Harry spent the time after dinner looking at the books with Hoppity. Even Snape seemed to think that they were interesting, because when he came to get Harry for Occlumency, he poked through the piles, looking at what was there.

“Want to borrow some?” Hoppity asked.

Snape scowled at her, but thought better of it once he spotted a book with what might be potions on the cover. “Perhaps,” he said, “But for now I require Potter.”

Harry was dismayed. He had just found a fantastic book full of people and interesting things to find in its drawings. He planned to spend the rest of the evening with his new found book, not doing Occlumency. “Two lessons in a row?” he complained. He had had a lesson just the day before.

“Yes, you need all the practice you can get.”

“Why is he having these lessons again?” Hoppity asked, lowering a children’s book from her face.

“Because,” Snape bit out, “He is lamentