply, a bit comforted by this explanation and begrudgingly in agreement that Harry really had not meant him any harm, though he did not let on he felt so just to be spiteful for the time being.

"Lucius was of the opposite hope once upon the time. The fool had hoped he be the next Dark Lord." Snape instead grumbled.

"Which, as I'm sure even you can attest, Harry is not." Albus looked heavenward here, "Thank Merlin for that." Then he sighed, "But still, to get back to the matter at hand, I am rather troubled by the incident, and our conversation that you were present for." Albus sighed and continued his search anew; for what Severus did not try to guess.

"I still don't understand what transpired—the drivel of this latest episode in your coddling is simply beyond my comprehension." Snape snuggled even more into the chair, but his expression just as dour.

"Really, Severus. Must you be so difficult? The boy even glazed over what happened, taking full responsibility."

"As he should! Though why he did so is up for debate. It may still just be some ploy to further fool you into letting him off some bigger hook later."

"I don't think Harry is much for planning elaborate pranks as his father did so long ago. As far as we've seen, he's done nothing of the kind to even remotely suggest it."

"Hmph. With Lupin here, he may just blossom into the Marauder heritage."

"Is that why you're so out of sorts?"

"No!" Snape lied again. He shifted uncomfortably. "I merely suggest we keep a close eye on that wolf—"

"Severus, please. Let us round back to the reason we are even here, hmm?" Albus was getting rather irritable as he turned to another cupboard, his search continued.

Snape had to hand it to the man, he could multitask rather well.

Albus paused a moment, looking off into nothing as he remembered the conversation. "He mentioned not meaning to aim at you—who do you think he meant then?"

"Merlin only knows." Snape rolled his eyes, not wanting to be sucked into this…but knowing he was already incurably curious.

"And then he mentioned…oh what was it about…something about working…"

"'Working on doing better, but old habits die hard' is the phrasing he used." Snape rattled off impeccably from memory. As a former spy, he had excellent recall.

Albus smiled at him, and Snape scowled deeply.

"You were paying attention." The older man crowed proudly and Snape very much wanted to send a stinging jinx at him, though his heart warmed at the affectionate expression on his employer's face.

"If we can get back to the point?" Snape gritted his teeth, irritated more so than his fond feelings for the man at the moment. His conversations with Dumbledore always took sidetracks.

"Well, he's never done something like that before as far as we both know…and we are the ones who keep the closest watch on him…so whatever did he mean about working on it and it being an old habit? If that were the case, we would have had several incidents, and with multiple teachers, not just you. This is a magical castle full of unexpected goings on…"

"Exactly. He's just being a little—"

"Severus."

"—brat." Snape finished lamely.

"I don't think so. I think something deeper is going on with him. Especially with his remaining answer of having something to tell me but not doing so right away."

"And this surprises you? That he keeps secrets? He's a Potter AND a teenage boy, Albus." Snape now looked a bit bored, if only to irritate the man that he seemed to not find this whole thing of interest in the slightest. The opposite was the truth, but he was still difficult on principle.

"Oh you really are no help today." Albus huffed, like a father would a son instead of a leading war power and his semi-retired spy.

"I do try." Snape drawled.

"I can see that." Then Albus whooped in joy, looking as bright as the sun as he found what he had been looking for. He settled back in his chair, tin of sweets in hand.

"That was what all your rooting around was for?" Snape looked ill peering at the lemon drops; why was his boss like this?

"We all have our vices, Severus. Yours is sarcasm—mine is sweets." Albus plopped one in his mouth, wriggling around animatedly in his happiness and making Snape want to choke a cat.

"Now then—oh, lemon drop?" Albus offered the tin to Snape who politely refused. "Well, now then…I want you to keep an eye on Harry. More than usual, I mean. I already know you intended to do so, Minerva told me all about your little adventure stalking him and his friends—"

"I was not stalking! Minerva must have gotten a hairball stuck up her—"

"Anyways, my point being that you see now there is merit to your earlier observation that Harry is indeed acting differently about a few things, such as being on better terms with Mr. Malfoy…and being more respectful of you—you cannot deny he displayed a fair amount of trust in you just now. His life, Severus? I don't mean to be blunt, but that is a huge compliment. You cannot deny that."

For the first time that morning Severus was indeed at a loss for words. When he had heard what Potter thought of him, at least in the presence of the headmaster, Snape was indeed incredibly surprised. Potter could have easily bad-mouthed and complained to him in the perceived privacy of the meeting; perhaps try and glean a lighter detention or get it waived altogether. But he didn't. And as a man whose livelihood relied on discerning the truth from others, he could not readily dispute that what Potter had said he had meant.

"Perhaps he is under some sort of derivative of confundus, as a practical joke." Snape mused.

"Is it so hard to accept such wholesome trust, even from a child?" Albus looked on sadly at the man before him. He had worked these past few years to get him to mellow—which had worked if only a bit—but he still had plenty work cut out for him still.

"A Potter would never do so willingly. He speaks it as a truth, there is no doubt. But whether or not he is himself while saying it is a different matter entirely." Snape's voice had now lost the bite it once had, toned down to a speculative and wondering inflection. A twinge of something else lay there in his voice that Albus did not like—sadness.

"I know you do not wish to hear this, but Harry is not his father—nor is he his mother. Whatever you may think of their reactions to you, Harry is a completely different person altogether."

Snape gripped the chair's armrests, controlling his feelings best he could. "I. Do. Not. Care."

"I do believe you're afraid to."

"Are you calling me a coward?!"

Albus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, Severus." Snape spluttered, flushing at the expression. "I merely observe that perhaps you should try and see the child in a different light…to regard him as his own person rather than through your own 'rose colored glasses', as you told me earlier." Albus smirked, throwing the phrase back at Snape who did not appreciate it at all.

"An order?" Snape shot back.

"A suggestion." Albus calmly replied.

Snape didn't deign to continue the conversation and so he was allowed to leave with a fond (if slightly depressed) wave from his headmaster.

Severus Snape felt the entire morning a complete disaster, and it fouled his mood for the rest of the day. He felt the hours tick by like scabies burrowing into his skin. He could only hope that his class (and subsequent detentions the next seven days) with the brat would perhaps bare some kind of fruit in this new, exhausting puzzle he had somehow gotten thrown into to solve.

Harry skipped down the hallways, thoroughly cheered as he wondered back to the Great Hall. Thoughts of detention and passive aggressive battles with Snape completely gone from his mind for the time being. His plans were coming together!

Harry found Percy walking alone through the same corridor and hopped alongside him, startling the Head Boy.

"Harry! Merlin, you gave me a fright…" Percy huffed a chuckle, seemingly relieved and recovering quickly. Having lived in the Burrow, Harry figured he was used to surprises.

Harry kind of envied that now.

"Oh I'm sorry Perce. I was just excited to show you—I got those forms for our club!" Harry waved the parchment about as the turned a corner.

Percy seemed to blush a bit at the nickname, unused to it from Harry but apparently happy with the familiarity, and grinned, shifting his countless freckles upward.

"That's great, Harry." Then his expression faltered. "Our club?"

Harry blinked. "Well, yeah. You're helping heaps, it's only fair to give you some claim over it yeah?"

Percy's ears tinged pink but he nodded, clutching some of the books in his arms tighter to his chest as he continued to smile to himself as Harry chattered on about what was next on their list to get the dueling club started.

Percy Weasley was of the older batch of Weasley children, but often felt a bit on the short end of the genetics stick. Sure he was smart, but everyone in his family was smart.

Bill and Charlie were so athletic and suave. Fred and George had each other and a particular knack for inventing the oddest (but most impressive) thingamabobs and prank-fodder. Ron was a masterful chess player (and fantastic at any sort of strategy really) and best friends with the Boy Who Lived. And Ginny was not only the first girl in seven generations of their paternal family line, but she was coming into her own with a talent in hexes (as could be seen in her defenses of the Twins' brotherly harassment—a sure talent she inherited from their mother).

But here he was, in his Seventh and Final Year at Hogwarts, and beyond having some interesting titles in school government (first a Prefect and then Head Boy) and fair grades, he was not really an interesting person—in his own opinion. It was why he often sucked up to teachers, as he wanted to be irreplaceable as a person. To be a responsible yet approachable young man was a niche he thought he could fill. In a family of curse-breakers and dragon tamers, inventors and side-kicks to boys who had survived the killing curse (!) he was grasping for straws.

Percy's quest though had left him with weak student-to-student relationships. Even his brothers, while he knew they loved him as family, found his presence a bit suffocating and said so. And his own year-mates were friendly on the surface but offered no comradery like Harry had in his own year—though Percy admitted he wasn't sure he had much to offer in friendship with someone like Oliver Wood or the others.

But somehow he was getting the attention of Harry Potter. It was a small gesture to ask for his help, and Harry could have gone to any upperclassmen to complete the task—but Harry had chosen him. This was not new, plenty of Percy's year-mates often asked for his help on assignments or even organizing activities on occasion…but he was never properly invited and never given credit for his help.

Until now.

Something changed in Percy's heart as he regarded Harry, who he had been slightly jealous of before. Harry had the adoration of Percy's own family and friends and was a hero in his own right. But as they walked along to the Great Hall, watching intently as Harry animatedly described all they could accomplish with the club now that Lockhart was gone, Percy saw just another boy. Well, perhaps not just any boy…but just Harry. Excitedly sharing his ideas and thoughts with him as if they were close friends, and in that moment Percy's heart warmed much more in regards to The Boy Who Lived.

"Well, where do you think the defense wards would be written, if at all?" Ron asked, stuffing his mouth with some crisps.

The Trio had settled in a corner of their common room, the nice one with a table right by the window and out of ear shot. They had popped by the library again for yet another book, this time one on warding, and decided to spend some time back in the Tower so as not to look too suspicious and standoffish.

It had already been barely a day and the rumors were flying about Lupin's class, as well as the Potions Incident before that. Harry had not really noticed until more students flowed into the Great Hall after he and Percy joined Ron and Hermione. The whispers had started up again, as well as the staring. And it made Harry a bit on edge, but decided to ignore it best he could. Survive the rest of the day unscathed was his goal now; hopes dashed that it would be a good day. And the knowledge that Snape would be in an even fouler mood than before really did not bode well for The Boy Who Lived To Irritate Him On Sight. Well. It certainly felt that way anyhow, and Harry really did not think he needed help in conjuring irritation in the old ex-death eater. The day was likely shot now because of all this.

And it had been such a lovely morning too.

Not wanting to know what people were saying, Harry up and left the room, not even intending to wait for lunch there. Hermione and Ron scurried after him, and they decided to wile away the hours they had for more planning and research.

Once in the common room, and once most of the Tower had emptied for the Great Hall, Harry had called up Dobby to ask and see if it would be possible to send them their meal there instead. The elf was more than happy to serve, and happily brought them lunch. Harry then insisted that he stay and eat lunch with them, to which Dobby cried happily about for the next five minutes, snorting his sobs and hiccupping his thanks at being invited by such a true hero to eat a 'real wizarding meal' with him.

Ron crinkled his nose at the pitiful creature sobbing all over Harry who was clutched in his wee thin arms in a hug, but found himself smiling. Hermione patted Dobby's back and set him a comfortable place on the table, back facing the window and therefore a part of the conversation. They decided to be half-truthful with Dobby for now, telling him they were doing some research. But honestly, Dobby didn't seem to care, he was far too happy just being there.

"I don't know…" Hermione sighed, closing her copy of Hogwarts: A History and leaning back. Harry thumbed the newest book to their pile, nibbling on a carrot stick. Dobby peered over his shoulder at the text as well.

"Dobby, have you any idea what protections exist on Hogwarts?" Ron asked after a moment.

Dobby blinked, then scrunched up his face trying to remember something he was told.

"When Dobby was allowed work here, Dobby was giv'n special instruction to key his magiks into the wards of the castle. Dobby was told by the other house elves that Hogwarts has been under these wards for as long as it has been standing." Dobby took a bite of his sandwich, chewed as he thought more, then swallowed before speaking. "Dobby only knows as far as this, sir, but if Dobby were to guess, such things would be so old they may has been forgotten."

"That's what we're afraid of." Harry sighed, having known at least this much before now.

The current plight was ensuring that they knew how to activate any protections needed should their plans go awry. Only the staff knew such things, and even that knowledge was scattered and vague. It had been a miracle they were able to activate the wards at all to completely lock down the castle during that final battle, as well as take an offense and fight back.

"Dobby…" Harry began but then shook his head. "No, nevermind. I don't want to put you in any danger…" The wee elf perked up his ears and sat up straight from his seat by Harry's elbow.

"Whatever it is that Harry Potter needs, Dobby will do! No matter the danger! No harm will come to Harry Potter!" Dobby squeaked with feeling, Ron and Hermione trying to hush him. Harry smiled at his little friend fondly.

"I know Dobby. I don't really think that's wise of you, but I do appreciate it."

"What were you going to suggest?" Ron asked. Dobby looked expectantly to his wizard, wanting an answer as well.

Harry shifted in his seat, picking as a crisp on his plate.

"I was wondering how big of a shield Dobby could conjure, and how long he could hold it."

"A shield, sir?" Dobby asked innocently, the gears in his head clearly working out why his wizard would have need of one.

Harry nodded. "Dobby, there's…well, there's some things I need to tell you, but can't. Not yet." Harry began, sharing a quick look with his other two friends huddled at the table. "But I think that, at some point, I'll need your help. Your help in protecting the students of this school."

"Of course, Harry Potter sir! Dobby will be doing all he can!"

Harry ran a hand over Dobby's tuft of hair, very touched by the loyalty of the elf; there were not many people in his life that trusted him so completely. The now beaming elf had not even asked what he might be protecting the other children from, accepting the mission given him whole heartedly regardless.

"Dobby is capable of creating powerful shields, but they do not last very long." The elf continued, his expression clearly conveying he wanted to be honest but not disappoint the wizards and witch before him.

"To how many do you reckon you can extend the shield for?" Ron asked after thinking a moment on that bit of info.

"Dobby is not sure…Dobby was only required to perfect one big enough for his former family, in case of emergency."

Ron huffed a bit but said nothing, not wanting the elf to misinterpret his frustration of the Malfoys on himself.

"I'll have a word with Draco about it then, he may know more specifics about elf magic." Harry said, and Dobby turned to him a bit surprised.

"Harry Potter is being friends with Young Master Malfoy?" Dobby seemed to trust Draco even less than Ron at his tone.

"I am, Dobby. We've been sorting out our problems." Harry paused a second. "Does this bother you?" Harry hadn't thought it would but it was very likely his relationship with Draco would bother his former slave.

"Dobby…has no feelings on this…" the elf spoke slowly. "It was Master Malfoy who mistreated him most, not as much by Mistress nor Young Master. But Young Master is being very close from his family and their love of…" Dobby's voice lowered here, "the Dark Arts."

Ron gave Harry a look that he pointedly ignored.

"I'll keep on my toes, don't worry." Harry gave the elf a half hug, making the creature squirm in delight and snuggle into it.

"I suppose that anything written on the subject of protective wards as ancient as Hogwarts' would be privy only to the Heads of Houses, the Headmaster and perhaps the current Minister of Magic." Hermione seemed to say more to herself than the others as she shuffled though pages of A History again.

"If we can, counting on both the wards and elf magic would be a huge advantage." Then something dawned on Harry. "Ron, Bill works with all kinds of old curses and wards, right?"

Ron blinked in comprehension. "Hey, yeah, he does…"

Hermione caught on quicker. "Harry that's brilliant! The wards in Egypt must outdate Hogwarts by a thousand years or more, if anyone is to know about ancient wards, it's Bill Weasley."

"And the Goblins." Harry mused. "Perhaps this will get us better acquainted with our old friend Griphook." He said with meaning and the other two nodded.

"I'll write to Bill this afternoon." Ron agreed.

"Tell him it's for a school project," Hermione schemed, "I'll think up some specific questions you can ask, and it not appear too intrusive…" she mumbled the rest to herself, now scribbling on some spare blank parchment off to the side.

Dobby looked interested in her work, gazing wide-eyed as he munched on his own sandwich. He wasn't sure of half of what was going on, but he was happy to lend his support.

"Now then, about Snuffles…" Ron looked at Harry rather hard. "What have you decided to do?"

"I'm still working on it. I'm going to write him tonight…it's likely he's still on the…" Harry spared a momentary glance to Dobby whose attention was still primarily on Hermione as she continued to write. "…on the move. But I'm going to prepare a place for him—a safe place."

Ron accepted that, knowing this must be one of the key things on Harry's mind.

They continued to eat and simultaneously look over notes and passages for a bit in companionable silence, Harry making small talk with Dobby as well. Soon, their time together came to an end as Harry cast a glance to the old clock ticking in one of the upper corners of the room. Lunch was nearing an end and soon their private time together would be interrupted by squealing Gryffindors traipsing back in with tummys full and ready to gather their things to get the next class over with.

After bidding Dobby goodbye (and a promise to visit with him again very soon), Harry slung his pack over his shoulder and stretched, plans still running in his head at full speed. There was still a fair bit of the day left before their next class and Harry figured there was quite a bit he could do in that time.

"I know that look." Ron smirked, leaning back in his chair.

"What look?" Harry asked innocently.

"That you're Up To Something." Hermione's eyed filled with a bright mirth, her impression of Snape rather spot on (an unexpected), and the Trip laughed all the way out of the portrait hole.

"Isn't that a bit excessive?"

Snape rolled his eyes, fist clenched around the dirty rag he was using to pick up cauldrons and set them in place on the back table. They were still hot from his last class–a double period combined of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff firsties–and he crinkled his nose at the bulbous things reeking of botched potions and their insidious concocted grimes left behind. They would cool soon enough, but (he gleefully thought) would remain filthy and stained, ready for scrubbing.

Frankly, he had no time whatsoever for werewolves and their misplaced concerns over his teaching methods.

"Is there something you need?" Snape ground out, not bothering to turn around and respectfully greet the man standing in the doorway of the classroom.

"Well, upon seeing all this, I just felt the need to point out that this is a bit…overboard…Slughorn only made us do half that amount, and even then we weren't able to finish in time…" Lupin's voice sounded hesitant and trailed off, as if losing confidence upon bringing the topic up. Indeed, talking of shared detentions with James Potter was not likely to endear the Potions Master to him.

"Wayward children are accustomed to harsh punishments in my detentions and know what they are in for when they misbehave in my presence." Snape, still refusing to formally acknowledge the man, crouched down and grabbed another cauldron. He hated doing this the muggle way, but there was really nothing for it. The things were already drenched in chaotic magic from the potions they endured; any more, even a simple levitating charm, could prove to be their undoing. And Snape had no desire to spend his school budget on more cauldrons, nor did he wish to be pulling pewter shrapnel from his abdomen.

There was a pause and then Lupin murmured in question,

"Is Harry a wayward student?"

Snape turned around then and regarded Remus Lupin and the question with honest surprise, especially upon seeing the genuine curiosity in the man's somewhat softly scarred face.

"You honestly have no idea, do you?" Snape said instead, his face twisting into a contemptuous and slightly haughty sneer.

Lupin flushed and focused on his fraying sleeve.

"Of course not. I only just met him but you…you've gotten to know him for three whole years." Lupin sounded bitter and almost jealous and this gave Snape an odd mixture feeling of pride and confusion. He felt elated to be in possession of something the wolf so clearly wanted: time with Potter. But he also felt confused because why should he care in the first place? And why would Wolfy McSharpClaws be asking him of all people?

"It's far less, since this term has just begun and my life is blissfully Potter-free during the Summer." Snape tried to sound indifferent, and managed to despite feeling out of place in this conversation.

Lupin bravely ventured farther into the old classroom–one Snape used only for detentions such as these–and continued to speak.

"And holidays." He added almost to himself than to Snape, digging his hands into his pockets and looking about the room in interest, almost lost in memories. During their underclassmen years, the room had been a favorite of Slughorn's.

Snape frowned, turning back to his work, not in the least interested in talking to Lupin about Potter. Of all things! Could he not live a single day without someone talking about that ridiculous boy?!

"He stays during hols, the odious little brat." Snape ground out absently, his main focus on slamming the next cauldron on the tabletop harder than necessary. He grimaced as a bit of putrid grime sloshed onto his shirt front. That was going to leave a stain, even though his shirt was solid black. Magical stains were always stubborn.

Lupin turned sharply to look at Snape's working form, the man's visible agitation and harsh tone seemingly of no consequence now that he latched onto information about Harry.

"What? What do you mean? He doesn't go home?" The rapid fire of questions finally grated on Snape's last dwindling nerve.

"Enough!" Snape snapped, whirling about to regard the man full on. He regretted the effect was minimal as he had forsook his outer, more impressively swishy, robes to deal with setting up Potter's detention. And he was not in the mood to speak of trivialities with a man who still caused him humiliation at this school.

"I've tried to be…civil. And believe me, Lupin, my demeanor thus far has been pulled off with GREAT effort on my part. But I have no desire to engage in idle chit chat with the likes of you." He rasped put, his anger coming back tenfold. Lupin actually took a step back.

"I heard what you did in your classroom. And I know it's only a matter of time until you and Potter," here he spat the surname with derision, "team up to give me more hell. You saw he had a detention with me on the roster and just had to come down here to inspect what I had planned for him, did you?"

Lupin flushed again, this observation apparently being more truth than not.

"Let me tell you, I have been burdened with the boy's company more than you would know, in sessions just like this every year since he was sorted in the Great Hall. But you wouldn't know, would you? Because you've been Merlin knows where during the little cretin's time here." Lupin stumbled back as Snape continued to advance on him, but did look terribly angry at Snape's name calling of Harry. He did not, however get a chance to rebut it as Snape continued his bellowing rant.

"So do not pretend to be some authority over me, you cursed creature!" Lupin blanched, eyes shining in hurt. He took another step backward towards the door. Snape advanced as the man retreated, eyes blazing and magic cracking slightly in the air.

"Because I don't answer to you." This Snape finished in a deadly whisper, inches from Lupin's face.

"I just…I…" Lupin tried to get his bearings and then turned away, taking a deep breath. Snape was rather impressed the man hadn't turned tail and run. Unfortunately (or fortunately), Remus Lupin was made of sterner stuff than his predecessors at Hogwarts.

"I'm not perfect Severus. But neither are you."

Snape narrowed his eyes at Lupin's bold statement.

"He wonders why you hate him, you know. He wonders if you'll ever stop."

Snape's eye twitched. Something in his chest shifted into a sick pinch, and Snape couldn't understand just why. His spine stiffened ramrod straight. That was an unexpected little tidbit thrown into the line of fire, and it was no question over who Lupin meant. Who else than Potter? This, coupled with the earlier conversation between the brat and the Headmaster certainly gave him pause. It was always easier to hate when one didn't call it out for what it was. And now, with the sentiment out in the open, as well as recent events, he wasn't sure he could claim it fully. Perhaps it was the tone Potter used in how he expressed his trust in him or the way he defended his actions in class that day the boy reacted so badly and he responded in kind. But no one had ever defended him like that, however little it was. No one but Albus and Lily. And it made Snape sick to think how much the small gesture meant to him, even when it came from the spawn of his childhood enemy.

"I never said I hated him." Snape mumbled after a moment, hands clenched into a vice grip on his sides as he thought about these unpleasant feelings warring inside his soul. He hoped though that this statement, for what it was worth, was not a lie.

Lupin turned back to him, looking more aged, skeptical and mournful than Snape expected. "You act for nothing less." Snape didn't try to refute that one. He knew how he acted towards the boy. As short a time Lupin had spent there, it was apparent to even him. And the reasons ought to have been just as clear.

"My question is, how? I've known him as he is now less than a week and I can't help but like him."

Snape felt offended at that, feeling the answer was terribly obvious. But he instead pointed out,

"You are a terrible judge of character, Lupin. You think you can know someone for a mere moment of time and decide if they are trustworthy? One isolated encounter of apparent heroism and you're as loyal to him as any Hufflepuff? No wonder Black was successful in his disgusting crimes."

Lupin closed his eyes as if in pain and Snape, who had felt no remorse in his entire life for the man, actually regretted what he said, if only for a second. And this because he knew far too well that a soured friendship left its mark on the soul.

Opening his eyes once again, Lupin pulled his arms around to hug himself. His eyes unfocused as they gazed just off of Snape's shoulder.

"Maybe you're right."

Then his eyes snapped, amber meeting obsidian with renewed clarity, though now they were tainted with a weary sorrow.

"But I don't believe the same goes for Harry. You're wrong about him. And I think you're afraid to be proven wrong. I saw it in your eyes when he helped that Lovegood girl."

Snape snorted, crossing his arms.

"You think so? Why would I be afraid to know that insufferable boy Potter, the Boy Who Lived," He sneered, "was a decent human being? With no ulterior motives as I suspect?"

"Because then your wall of hatred would vanish and you would have nothing to stand on but his mercy."

Snape's face crinkled in badly contained fury.

"There is but one man whose mercy I require, and believe me when I say it wolf, it's not your precious Harry Bloody Potter."

Lupin looked to lash out, but within a split second's passing he simply crumpled into himself and sighed dejectedly.

"I forget sometimes that we are both in need of that particular mercy Albus provides."

Snape stiffened, his joints aching now from the repeated action, then turned back to his work, to have something to do other than looking at the DADA professor. He would not readily admit that he too had not made the connection either. He and Lupin shared their places at this school only because of the compassion of an old, but powerful wizard.

And having something, anything, in common with Lupin made Snape Upset.

Lupin had walked out by now but he heard his voice moments later down the hallway, mingled with the higher tones of the subject of their latest fight. Potter.

"Oh! Rem-er, Professor Lupin!" Harry dumbly shouted, walking faster to reach Remus in quicker time up the way. It was late, and the corridors terribly dark with only the occasional torch lit every few yards. To be frank, Harry had a bit of a fright seeing the unusual form emerging from the dungeons. He had felt like he was eleven all over again, dashing into the last chamber to retrieve the Stone.

"Harry?" Lupin called, then smiled as said boy approached him at a trot. He looked a bit rumpled and pale, but had pink tinging his cheeks. And Harry's hair, Merlin! How did he get that same part to stick up in the back that James had? Not to mention it looked even more wild as a whole from the wiles of the day the boy had obviously enjoyed. He looked in good spirits, even as he was marching to his doom–er, detention.

"Hiyah!" Harry grinned widely, clearly pleased with the man's presence. "What are you doing here?" He paused a beat then added, "er, sir."

"I just wanted to have a small chat with Professor Snape." Lupin replied quietly, his whole visage taking a turn for the glum at remembering the earlier conversation. Harry definitely noticed, but wisely asked nothing about it. He was curious beyond belief, but Harry had a much better control of his prying now than he had as a real child.

"Oh, okay cool." Harry shrugged, pushing up his glasses by the middle of the frame. He looked adorably dorky just then and Remus had to stop himself from hugging the teen, emotionally raw as he was.

"Are you alright then?" Harry queried, cocking his head slightly.

Remus ran a hand through his sandy brown hair. One upon a time it shined in gold; now it had dulled with burdens, sparse living conditions and premature greying.

"I'll be fine, kiddo." Remus replied quietly.

Harry sucked in his breath. Sirius called him that so many times…he hadn't consciously realized Remus did too, though not nearly as often.

"Okay." Harry smiled softly, then he seemed to remember something and he looked down the corridor with an odd expression.

"Be careful though. I ran into Peeves and he was acting weird…"

Remus blinked. "Weird?"

"Yeah…he saw me and looked about to drench me in something wet and disgusting but at the last minute he stopped and gave me a weird look." Harry turned back to Remus. "And then he just flew through the wall. Pretty spooky." He shrugged.

"Yes, that does sound rather unusual for him…" Remus trailed off, peering into the darkness that Harry had indicated the encounter had occurred. A clearing of another throat interrupted his thoughts and the pair turned to see Snape leaning on his door jam, arms crossed and lank hair falling over half of his face. The parts of his countenance that were visible seemed to indicate he was not pleased to see the two together in his territory.

"You're late, Potter. Five points from Gryffindor."

Harry huffed loudly. "What? I was trying to be early for once!"

"And then you decided a quaint little chat with your Defense teacher would be wise when you knew you had a detention to begin with me." Snape theatrically looked at his pocket watch slung into a fold in his under-vest.

"And imagine, only two minutes and you would have made it. A pity."

His horrible grin made Harry grit his teeth. Remus surprisingly (or not) looked cross as well.

"Yes sir. Sorry, sir." Harry said through gritted teeth.

"Run along, Harry. I'll see you tomorrow." Remus kindly promised, and with a dark look shot at Snape, he made his leave of them.

"Bye professor." Harry glumly called after the man. He then tried his best not to stomp into the doorway Snape had now vacated.

Control, Harry. Control.

"I want this done without magic, so hand me your wand." Snape ordered, swooping to behind his desk.

Harry did so without question (missing the put off look Snape gave him as he did so) and proceeded to take off his outer robe, leaving him freer to tackle whatever putrid, demeaning task the man had ready to thrust upon him. Though that was being a bit extravagant; Harry had done much worse in way of cleaning. And Harry, despite being mad at Snape for his outbursts of 'gitness', was rather content to be working in his presence. His only regret was that said work was apparently ten cauldrons in various states of filth.

This was going to be a long two hours.

Harry proceeded to pull at his tie after setting his robes on the back of one of the old fashioned school desks. He contemplated which cauldrons would be best to begin soaking while he started on the lesser-caked-in ones. Pulling at his tie a bit more, he made for the bunch.

"This is a detention, Potter, not some sordid two-bit exhibition in the back of an alley."

Harry spun around, blushing as he registered the implication. "What?"

Snape nodded to Harry's hand still tugging at his tie.

"Oh! Of course, sir. I was just loosening things…"

"Loosening things." Snape repeated with a raised brow of disdain.

Harry fought a mad burst of laughter that threatened to erupt from his throat. "Er, yeah–I mean, yes sir. It's easier to clean like…this." Harry shrugged off his embarrassment, turning back to walk towards the table where his punishment stood. He rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, taking care to tuck them into their own folds so they would not come undone and shift down into the muck he was about to plunge into.

Snape meanwhile merely regarded the boy who had acted completely out of character so far (as far as Snape assumed his character to be that is). Lupin was thankfully out from underfoot, and so he now was able to afford his undivided attention to figuring out just what was up with the Brat Who Lived.

He refrained from taking points on the basis of a uniform demerit–though only just–and considered the reply Harry had given for it. The statement in itself was not unusual, in fact the reasoning was not either, but Harry Potter shouldn't be so familiar with cleaning…right? Snape began to shuffle parchments of essays from his students, beginning to get a move on grading, but his thoughts were divided. He began to think back to every detention the boy had served directly under him the past two years. Thinking back, he seemed to remember Potter never being so…casual in his presence. He sometimes did shirk off his robes when they got in the way of his work but only when it was absolutely necessary. And he would ground out answers to any rare comments he made (as Snape enjoyed the silence to ignore Potter even existed), more out of spite than thoughtful honesty. (Not that anyone would blame him, being harassed passive aggressively took its toll on anyone.) That was the biggest thing. And by an odd contrast he was never this polite. Always sure to say 'sir' or 'professor' without reminding. It was almost maddening since Snape now had to nit-pick in order to find wrong in his behavior. But wasn't that the crux of the entire situation? The fact that now Potter seemed to be of a completely different behavioral temperament? No one seemed to really notice besides himself and the Headmaster, but that did not matter in the least. He would get to the bottom of this somehow.

And he would start tonight.

"You expect me to believe that you know anything about cleaning? Other than what you do here in my detentions?" Snape needled out in the open silence, which was currently only somewhat broken by the small sloshing sounds Harry made while dragging a cauldron over to the basin in the very back and turning the spicket on.

Harry looked up with narrowed his eyes at his professor who looked to all the world to be just innocently grading papers. The scratching of his quill was comforting in a way as it sounded…normal, but he felt sorry for the poor soul whose paper he had just now. There were already several patches of red in his corrections of the thing. Such, it seemed, to be a regular price to pay in being a student of Severus Snape. At any rate, Harry felt the man was Up To Something, but was not quite sure what.

Constant Vigilance, Potter!

"I don't expect you to believe anything, sir." Harry evenly replied as he turned back to his cauldron. What was that on the side near the handle hinge…? Gum?!

"I highly doubt that. I think you wish to subscribe me into whatever delusions you have invited upon your little fan club at this castle."

Harry whipped around again. "What?!" Where had that random insult (?) come from?

Snape finally looked up, the darkness of his eyes giving way to the sparkle of the torches lighting the room. They flickered unevenly on his face and Harry had a hard time to make out exactly what sort of expression lay there. All Harry knew he could do was not directly stare into those dark orbs, lest he want his still weak Occlumency shields immediately broken.

"I want an honest answer from you, and I'll decide if it is indeed truth."

Harry quirked his brow at the man, thoroughly perplexed. "Um…okay. Sir." He rubbed at his lighting scar absently with the back of a hand. "What was your question?"

Snape resumed his quill scratching as he said nothing and Harry stood there feeling stupid, though he couldn't say why. The moment stretched into almost a full minute, and Harry had by then also resumed his own work when Snape's silky tones broke into the relative silence once again.

"How would you know anything about proper cleaning?"

Harry sighed, still scraping at what he could only assume was the lovechild of gum and crude oil and had wedged itself into the cauldron hinge. The question was accusing, but there was a certain deliberate tone about it too. Distracted by this and the crud he was determined to wipe out, he answered more honestly than he normally would mean to.

"I did a lot of it growing up."

The scratching paused a moment, then picked back up, quicker and more sporadic. Harry didn't notice as he dipped his rag into the quickly dirtying water.

"Did you?" Snape's tone made the innocent query sound almost scathing, but Harry had long ago learned to tune out that sort of tone as he worked. The Dursleys were no less vile in addressing him, perhaps more so. And now it was just habit kicking in, combined with Harry's immense trust in the older wizard.

"Mmm…yes. My aunt is a bit of a neat fr–" Harry stopped himself saying the word, stumbling for a vaguely synonymous word to replace it. "Er, obsessed." Oh Merlin, what was that spongey texture at the bottom? Harry leaned over and into the cauldron partly to get a better angle at it.

Snape considered that for a moment. He remembered Petunia being almost germaphobic when they were children. He and Lily would often play in the nearby wood, or traipse about in Lily's mother's garden catching toads or some odd insect. Petunia would shriek with disgust when they would come in during the heat of the day, screeching about silly children with dirt embedded into their pores. He would often take great delight in making her so irritated by his mere state of being; Lily would seem more disappointed Petunia couldn't stand a little dirt or grass every now and then.

So, alright. Perhaps Potter wasn't a complete liar. He could see Petunia teaching her family to stay clean and neat or suffer her wrath: incessant shrill shrieking.

Sadly, the boy was a walking dishevelment here, with his ridiculous hair and rumpled clothing. Not to mention the entire pack of Weasley's brood he ganged around with, all having some sort of soot on their faces or rip in their clothing at the end of the day.

"And she taught you, did she?" Snape asked in a neutral tone, almost to himself. Which, he meant it to sound so; it was easier to glean information when the question was open rather than directly pointed.

And it worked.

"No…not really. She sort of threw me into it." Harry answered, his voice strained from his work but otherwise nonplussed by the conversation. Harry did think it odd as he had never been invited to speak with Snape over anything, much less his home life, during detentions…or any time really. But it was nice to speak with him like this. The only other time Harry recalled talking with Snape like this was back in his time with the elder wizard's portrait.

But that had just been…awkward. And painful.

"Threw you into it? Thank you for such eloquent elaboration."

Harry huffed, a laugh close in his chest but the hint of coldness in Snape's voice quelling it just enough. The man's way of speaking could be terribly clever and his humor inspiringly dry, once one worked out what he was saying. But his tone of voice was what made the message clear. And right now Harry clearly heard the disbelief and accusation still there.

Harry bent backward to work out the kink in his spine from bending over. "I have always thought you were a man who had a certain derision for drawn out sob-stories." Harry said after a moment. That caught Snape's full attention and he again looked up at Harry. That was a very Slytherin, mature statement coming from a thirteen year old Gryffindor. And why would it be a sob story? Well, now his interest was piqued. He would see how deep this truth–or lie–ran.

The boy was shaking out his arms now, but a second later diving back to his work whole-heartedly.

"Not that you could even begin to fathom the type of man I am, Potter, but under the hypothesis you have an iota of understanding there in that dunderhead of yours, let's assume I'm all ears for the time being, my personal preferences notwithstanding."

Harry put the first cauldron back on the table, sparkling as it dried, and hauled off the next one back to his station at the basin, testing a bit of grime in another that he had set soaking ten minutes ago. It was getting there, but not yet ready to be scrubbed.

"Alright…well, I've known how to clean since I was three." Harry began slowly, eyeing Snape who was now staring at him with a blank, almost bored expression. He shrugged off the feeling of trepidation. It wasn't like he hadn't already mentioned in passing about how his relatives didn't like him all that much. This wasn't a big deal. And it didn't seem Snape thought it was a big deal either.

"The more my dexterity improved, the harder the chores got. So really, cleaning isn't new to me, sir. If that's what you wanted to know."

And it's certainly not the worst thing I've ever had to do, even if these cauldrons seem to be made of more grime than pewter, Harry thought.

Snape set his quill down a moment as he just watched Potter scrub. He hardly made any noise like other students. That was another thing Snape observed about the boy as he worked. He was almost morbidly quiet in his work. He was meticulous as well. Careful with the cleaner and mindful of the water not sloshing sloppily onto the counter or floor. How had he not noticed this before?

Was Potter actually telling the truth?

And if so, he was uncertain how he felt about this. But he was certain this had begun to change everything. Three?! And the chores got harder. What other sort of tasks did Petunia fling onto the boy? What else was going on in his life that Snape assumed but may also be untrue? Was this why Potter was acting so odd? Or was he acting normally and he was just now able to see him for who he really was as a person? What parts of him were actually his father (and dare he think it, his mother)?

Just who exactly was Harry Potter?

Harry meanwhile remained totally oblivious that the world around Severus Snape was crashing down hard on him merely from one small detail he was made aware of by their conversation.

If someone had asked Harry what sort of reason Snape would have to have in order to view him differently, he would have laughed (a bit bitterly) and say that the reason would have to be something huge. After being almost beaten to death by a tree, almost eaten by a gigantic spider, battling the biggest snake perhaps in a thousand years to roam Scotland, being literally used for potions ingredients by Voldemort himself, and countless other perils in his life Snape was privy to (aside from possibly the Aragog incident) the man still looked at him like he was some sort of repulsive attention-seeker. A miniature copy of the man Snape seemed to hate almost as much as the Dark Lord.

So Harry was no fool. He expected Snape to be the same this time around, and only hoped to at least form some sort of civil rapport with him…eventually. It would likely take years but, it was a start.

He didn't realize that this Snape had not been even more hardened by life yet; not given dark ultimatums that robbed whatever was left of his compassion yet.

And right now he was staring at Harry's small frame as the boy worked on his cauldrons, (completely unaware of his Professor's scrutiny so engrossed was he in the task) reevaluating the last couple of years.

Dear Padfoot,

I know why you're coming. I can't explain how I know, it's a long story. We've taken care of Wormtail—he won't be causing any trouble for a while. But we need you to stay low. You've already been spotted, and unless you want a Kiss, I suggest you take my advice. I'll be arranging a safe-house for you, but until then: Do. Not. Come. Here.

I can't wait to see you, but unless we time this right, we can't be together.

P.S. Moony doesn't know the Truth yet, but I'm working on it.

Love, Pronglet

There. Harry had tried to keep it as cryptic as he could without the meaning being totally lost on Sirius. He was a smart wizard, but being so fresh from Azkaban he was still magically groggy and was making several mistakes in his rush to get to Peter.

It was after his detention with Snape that Harry found time to pen the letter, in the privacy of his bed and under his sheets, balancing his ink well and tucking his wand behind his ear while having cast a dimmed lumos. He hated being in such close proximity with Peter—it gave him the willies to sleep in the same room as the rat—but nothing could really be done for it. Not yet. They still had several weeks before their plan was supposed to be enacted, of which they were still working on. And now Harry had the added task of arranging a safe place for Sirius. He could not very well let the man survive in caves and eating wild mice.

Harry shivered.

Well. He had a few ideas for that as well, but they did not bear much thought for now. He would have to wait until the first Hogsmead weekend, which wasn't until late October. It was still September. Harry just hoped Sirius would take his advice and stay as far away from Scotland as he could. Though somehow he doubted his godfather would be able to restrain himself. The sightings indicated he was headed straight for Hogwarts, and knowing Sirius…well, Harry figured he had a better chance stopping the Hogwarts Express at full speed with his bare hands. But he could hope, couldn't he?

For now, Harry's hands were quite full. And until he was sure things were more settled and safe, a letter would have to do. He knew no teacher would listen to him (Remus aside, but as it was he needed to keep the man far away from the situation as the Ministry would likely see fit to put blame on the werewolf somehow if they twisted the story). Confiding to Dumbledore would mean pushing his hand far too prematurely. And even sending Dobby could be dangerous with those Dementors skulking about and Aurors roaming the countryside (and if he were caught, Harry could only imagine what Mr. Malfoy would do upon seeing his ex-slave involved in this).

But, at the very least, Harry would not send Sirius just a letter. After muttering a drying spell on the ink, and scrolling up the parchment, he had ducked out of the common room and out the tower, stopping by the kitchens and softly requesting a box of food. The elves were only too happy to provide, not asking questions and setting about quickly to the task. So now, with a nicely packed package, letter stuck to the top, Harry placed a warming charm and stasis spell on the provisions and headed for the Owlery.

His heart beat rapidly, going out on his own like this. He had left Ron and Hermione behind, mainly because he did need to learn to relax. After all, it was a big castle and Harry would have to mend his still-raw nerves. The first day of class was testimony enough of that. Besides, he spotted Ron having a comfortable nap for once as he had come back from detention, and very much wanted him to remain so. Hermione was likely in her own dorm setting about her things for Astronomy that evening. Harry took a breath and trudged upwards, smiling as he thought of his friends. Their mere memory helped ease his anxiety at once.

It now just felt so odd to be without the Marauders Map, but he knew he should not rely on it; he just had to get used to the feeling again until the Twins felt the need to pass it on to him. Hopefully.

"So how was your detention?" Ron asked as Harry made it to class. They were having Astronomy tonight, and he had had just enough time to mail his provisions to Sirius before making it up.

"It was…weird." Harry confessed, settling into Ron's side as Hermione was occupying his other. The air was cold and windy so high up, and Harry had no intention of shivering his trainers off. One of the many wonderful things about Ron was that he was extremely warm, and Harry found it very satisfying to mooch off of said warmth when necessary. He took a look in their shared telescope after pulling out his chart notes. They left off from the term before and were half-hearted and frankly sloppy in many instances. Smirking to himself, Harry turned the page and began his new chart for the year, this time in neater script. He was thankful this paper was charmed to glow softly in the dark, as was their Astronomy book, and he found it a small courtesy he took for granted before but found fascinatingly simplistic and valued now.

"Weird?" Hermione and Ron asked in unison. Before Harry could reply, Professor Sinistra's calm, but no nonsense voice called from behind them along with the other students who had been setting out places around the telescopes and chatting away amicably.

"Settle down, class, settle down."

A few yawns were stifled but other than that Aurora's command was met with quick obedience, not an easy feat when it came to a class full of Gryffindor preteens. But Sinistra's class was usually a casual favorite among all students in every house. She wasn't jovial like Hagrid or bubbly like Flitwick or Sprout, but she held an air of fair kindness that governed her class well just the same.

And the best thing about her classes was that if you kept your voice down and got your work done, she did not mind idle chatter.

"Yeah." Harry yawned, now feeling his joints begin to ache from the chill of the air and the lingering dampness of the dungeons. Harry squinted into the scope again before adjusting to the parameters Sinistra was now calling out to locate a specific star rising in the horizon for the season. Ron took the next turn as Harry began to jot down a sketch of the map of the sky he would use later for an actual chart. "He actually talked with me for a bit."

Hermione dropped her quill at the revelation. "Did he really? Whatever about?" Ron had stopped mid-scrawl of his own chart to stare at Harry as if he had just said he had battled another full grown mountain troll on his way to class just for funsies.

"Nothing really, which was the weird part. Just on how I knew how to clean." Harry shrugged, biting the end of his quill softly in thought at his coordinances. He hated this part, figuring the projected path of the star for the next month. He was never really good at that sort of thing, especially in using maths.

"What sort of dumb question was that?" Ron huffed, still ill at the professor as he curved a line along dotted points of his own projection. Harry pointedly looked at Ron's current progress mournfully and Ron rolled his eyes and smiled.

"The arc will likely fall within…" Ron trailed off as he wrote something down on Harry's page. "…around that many degrees, in relation of the horizon. Your line should be higher, mate, given the past week's rises and sets." Ron waved a printed info sheet Sinistra had copied for them all, giving them a basis to work off of complete with a cartoon-star pointing animatedly at the sky and then shooting itself upward off the page.

"Cheers." Harry grinned, spelling away the ink and correcting it with Ron's advice. Ron may not have been a bookworm like Hermione, but Mrs. Weasley apparently instilled a great knack for maths in his early education because ever since Harry had known him he had been good at it. He might have pursued Arithmancy had he the self-discipline.

"Do you think he suspects anything?" Hermione asked after a moment of silent work. Her voice was lower now, and far quieter.

"Nah, why should he? He's got us both in detentions; Harry for a whole week! I think for him all is right with the world." Ron said, a laugh in his voice that overpowered the bitter undertones.

And the trio giggled at that, earning a cleared throat but smile from their professor to get on with their work.

It seemed like an eternity waiting for the first glimmers of sunlight to peep through the blood red tint of his dorm's curtains. Harry shivered; he didn't want to think of blood. He had spent the better part of the night dreaming about it.

There came a yawn just then, off to his right and he felt the first tendrils of warmth spread into his heart like ink in a glass of water—there lay his best friend stretching in the knots of his blankets, a suspiciously fire orange one tucked just beneath the one issued by the school. Harry's warmth grew, knowing how much his friend loved those Chudley Cannons.

Ron smacked his lips a bit, then as if feeling eyes on him, opened his own with great effort to find the source. Within a second's notice he had jumped to a sitting position, wide awake in his worry. Harry was impressed and a bit shocked at the quick response.

"Harry!" Ron hissed, "Have you been up all night?"

"Does…does it show very badly?" Harry deflected, looking back to his knees that he had curled his arms around in his huddled position against his pillows.

Ron immediately scrambled out of his bed, quietly cursing as it took far longer than necessary due to the tangled mess of the bed and his urgency. Harry had to chuckle despite himself. Finally, with a cursory look to the other three boys in the room softy snoring, he climbed into Harry's bed and sitting opposite him while casting a privacy spell.

"Why didn't you wake me?" Ron all but shouted, and Harry winced, unused to the volume change. Ron closed his eyes to calm himself and adjust to a more neutral and softer tone.

"Why didn't you wake me?" he tried again, his inflection telling of his disappointment.

Harry repositioned to be cross-legged, letting his hands drop into his lap, his shoulders still hunched and slumped.

"You were so tired after your detention with Filch last night…" Harry tried to explain. For some reason Snape had felt to inflict even more torture onto Ron for his outburst in class and had since assigned his two weeks' detention with no one but Argus Filch. Harry's detentions had inexplicably remained under Snape's direct watch and care…though care might have been pushing it. At any rate, Ron's detention had been after Astronomy, as Filch had had to delay his own session due to another Peeves vs Myrtle fiasco, and Ron had ended up bearing the brunt of the mess with a mop and a bucket. Harry had waited up for him until two when Ron finally sloshed into the common room, muttered a half-hearted cleaning spell on himself, and promptly fell into bed after a difficult journey up those steps.

Ron shook his head.

"That's no excuse. We made a deal—"

"And it still stands." Harry sighed, dark circles standing out against his pale skin and naked face due to the absence of his clunky glasses. "I just had a hard time getting to sleep is all…and when I finally did I hadn't cleared my mind fully and ended up with some rather unstable dreams."

"Want to talk about it?" Ron offered after a moment.

"It was just…blood. All over me. Everywhere." Harry spoke in stilted, soft tones, his voice heavy with emotion. "It was almost like The Shining…" Harry muttered to himself, and though Ron caught it, he didn't get the reference.

"Has Occlumency been able to help at all?" Ron asked hopefully, eager to ensure Harry clear his mind fully next time so as to avoid this horrible nightmare. It was wasn't a new one, sadly. It has been one of Harry's rarer but most graphic ones, and it had been months since he last had it. What made it worse was the lack of narrative, of reason. It was as if Harry's mind wanted to hurt him even in sleep.

Harry leaned back into his pillows.

"Not truly. Not the way it's supposed to. I never got the hang of it. Draco even tried to help a bit, but it was no use. The most successful Occlumens had been Snape. No one else came close to him; even the mind healers at St. Mungo's hesitated to try anything more advanced with me because of that." Harry confessed. "I can at least shield my thoughts from a light brushing, but nothing more. Clearing my mind has been helpful in filtering out at least this kind…the more visual ones." Harry had twisted his pajama sleeve into an awful crunched up ball in his other hand. "But it's gotten harder since we've been back."

Ron gulped a moment, fighting the urge to run out into the corridor and down into the dungeons and bang on Snape's office door to help Harry right then. With a touch of bitter anger, he wondered if Snape would even listen, if he would even help Harry, without being forced to by the headmaster as he was in their timeline.

"I'm sorry, Ron. I'm trying, I really am." Harry voiced, with a hitch in his tone due to restrained emotion, incorrectly translating the now disgruntled anger in his friend's face. Ron blinked then relaxed his features as he moved closer to Harry.

"No! I'm not mad at you!" Ron huffed a heavy sigh, closing his eyes and trying to curb the magic crinkling inside him. "I'm mad at Snape."

"What? What for? It's not his fault I'm a freak—" Harry began, but Ron had him by the shoulders now and Harry felt the electricity of the magic thrumming in his friend's fingertips. Harry's hair immediately stood on end, more so than usual. Harry almost felt like something around them had broken unintentionally, but the fervor of Ron's harsh whispering distracted him from the thought.

"Don't you dare call yourself that! It's what those nasty muggles told you, isn't it? Isn't it?!" Ron breathed, pain and anger in his deep blue eyes.

"Ron I can't have this conversation with you this morning." Harry weakly sidestepped, trying to turn away to get out of bed while Ron's larger form held him firmly in place.

"I'm right, though, aren't I?" Ron almost pleaded, trying to catch Harry's gaze while the dark-haired boy weakly thrashed against his grip.

"Please Ron, let me go!" Harry furiously hissed back, his voice in anguish. His emotions were still too fresh and raw from the nightmare. "I don't want to talk about the Dursleys, not here, not now!"

Ron immediately let go and pushed back against the mound of comforter that lay in Harry's bed.

"I don't…not right now, please. Not after the night I've had." Harry pleaded in a tired voice, slowly getting up and going to his trunk.

"I'm sorry." Ron said after a moment of watching Harry fumble with a wad of clothes and school robes.

Harry looked at him then, eyes murkier than usual, making Ron feel ten times worse for his outburst, and feeling completely at a loss on how to help.

"Don't be. All of this is just…distraction, right now anyway. We've got more to worry about than my relatives…" Here Harry looked away to shut his trunk with a soft snap. "…or my nightmares."

"Can we at least talk about it later? Hermione will want to." Ron asked quietly, still sitting on Harry's bed and looking far too young to have that intense look of worry shadow his face.

"Maybe." Harry would stay true to the pact they had made for each other, knew he would in fact talk it out eventually. But he just couldn't right now. With a half-hearted quirk of the lips, Harry left the room to go shower.

Ron sighed and got up to his own bed, checking on his stasis spell on Wormtail discreetly while also rummaging for his own clothes to begin the day.

Neville remained in his bed holding tightly to his covers for what felt like the longest time, back turned to the room but eyes open and brow crinkled as he tried to make sense of a world that was quickly twisting on its end like a top.

Harry decided to skip breakfast that morning, as well as History of Magic which had been scheduled right after. Harry spent the morning in the library instead, taking notes from one of the books he had checked out. He hoped the research would help keep his mind off of things for a while, letting his thoughts settle.

There was a citation in Herbs and Potions: Using the Earth Around Us for the Betterment of Wizardkind that Harry decided to get up and check. It looked promising as it noted the work of a witch that had been working quite in-depth in the field of bodily ailments caused by dark magic. Her path of research had taken her to more natural roots—some quite literally roots if the book he was currently gleaning the information from was anything to go by. But more detail was of interest to Harry in this particular area. He scanned one shelf as he thought of the implications and the witch's promising work, then stepped across to the next isle where the healing textbooks continued when he almost bumped directly into Theodore Nott.

The boy's piercing eyes narrowed after his initial shock and Harry's mumbled apology. Stepping back a bit he kept his glare intact rather than return to the book he was holding open.

"Don't you have a class to get to, Potter?" Nott ground out in a challenging whisper.

Harry frowned, not quite sure what to say or do. He had never talked to Nott much in school, and even less during…the interrogations. He just couldn't bare thinking of those awful days that followed the war and closed his eyes as if in pain. He missed the slight twitch of confused concern in Nott's brow.

"I'm not feeling well, so I decided to do some independent study." Harry sighed, keeping his voice low. Opening his eyes he found Nott's face had taken on a rather blank look of indifference.

"I don't recall asking. Run along, Potter. It wouldn't do for the Headmaster's Golden Hero to be traipsing about when he shouldn't, even if it's miraculously in a library." He made a show of returning his attention to the book he held, languishly turning a page as he continued. "It is territory less trod for Gryffindors after all."

Harry made a face of offense but quickly schooled it to his own mask of emotionless focus, going around Nott to look for the book he wanted, planning to leave right after as he now felt disgruntled.

Nott side-eyed Harry as the raven-haired wizard looked over the spines of all the various textbooks, manuals and records. He finally found what he was looking for and deftly slipped out of the aisle with his prize, a puzzled looking Nott left behind in his wake.

It wouldn't be until later that Harry would remember that Nott had been skipping the very same class.

"Well, what would you suggest, Headmaster?" McGonagall asked, slightly exasperated.

The two were sitting in the staff room, enjoying the room far more now that Remus had removed the boggart. They very well could have done it themselves but neither had been in much a mood to face their own deepest fears lately.

Who would?

At any rate, the thing was gone and now no constant rattling and banging around could be heard. It was near blissful.

Dumbledore took a sip of his herbal tea and thought a moment. Currently, the problem was sorting out just where they would put certain students that had difficulty choosing electives this year. Of those, Harry and Hermione's odd request had come up in conversation and the two had lightly bickered on what was to be done.

"I will administer the tests myself, with Professors Vector, Trelawny and Babbling providing content for the collection of the exam."

"Really, Albus, Divination too?" Minerva huffed into her own cup of tea.

He smiled at her antics, not quite in disagreement with her on the opinion. "Sybill does hold claim to a rather impressive heritage…"

"Poppycock and hogwash. Sybill is half-dazed from that incense she burns day in and day out. Who knows what hallucinations she tries to pawn off as predictive visions." Minerva snorted with derision.

Dumbledore sighed, trailing a bony finger on the wood grain of the table.

"Regardless, she must be included. Then we will see where Miss Granger and Mr. Potter stand."

They both held the companionable silence a few moments before McGonagall engaged another idea that bothered her.

"Do you think something is…wrong? With Miss Granger?"

Dumbledore blinked in surprise. "Why did you say that, Minerva?"

Turning the cup in her hands as she looked off to the side in thought she answered, "Over the summer, she wrote me claiming to be in quite the tizzy about having to choose but two of the available five electives. She was worried that she would be severely lacking if she chose any minimal amount of what was offered and quite heavily implied she wanted to try to keep up with all five."

Dumbledore actually chuckled, knowing the girl well enough to find it unsurprising and yet quite ambitious.

Minerva shared in the smile but it slipped as she continued. "Over a few bits of correspondence, I advised her to look over her options carefully and attempt to make a choice by the start of term. I then alluded that if she could not, then we would work something out together."

Dumbledore nodded. "While I do not doubt her ability to keep up with a such a workload, the schedule ended up quite tight this year. Several of the classes overlap, as I recall."

McGonagall shifted in her seat, an odd thing for her to do given her usually stern and well-balanced control.

"I was fully prepared to ask your permission to contact the Ministry for a time turner, permit and all, for the girl when she arrived."

Dumbledore sat up and leaned forward, intrigued.

"Really? Of course I would have approved, I know you and I both would trust few with that sort of responsibility but…"

"…But Miss Granger falls under that category of trust, yes." Minerva allowed a small smile again. She then sighed as her face relaxed once more and leaned onto the table.

"But she has acted completely different since she has come back. She has not the same zeal we've come to expect from her years here, and her missives over the summer sounded quite serious. I have a great wonder as to why it has suddenly ceased, she claiming to have instead found some other resources over the break."

Albus fiddled with his beard as he thought, Snape's words echoing in the back of his mind upon this new revelation.

"Severus has expressed a similar concern, but over Harry." He admitted after a brief hesitation.

McGonagall made a noise in the back of her throat to convey just what she thought of that particular parallel of opinion. "Oh yes, I remember him mentioning something about that. I have only observed a neater penmenship and improved attention in my classes, certainly. No, my worries lie solely with Hermione Granger at this moment in time. Severus is just being paranoid, especially with Lupin out and about."

"Well…I will endeavor to keep an eye on them and will apprise you of their scores once the exams have been administered. How does tomorrow after your class sound?"

"That works just fine, you may of course use the room next to mine. I'll have a class of second years right after theirs, but I will be near enough should I be needed."

Albus beamed, happy to have figured this out at last. "Very well, send them word of the time. They can attend their chosen classes at least until we have sorted this out."

Harry slipped in beside Neville right before Charms began, gaining looks from Hermione, Ron and surprisingly, Draco. But as Harry was on a completely different row, with several Slytherins and Gryffindors between them, he was spared any questions. Flitwick's chirp of greetings began the class moments after.

He was still feeling sick, and rather rattled from his abrupt meeting his house ghost. On his way from the library to their classroom he had bumped into Nicholas quite literally, accidentally phasing through him. Upon recovering from the awful pins-and-needles chill, Harry had tried to apologize but after one strange look, the Gryffindor ghost had gasped and retreated violently into the walls. Harry had been terribly taken aback, but knew he had a class he was about to be late to and made his way onward.

It was strange to say the least, but Harry had other things to occupy his mind just now.

He did feel himself calm down as he worked beside Neville. Neville, meanwhile, was working quite hard on his notes. As Flitwick lectured, Harry doodled, not entirely invested in the lesson as it was on Cheering Charms, which Harry thought oddly ironic given his current state of mind. So, as he caught some key words here and there, he mainly focused on the mundane but peaceful activity of drawing Hedwig on his parchment. After several minutes he noticed a furious scratching of quill on parchment beside him and side-glanced to see Neville was the source.

Placing a hand on Neville's own, he stilled the stressed, erratic movements almost immediately.

"Neville." Harry whispered. "Alright there?"

Emerald eyes met blue, and Neville caught his breath as he looked at Harry. His emotions became tangled and he realized he had inadvertently been taking it out on his parchment. But one look at his friend, with such concern despite the obviously rough night he'd overheard about, quickly filled him with calm.

"S-sorry, Harry…"

Harry just shrugged. "No need to be sorry, just figured you wouldn't want to get a cramp." He smiled wryly at his joke and Neville found it contagious as his own mouth curled up without even thinking about it.

Soon class was over, Harry feeling as if it had gone by much too quickly for his liking as he now had to face the wrath of his friends. He smiled inwardly though as he figured that there were far worse things in the world than a few overprotective companions. He had experienced the alternative negatives and decided he greatly preferred the positives.

"Harry! Where were you? Are you alright? I was worried—Ron was too, we were just about set to search for you if you hadn't come to this class as well!" Hermione's quick chatter made Harry's eyes wide at her old self appearing through the melancholy, her worry for him making it power through.

"Merlin's beard, Granger, calm down. You're going to bust those muggleborn vessels of yours if you keep it up." Draco snorted, leaning on a desk near them as other scattered students had stopped to watch on their way out. Zabini and Parkinson chuckled wickedly at the jab, misreading the intent behind it. Draco shot them an irritated look that they missed entirely as they walked out with the other Slytherins.

"Bugger off, Malfoy." Ron hissed, causing Dean and Seamus to admire the fierce protectiveness in his voice as they stood a bit away, making their own way out.

Before Harry could break up the brewing fight, Flitwick trotted over and lightly admonished the group to gather their things if they wanted to get to lunch on time.

Draco shot Ron a dark look before slipping out without another word.

Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Oh This is such a lovely day!" Professor Burbage gushed as she sat down in the seat open nearest her, which happened to be right between Snape and Lupin.

Remus blinked at her bright enthusiasm, while Snape looked to be determinedly avoiding any sort of recognition she was even there.

"You, erm, have been having a good week then?" Remus ventured, stumbling on his nervousness and not entirely sure why he felt so. He heard Snape snort as his obvious discomfort and he blushed slightly while shooting a soft glare around the woman to the dark-clad man on her other side. He was lucky that she was so preoccupied with her delight, not noticing their continued clashing. She had been avoiding their side of the table the last few meals, but it seemed her good fortune had overpowered her rational caution.

"Yes! Oh, I was a bit nervous, but the only true gaps in the recent curriculum was the last couple of years." She replied in a happy voice as she helped herself to a sandwich and salad. Snape shifted a bit away from her just before she accidentally brushed his arm as she reached for the dressing.

"Doesn't surprise me." Madam Hooch chuckled, she being on Lupin's other side and able to hear Burbage.

"Really?" Burbage paused in pouring dressing on her salad, elbows out and one decidedly in Snape's personal space. Taking no notice of his clearing of the throat (which made Remus smirk a bit deviously behind his goblet), Burbage looked to Hooch to elaborate.

"Aye, the man was a quick replacement of course. For Quirrell. Do you recall his name, Hagrid?" Hooch asked the friendly half-giant to her side.

"'Fraid not, Madam, never really got to know theh' bloke." Hagrid took a large bite of a turkey leg after that.

"How about you, Severus?" Hooch called over to Snape, who was leaning quite heavily away from Burbage and into Dumbledore's own space.

Burbage finished pouring her dressing then set the container down, looking at Snape finally and giving him a peculiar look.

Straightening his position at last and managing to ignore Lupin's obvious snicker with only a twitch of his eye, he stared ahead as he addressed the witch several paces down. "I hadn't the foggiest reason to converse with the man, as you well know, Rolanda. If anyone is to have known him well enough, it would be Albus." He then looked directly at the golden-eyed witch and raised a brow finishing with an "Ob-viously."

Burbage's face twitched with amusement. Hooch huffed and was about to retort when Dumbledore decided to rescue the situation.

"I daresay I can't rightly recall the man's name either, I'm afraid." Though his eyes sparkled in a way that said he was not being entirely truthful just to mess with his younger colleagues. He then eyed Snape as he continued, "The last couple of years were fairly eventful, perhaps occupying us all in one way or another from his company."

Snape actually gagged on his food, shooting an awful look at the headmaster. At the gesture of a napkin from Burbage, Snape finally had to acknowledge her existence as he snatched it from her if to stop her pitiful hand hanging in the air as a misguided offering of kindness.

"I find your description of a basilisk as merely eventful an interesting choice of words, headmaster." Snape growled, taking Dumbledore's bait.

"A what?!" Remus felt his heart skip a beat.

"Bloody nuisance, it was—" Hooch, forking a cherry tomato, added.

"We are not having this conversation." Snape snapped, slamming the napkin down and making Burbage jump.

"Wait, hold on a second, what do you mea—" Remus tried again but Snape shut him down once again, just to spite him of information he wanted.

"I believe we have gotten off topic—Professor Burbage was regaling us with her far more interesting sifting of Muggle Studies notes." Snape forced out, his eyes challenging Lupin to argue in front of everyone else.

Dumbledore looked disappointed and McGonagall rolled her eyes.

Burbage looked quite off-put and her cheeks blushed slightly as all eyes turned to her, Snape's included.

"I…well, I wouldn't quite say that but…" She decided to occupy herself by buttering a roll. "I did find Professor Quirrell's lectures on transportation and mechanics a bit impressive—"

"Now him I remember." Hagrid cut in. "He was alrigh' before he got all squirrely."

"I suppose being possessed will do that to a person." Hooch mumbled and Remus and Burbage both paled a bit. Snape actually bent his fork in frustration.

"What on earth—!" Lupin began again, whirling around to look at Dumbledore, eyebrows crinkled in worry.

"Enough!" Snape spat, causing the table to grow silent. The look of momentary fear in Burbage's eyes made his stomach bubble with feelings he did not enjoy stirring up. He sighed, then relented just a bit. "Besides, he was not possessed, exactly…he was more so a willing host." He mumbled into his food.

Albus smiled as his eyes danced, not having seen this much emotion from the man beside him in quite some time. Not to mention conversation.

Burbage leaned back into her chair a moment, a smile growing on her face. "I like this place." She decided aloud. Looking Snape right in the eyes she continued with confidence. "It's exciting."

"What d'you think they were talking about up there?" Ron asked as the trio made their way to Muggle Studies.

Harry shrugged, somewhat annoyed by how distressed Remus had looked the few times Harry had glanced up at the table himself. He knew Snape had something to do with it, and he was mad at himself for being upset about it. It felt petty.

But Remus deserved to be left alone for once.

Entering the classroom, the three blinked as they saw a student already sitting in the front row, setting his quill and parchment on the desk delicately.

"Malfoy?!" Ron exclaimed, eyes wide as he rushed inside to face the Slytherin who was regarding him cooly.

"You signed up for this class?" Hermione asked, approaching at a far more reasonable pace, clutching a couple of books as she always did. Harry was surprised to see Draco's eyes soften as he looked at her.

"I did."

"What for?" Ron asked in a slower and suspicious tone.

"I don't appreciate the interrogation, Weasley." Draco snapped.

"Hermione just asked a question and you answered!" Ron gestured to the bushy haired girl beside him as Harry rounded to his other side to gaze at Draco curiously.

"Hermione is nice." Draco drawled, folding his arms.

"And I'm not?!" Ron barked, offended simply on principle by this point. Harry had to pinch himself on the thigh discreetly to stop himself from bursting into laughter. Hermione had perfected the art of ignoring Ron's outbursts and was looking at Draco with renewed warmth.

"You seriously wish to argue this while you're yelling at me like a lunatic?" Draco snorted in genuine disbelief.

Ron's retort was cut off by the arrival of their professor, who quite literally rolled through the door.

"Ah! Early birds! Not to worry, I'll be back in a jiffy!" Burbage sounded out of breath and her long braided hair had numerous flyaways. But Harry thought the look suited her very well, making her appear quite fetching in a haphazard sort of way.

As Burbage glided to the closet to set a bag down and then back out the classroom door again, Harry turned his head to see Draco's mouth wide open.

"What?" Harry asked.

"What was that on her feet?" He asked, completely shocked.

"Huh? You mean her rollerskates?" Hermione let loose a slightly confused giggle, unsure if Draco was having them on by his overreaction.

"Roller-what?" Draco repeated in a tone that sounded like his sensibilities were being challenged by this foreign word.

Harry and Hermione shared an amused look, while Ron kept his glare though he too looked rather confused.

"It's a muggle…invention. Lots of muggle children use them as toys" Hermione shrugged. "Adults use them for recreation, sometimes competitively."

Draco clutched at his cloak clasp, looking absolutely taken aback.

A few other students trickled in now, all pureblood. Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff, with Terry Boot and Lisa Turpin from Ravenclaw. They eyed their group with surprise and, in Draco's direction, some shock of their own, mingled with distrust.

Burbage came back into the classroom, this time on her own two feet, and clapped her hands. The windows to the left all opened and the curtains swooshed to the side, letting the sunshine flood into the room. Harry took a seat beside Draco and Ron and Hermione filed after him.

As Burbage reached the desk Ron leaned over Harry to throw one last harsh whisper before class officially started.

"For your information, Malfoy, I am a damn ray of sunshine."

Ron then leaned back into his chair in a huff, folding his arms and looking straight ahead to avoid meeting Draco's incredulous stare.

Harry could not help choking on his own surprised laughter much to Draco's irritation.

"Laugh it up, Potter." Draco growled under his breath. Hermione smirked as she wrote the date on her parchment to ready her latest notes.

Ernie and Hannah, who had chosen seats directly behind them, shared a confused look.

Once the class had settled and Burbage had written her name in chalk on the board (Harry noting they were the same type as Snape's) she turned back around to formally greet the class.

Leaning on the front of her desk, Harry noticed she had now shirked her outer robes to reveal a quite simple muggle outfit, fit for a teacher without a doubt but with none of the embellishments that Harry had come to associate with wizarding fashion.

Professor Burbage wore a long, simple cut flower print dress and a smart sweater. Her hair was long, brown and in a chaotic but attractive braid. Her shoes were not boots but trainers. Harry drew back from his assessing glance and resumed his attention to her welcoming speech.

"I am Professor Charity Burbage, your new Muggle Studies teacher." She smiled brightly.

Harry felt Draco stiffen beside him but didn't have time to register why when she went on.

"I am delighted to see such a large class of Third Years." She continued and Harry immediately felt some pity for her as their class seemed to him to be quite small compared to even Divination.

"I believe a bit about myself is in order, so I'll get right to it. My father was a wizard, and my mother was a muggle. To those who may care, that would make me a half-blood." Harry smirked in admiration as he noted that the way Burbage said it made it clear she did not put much stock into blood purity by any means.

"My father decided to live with my mother predominantly in the muggle world. It is where I grew up, received my education and later, went to university. Now you may wonder how I achieved my magical education as well, and I tell you it was not easy." Her eyes held a determined glint to them as she went on. "My father, while seeing the benefits of a muggle education, knew I would require tutelage in magic once I displayed my first bits of accidental magic shortly after I was born. I would go to school by day and after my homework for that was completed, I would continue with lessons taught in the evenings by a tutor hired by my parents. Though weekends and summers bore the brunt of my magical education, it was rare a day went by that I did not have some piece of curriculum squeezed in my schedule."

She smiled when she caught Ron's sympathetic look at the mention of having to do work during the summer as well.

"I completed both sides of my studies and now I am the teacher you see before you now."

"That's awfully impressive." Hermione spoke up, her face aglow with awe.

Burbage giggled lightly, unused to the praise. "Thank you, Miss Granger, was it? Well, enough about me, let's go around the room and tell us a bit about your background—if any—with muggles, mm? I can then see how much I have to work with." She laughed softly, hopping up on the front of her desk to sit on it as she regarded the class. She pointed to the back to where Terry and Lisa sat, opting to begin with them.

As Terry introduced himself formally to Burbage and then proceeded to tell of a time he once thought he saw a muggle in the forest while camping with his father, Harry's mind drifted to Draco, who was the only person who had not turned in his seat to look at Terry as he spoke. Draco's eyes were fixed on a point to the opposite wall, just to the side of Burbage's form. He was much too still and much too pale, causing Harry's gaze to crinkle as he tried to sort out what was wrong.

By this point Hannah was speaking, talking about how her mother had once brought home a muggle fashion magazine in order to flip through and get ideas for a new set of robes she wanted to design. Hannah explained how she had been struck, at the time, by how slick the paper was and how all the pictures were perfectly still, the binding having odd little metal clasps.

It was now Hermione's turn and she looked down as she spoke, fiddling with her sleeve as distraction from the eyes that had fallen on her.

"I am a muggleborn, professor. I wanted to take the class for the wizard point of view of how we—I mean, how muggles—function." Burbage considered her explanation and looked intrigued.

"I will be excited to have your help in my classroom, then!" Burbage clasped her hands together in happiness that radiated even to Hermione.

Ron was next.

"Ron Weasley, ma'am. My family is pretty much all magical," he thought briefly about that one cousin who was an accountant, "but my dad works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department at the Ministry. I wanted to learn more about that sort of thing. I guess." Ron felt his ears turn pink at the lame ending but seemed to stand by it.

"Arthur Weasley, correct?" Burbage brightened. Ron mirrored her expression and nodded.

"Ahhh…I daresay I may have some dealings with him before this semester is out." She winked. "And I have your brother in my seventh year class, Percy?" Ron nodded warmly. She beamed and her warm brown eyes then fell onto Harry.

"I'm er, Harry." He started and heard Draco's soft snort. "My parents were magic but after they…well, I was raised by my muggle relatives. I didn't find out I was a wizard until my eleventh birthday." Harry shrugged and he felt of a shift in the room but wasn't entirely aware of it.

"They are um…pretty strict." Here he heard Ron mumble an "That's one way to put it." Ignoring him Harry plowed on. "And once I started Hogwarts I sort of lost touch with that part of my mother's side, as she was muggleborn…and well, I figured it might be time for some catching up."

"I admire your honesty, Harry." Burbage warmly replied, no judgement in her voice at all, though her brow bunched just so as she filed away the cryptic sort of way Harry explained his background.

When everyone turned to Draco, he shifted in his seat. Harry was unsure why, as his posture was already fairly perfect.

"Draco Malfoy. I am…from a magical heritage." Draco was looking right into Burbage's eyes, though Harry at least could tell it caused him great discomfort to do so. "I have not had any prior experience with interacting with muggles…but I believe it prudent to explore this avenue of education, if nothing else, then to be…more informed." He finished, sitting back a bit and breaking the eye contact.

"I understand, Mr. Malfoy." Burbage looked at him fondly which surprised the others in the room, even Draco himself. "I think that I can try my best to give you that knowledge." She turned to the others. "To all of you."

She then took out her wand from a pocket in her dress, which at this point had yet to make an appearance, and she twirled it just so. A stack lifted off her desk and sailed gently through the air, allotting one to each student.

Ron peered at the book-like contraptions curiously. "What is…?"

"Binders!" Hermione squealed in unexpected glee.

"Binders?" Ernie repeated the word, unsure of the odd muggle term.

"Merlin, I haven't seen one of these since I was ten…" Harry commented, opening his up to find it was already filled with white, crisp, lined notebook paper. His mood from the early morning easing up even more.

Lisa picked her own binder up and was running a finger over the metal rings. Ernie was turning the whole thing over in his hands. Draco jumped back when upon pressing down the latch on the bottom, causing the rings of his own binder to snap open.

Harry laughed and snapped the rings back closed for him.

"This is worse than Hagrid's Monster book." Draco gasped, and Harry chuckled again.

"It's completely harmless." Burbage laughed, now dolling out several pencils and pens.

"Professor?" Terry eyed his pencil dubiously.

"These will be the preferred writing instruments for my class. It's the first of many...immersive techniques we shall venture together as we delve into the world of muggles…" she glanced to Hermione and Harry here, "as well as the views of the magic world that surrounds them."

Standing up, Burbage readied herself with a smile. "Let us begin."

"Alright my dears! I think that is enough for today. I would like you all to answer the questions at the end of chapters one and two by next class for homework—and use the supplies I gave you! After the practice we had today, it will be a good way to put your new tools to use." Burbage called to her class, clasping her hands together happily. As the other students packed up she went over to Harry and Hermione.

"For you two, I think it might be appropriate to adjust the questions slightly with what you both know given your childhoods in the muggle world." She tapped her chin in thought and Draco seemed to gape at her slightly, slowing his motions to pack his bag. Harry, distracted by her proposal gave the Slytherin an odd look before turning his attention back to her fully.

"Things like 'why do muggles need electricity' could be better formatted for you both instead as 'why do wizards not need electricity'."

Harry noted Hermione quickly jotting the suggestions down and considered the questions. The other students had since left by now, with only the four left with Professor Burbage.

"I think that's fair." Harry smiled after a moment of silence, as Hermione seemed content to hold her gaze on their teacher but nothing more. Ron nudged his arm but Harry batted it away as Burbage continued.

"Splendid! I'll trust you to be creative with the homework, as there are parallels that you can draw, being a part of both worlds as you are."

Harry felt another nudge, but he elbowed Ron as discreetly as he could as he shouldered his bag. He was having a conversation for Merlin's sake, with a teacher no less. Ron could be patient one more minute.

"There was one question then that I might have trouble with, hold on…" Harry flipped to the page in his textbook that he had glanced at earlier. "'Here it is. 'List ways a muggle healer treats illness, such as the common cold or a broken extremity.'"

"Right! I suppose you could word it for wizard healing, if you'd like. The book speaks in generalities on that topic so I won't hold you accountable for too much regarding the translation of disciplines for that one. Just use your muggle experiences and compare to your wizarding ones if you need to."

"Would it be bad if…if I didn't? 'Have anything to compare to, for the first part I mean." Harry almost whispered, gripping the book rather hard, making Draco wince in concern.

Burbage's eyes flicked to the back of the room but Harry didn't have time to follow her gaze as he was much more interested in her answer. She leaned back on her desk front.

"What do you mean, Harry?"

Harry decided not to look at his friends and plowed on through. "I…my fam—my relatives…they never…" Harry felt and heard the page in his book rip a bit under the strain of his thumb rubbing it since he couldn't exactly wring his hands currently. He abruptly shut it closed and looked down, sighing. "Never mind. Just, I never really saw a doctor growing up, that's all."

Burbage's eyes softened slightly and a swirl of emotion seemed to flicker there but Harry couldn't register what exactly she was feeling towards him.

"You may answer as best you can, Harry. If I find a need for you to elaborate on a few things once you turn it in, I'll let you know." She replied softly with a smile. It wasn't patronizing, only warm and patient. Harry smiled back and nodded in thanks.

"Now that your little meeting is done, I must speak with Mr. Potter and Miss Granger." Called a deep, silky voice from the back of the room in the doorway, making Harry spin around in surprise.

Snape was there, arms folded and robes hanging off of his thin frame like Spanish moss on an oak tree. Harry threw a look to Ron who shrugged exasperatedly.

"I tried to warn you! Twice!" the red-head hissed in a whisper.

Catching Snape's eye as Harry turned back to the man as he moved towards him, Harry felt his heart slow and a lump of confusion form at his throat as Snape held his gaze perfectly as he strode to their side of the room. Harry had to be the one to break contact once he felt the featherlight pushing of Snape's mind as it touched his.

Snape had never looked him in the eye that long before. Not when he wasn't forced to like those awful Occlumency lessons.

Meanwhile the man in question had been talking for several seconds now and Harry blinked himself to snap out of his own thoughts.

"…onagall found it prudent to catch me between classes and asked me to deliver a message to Potter and Granger." Snape looked and sounded very disgruntled as being McGonagall's convenient errand boy. He had practically growled by the end of the sentence.

"You are to be given placement exams after your Transfiguration class tomorrow in the next room over. This will determine the validity of your claims that will allow you to remain in your chosen electives." Snape's eyes narrowed, but this time surprisingly at Hermione more so than Harry's direction. "It will be over Divination, Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. The exams will be overseen by the Headmaster himself." Now he glowered at Harry especially. "We will see where you stand after that."

Harry nodded, a bit with relief. "Yes sir."

Snape glanced to Hermione, expecting her to address him as well.

"Thank you, sir." She replied quietly, not quite looking him in the eye.

There was an uncomfortable silence then and Snape tapped his elbow with his other hand, arms still folded over his chest. "Well? Dismissed! All of you!"

The four students jumped at that (included Burbage) and they all quickly left the room in just enough haste to not quite be called running—but close.

"Goodness, you know how to get them going." Burbage huffed, but not unkindly. She noted Snape lingering, looking at her almost calculatingly and cleared her throat uncertainly.

"Was there…anything else you needed?"

Snape moved only to clasp his hands behind his back as he turned his head minutely and narrowed his eyes at the female professor fidgeting on her desk before him.

"I find it necessary to impart some unsolicited but sage advice. Watch out for Potter."

Burbage's brow crinkled just a bit.

"I'm sorry?"

"Potter is not to be trusted. And it would do you well to remember that—for as long as he is in your classroom. He may very well be out come Monday of course. I doubt even he could forge results with Albus right there in the room, even if he's a favorite."

Burbage brought a knuckle to her forehead and closed her eyes a moment before replying.

"Potter—Harry, he's been nothing but polite to me so far, Professor Snape." She tried to explain, knowing it would likely be a lost cause by the sneer aloofness that shadowed his face as she spoke her differing opinion. "Until he proves otherwise, I won't have cause to treat him any differently than any other student."

"And yet, I have already witnessed you doing so, with the dear boy's homework." He snidely pointed out.

"That is because of his background—his and Hermione's."

Snape's eyes turned a bit colder as he regarded the witch. "And that doesn't seem at all superfluous given the scope of this class and their lovely little muggle homelives?"

Burbage knew what he was getting at, but was not about to argue with the man.

"…I don't think it's my business. I'm here to teach a class, Professor Snape. If it is inappropriate for these two students to be here then I assume those placement exams will clear the situation up quite nicely." She crossed her leg over the other and straightened her skirt.

Snape curled his lip a fraction and turned to leave when he heard her hop off her desk and hurry to his side.

"Please don't be cross with me." Burbage sighed, her brown eyes looking into his darker ones with an intensity that threw Snape off kilter a bit.

"I know you meant well, in your own way. I don't want us to be at odds. I'd much rather us be friends." She gestured vaguely with her hands before letting them slap back at her sides. Snape remained rigid and stiff, one eye twitched as she remained close at his side and looking at him with such reckless abandon (in his standards).

"I also wish for us to be…on neutral terms, as well, Professor Burbage." Snape ground out, truly at a loss for what to say to her offer of friendship. That seemed far too much a step with someone he barely knew and who also happened to be a woman. And it reminded him of Lupin of all things, who was trying to also form some sort of kindship with him…well, until their latest fight that is. So no, he preferred the term 'neutral acquaintance' over 'friend' right now. Though he thought better of saying that to her just now. Something inside him felt…different at her offer. A pleasant different. And the look in her eyes, the hope, well…it was too much for Snape to squash just yet. There was plenty of time this coming term for her to get tired of his brashness and sharp edges.

She beamed at the perceived acceptance. "Charity" she replied clapping twice in happiness.

"I'm sorry?" Snape found himself echoing her earlier inflection.

"Call me by my first name! Charity! It's only proper now that we're friends." She turned back to walk to her desk as if not giving him a choice in the matter.

Snape straightened his collar and pulled down on his vest, feeling itchy all of a sudden.

"Fine. Charity. You may call me Severus, if you like." He said in a tone that sounded as if he thought very little of this new arrangement. Burbage—Charity—was already behind her desk, cleaning the chalkboard with an eraser rather than her wand.

"Splendid! Have a nice afternoon, Severus! I'll see you at dinner!" She called back to him. Feeling decidedly cross, rather frustrated and not entirely sure it was because of any one thing, he left in a swirl of black.

Harry pulled Malfoy into a broom closet, with Hermione and Ron squeezing in after them.

"Merlin—what are you three doing?!" Draco yelped, pushing up against the wall for space in the darkness and jamming his back into a mop handle.

A blue glow flooded the small space courtesy of Hermione's signature flame, it began small and ended in floating just above the palm of her hand. Draco looked at it, slightly mesmerized.

"We need to talk about class." Harry replied.

"Yeah, what got into you? You were fine until Burbage spoke to you…is it because she's a half-blood?" Ron asked, curiosity mixed with a bit of frustration.

"Guys, calm down. Let him talk it out." Hermione piped up, her voice normal now compared to the timid edge she had when speaking to Snape minutes ago.

"I…it's because…" Draco stammered. He didn't like this. Why were they so curious? Didn't they have an exam to study for?

"Because of what happened at the Manor?" Harry asked softly, moving closer to Draco, blue light dancing off his glasses and making his warm green eyes turn a deep shade of turquoise.

Draco shifted, stepping into a bucket and grimacing at the clunking sound. He took comfort in the fact that Ron was hunched over himself in the small space and Hermione had had a broom fall on her shoulder with no way to push it aside. Harry seemed the only one small enough and comfortable enough in the cramped closet.

"Why are we in here, can't we talk like civilized people in a nice roomy classroom?" Draco breathed, clutching his robes as his sides.

"Good question." Ron looked pointedly to Harry, who had been the one to lead them in there.

Harry blinked, like he had not considered something. "It feels safe in here…" he sighed. "Sorry, I guess it wasn't the smartest place to choose."

"It is the closest out of the way spot though, to the Great Hall." Hermione pointed out. "Remember Harry? You and I were in here once."

Ron and Draco's eyebrows shot up.

"Stop it, not like that!" Hermione laughed and smacked—as best she could in the scrunched position—Ron on the chest.

"That's right…when Remus…when you told me about him. What you had figured out." Harry gasped, recalling that moment all those years ago.

"Yes well, let's save this walk down memory lane for outside, hmm?" Draco made ready to push Harry gently out of the way when the shorter Gryffindor put a hand on the opposite wall, blocking his path.

"You need to talk to me. To us." Harry countered, ignoring Draco's want to leave as well as his own hypocritical wish to talk things out when he himself found difficulty doing just that.

"I'm not a part of your group therapy, Potter." Draco squinted in the dancing blues against the darkness.

"I just wanted to know if you were okay. We won't get another chance during dinner…and Ron and I have detention after." Harry sighed, removing his arm.

Draco's stiffness lessened. "You could always make me talk with Granger then." He half-heartedly offered, wanting to be a positive to Harry's mood, feeling guilty as his dejection and touched by his concern.

"Oh no you won't—" Ron huffed, moving forward and squishing Harry between him and Draco.

"RON!" Harry's muffled voice called at the same time as Draco growled "WEASLEY! OFF!"

"It might be best!" Hermione hurriedly supplied, the flame flickering in her hold as she used the other free hand to pull Ron back. Ron closed his eyes and looked to be controlling his emotions…his insecurities. Hermione squeezed his arm in affection at her approval of his effort.

"It's just an offer." Harry clarified to Draco, glaring slightly at Ron as he pulled at his lopsided tie.

"I'll think about it." Draco nodded. Then after a beat, "Now where's the door, I'm about to suffocate."

They heard and felt Ron reach about and slide his hands along the wall.

"I can't find it." He said after a second.

"Excuse me?" Draco blinked in disbelief.

"Uh-oh." Harry said.

"What do you mean 'Uh-oh?'!" Draco whipped his head around to Harry who was smiling a slight grimace like he was feeling both pain and embarrassment.

"I may have forgotten that sometimes—rarely—closets at Hogwarts…self-seal."

"They whAT?!" Draco shrieked. Being a pureblood, Draco would later wonder why he hadn't known that…but then again, studying the inner mechanisms of Hogwarts' broom closets—magical or otherwise—were not really top priority in the Malfoy household.

"Hang on, maybe we just need some light, Ron hold up my fire. You're tallest." Hermione shoved it in Ron's hands, making him elbow Harry upside the head. This in turn caused Harry to be pushed into Draco's chest.

"OUCH! Potter, your bulky glasses are about to slit my throat!" Draco yelped.

"Sorry." Harry mumbled, rubbing his head.

"Stuff it, Malfoy. Geez." Ron rolled his eyes as he lifted the flame. Hermione then took to examining the wall. It appeared smooth on all edges aside from where the corners met. Not even a texture of stone was seen as they otherwise could just outside in the halls.

As Ron and Draco bickered, with Harry interjecting his protests of being in the middle and therefore the most jostled by their movements, a distinct whirring and click sounded which stopped all conversation. A crease appeared just in front of Hermione, then a beam of light shone through a split second later. Next thing they all knew, the door was opened and all four tumbled out one atop the other and then sprawled out on the ground.

"SWEET MERLIN, FRESH AIR!" Draco dramatically got up to his feet, waving at the space around him in wild gestures.

They all then took in the presence of their savior, who was wearing a pair of slightly muddy converse and knee-high socks with blue and silver at the hem trim.

"Luna?" Harry laughed happily as he took in the rest of the girl's appearance from his place at the floor. Getting up as Ron helped Hermione up, he went over to the Ravenclaw girl and hugged her.

"Thank you! It was getting a bit cramped in there!" He chuckled. Luna giggled back, her hands lightly patting his back in the hug. Pulling away, Harry held her at arm's length and asked,

"How did you know where to find us?"

"Oh, there was a bit of Wrackspurt activity in the area and I was investigating. It's rather useless though, until my Spectrespecs some in the mail." Luna sighed wistfully. Her eyes appeared more focused and twinkled just so, warming Harry's heart at the sight.

"A Wrack-whosits?" Draco asked, dusting off his pants.

Harry merely chuckled then turned back to Luna.

"Care to join our table for dinner? As thank-you." Harry offered.

Luna beamed, nodding.

"Tonight's detention will be to chop ten gallons' worth of flobberworms, which you will then pickle."

Harry had been early this time. Unfortunately, this seemed to rankle Snape even more, and he had made a show of slamming the door closed after Harry walked in. Harry felt the woosh of the door and took great effort not to flinch as it slammed shut with a very loud bang.

Harry though now looked startled, so much so that Snape regarded him oddly despite his foul mood.

"Is there a problem?"

"These aren't the ones from Hagrid's…are they?"

Snape's eyes beaded slightly, confused.

"No…"

"Then where did you get them?" Harry blanched. "I don't have to kill them first do I?!"

Of all things…! Here he was, having to give up another night to watch the boy as he served his well-deserved detention when the brat in question has the gall to lengthen their conversation with inane jabbering. Snape was frustrated with the day and though he wanted to continue his analytical watch over the boy and his rather odd behavior this term, he was hoping to do so from the comforts of his desk at the other end of the room.

"Merlin, will you keep silent and come here? What difference does it make?"

Harry trotted over beside Snape at the only table set up in the old abandoned classroom. He had already hung up his robes and set his wand down on the desk on his way, which made Snape raise a brow.

"The ones at Hagrid's…well, we fed them and junk." Harry supplied, peering over his side of the table to look in the large bin beside Snape.

"And this is relevant how…?" Snape ground out, thoroughly perplexed by the boy and frustrated by it. He was distracted as it was and now the boy was a regular chatty Kathy tonight. What on earth had gotten into the brat lately?

"We bonded with the worms. I can't kill something I've had to take care of, sir." Harry sighed, as if this were obvious.

"Enough. This is a detention, not a café in which to engage in idle small-talk." Snape barked back, flicking his wand to that a new empty bin floated over to the opposite side of the first, with a knife and cutting board appearing on the table with a pop.

"The worms are from a merchant in Hogsmead, you foolish boy. And I have already done the deed of their expiration. What I require of you has already been explained. You have two hours. Begin." And with that, he left the room, taking Harry's wand with him into his office, but leaving the door cracked just so. He decided that he would only be able to regain any sign of composure and relief from his growing migraine if he were able to hole up in a completely different room—a room that as decidedly Potter-less.

Snape had been watching Harry work for the last half hour.

He had never noticed how thin and nimble the boy's hands were, nor how gentle they seemed as he held each bottle and filled it with the pickling potion left on the table. The boy seemed at peace and focused only on the work before him. It was the oddest sight. The boy had even missed the second hour tick by without comment or, more likely, awareness. He simply continued the work without complaint. Oh, he would still make a face here or there as he spooned up bits of flobberworm, an expression that was rather odd to be seen on a Potter's face in Snape's opinion. Young Potter here held a visage of slight sadness mixed with regret. It was as if the boy took pity on the little slimy creatures he was bottling.

The most significant part about his behavior tonight however, the part that had made Snape emerge from his office prematurely than intended, was the fact that Harry Potter was humming.

It was very quiet, but still managed to echo in the cozy nook of the lab and therefore easily drifted to the office as it broke through the silence that permeated there. At first Snape hadn't even noticed it, so engrossed as he was in editing the questions for his seventh-year class's test that was scheduled later in the week. But after pausing to straighten the arch in his back from hunching over the parchment, he noted the slight low hum. At first he assumed it was the piping acting up, but decided against it, for it never sounded quite so…melodic, nor rhythmically constant. Snape then stood up slowly and quietly, and deftly inched to the crack he had left to his door. Long ago he had charmed the hinges of his office doors to never utter another creak in protest to movement, and now had no problem easing his door open now in silence. He looked in rare, unhidden curiosity at the teenaged boy working diligently several feet away from him. It was clear the noise—the song—was coming from Harry.

It seemed like ages that Snape had worked so hard to avoid having the dratted child in his line of vision. It hurt far too much to look at him at times, much less interact with. Snape had done all that was required, possibly more at times, to fulfill his promise not only to Lily but to Albus as well. But he maneuvered in such a way to never have to be with the boy in a capacity that required his heart—only his mind and strength of will. But now…now he found himself unable to pull himself away, to become detached. It felt like some barrier was melting just a bit…fading into the background as he looked on. A small voice, one that was unsure of itself, told his mind that it was because he had set upon this new task of figuring out the boy's angle—whatever it was—this term. Nothing more, nothing less. It was an excuse; a paper-thin one, but one nonetheless. And so he stood there, fixed upon his spot at the door jam staring at the boy as he worked and hummed a wobbly, yet happy little tune quietly to himself. He looked so small then, like an actual child rather than the symbol he had until now represented in physical form in Snape's mind.

But soon after Snape had come to settle in his thoughts about the boy, he heard a sharp hiss erupt from Harry's lips and halt the melody he was singing just a split second before.

Immediately Snape saw red pooling around Harry's wrist and within the next second was at the boy's side, not noticing his own heart rate jump in his inner panic and sickly surprise.

"Sir! I didn't—" Harry jumbled his words, obviously shocked himself both at what happened and how quick Snape was beside him.

"Stop pawing at your hand and let me see!" Snape growled, yanking Harry's arm towards himself harder than he otherwise meant to.

There was a cut, not deep but rather long, running across Harry's right hand. Obsidian eyes flickered to the table where there laid one of the few bottles Harry had left to fill. It looked to have a curved crack along the side which had come loose. The boy must have slid his hand around and sliced his hand through before even feeling it.

Snape felt sick seeing the droplets of blood on the table and glass. It was Harry's blood. And for some reason it made him queasy.

"Idiot. You broke the glass and cut your hand." Snape ground out hatefully, his heart twisting in anger at himself for his tone but being unable to react any differently in the heated moment.

"I didn't break the glass!" Harry yelled back, yanking his hand away from Snape's long, spider-like fingers.

"Mind. Your. Tone. Boy." Snape hissed, pushing all his earlier thoughts away at seeing the more familiar snarl and back-talk from the boy emerge. This he could handle. This was familiar ground.

This was the outlet he had needed.

Harry glared at Snape with a look of very real betrayal, eyes flashing with emerald fire and glasses slightly fogged. There it is again, Snape thought. That look. Why that look? But Harry had continued to speak, interrupting Snape's inner train of thought.

"Your bottle was already like that, sir." Harry spat. "But it's not like I'm accusing you of setting it in there on purpose!"

Snape's eye twitched as he curled a lip in anger, completely ignoring the meaning of Harry's words. But before he could utter anything of the cold, poisonous reply he was cooking up on the fly—as he often did with the particular children that got under his skin—Harry's sudden paled pallor caught him off guard.

Harry had looked at his hand, the blood still slowly running free down the palm and dripping to the floor. Harry had gone completely pale as he brought his hands up to examine in the most peculiar way. He had also began to tremble. Snape felt a chilled shift in the room which gave him sufficient pause and cooled his own anger in seconds.

"Potter?" Snape tried after a moment, in a half-hearted annoyed tone. A voice, one still far away but still clear in his mind, spoke of him needing to stop the bleeding of the boy. But the way Harry stood there in stark contrast of his animated expression a minute before had taken Snape a bit aback.

"It's all my fault…" Harry whispered, eyes widening at his hands, white with speckled coagulating blood.

Snape felt immediate guilt, though he would never admit it.

"Stop blathering, Potter, if you say the bottle was already cracked before you touched it then I'm sure everyone will believe you. It makes no difference to me, just give me your hand so I may heal it enough to get you to Pomfrey." Snape sighed, more to release his own tension and try and take back control of the situation.

"No…you can't fix this. You tried your best…everyone tried their best…but you were too late. I was too late." Harry whispered again, his voice flat and depressive. Snape felt like a fool standing in the middle of the room, arm hanging in the air and wand poised to cast, with Potter bleeding, wringing his hands together and babbling nonsense.

Frightening nonsense.

"What are you talking about?" Snape found himself asking in an elevated tone, hoping his almost-yell would snap the boy out of whatever delirium was occurring. He dared not spell him over…something was telling him not to. And Snape was one to follow his instincts.

"Their blood! Look! Can't you see it?! It's all my fault! It's on my hands!" Harry shouted in a heart-breaking wail, finally locking his eyes with Snape's as he shook his bloodied hands before him to emphasize his point. It was then that an image unbidden lept from Harry's mind into Snape's—a flash of red and feelings of absolute terror and despair. Snape stumbled backward, nearly dropping his wand.

Snape whispered an incantation a second later, as Harry had knelt to the ground and begun to cry violently into his hands, smudging his blood into his face and hair. Harry crumpled without another word to his side, knocked out from Snape's spell. Snape quickly knelt at Harry's side and sealed the cut without much more issue, ceasing the bleeding almost immediately. Snape stretched the boy out on the ground and cleaned the rest of the blood that was on his arms, face and hair. The boy looked beyond sleep, almost completely blank with his eyes closed and face without the twist of any sort of expression; it startled Snape just how expressive the boy could be—and how different that face looked without it. Snape remained kneeling, hunched over the boy, as he tried to quickly and desperately to collect his thoughts.

Now the next problem Snape faced was deciding what to do next.

“How could you let the crate fall like that?” accused a deep and silky voice. It grumbled in its deepness but held an edge that was oddly familiar despite the fog it managed to pierce through in Harry’s mind.

“I din’ mean’tah, pr’fesser! I was deliverin’ them blasted worms n’ things all gen-teel like yeh’ warn’ted when those ghosts busted through them walls and startled me somethin’ fierce they did!”

This other voice was craggly, unpolished and yet very familiar as well…

“I’ll not have you blame this on apparitions, you fool. If you had broken the bottles, why not inform me? The Potter brat nearly slit his wrist in two!” the deeper voice hissed harshly, unforgiving in its anger.

Harry had come-to a bit more by this point, and swiftly the events before he blacked out came rushing back. Most of them, anyhow. He opened his eyes and blinked at the blurs standing just offside his bed in what appeared to be the hospital wing. It was dark aside from the torches burning every few paces by each bedside, with only his own bed illuminated in some sort of stronger—but still soft—spotlight. Harry had spent enough time there to recognize this place without the help of eyewear.

Thinking of which, he fumbled to the side table and found the clunky things and pulled them on. Looking back to the source of the voices he saw it was Snape and Filch in the middle of a heated argument, making no pretense for Harry’s sake as he was laying just a few feet from them.

“Them ghosts have been actin’ awful these last few days, I tell yeh!” Filch growled back, hunched into himself. Miss Norris was no where to be found, likely tucked away safely in case Snape thought it fit to use her in his potions as punishment. Harry absently chastised himself for the fleeting thought, but then the case of Trevor came to mind and Harry supposed Filch wasn’t as foolish as Snape was making him out to be just now.

“I do not care what they’ve been up to, you caused a student to be injured which wasted my time—” Snape snapped back, and upon hearing this Harry felt all patience to wait for an opening to alert them of his awakening vanish. Harry had enough memories of the Dursleys reiterating such drivel, that he was a waste of their time and such, and he just couldn’t stand it coming from Snape.

“It’s not Filch’s fault.” Harry clearly interjected from his bed, startling Filch and making Snape raise a brow.

“Welcome to consciousness, Potter. I see it must be instinct for you to butt into that which does not concern you immediately after waking—a dreadful habit.” Snape sniffed, but his eyes shined brightly in the torchlight and seemed different somehow. Like they did not match his words. But Harry had no time to try and decipher Snape at the moment—it felt like one of those Chinese finger traps Dudley once got as a gag in a party favor bag at school. Trying to understand what Snape was feeling was like pulling his fingers out of the trap; the trap would just keep latching tight.

“It would concern me though, wouldn’t it?” Harry ground out, leaving off the respectful title on purpose. Snape noticed and his face soured. “It’s not Mr. Filch’s fault.” Harry quickly continued, so Snape could not squeeze in another tirade of hateful remarks that left Harry feeling stung. He already had a killer headache. Snape noted the title given to Filch and again his face crinkled in slight anger.

“And, pray tell, how do you come by that enlightening conclusion?” Snape asked, coming closer to Harry’s bed to tower over him. Filch shuffled to the other side, looking at Harry oddly.

“Like he said, the ghosts have been acting odd lately.” Harry replied, thinking of the few encounters he’s had, however brief they were, and thinking they were indeed slightly off. “They must just be restless or whatever, who knows. But the point is that he couldn’t have known there was a broken bottle, and even if he did, he can’t very well fix it on his own—er, no offense, sir.” Harry turned to Filch with a wince, not wanting to be indelicate about his being a squib.

Filch just stared back at the boy, seemingly shocked into silence.

Snape, arms folded at his chest, tapped an elbow as he did his best to contain his emotions.

“I find your entire little diatribe to elicit little-to-no helpful information whatsoever.” Snape replied after a moment of thought. “I should have been informed of the jostling of the crate, so I could have possibly taken action which might have prevented your little episode in the lab.” He finished with a snarl. “Hence why we are here in the first place.”

Harry blinked, thrown off track from that. He did remember blacking out…but that was about it. He wouldn’t have called it an episode exactly. Why was he even here? Surely a little faint wouldn’t require a trip to hospital, would it?

“Well, stuff like that happens. I don’t think it’s right to punish Mr. Filch over it.” Harry answered in a bit of a challenging tone, feeling confused as well as irritated now. Snape looked ready to argue the fact more when in bustled Dumbledore and, to Harry’s delight, Remus Lupin.

“Quite right, Harry my boy; Argus is surely not to blame.” Albus answered as they joined them around Harry’s bed.

“Harry, how are you feeling?” Lupin asked immediately, sounding out of breath.

“Uh, yeah…I just had a little accident is all.” Harry smiled wanly as he gestured with his now bandaged right hand. Seeing it for the first time closely since waking, Harry stared at it a bit longer than necessary. Harry then turned his gaze to the headmaster.

“Sir, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to get back to the common room. I’ve a bit of homework left to do…” Harry tried, making to get up. Snape’s hand was instantly on Harry’s chest and pushed the boy back down into the bed, though not roughly.

“Wonders never cease with you, it seems. Studying?” Snape sniffed rhetorically.

Dumbledore made a brief annoyed face in Snape’s direction before turning to Filch.

“Argus, it is late even for you. Fret not over this, young Harry is well taken care of and you are not to blame for what was most assuredly an accident. Sleep well.”

Harry chanced a glance up to Snape who was looking like he had been robbed of some still-lengthy reprimand for the old caretaker, but said nothing to contradict Dumbledore’s words. Filch then caught Harry’s gaze as he nodded to Dumbledore, then he slipped out of the room without another word. The headmaster turned back to Harry, eyes kind and warm.

“Harry, I should like to ask you a few questions regarding what happened tonight. Would it be alright if both Professors Snape and Lupin remain? I feel they may have valuable insight to contribute.” Dumbledore asked. Harry pushed himself back and up against the headboard, but nodded in consent.

Both Lupin and Snape looked minutely surprised, possibly that Harry would allow the Slytherin to remain…and without protest.

“All I really remember is um…cutting myself on some shard of glass by accident and then blacking out.” Harry looked down and to the side. “I have never fainted at the sight of blood but…” Here he looked back to Dumbledore and shrugged. “…I suppose there’s a first for everything.”

The three men shared a paused look, then Lupin spoke.

“Harry…would you mind if I run a few spells on your hand? They’re different than what Madam Pomfrey has already done.” Harry assumed she had done her work earlier while he was still out, though the light in her office remained on, just with the door closed. She was there if they needed her, he guessed.

“These…look for curses, if any are present. A bit more advanced than normal mediwizardry as far as that used in schools like this, but shouldn’t take long regardless.” Lupin asked with a shallow breath, as if sure Harry would absolutely refuse.

Harry shrugged, feeling a little confused. And a little wary. It must be something a bit obscure then, if Poppy wasn’t going to handle it personally.

“That’s all that happened though, isn’t it? You think I was cursed somehow?” Harry asked, burying his other, actually scarred hand under his covers subtly that no one noticed.

“You were screaming and hallucinating about seeing blood. Everywhere.” Snape’s voice chimed in deep and mellow, contrasting violently with how Harry’s stomach now felt.

“B-blood? Everywhere…” Harry looked to the side, soaking in the implications of that…trying to remember. Oh. He did recall a faint dream of reds pooling at his feet, coating the entirety of his hands. Screams, faint as whispers but sharp as knives in his heart. “All my fault…” Harry whispered to himself, lost in the memory.

Snape blinked, then immediately grabbed hold of the boy by the shoulders, shaking him just a little.

“Snap out of it, Potter!” He demanded, and Harry practically threw him off, eyes back to reality and just a smidge disgruntled at the manhandling.

“Severus—” Dumbledore began, looking a little shocked.

“Keep your hands off him, Snape!” Lupin practically growled, pushing between him and Harry. Harry’s eyes widened, having never heard Remus talk in such a way to Snape before, not even in his own timeline.

“Remus!” Dumbledore gasped, looking at a loss for what to do with this new outburst.

“He said that exact same thing before he went all mental, Lupin! Or would you like to relive that little nightmare with the boy? I’m sure you both can bond over that with a side of tea and crumpets.” Snape barked a bitter laugh at that last bit but moved out of Lupin’s new little territorial bubble of space beside Harry just the same.

“That gives you no right to yank him back to consciousness!” Lupin’s hands trembled with his indignant anger welling up inside. Harry’s eyes widened at the sight.

“Both of you, stop this argument this instant!” Dumbledore interjected finally, inwardly still unsure how things got out of hand so quickly.

In the next moment Lupin stiffened, then looked to have all his anger melt completely away as he looked to the smaller bandaged hand that now held his own larger one. Harry’s eyes met his, and he felt all of a sudden very foolish but also very warm and content.

“Please, don’t fight.” Harry requested calmly.

Snape looked on at the sight and felt a constriction in his chest that made it momentarily hard to breathe. Who was it that protected the boy against his own self? Who was it that helped Poppy clean his face and hair of the blood while she did her healing work? Who acted quickly to prevent another incident just now?

But it’s everyone’s favorite last Marauder that gets painted with wings and a halo, never mind of the beast locked inside those deceptive pure-gold eyes of his. But a moment later his glare caught the movement of Harry’s hand retreating back to himself, his eyes not on Lupin but on Snape himself. Not able to help himself, for the emotion seemed to pour out of the boy’s blasted pure green eyes, he heard the words unbidden in thought, wrapped in melancholy.

I’m sorry. It’s my fault.

Snape blinked twice, caught off guard by the echoed sentiment spoken by the boy once again, though he seemed fully in charge of his faculties this time.

Just what was going on inside Potter?

Harry felt himself tense minutely under the gazes of all three men, two of whom looked concerned, the other looking slightly on edge but otherwise forcefully blank. Harry didn’t feel the probe of Snape’s mind when their eyes connected—a connection that seemed to be happening more this week than the entirety of Harry’s life—and so the man’s odd look on his face still confused him. However, Lupin spoke up, breaking the silence that seemingly lasted forever but really only stretched a hearty few seconds.

“May I have your hand, Harry? To begin my test.” The man asked softly, gently.

“O-okay…” Harry shifted his injured hand to Lupin’s waiting one, which felt strong and warm. Harry closed his eyes a moment to take in the feeling, remembering just how cold Remus had been when he helped lay him to rest. Someone had suggested levitation, but Harry wouldn’t have it; together, he and Hagrid had gently, so very gently, picked him up to travel to his final resting place, beside Tonks, who was tended to by Hermione, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley. His eyes prickled at the physical proof that that reality was now just a memory of a forsaken timeline. Harry opened his eyes a second later to see two pairs staring back at him as Lupin was meanwhile distracted in readying his incantations.

Harry stared back, mostly at the deep blue eyes that seemed to have lost their twinkle, flooded in concern. The other pair, obsidian and hard, looked back in unflinching, emotionless intensity. It made Harry shudder.

But it was then, a moment after opening his eyes, that he realized they were wet. As Lupin pulled over the chair by his beside closer, Harry looked down and breathed in a rush from his nose, wincing as it made a snotty sound. Still feeling stared at, Harry merely mumbled “allergies” and let it drop.

Meanwhile, Lupin (who had paused momentarily at the sound of Harry’s sniffle) was reciting some old magic, with only an English word stuck here and there, the rest being in Latin. Dumbledore moved to be beside Lupin, while Snape moved more stiffly on the other side of the bed. Harry tried to ignore the surreality of being surrounded by these three wizards he cared so much for, and instead wait for the negative results of the scans.

Oh, but there were some questions to be asked weren’t there?

“Did you feel anything…off, just before you blacked out?” Dumbledore asked softly, hands at his sides but lost within the folds of the fabric of his robes. They were dark maroon, and rather plain for what the old warlock would usually wear. Lupin, meanwhile, had dulled his incantations to a quiet murmur.

Harry sighed and looked down, tempted to fiddle with his sheets with his free hand, but deciding against it since that hand /was/ cursed, and he wasn’t sure how to explain that away as ‘just allergies’.

“No sir. It was just a fr-…um,” there was that word again. Merlin, why was it so hard to say? “just an unexpected accident.”

Albus shared a look with Lupin then, who had completed his muttering and was waiting for the results of the spell. They then looked to Snape, who was staring at the hand being held by Lupin, the soft white circling tendrils of magic still assessing the wound.

“Do you know why you would…see things, things like those described by Professor Snape earlier?” Dumbledore continued his line of questioning, this time very clearly disturbed but trying to find a delicate way of putting them. Harry got a sinking feeling. It was the same look he had when he talked to Riddle all those years ago.

Is there something you wish to tell me, my boy?

Harry’s eyes prickled again, so much so he had to look away. He could practically hear Riddle’s response, the sound of his voice and inflection along with it, like he was standing right beside him. It made him shudder inside, but outside he tried to surreptitiously control his emotion. This wasn’t going according to plan, and he had to figure a way out…as honestly as he could, he hoped.

“Yes.” Harry replied, so quietly it made all three blink, wondering if they heard the thirteen year old correctly.

“Then please, elaborate, Mr. Potter.” Snape sarcastically prompted, motioning that Harry had the floor. Harry felt his anxiety jump. What was he thinking. Why would he admit to anything..? It was too much, too soon.

…

But it was that look.

….

That single, worried, lost look Dumbledore had given him. The look reflected in those moments he saw between the old wizard and the young Tome Riddle. He wanted so much to not be like Riddle, perhaps a fear he had always held since fifth year, until perhaps that day that he died.

“It…was possibly because of a nightmare I had the night before.” Harry replied carefully, not daring to look at any of the men. His stomach was in knots now, and his chest felt consumed in flutters.

“A nightmare?” Lupin breathed, his hold on Harry’s hand tightening, but not uncomfortably.

“Just a run of the mill, normal, everyday nightmare.” Harry shrugged, gaining momentum with the ease of the half-truth. He tried to calm himself.

“Yes, because normal nightmares—if there are such things—involve pools of blood and screams of terror.” Snape growled in anger, but at what Harry wasn’t sure. Was it at him? Probably. The possibility just made Harry more tired.

“Severus.” Dumbledore admonished quietly.

“Is the thing, um, done?”  Harry changed the subject, looking to his hand as the colors of the magic swirling about had stopped and changed from white to light blue.

“Yes…” Lupin answered, distractedly. He then looked down to his work and with a snap of his fingers the magic ceased. Snape raised a brow but said nothing, seemingly surprised the wolf knew anything about wandless magic, small though it was.

“I’d say it’s a clean bill of health as far as curses go, if I remember that particular spell correctly.” Dumbledore commented, relief touching his eyes from the result. Lupin nodded in confirmation.

“Yes sir, Harry has not been cursed recently.”

Harry stopped himself from rolling his eyes, wishing it were that simple. Snape snorted, turning to leave as he said, “If that will be all, Headmaster?”

Dumbledore looked surprised that Snape wanted to leave but did not push the issue. Harry also felt put out. Abandoned, even. But he mentally shook himself from the thought, as it did not do to dwell on such things. Dumbledore himself had said so ages ago. Harry had to accept that Snape would never care about his wellbeing unless it was life threatening. Harry decided that was enough, it had to be.

“Yes Severus. Thank you.”

Snape merely tilted his head just so and turned fully, completely ignoring Harry and Remus. But it seemed Lupin, despite Snape’s departure, had questions of his own.

“Harry,” Lupin began, the sounds of Snape’s boots clicking softly on the stone floor fading away has he neared the exit, “Can you tell me where these scars came from?”

Harry’s heart felt like it stopped to jump out of his chest, staring dumbly as Lupin, whose amber eyes danced in a weird intensity with the light of the torches in the dimly lit room. Dumbledore froze where he stood. The clicking of Snape’s boots stopped.

“S-scars?” Harry asked, still not looking down at his hand, so completely taken off guard as he was. Lupin shared a look with Dumbledore before plunging forward.

“Yes, see here? There’s several all along your hand…you can’t see them so much as feel them in this light, but they’re there. Do you remember how you got them?”

Harry slowly looked to his hand, before taking it out of Lupin’s grasp to feel in his own. Scars? For a moment Harry was afraid they were…but no, these were old. Very old. He’d always had them. They had been gained in the days when he was Just Harry.

“These are old ones.” Harry voiced from his thoughts, sounding oddly faraway. Oh, he knew how he got each and every one, but they had been a part of him forever, in his life before Hogwarts. He had never given them much thought. And besides, no one had noticed before. Harry himself had forgotten their significance, put out of mind like background noise.

Lupin and Dumbledore looked like they expected more than that as explanation, and Harry heard but did not register the sound of the clicks of sole on stone once more, though becoming louder as they neared.

“I did—I mean, I do—a lot of ah, chores…especially yardwork, for my relatives. That’s what these are from.” Harry breathed softly, looking at his hands, careful to cover his curse scar with the hand currently under question. His sleeves were long though, and covered his hands to the knuckles thankfully. “I don’t usually wear gloves.”

More like never allowed to…

Lupin’s eye twitched. But before he could say anything further a hand from Harry’s other side snaked into view only to snatch Harry’s hand to pull into his own. Harry jumped, surprised, but otherwise did nothing to yank his hand away from Snape’s as he might have done years ago. In fact, he was entranced in watching the stony Potions Master gently but thoroughly look over his hand, and feel the scaring for himself. Snape’s hand was spidery, but strong like Lupin’s. And they too were rough in some places. Harry didn’t know what to do with himself but just sit there, gaping up at Snape.

Snape had not consciously known what he was doing before it was already done. Hearing Lupin’s quiet question echo into the room might as well been a sharp cry in the dark, for how much those simple words shot through him.

The boy’s hand had a slight tremble to it, imperceptible had Snape not been holding it firmly in his own. Potter’s appendage was littered with callouses and the muscle felt wiry, testifying of the truth behind the answers, as one did not get a hand like this without doing some kind of manual labor. Repeatedly. And it seemed Lupin was correct, as there were small raises along the skin in certain areas such as around the thumb and along the dorsal side where his knuckles were. Keloid scaring. Snape, forgetting himself and whose hand he held, let his thumb rub along them gently, as if mapping out where each scar lay, following their paths to where more surely could be found. It disturbed him as he stood there, but it was almost like he needed to keep feeling them to believe they were there. Then right as he felt something larger than the other bits of keloid just past the boy’s scaphoid bone to the beginning of the radius, Harry pulled his hand free from his grasp.

They both shared a startled look before the coldness seeped back into Snape’s eyes, and a cloudiness seemed to permeate Harry’s. Coal black eyes flickered in surprise when seeing Harry’s own eyes shine unmistakably from unshed tears in the light.

“It’s really late, Headmaster.” Harry said softly, almost in a whisper, still staring right at Snape, who also did not dare to look away from him this time. Harry did feel a brushing against his mind this time, but somehow—by some grace above—was able to retain his ground and not allow any words from his mind breech the surface as he concentrated.

Snape’s brow crinkled minutely, before Harry felt the brushing move off.

“I believe our dear Harry is correct.” Dumbledore agreed, his voice also a bit far away. Snape broke his gaze to shoot the older wizard a dirty glare. How dare he imply the Potter brat as anything dear to him? Even within a group, it was revolting.

Well, perhaps not revolting…though, that was just crazy talk. Potters and disgust went hand-in-hand didn’t they? At least in Snape’s tumultuous and contradicting thoughts, he tried to argue they still did.

Before any more retrospection could be made (of which Snape was most assuredly not obliged to do with the confusing feelings he felt bubbling up) Harry Potter’s voice broke through his reverie, almost with alarm.

“OH! Before you go, I had—” Harry looked around him wildly, as if searching for something. “rats, my bag is back at the dorm room.”

“What did you need, my boy?” Dumbledore asked, very curious now. Lupin mirrored the expression as he continued to sit in the chair. Snape curled a lip halfheartedly.

“I had some plans me and Percy Weasley had laid out, for the club sir. But I also wanted to ask about our sponsoring teacher.” Harry confessed in a hurry, as if not getting it out quickly would result in him losing his nerve.

Snape, of course, immediately squinted in distrust.

“What sort of club, Potter?” He ground out slowly , Lupin giving him an irritated look. A hundred ideas of what horrendous subjects the boy could think of to revolve a club around surfaced, including a legitimate fanclub of himself. Snape figured if the Headmaster allowed that, he would just fling himself off the Astronomy tower, consequences be damned. This must be about what the boy had chirped on during his meeting with the Headmaster, Snape concluded. This should be good…

“A dueling club.” Harry replied simply, but not quite looking his way.

“What?” Snape all but shouted, completely perplexed. “After that fiasco last year?!”

Harry turned to fully glower at the man this time, tired and thoroughly irritated no matter how much he admired him.

“It wasn’t that bad!”

“You almost got bitten by that snake.” Snape hissed.

“Severus—”  Albus tried but failed to interrupt. Lupin was once again shocked by the tid bits he was gleaning.

“I told him NOT to strike!” Harry waved his hands in an exasperated arch about him, looking to Dumbledore and Lupin for help. He then turned back to Snape. “YOU’RE the one who attacked Professor Lockhart!”

“Gentlemen! Please!” Dumbledore intervened finally, his voice a bit firmer than normal. Lupin looked to Pomfrey’s office expecting her to have busted in at his movement. Dumbledore sighed and explained,

“I cast a silencing spell soon after we arrived…somehow,” he looked pointedly at Snape here, “..I knew things might get out of hand.”

“Right.” Lupin replied slowly.

“And poor Poppy needs her rest…Now then, Harry, you said something about a sponsor.” Dumbledore prompted. Harry felt all of a sudden badly for bringing it up, especially in a situation like this, late as it was to boot.

“I know it’s not the best time to ask but—” Snape snorted derisively here, “—I wanted to ask Professor Snape and Professor Lupin to be our sponsors.” Harry asked in a very different, timid sort of voice as he determinedly looked at Dumbledore, and Dumbledore alone.

Snapes eyes widened, and Lupin looked to have some color return to his features.

“Oh.” Dumbledore managed to say after a moment, looking himself quite shocked. Then a brilliant smile grew underneath his beard until even it could not hide it. Snape saw and was shaking his head, very much ready to give his negative response when Dumbledore answered for them both.

“What a SPLENDID idea Harry!” Dumbledore bubbled in absolute joy, patting Harry’s knee and then making his way out of the infirmary. “YES! Absolutely!” He called out to no one in particular.

“Where—WHERE ARE YOU GOING!?” Snape spluttered, taken aback by what he was just agreed to doing, and then said agreer moving quite fast past him on his way out the door. Lupin just stared after the scene, his own smile small but genuine.

“We have much to do, much to organize! You and Remus’s club will need space, first and foremost!” Dumbledore called back with a wave of his hand.

“Our--?? OUR GROUP! Headmaster, WAIT!” Snape called, and with one last desperate look to Lupin and a rather half-hearted glare to Harry, he took off after the older wizard, who had disappeared past the doorway into the hall.

There were now only two people left in the main part of the infirmary. Harry felt a bit overwhelmed, and sighed to release some of his anxiety.

“How are you feeling?” Lupin asked, putting a hand back over Harry’s own.

Harry looked at his gesture then at the man, who now held his gaze with such warmth and compassion that he almost forgot to breathe.

“I’m fine.” Harry replied in a hollow whisper, but regretted it as something passed over Lupin’s face indicating that wasn’t the answer he was searching for.

“You know Harry…we haven’t known each other very long, but…well, I want you to know that should you need me, to tell me something, that you can, yeah? Especially if something is bothering you.”

Harry looked back up into Lupin’s face, a bit surprised to hear him say this. His Remus had never said something this…blatant. This open. There had always been barriers, walls…missed time and passing words of advice, vague but meant to be helpful. Not that either were at fault for these things in their relationship; things moved so fast after Third Year, and there was so much going on, so many issues. And after Sirius…well, things weren’t ever the same were they? But still, his Remus was so…different. Weren’t they the same person, though?

“You don’t believe me.” Lupin stated, a bit sadly but more so as a calm truth he was willing to face.

Harry was brought out of his thoughts and stuttered his denial.

“N-no, sir! I just…it’s complicated.” Harry lamely finished, looking away in his disappointment in himself.

“But there is something bothering you, isn’t there? James had that same look on his face when he was worried.”

Harry did stop breathing then, if only for a beat.

“…H-He did?” Harry whispered, touching a bit of his cheek self-conciously.

Lupin smiled and nodded, patting his hand before pulling his own back into his lap as he sat and regarded Harry.

“Oh yes.” Lupin chuckled fondly. “Though it usually when he got himself into quite the spot of trouble, a result from his rather rambunctious tendency to get into things he ought not to.” Lupin looked off the side as he thought back to happier days spent with Potter Sr. “There was one time that he and Sirius—” Lupin abruptly stopped, his face paling whiter than the cresent moon that was setting, showing through the windows on the opposite side of the room.

“I’m so sorry Harry, I didn’t mean to—” Lupin apologized, making to get up, but Harry would have none of it.

“Re-er, Professor Lupin, it’s okay.” Harry said in an almost pleading voice. “It’s okay. I only just found out about…everyone that was involved.” Harry continued in a half-lie. Lupin looked at a loss for words. “I…was angry. But I’m dealing with it…you shouldn’t have to censor your memories on my account.”

Words that finally formed at the tip of Lupin’s tongue seemed to die back into his throat, he looking away in pure thought. Harry noticed the darkened skin under his eyes, and the rumbled quality of his robes. He needed rest; Harry realized. It had been a long night. And Harry felt himself cringe inside knowing he was the cause.

“I’ll be alright sir, really. You should get some rest.” Harry murmured quietly, to gently bring Lupin out of his mind and back to the present. He succeeded, and Lupin replied with a wane smile as he stood up.

“I think you may be right. But it goes for the both of us, hmm?” Lupin replied, catching a bit of Harry’s sheet and ruffling it a bit more over Harry’s chest once Harry had snuggled back down from half-sitting against the headboard. Harry felt his cheeks warm, and Lupin seemed to notice his actions looked terribly parental as well. But the deed was done.

Lupin left with a final awkward wave of his hand, and Harry found himself smiling in the midst of his own foggy thoughts.

--

Snape had finally caught up to Dumbledore when they both reached the staircases. Snape managed to jump right as the case Dumbledore had stepped upon began to shift, apparently feeling a need for a change of destination. Dumbledore looked for all the world unperturbed by this as they rode it, which irritated Snape.; one of the few things he missed of his father’s world was that muggle staircases did not have the inclination to move about, especially while you were on them.

Gathering his wits as they drifted lazily through the air, wind pushing his lank black hair about softly, Snape managed to calm himself before he spoke to the elder wizard. Even if irritated, he had to admit that the sight of the cases constantly moving in an almost endless maze above and below was beautiful, in a chaotic and defy-all-common-sense sort of way. Such a sight would give anyone pause, especially on a night such as this when most of the castle lay asleep. Dumbledore seemed to think the same, as he too remained silent. Snape decided to break it first.

“What exactly are you playing at then?” Snape narrowed his eyes, one hand on a rail as he looked up to the older man several steps above him. Dumbledore gazed back, a slight glimmer in his eyes that were a bit distracted it seemed—he must have several kettles on the fire in his mind, Snape thought. He knew the feeling, as dealing with Potter usually set his own mind alight with several whirling thoughts at once, most however were destructive in nature.

The case settling against another punctuated Dumbledore’s answer: “I am merely taking advantage of an opportunity, something you would do well to learn from, dear boy.” He then hiked up part of his robes and climbed to the next set of stairs, with Snape right on his heels. They were moving once again when the Potions Master spoke in reply.

“Are you seriously saying this to a Slytherin? Nay, the Slytherin Head of House?” Snape gawked at the man before him in bewildered amusement, almost forgetting his earlier panic and anger. This was Dumbledore’s desired affect.

“I am merely describing my wish for you to be a bit more open minded, especially when it comes to Harry Potter.”

Snape’s face crumpled, but then relaxed as he twisted those words to his favor to draw a light stab at his old friend. “So you’re saying I need to take more advantage of your Golden Boy, hmm?”

Dumbledore turned sharply as Snape then, giving him A Look. They stopped moving again and stepped on a landing connecting to their bannister, of which immediately left them once Snape settled beside the Headmaster. It looked like they would be there for a few minutes before another case drifted by.

“Of opportunity, as you well know I meant. And don’t call him that, you know I hate it when you call him that.” Dumbledore looked out to the view of the steadily moving staircases, focusing on nothing in particular.

“Hmph.” Snape smirked.

“It doesn’t even make sense. What on earth makes him ‘golden’? He’s not a statue, he’s a little boy.”

Here Snape rolled his eyes as he joined Dumbledore’s right side (as he secretly always preferred, it being a comforting place in contrast to Voldemort’s, a place which always struck him cold deep inside his soul). “You’re babbling again.” Snape continued to tease lightly, pleased he could get under Dumbledore’s skin just the right way to get him sidetracked like this. He spoke so eloquently and wise when around most other people, but when just the two of them Snape was privy to the younger, more real part of the man’s personality. At times like this, he wouldn’t talk mostly in riddles or half-truths, and he would blab on about absolutely nothing in particular. It wasn’t the best time to gain any secrets from the man, but it was Snape’s favorite despite himself, as he gained rather a better understanding of the man’s soul, which seemed protected and closed off from the rest of the world.

Oh, these sentiments were bad, Snape knew. It would be his undoing to have such a fondness for him buried deep inside his own soul; he would likely do anything the man asked of him if this kept up. Perhaps he ought to get himself worked up again; he did much better with anger and bitterness, not this mushy warm feeling welling up inside himself. Before Dumbledore could reply, Snape cut him off.

“So you believe taking this ‘opportunity’ to cater to the whims of this little boy and supervise his ridiculous club is wise? Pay no mind to the fact that this would be in addition to my duties as a head of house, Potions Master, and night patrol. And the fact I must share the duty with Lupin, the man with a fuzzy problem.” Snape grimaced realizing he used the phrase James Potter had often loved to use as a euphemism for Lupin’s condition. Dumbledore shushed him before he could give it much more thought.

“Severus, must you be so loud? You’ll wake up the whole castle.” Dumbledore admonished a bit pettily, as Snape had been talking with normal, even tones which were drowned gently in the contant rumble and murmur of the staircases. Snape looked heavenward for patience in his exasperation.

Another case began to make its way to them, one aiming to the higher levels, which was not where they wanted to go. When it connected to their platform, they ignored it and continued their conversation.

“The opportunity to spend more time with Harry, to figure out what’s bothering him, ‘what he’s up to’, seems like it would be the opportunity you’ve been waiting for.” Dumbledore commented, leaning back against the wall slightly and shaking out some wrinkles in his night robes.

“As I’ve said a hundred times over, I couldn’t care less what may be bothering the infernal teenager. Finding out about this attitude change, what he’s hiding, can be done in more subtle ways, without an excess of time wasted in his presence, more than it already is.”

“Like tonight’s detention?”

Snape didn’t know what to say to that, his own mind and heart still reeling from everything that happened, in the classroom and the infirmary. Dumbledore placed a hand on his arm.

“We both know something is wrong, and it is our duty to find out in order to help him. And in so doing, protect him from whatever dark influence Voldemort may try and strike against him this year…” Snape felt any bitter retorts die in his throat at the worried look Dumbledore was giving him. The gravity of the situation was finally rearing its ugly head. This was sound logic, of course. The Dark Lord had tried to kill the boy twice in as many years so far…and though perhaps not predictable, Riddle was indeed a creature of habit. That is, when he wanted something. Snape had seen this manic fixation first hand during the first war, when the dark wizard had begun to target the Potters.

A chill ran up his cloak and settled in his spine at the thought.

“I want you to honor Harry’s request you be there, sponsoring this dueling club with Remus. Besides, you’ve been nagging me about teaching defense for years now, here is your chance.”

Snape snorted in derision. “I will be there. But I will not be lifting a finger to teach an additional class for the sake of Potter’s latest whim, mark my words.” Another staircase connected to their landing and Dumbledore led the way downward through its steps.

“I shall. Now then, you and I must get some sleep.” Dumbledore continued, Snape seeing they were about to part ways; he on his way further down to the dungeons, and the Headmaster through this level’s corridor to his own quarters.

“Seems moot at this point.” Snape grumbled, stepping down, readying himself to catch the case he wanted nearing his position.

Dumbledore smiled at his collegue, soft but sad. “Goodnight, Severus.”

Snape turned a moment to meet his eyes and nod. “Good morning, Albus.” And with a tired smirk, he stepped gracefully onto the case as it slowly drew past and then away.

Dumbledore’s smile waned, as his earlier worries for Harry Potter, since at bay with the distraction of company, eeked back like a sludge. Deep in thought, the old wizard fell into a rhythmic step down the hallway, mind full and soul heavy.

--

“He tucked you in?” Ron asked, flinching away from an owl that had decided his flyaway hair needed grooming.

They were in the Owlery, early on that Thursday morning. Harry had been the one to suggest the place in which to meet and speak freely when he arrived at the common room about four hours after Snape, Dumbledore and Remus had left. Madam Pomfrey had finished fussing over him that morning, and through much sweet-talking from Harry she relented to let him go. Harry figured the sweetness of his words didn’t do much to phase the witch, but more so her pity for him. Her gaze seemed to linger at his face, worn and tired it must look, and she suggested he may sleep better in his own dorm. He was scheduled later that day to visit her again for a change of his bandage and another once-over. Harry agreed and found himself walking through the portrait hole to find both his friends, waiting and worried. Harry promised to explain after much rushed whispers, if they followed him to the Owlery, one of the few safe places he felt drawn to within the castle.

No one ever lingered too long at the Owlery, and definitely not before dawn as they were. Hermione was there as well, sitting on Harry’s other side and looking very, very worried after he finished reciting the events that had taken place, causing him to fail to return after his detention was due to be over. Harry glanced at his friends before looking back down at Hedwig whom he had in his lap, she half asleep from his soft running through her feathers. Petting Hedwig had often calmed him after a nightmare when he was back at Privet Drive; if only he had had her beside him when he woke up in the Infirmary earlier.

Harry grimaced at Ron, who seemed to back-peddle and look rightfully sheepish.

“I-I mean, not that that’s bad or anything, of course, but—”

Hermione rolled her eyes and Harry’s annoyance was short lived as he sighed a soft laugh. “No, Ron, it was nothing like that. I guess he just felt bad for me and overcompensated a bit in the end without thinking about it. Snape was pretty flip-floppy with his mood there…it set us all a bit off I s’pose.”

Harry could still remember Snape’s hand taking his own, inspecting with an odd curiosity for the scars Remus seemed to have detected. The firm gentleness in the wake of his yelling not minutes before left Harry feeling jumbled and unsure what exactly he should feel.

“That does seem strange.” Hermione mused as she half-stared at a feather she twirled in her hand, lost in part of her thoughts as she did so. She then looked to Harry in urgency, a new thought crossing her mind and immediately replacing any train dedicated to the oddness of their professors for the time being.

“Oh! Ron! Tell Harry about your letter!”

Harry looked at his best friend expectantly. Ron straightened up, his countenance changing to excitement.

“Bill replied to me n’ Hermione’s letter! I got it last night when I came back from detention.”

Harry grinned, his previous discomfort and edginess dissolved into excitement. “Fantastic, what did he say?”

“Oh get this—he was practically ecstatic that I wanted to learn more about ancient curse-breaking and old wards.” Ron beamed, absolutely thrilled he had his eldest brother’s approval. Harry smiled right back, extremely happy for Bill’s response.

“And,” Hermione took up, her own excitement shining through, “Bill said that he had a job he had to finish in Rome but would ask to take off a few days soon so he can visit and help us in person about our ‘school project’.” She giggled and clapped her hands together in glee.

“Oh that’s brilliant.” Harry murmured, his own mind-gears turning as he made plans to devote to this eventual meeting between them. This could be a big break in understanding just what defenses Hogwarts had at their disposal, especially should they be unable to be backed up by the staff. Harry shuddered, renewing his determination to ensure the safety of this school and ALL those who resided there. Except for Scabbers of course. Which, speaking of…

“So, we’ve had Pettigrew under lock and key, and with Crookshanks keeping watch we should be good for a little while longer.” Harry laid out, “But I haven’t heard from Sirius. Hedwig didn’t come back with a reply…but I know he got the food and my letter. Hedwig wouldn’t have left them unless he himself had received the parcel.”

“Perhaps he wasn’t of the right mind, Harry.” Hermione gently suggested.

“Maybe he didn’t think to send one. I get pretty distracted by food too.” Ron shrugged, hoping to ease Harry’s worry. But it was a nagging feeling Harry kept in his heart, the one that held his doubts in himself and his plans.

“And hey, maybe he just didn’t have anything to write with, yeah? Even using the back of your letter, he’d still need a quill of some kind. And having no wand…” Ron mused, walking over to Errol and picking off a lose feather from his neck. The old owl gave him a disinterested hoot and turned his head around to tuck into a wing.

“That’s true…I should have thought to send one along. Still, he might have pinched a quill somewhere if he really wanted to reply. You’d think he would, given what I wrote him.”Harry moped, picking at his bandage on his hand. Hermione followed the action with her gaze, looking like she wanted to change the subject back to his odd dream-vision, but sensed it was not the right time.

“Give him time, Harry. He’s still got a way to travel yet, and perhaps if he knows things are being handled on our end he can take more time. Clear his head a bit for a proper correspondence. ” Hermione suggested as they stood to leave. Light was peeking through the tops of the trees, as the blues of night shrank away from the muddy oranges of daylight. Soon, the rest of the castle would be up, and it would be time for breakfast.

Harry nodded, glumly but resigned to allay his worries on Sirius for now. They began to trudge their descent down from the tower in which the Owlery was located and toward the path that led to the Great Hall.

“Did either of you get any sleep?” Harry asked, remembering the hour in which he had found them already dressed and awake, waiting for him in the common room.

“Not really.” Hermione replied as Ron piped up his own “no.”

“You both need your rest.” Harry sent them both a stern look, hypocritical though it was. Ron huffed.

“Right, and you don’t?”

“I was always used to getting up early.” Harry evaded, not really in the mood to argue but also too stubborn to let it go.

“We’re just…restless.” Hermione intervened, soothing the tension from a night lacking sleep because of Harry’s disappearance.

“Yeah. We’ve been here barely a week but I feel like we’re wasting time. There’s still so much to do.” Ron agreed, wiping a hand over his face tiredly.

“I know. It’s hard to enjoy being here with everything looming over us.” Harry agreed. They turned a corner and moved down a lengthly hallway. It was one of the few that held no portraits, which was why Harry chose this way. The walls usually very literally had ears, and one had to be careful. “Did you two have any luck studying while I was with Snape?”

“I did some more research on the Trace, actually, while Ron did our homework.” Hermione stopped, and the two boys halted their pace as well.

“Oh. Ron, you did our homework?” Harry couldn’t help but chuckle. Ron’s ears turned pink and he crossed his arms.

“Well, someone’s got to, don’t they? Besides, I needed to keep busy while we waited for you, and ‘Mione knew what she was looking for.”

“Good show, mate.” Harry grinned, clapping him on the arm. “I’ll take tonight’s work, to make up for last night.”

“Don’t worry about it. Besides, it was good Hermone got the extra time. She found something that may be useful—“ Ron began but was interrupted.

“Now what nonsense are you blathering on about, Weasley?” Said a voice coming around the opposite corner to join in their hallway.

--

Ten minutes earlier.

“So you’re not going to tell me about it.” Nott’s voice was emotionless, all except for a smidge of offense, as if this were a personal affront. But Slytherins weren’t so transparent, were they?

Draco tilted his head back against the window pane, the base of which they were both seated, talking as the first rays of sunlight shone above the tallest trees of the Forbidden Forest. It was a quiet part of the castle this time of the morning, near the Owlery and away from the more occupied classrooms a level or two down. It was what made him come here after the evening he had had. Unluckily though, Theodore Nott had been the one to wake him from his nightmare. His simple words of “We need to talk” had put Draco on edge in much the same way his nightmare had, but for very different reasons.

“Why do you even want to know?” Draco huffed, his silver eyes colder than normal, and very untrusting at the moment. Perhaps he was just unused to being on uneven footing. Not since the Trials.

Theodore broke the shared gaze to look at the opposite wall. He looked upset, but Draco could not really fathom why. This was about him, not Nott. If anything, he should be the one upset.

“I…I thought…” Nott stopped wringing his robes he had suddenly realized he was even doing, and then he exhaled sharply. “I just have never seen you that way before. I wanted to know if it had been a common occurrence.”

Draco looked at him again, trying to figure out his motive.

“Why would you think that?” He asked, more curious than accusatory.

“You had a silencing spell on.”

Draco winced at being so thick as not to remember that little detail. Of course it had been clear he had had nightmares before, if he were taking precautions against being heard.

“So now you’re watching me sleep?” Draco countered, a bit rudely as he pushed himself off his perch and rounded on the Slytherin he had once called a friend. These days he didn’t know what to call Nott or anyone in his house…but friend just seemed too foreign now. ‘Friend’ these days looked like a gangly mite of a wizard with a rat’s nest of raven hair and circular thick-framed glasses.

Nott blinked in hurt surprise, turning away his gaze and wringing his hands slightly on the hem of his robes.

“I…no, don’t be daft.” Nott managed to shoot a glare at Draco with that, but looked down at his shoes again. “I…I just happened to be awake, and saw you…” his voice dropped to a whisper. “And I thought…well, because I get them too.”

Draco didn’t know what to say. Theodore had never, never shared anything so…personal…in all the years he had known him. Besides, it wasn’t normal for a Slytherin to share a weakness, much less with another fellow snake.

“You shouldn’t have told me that.” Draco whispered, his expression slightly confused. Nott looked up sharply, his face tinged with pink and a crinkled brow.

“I wanted to. That way we’re even.” Nott replied, now standing there stoically, artificially calm and resolute.

“Even. Right.” Draco’s tone was stilted and the air around them was now awkward.

“So?” Nott prodded, not at all affected by the atmosphere as Draco was—or, at the very least, he was more determined to get an answer.

“…So..? ‘So’ what?” Draco asked, moving forward to leave the corridor but keeping his gaze on Nott who was at his side and matching his pace, undeterred.

“So, you’ve had a nightmare…are having nightmares. Did you want to..uh..talk about them?”

Draco shuddered a bit, accosted first by Harry and now Theodore for the very same thing. What weird dimension had he woken up to this morning?

“Not really.” Draco sighed, slowing his pace as they neared a corner. His nightmare had been a bit nonsensical, but at the end it had morphed into his memories at the Manor during the Dark Lord’s stay. Needless to say, it would be difficult to explain much less talk about with someone like Nott.

“I see.” Nott murmured, his eyes turning a bit cold but unsurprised as he stared ahead as they walked. Draco managed to catch it as he stole a look his way, gauging his reaction.

“It’s…not that I don’t eh, trust you.” Draco began but Nott snorted, they both stopping in their path to focus on their conversation as it turned.

“Don’t patronize me, Malfoy.” Nott hissed, crossing his arms. He was hurt, Draco realized. “I don’t expect you to confide in me all your deepest darkest secrets—only idiodic Gryffindors and overly-sentimental Hufflepuffs do so. But I had thought…we could be fr—allies, at least. Since we both…ugh. Just nevermind.” He made to walk off in a heated rush, but Draco pulled at his arm and stopped him.

“Nott—Theo. Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” Draco replied in a low, more serious voice. The apology alone made Nott pause. “I just…I’m not sure where to even begin, even if I was ready to talk about it.” Draco let Nott go and simply waited for a reply; this was as honest as he was going to be.

“I understand.” Theo’s eyes softened just so, and Draco felt warmed by it, adding a relieved smile of his own to the lanky Slytherin. It was at that moment they heard voices picking up from the other corridor. They shared a look and Draco led the approach to the voices, Theo trailing behind hesitantly. Since when did they run headlong into anything like a Lion? He thought as he followed the blonde.

“…on’t they? Besides, I needed to keep busy while we waited for you, and ‘Mione knew what she was looking for.”

“Good show, mate. I’ll take tonight’s work, to make up for last night.”

“Don’t worry about it. Besides, it was good Hermone got the extra time. She found something that may be useful—“

Draco couldn’t help the elated look on his face at hearing the Trio’s voices, and missed the slightly perturbed look Theo gave him at his reaction as he picked up his speed to meet them.

“Now what nonsense are you blathering on about, Weasley?” Draco called almost happily, as he tried to school his features. Theo couldn’t help but join him as they stopped in front of the three Gryffindors.

Harry, Ron and Hermione looked a bit shocked to see Draco, but contrary to how Theo expected them to react, they greeted him warmly.

“Morning Draco.” Harry grinned, clapping him on the back. Ron and Hermione also bid him good morning. They then turned to Theo, who felt ansty at being outnumbered.

“Morning Nott.” Harry nodded to the other boy, his tone more neutral but no less warm.

“Potter.” Nott merely replied, then look to the other two Gryffindors. “Weasley. Granger.”

“We were on our way to breakfast…would you two care to join us?” Hermione asked softly.

Theo matched Draco’s gaze before the blonde accepted—for them both, which irritated Theo as he had no desire to spend time with these three. And he had yet to figure out how exactly Potter of all people would prove to have some sort of ground-breaking power as Draco had implied. He seemed just a snotty, rule-breaking, loud Gryffindor like the rest of his house.

Well…maybe not loud. Potter was oddly quiet unless provoked, as Theo had noticed over the last two-ish years.

So on they walked, down the way which led to the Great Hall. But where it would normally be awkward, Draco seemed perfectly at ease with the others, and it was a spectacle Theo couldn’t help but take in as they pushed on. Potter said something awkwardly clever (somehow a contradiction that the raven-haired lion seemed able to pull off) and his obnoxious best friend barked a laugh. Even Draco Malfoy was smiling—a genuine one at that since his silver eyes crinkled just so as he did. And the Mudbl—well. The muggleborn…she seemed to still be in her rather odd mood of shrinking into herself but she too looked aglow with mirth at the happiness of her…friends. The four looked so chummy, the only division being the overbearing amount of garnet and gold in contrast to the more subtle silver and juniper.

Theo felt like he was having a stroke.

“Listen, I’m just asking a rational question.” Oliver Wood countered from across Fred.

They were eating breakfast at Gryffindor table on this fine Thursday morning, and when Harry, Hermione and Ron had entered along with the company of both Malfoy and Nott, it seemed his house mates could not keep silent about their worries and disapproval. Their concerns seemed directed mostly to him, Harry, of course…perhaps understandably so. Harry had been the one to publically remain neutral or – dare one say it – friendly with the Slytherin blonde. Harry had to remind himself it was normal for them to wonder – and once again Harry had to admit he was the one being abnormal. The thought made his stomach turn about as much as the tone in which his housemates were interrogating him now.

Harry couldn’t ever shake the feeling of being...different, it seemed.

“Why on Merlin’s broomstick would yeh even think about bein’ friendly with Malfoy and his little cronies? Don’t think we ‘aven’t noticed.” Oliver continued in a lower voice. “He could be luring yeh into some kind o’ trap and then we’ll all end up losing an arse-ton of points somehow!”

A few students near him nodded, including Lee Jordan. Others looked perplexed. Colin, sitting beside Ginny, looked as worried as she did.

“Honestly wouldn’t put it past him…” Ron huffed quietly. Harry shot him an icy look.

“That’s not even the worst of it.” Harry was surprised to hear this come from Dean Thomas’s way, “Harry, it doesn’t make sense that you’d want to be mates with the scummy likes of Malfoy.”

Harry blinked, as he leaned back a bit in his seat, taking in their entire side of the table that seemed focused on him and the conversation. How had this gotten out of hand so fast? It was too early to be making this sort of wave...Harry had hoped it would be gradual, that people would get used to the idea of interhouse community...especially between the Lions and Snakes. But apparently the change was too stark to not notice, and therefore had to be pushed against.

Now even Ron had quieted, his ears turned pink. Hermione fiddled with her hands in her lap, looking down with a worried crinkle in her brow. After a moment she then slipped a hand into Harry’s which had been unconsciously clenched into a fist at his side. Ron shifted to be sitting a smidge closer to Harry, his face contrite and regretful at the remark he had made. Harry drew a deep calming breath, relaxed his hand in Hermione’s, then channeled his inner Slytherin, however much it still existed.

“Oliver, do you want to win the house and quidditch cup this year?” Harry directed to Wood, who looked gobsmacked at the question.

“Blimey, Harry. Of course I bloody do!” Oliver hissed, not in anger but in barely contained chaotic energy – Harry was inwardly pleased to see the other boy was still as fanatical as he remembered, though Harry knew it was more for the quidditch cup than anything else.

“This rivalry we have with Slytherin has gotten out of hand. And even worse, with Dra-er, Malfoy.” Harry cringed at himself but ploughed on. “We will keep losing points from getting in trouble with them - “

“You mean when you get in trouble.” Someone down the way said under their breath. Harry’s concentration broke but only a split second.

“I seem to recall some times when we lost points because of a housemate and a Slytherin – and their last name wasn’t Potter.” Ron countered seriously in Harry’s defense, pointedly looking at Oliver. He knew better than most in their year of Wood’s own rivalry with Marcus Flint, due to his elder brothers’ stories of them as well as seeing it on the field.

“Pick a side, Weasley!” another voice called down the opposite side of the table. It seemed now most of the Gryffindor table was occupied in the conversation.

“Oiy! Lay off Ron!” George shot back in defense of his brother. Fred and Percy jumped in, as did a few others. A few heads from Ravenclaw had turned their way and Harry had become anxious to cease this mayhem.

“That’s it!” Harry all but shouted, and their table. Harry took off his glasses to wipe his face in frustration, trying to occlude best he could to control his emotions. But it was like trying to ride a motorcycle when he hadn’t even learned to ride a normal bicycle – which in reality, come to think of it, Harry actually didn’t know how to do. This train of thought was getting nowhere, of course. Right. Back to the immediate problem at hand -

 “This isn't about sides. This is about being smart. Ravenclaw doesn’t have the complete rights to intelligence, y’know.”

“True, what with Hermione as proof of that.” came from Fred, and Hermione looked up in surprise and blushed as she smiled back at him. Ron beamed too, despite his own nerves.

Harry fiddled with his glasses a moment then slid them back on. He had thought about this a bit since coming back, so he jumped in on what he thought would be an immediate ice-breaker. “If there was ever a sure way to win both cups - “ and save the majority of Slytherin from Riddle’s influence, Harry thought morosely, “ - then we need to stop losing points over stupid, petty interhouse fighting and start gaining points as much as we can.” Some familiar faces looking back at him seemed to be thinking this logic over. He pushed on.

“This is Oliver’s last year...we should try our best to win it now more than ever. No one has pushed us closer to winning than him. And if we are going for one final hurrah then it needs to be clean, not messy.” There. That was something they could likely agree on, even if it was a rather flimsy reason.

“So you’re being nice to those Snakes just to keep the peace to...win a cup?” Pavarti raised a brow in disbelief.

“Hey! It’s not some rinky-dink cup, this is the Inter-House Quidditch Cup we’re talking about!” Oliver spat. Percy wrinkled his nose at him at his near conniption while Lavender just rolled her eyes.

“No, Pavarti, that’s not the whole reason.” Harry tried to explain. His hands, which had now been back on the table, had begun to tremble slightly. He pulled them back onto his lap but not before both Ginny and Neville had noticed. “I’ve been talking to Draco and - “

“Draco now, is it?” Seamus scoffed. Harry almost growled.

“Yes, Draco.” He ground out at the interruption. “We’ve come to an agreement to stop the nonsense of the past few years and try to start off new.”

“So one word out of the git’s mouth and all’s forgiven?” Dean now had his own edge to his tone. “He gets to call Hermione a nasty slur first year and it’s fine? Then that business with the Heir of Slytherin last year – don’t look surprised, I’ve heard the rumors same as everyone else - that his dad had something to do with it. ‘Why Ginny here got all sick – some sort of residual curse or some such.” Harry felt his heart grow jittery and he stopped blinking altogether. Dean continued, “Gin almost died, as I heard it.” Harry flicked a look to Ginny who caught his eye, her face had grown as pale as his own. “Not to mention his family’s ties to You-Know-Who. Merlin, Harry, his own cousin Sirius Black is out there now escaped from Azkaban and probably looking for you to kill you! And you want to all of a sudden play nice? ”

There were a few gasps, and the table had grown eerily silent in the midst of the otherwise natural ambiance and chatter of the rest of the Great Hall. Oliver looked a bit sick, actually feeling bad he had started this. Even Dean looked shocked that the words had managed to spill out of himself as they had, apparently he hadn’t meant to say everything is such a blunt way – or at all. Seamus eyed his best friend in a sort of shocked awe. Harry had taken for granted that things were still seen as very black and white – or perhaps, Gold and Emerald – and for reasonably good reasons. It had not been just Draco who had hurt them but also his father, for letting slip the diary into the school in the first place, ultimately almost killing Ginny. Having happened so long ago, and so much having happened after, Harry had simply forgotten the implications of the incident. Here in this time, though, it was a fresh wound.

“Harry…?” Neville murmured quietly, resisting the urge to reach out to the smaller, raven haired boy whose murky green eyes had now begun to glisten with unshed emotion as he stared back at Dean. Dean, to his credit, did not look away in embarrassment but held Harry’s gaze, fully expecting some kind of an answer. Or retaliation.

Harry broke eye contact finally to look down at his hands, mimicking Hermione’s pose only minutes before.

“You’re right. Not everything is forgiven.” Harry conceded in a small but steady voice. Ron held his breath, not realizing Harry had felt this way. “But Draco is not his father.” Harry’s emotion-ridden eyes looked back up at Dean. “Just like I am not my father.” Before anyone could truly process this, the confused expressions of his house mates were replaced with a look of loathing directed above his head.

“Potter.” Said a voice in a short tone. Severus Snape, just what Harry needed right now. He then felt terribly guilty at the thought, as he did care about the man and was now taking him for granted as well. He had crossed the very strands of time in order to keep the man alive, for goodness’ sake.

Snape had flicked a look to the other juvenile Gryffindors with poorly hidden disdain before focusing completely on Harry.

“A word in the hallway, if you are quite through regaling your house with mindless drivel.” He said in slight derision. His tone relayed a sense of disinterested impatience, implying he hadn’t just overheard that last bit.

Harry felt heat fill his chest but quietly pushed it down. “Yessir, I’m done.” He murmured, getting up.

“Harry…”Hermione began, her voice more solid in her worry for him, reaching out for his wrist. Ron’s eyes never left Snape’s form.

“It’s fine – “Harry said in a way that clearly conveyed it wasn’t fine in the least, but it was just easier to pretend it was going to be. “You and Ron finish up, you’ll need the energy.” He murmured as he swiveled the other leg over the bench and stood.

“Sometime this century, if you would, Potter.” Snape long-sufferingly griped, before turning on his heel quite confident that Harry would follow without another word. He did, of course.

As Harry’s form retreated from the Great Hall, well within Snape’s wake, Ron caught Malfoy’s sharp grey eyes looking into his from across the way, then to Harry and back at Ron, a look of small concern in his visage. Ron held his gaze a moment before turning back to Hermione who was now in reluctant conversation with the others.

“Just what did that mean, eh?” Oliver pointedly asked the two. “He’s not his father? What’s he goin’ on about with that?”

“He just means that it’s…it’s not right to judge someone based on just who their family is.” Hermione tried to explain.

“Well we aren’t, are we? Draco Malfoy has done up himself a good nasty reputation all on his own.” Seamus countered, a challenge in his eye.

Hermione shared a look with Ron, a desperate sort of helplessness passing between them. Ron decided to speak up.

“I’ll be the first one to admit it, I don’t like Malfoy. He’s a right pompous git when he wants to be, and he knows how to cut someone to the bone with just bloody words…”

“But…?” Percy prompted his little brother.

Ron sighed. “But…so far he’s actually been trying, as best as I can tell. I dunno if it’ll last, really. But it’s a lot easier getting through potions without him starting something, isn’t it?”

“He…he did try to help me, with the rat spleens.” Neville piped up, trembling a bit from the attention his affirmation garnered.

“Whoa, what?” came from Lee.

“That’s right…I saw it too. When Neville was about to put in too many in his potion, Malfoy stopped him and told him the right amount to drop in.” Lavender confirmed, eyes bright from the conversation. “No tricks.”

“Yeah…I did catch the tail-end of that I think.” Dean admitted softly as he seemed to be thinking back on the memory. “Me too.” Seamus also admitted, looking to the other older years who had not been privy to the incident first-hand.

“Maybe the little snake finally learned some manners, then.” Angelina huffed in a humorless laugh.

“And just because Harry is trying to find some common ground, doesn’t mean he completely trusts Malfoy.” Hermione brought them back to the matter at hand, more confident now at where the others stood. “He does not place his trust in others so easily.”

“That’s for damn sure.” Ron gruffed in a tone that was split between admiration and irritation, for reasons unknown to the others.

“All he’s asking – all we’re asking – is that you give us a chance to see how this goes.” Hermione continued.

“And stop hassling him about it – look how little he ate, he doesn’t need to be missing meals.” Ron scolded in uncharacteristic heat, motioning to Harry’s plate which was still there and what little food left behind had barely been touched.

“Is that why he didn’t come to the dorms last night?” Neville asked, his voice stronger now in his concern. Ron raised his brow, having not known Neville had noticed Harry’s absence.

“He had an accident during his detention.” Hermione said a bit quickly. “He was in the hospital wing until this morning.”

“Accident?” Percy questioned suspiciously. “What happened? Aren’t his detentions with Professor Snape this week?”

“How would you know?” Fred and George interjected in unison, feeling irate that Percy was in Harry’s business, even though everyone was at this point in the conversation.

“I can read the bulletin board, obviously.” Percy snapped. “And I’m Head Boy, it’s my job to know.” Oliver rolled his eyes long-sufferlingly, obviously having heard the title announced quite a bit already.

“Yes, it was detention with Snape.” Ron jumped in.

“Bloody hell. He’s brainwashing Potter.” Seamus gasped.

“What!” Lavender also gasped.

“Oh please, that’s not it at all - ” Hermione snapped, tired of this tangent.

“Then what happened?” Dean asked seriously.

Ron and Hermione shared a look before Ron spoke.

“He got accidentally cut by some broken glass, he said.”

“Likely story – sweet Merlin, and we let him go off with Snape!” Oliver almost crowed, putting two-and-two together and assuming Snape had hurt Harry on purpose.

“Calm down, he’s a teacher, he wouldn’t actually physically hurt Harry.” Percy tried, though he looked surprisingly unconvinced by his own words.

“Tell that to Quirrell.” One of the older years piped up.

“Or Lockhart.” Angelina added. “Idiot vanished Harry’s bones in his arm completely last year after that game with Slytherin.” She explained to some firsties who looked absolutely lost.

“Perhaps Harry is working a bit too hard protecting everyone…when he is the one who needs protecting.” A soft, sing-song voice commented, and all in the conversation turned to the direction it came from and saw Luna Lovegood standing beside the table nearest Ginny, Colin and a couple of first years. The older years recognized her as the Ravenclaw girl many in her own house gossiped as being a ‘weird one’. She had been hanging around Harry lately, they had noticed…or had it been the other way around? At any rate, a pair of odd glasses with spirals on the sparkled lenses lay atop the girl’s moonlight hair, and in her hands were a couple of books, one being the Tales of Beedle the Bard, the other being The Muggle Interpretation of Physics.

“Blimey…” Dean sighed, wiping his face with a hand, much as Harry had done earlier. “She’s right.”

It was then that a certain look of determination and a slightly new understanding crossed the faces of those who had heard Luna. She caught Ron and Hermione’s gaze and smiled, if a bit sadly.

- - -

Meanwhile…

Harry let Snape lead him to a well-lit but out of the way alcove just out of sight from the entrance to the Great Hall. He grabbed at his sweater vest front a bit absently, crunching the fabric in his hands as he willed his heart rate to slow to a much more manageable pace.

“Sir?” Harry asked in a neutral tone, looking up at the man. Snape narrowed his eyes.

“Quiet. The Headmaster will join us momentarily.” Snape snapped a bit, checking a watch he had on beneath his overlong sleeve. Harry was again struck by the hodgepodge of muggle and magic that Snape seemed to carry about himself in constant contradiction. It both amazed and intrigued him.

“Your hand.” Snape then said, holding out his own after pulling down his sleeve back over the watch.

“What about my hand?” He responded, confused.

“Idiot. Give it here that I may inspect it.”

“Madam Pomfrey already gave it a look, it’s alright.” Harry said, regretfully making no move to place his hand into Snape’s still waiting one. Harry tried to ensure his tone sounded respectful…but he just really didn’t want Snape seeing to his hand in the better light of day - even if it was the one without a curse scar, it still held marks from his life at Privet Drive, of which Snape had almost stumbled across fully the night before. With everything else going on, he didn’t want to deal with that. Especially as Snape would just as soon as ridicule him for it as look at it, he thought.

Albus Dumbledore walked up to join them just then, and Snape let his hand drop back to his side hidden in his inky black robes.

“Headmaster.” Snape greeted with a slight nod.

“’Lo, Pr’fessor.” Harry smiled in greeting, though it looked fairly weak, it was no less genuine.

“Good morning my boys.” Dumbledore happily greeted back. “I wanted to catch you but for a brief moment, Harry my boy, to see how you’re feeling. Poppy reported you were quite eager to leave her care…”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, yessir. I figured a bit of negotiation was my only hope back to the general public.” Harry laughed, hiking his bag higher on his shoulder. Dumbledore twinkled at the child’s humor. Snape felt something tighten in his chest at hearing Harry’s laugh.

“How very Slytherin of you.” Dumbledore said without hesitation, and a bit of tickled mirth at Harry’s quip. Snape shot Dumbledore a look of incredulity but Harry interrupted his thoughts when he said,

“Heh, yessir. Don’t let Ron hear ya say that though.” Harry laughed it off a bit as he regarded the elder wizard.

“Yes, Mr. Weasley does have quite the house spirit about him doesn’t he?” Dumbledore replied in a jolly way, he having a fondness with his own ties to Gryffindor house.

“Can we get on with it?” Snape growled, making Harry’s face fall as he turned from Dumbledore to Snape.

Dumbledore pursed his lips at his Potions Master before looking back down at Harry.

“Yes, well….Harry, I had Professor Snape fetch you for a moment to see how you were feeling –“ Harry here had to stop himself from a great giggle, thinking it would be inappropriate even though the thought of Snape asking him how he was feeling was possibly the most ridiculous thing he’d heard all day.

“Potter refused my order to relinquish his grubby little hand so that I could look it over.” Snape was quick to explain, regarding Harry with glittering eyes.

“My hands aren’t grubby!” while not an exclamation, it was close to it. “And they’re not little.” Harry added as an afterthought.

“Cease this racket.” Snape snapped back. “And give me your hand!”

Dumbledore watched in twinkling amusement.

“Y’know, you’d catch more flies with honey.” Harry pointed out, again making no move to comply with Snape’s order.

Snape narrowed his eyes once again, dangerously so. Dumbledore, though, laughed outright at Harry’s quip.

“Insolence. Five points from Gryffindor.” Snape ground out. Harry looked terribly put out then, and sucked his teeth before saying,

“Now hold on, that’s not fair – “ Harry huffed, surprising Snape by his attitude change. Harry felt more insult from the assumption he had small dirty hands than losing his house points, though both did seem to offend him.

“Severus, now really – “ Dumbledore pouted just as the tinkling of rubies in the house point counter for Gryffindor down the way sounded, confirming the loss.

“Merlin, losing points this early –” Lupin commented as he approached the trio, then spotting Harry between them, “-ah, I see.” He smiled warmly at Harry, after giving Snape an unfathomable sidelong glance.

“Good morning, Harry.” Lupin greeted, joining them and stopping to stand between Dumbledore and Snape, Harry sandwiched between the two on the other side.

Harry, of course, brightened considerably upon seeing Lupin and cheered exponentially. “G’morning, sir! How are you?”

Before Lupin could reply, Snape made to stomp on the pleasantries – and he told himself it had nothing to do with the fact that he hated how obviously happy Lupin’s mere presence made the boy.

“The question at hand, Potter, is how you are feeling, loathe as I am to ask.” Snape interrupted whatever Lupin was going to reply to Harry.

“If you’d give me a nano-second, sir,” Harry chuckled in good nature, surprising the three older wizards. Harry couldn’t help it though, on the one hand it really did hurt a little to constantly hear Snape belittle him at every turn, but on the other…it was oddly familiar. Like coming home.

To be perfectly honest, this entire exchange was a happy reprieve from the conversation he had just left.

“I feel fine.” Harry said with half-lidded eyes, regarding Snape with a sort of teasing warmth that baffled Lupin and Dumbledore. Even Snape had to admit in the back of his mind that the reaction was not one he had expected. “I’m fine, my hand is fine, everything is okie-dokie.” Harry continued with a shrug.

“The resilience of children.” Dumbledore remarked softly, as if mostly to himself, as he looked at Harry with a grandfatherly admiration and affection.

“Foolhardiness is more like. Little runt, you could have bled to death.” Snape griped, folding his arms.

“Severus!” Lupin and Dumbledore gasped in shock at his name-calling.

“Oiy, don’t talk so loud professor, you’re libel to get it spread around, and that’s the last thing I need, is a bunch of firsties thinking I almost died or something.” Harry huffed in exasperation as he looked around for possible classmates nearby, the insults rolling off his back easier now as his mood was lifting despite his light argument with Snape. Snape on the other hand looked taken aback by the familiarity with which Harry addressed him.

“Anyway,” Harry continued before Snape could rebuke him once again for cheek, “It was probably some sleep deprived hallucination.”

Lupin’s smile waned a bit hearing that, whereas Snape’s own frown deepened.

“Harry, while it is good to hear you feel well enough, I wanted to extend the courtesy of allowing you to postpone the placement exams.” Dumbledore said after a beat.

Harry shifted his weight as he thought on it, before sneaking a look at Snape who was looking down his nose at him like he was a bug. Disdain and clear expectation of Harry to take advantage of the offer lay in his dark glittery eyes and it made the boy wizard set his jaw and say with much certainty,

“No thank you, sir. I’ll be as ready as I’ll ever be, I reckon.”

Snape scoffed under his breath, and Lupin actually glared a dagger or two the man’s way.

“Are you sure, Harry? What do you think, Remus?” Dumbledore asked. The sunlight from the morning had finally begun to filter to their part of the hall from the windows above and the silver thread that wove to make the stars and moons on Dumbledore’s current set of robes glittered beautifully in the yellow light. He looked to Lupin for his input, moving just so and blinding both Harry and Snape with the resulting glittery reflection. Harry smirked, amused by it as he moved a touch out of the light’s reflective path. Snape quickly followed suit, having also been caught in the bright display.

“It was a nasty accident but…I don’t see why Harry couldn’t sit for a few tests, if he chooses to do so.” Lupin commented, an arm folded beneath his other elbow as he touched his chin as he thought it out. Harry caught Snape rolling his eyes at the man when he wasn’t looking.

“Still sound agreeable, Harry?” Dumbledore asked one last time.

“Yessir, it’s fine.” Harry softly smiled, a faint blush gracing his features at the feeling of being worried over, even in this small runabout way.

Dumbledore looked unconvinced but let it drop. Instead he decided to impart a new bit of instruction for the little Gryffindor.

“Very well. I still want you to drop by Madam Pomfrey’s after your last class today. I believe it’s yours, Remus, if I’m not mistaken.”

“You’re correct, Albus. I have Gryffindor’s Third Years this afternoon.” Remus confirmed helpfully.

“Good. Now then, Harry my boy, I want you to go straight to the hospital wing after DADA and have Poppy look you over one last time, to ensure your good bill of health.” Dumbledore gently ordered, looking over his spectacles at Harry with a sort of seriousness in his sapphire eyes.

Without hesitation that he would later kick himself for, Harry immediately promised he would go. There was something compelling about the elder wizard that Harry could never outgrow, he mindfully decided. And with the memories he had and lingering pain he held from them, Harry couldn’t help but feel the need to not disappoint the old wizard.

“Do not dawdle, Potter. You still have detention with me this evening. I suggest you ensure you are not late. Again.” Snape said in a rather intimidating voice. But Harry just regarded him blankly.

“Yessir.”

Snape sniffed then bid Dumbledore a short farewell nod before sweeping away entirely in a flood of black, on his way down to the dungeons.

Harry let out a breath. “Scary, isn’t he?” The two remaining men looked down at him quizzically as his tone was leaning more into admiration than fear. “Brilliant, but scary.” Harry smiled as he repeated Ron’s favorite phrase, a bit lost in his own thoughts. Lupin blinked and Dumbledore’s gaze softened.

“OH SHOOT!” Harry smacked his forehead right where his lighting scar was, startling both men with his sudden outburst and shaking them out of their thoughts. “Herbology! I’m gonna be late – was that all you needed sir?” He directed to Dumbledore.

“Oh, ah – yes, m’boy. Run along then! Give my best to Pomona.” Dumbledore quickly recovered, waving an old wrinkling hand at Harry. Harry stared a beat too long at it to appear normal but the elderly wizard shook off the note; there was nothing interesting about his right hand, after all.

“See you!” Harry waved, looking a bit tired but smiling nonetheless. When his eyes met Lupin’s for a brief moment as he left, Lupin felt his heart pull, finding himself already missing the thirteen year old.

- - -

Harry was on his way out the main doorway which held a path that led to the gardens and herbology greenhouses when Ron, Hermione and Draco joined him from leaning on the side of the castle outside.

“Oh – I didn’t mean to make you guys wait up for me.” Harry smiled wanely, tucking his hands into his robes.

“Please, after that fiasco I witnessed in the Great Hall, do you really think I’d let you prance about unguarded?” Draco huffed incredulously.

Harry looked totally confused. “What?”

“He saw our table ganging up on you before you left with Snape – speaking of, what’d the bloody old bat want this time? To tell you to bring your own toothbrush to clean out his sludgebin with tonight?” Ron said.

Harry rolled his eyes. “No – he was asking how I was this morning, after the accident and all.”

Hermione, skipping a bit happily now that they were taking a leisurely pace outside in the sunshine, almost tripped upon hearing this. “He what?”

“Yeah, that’s really weird, actually.” Even Draco looked immediately concerned.

“Calm down,” Harry sighed, his trainers sliding a bit along the dirt rock path that twisted along towards the greenhouses. “It wasn’t his idea, he made that abundantly clear. Dumbledore made him do it.”

Draco looked visibly relieved. Ron looked pensive.

“Are we still on for our exams later?” Hermione asked, intuition kicking in.

“Yeah, Dumbledore wanted to give me extra time but I saw Snape turn right sour at the suggestion so I told them it was fine, I’d go ahead with it today.”

“That sounds more like him.” Draco muttered. Ron mumbled agreement.

“Harry, you shouldn’t let your pride get in the way of your health – it did sound like a pretty awful experience. If it weren’t for the fact we need to complete this mission – “ Hermione added, their group passing by a tiny frog dancing atop a mushroom stalk. Harry smiled at it before turning to look at his friend as she continued.

“ – I would have insisted as well that you stay in that hospital bed for longer than you did.” She huffed a  sigh. “I hate we have to make compromises like this already. Your well-being should take priority.”

Harry put an arm ‘round her shoulders. “’Mione, look…it’s okay. We all knew the risks, that we need to make sacrifices. This one is a small one compared to what I’m used to.”

“Doesn’t make it okay, though.” Ron countered, but in a conceding tone.

“Speaking of…” Draco gently put a hand on Harry’s shoulder to stop his gait. Harry turned to face him.

“What exactly happened last night at your detention? Ron and Hermione said you got hurt?” Draco asked solemnly, and Hermione and Ron shared a look of bafflement as he hadn’t ever truly referred to them by their given names, not genuinely. Plus, his grey-sharp eyes held a sort of intense concern, which was also new to see on a Malfoy’s visage.

At least in their company.

“An accident, that’s all.”

“You were in the hospital wing. They said you told them that Lupin and Snape were concerned about a curse – “

“It was just precaution, since I got a bit out of it. I think…” Harry sighed, knowing his friends were listening intently. He looked away towards the dancing frog as Draco’s eyes reminded him of Sirius just then. Picking up a stray dandelion he plucked it and fiddled with it in his hands as he spoke. “…with the nightmares and the stress of coming back, it’s just catching up on me is all. On all of us, I’m sure. I just got unlucky enough to have an episode in front of Snape.” Harry set the flower of the dandelion atop the dancing frog’s head, making him a little yellow hat. The frog seemed elated at the gift. Draco watched him with worry but seemed to accept Harry’s explanation.

“Aright then. Let me know if you need me.” Draco directed mostly to Ron and Hermione, the unspoken meaning passing between them to look after Harry especially well today.

“We will, Draco. Go on then, we’re already late.” Harry smiled.

Draco waved a hand in goodbye then made his way back up the path to the main entrance. Harry squinted ahead and saw a blur that looked suspiciously like Theodore Knott vanish from the doorway and back into the castle.

- - -

“I’m sorry, you know.” Ron muttered after Professor Sprout had explained today’s lesson and demonstration. They were harvesting puffapods today – and though Sprout had a demo plant from which she used to teach with in the greenhouses, they were now on-trek to Hagrid’s, where the stock plants they were to harvest from were rooted. Hermione and Neville were walking behind them a few paces back, talking happily about the applications of the pods. Up front were a few more Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. Harry eyed his housemates suspiciously, as they had been unusually silent this class if, at least, polite to him.

“Is this about breakfast?” Harry muttered back.

“Yeah. Reckon I’ve a knack for really putting my foot in it.”

“S’alright, mate. I know you have problems with Draco. Our whole house does. I used to…” he sighed as they reached a garden area Hagrid presumably kept up for himself as much as for Sprout beside the outer gate of his home’s fence.

“I think they’re not as angry with you anymore as, well…worried for you, now.” Ron reluctantly admitted, not too keen to hear Harry’s reaction about this new development. He wasn’t sure if he’d be joyed or upset.

“Wait, what? What for?”

And so Ron explained as briefly and softly as he could about what happened after Harry had left their table; that Luna had even stepped in to defend Harry, in a way. Harry took this information in as they knelt by a puffapod bush Hermione had picked just by a corner of the small stone wall surrounding the edge of the property. She and Neville worked on one side, Harry and Ron on the other. Now was probably not the best time to ask for more details, and Harry wasn’t terribly sure he wanted them anyway. Everything was getting so confusing. He also felt guilt in the way Ginny looked when Dean had mentioned her ordeal in the Chamber. He wondered if she would think his friendship with Draco was a sort of betrayal, as the others likely still did. It made his heart hurt.

“Lo, Harry. Ron.” Greeted Justin as he and Ernie passed by them to the next bush over. Theirs had more purple flowers than pink pods, but was larger in size. And, had a hair of shade from the small apple tree growing right beside it. Harry gazed up at the sunshine, squinting. It was getting quite bright and hot this morning. He decided to shirk his outer robes before settling in with his spelled basket to gather his pods as the rest of the children were doing.

“Morning.” Ron had muttered in reply to the other two boys, a bit surprised at their greeting.

Hagrid, apparently off this period, had engaged Sprout in a spot of chitchat as they looked after the students busily plucking and carefully stowing away their pods.

“How many were we supposed to get?” Ron asked Hermione.

“Fifteen, if I’m not mistaken.” She promptly replied.

“Hermione I doubt you’ve ever been mistaken.” Neville said in compliment, a faint blush n his cheeks for admitting so. The bushy-haired witch smiled warmly in return.

“These buggers are stubborn….” Ron growled a bit at the stem he was trying to twist off to retrieve a pod.

Harry huffed a chuckle as Neville scooted near them to show Ron how he needed to pinch first then twist clockwise. Harry watched in more relaxed curiosity as Neville and Ron went through the process a couple more times before Ron was able to expertly pinch and twist off his own pod. Neville actually clapped, and Ron looked embarrassed but pleased with the mini-lesson. Harry felt a gentle tickle on his hand then, and upon looking down a chill went through his stomach before relief inserted itself upon recognition. It was a tiny green garden snake. It had big eyes but a blunt little head and nose.  It again flickered its tongue on Harry’s hand, before looking up at the boy.

“Thou sssssmellest…different. Thou be-est not-ssssnake.” The snake hissed at him, looking at him in curiosity.

“That’ssss true. Odd way of putting it though.” Harry replied without thinking, mesmerized by the sweet little creature and his odd accent. He had no idea some snakes could have them.

“Thou sssspeakest…art thou an sssspeaker?” the snake asked, tilting his head up higher.

“I…am…I ssssuppose.” Harry replied with a bit of falter in his voice as the realization hit home that he was speaking with a snake – he was still a Speaker…a Parselmouth.

“What are you – is that a snake?” Ron asked craning his neck about the pods and flowers and seeing the green little coil settled at Harry’s knees. The red-head’s face paled.

“A snake? Where – “ Neville commented a bit in a controlled panic before scooching to see it as well, with Hermione following suit. Hermione also paled considerably.

“Did you talk to it?” she whispered.

Harry didn’t speak for a beat, just staring back at her in slight panic.

“Harry. Did you talk to it?” Ron repeated the question. Neville looked at them both confusedly. He didn’t like snakes either but what was wrong with Harry talking to it? They all knew he could, now. No big deal, he thought.

“…Yes.” Harry resolutely replied, concentrating to ensure it came out in English and not Parseltongue.

Hermione’s eyes welled up in tears before she jumped up, spilling a few of her pods which sprang up instantly, tripping Ron who had tried to get up and catch her before she left. She ran away, not stopping as the boys in her group called out her name.

Sprout immediately descended upon them, looking quite in a tizzy.

“What’s happened? What’s happened?” she asked quickly, eyes darting to them each as if trying to instantly figure out why one of her star pupils had just run away sobbing.

“Oiy, what did you say lot to Hermione?” One of the girls asked, a few feet away at another bush. It was Lavender.

“The boys were being mean to Hermione!” Parvati exclaimed in an accusatory huff.

“We was not!” Ron shouted back. Sprout clapped her hands together to settle the growing chaos.

“None of this! You three! What happened? Why is Hermione upset? Did she get hurt?”

Harry and Ron shared a panicked look, and in their silence Neville answered.

“She got upset when Harry said he talked with a snake he found. But I dunno why that’d upset her…”

Harry looked back to Ron with even more panic. Ron looked at their audience – their class comprising both Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs as well as Hagrid – and caught sight of Lavender in particular. A quick, if flimsy, idea came to him.

“It was a dream!” Ron blurted out. Sprout jumped at the outburst.

“Pardon?” Sprout spluttered. Harry tilted his head in quiet disbelief.

“Ah-er, a nightmare really…of Harry…and a snake…and um…I guess she was afraid it would come true…”

Lavender and Parvati turned to each other in surprise.

“Oh dear.” Sprout muttered, looking back to the way Hermione had fled. The others had begun to whisper amongst themselves.

“I better go see if the poor dear is alright.” Her kind face now had a motherly determination about it, preparing to comfort the little lion.

“I want to come, if that’s alright.” Ron said, standing up and handing his and Hermione’s baskets to Neville.

Sprout looked in his eyes searching for something. “Very well, Mr Weasley. Mr Longbottom I’m afraid I must lean on you to ensure the others are able to harvest what they need while I’m gone.” She looked to Hagrid who had by now joined them. “Hagrid, be a dear please and look after the children while I’m gone. I shouldn’t be too long.”

And just like that, they were gone. But not before Ron gave Harry a firm squeeze to his shoulder as he passed, the look in his eyes saying volumes that words could not in that moment. Harry looked down at his basket, six little pods strewn about in the bottom, the container spelled to not encourage sprouts from the eager little things.

The little green snake, in all the commotion, had disappeared.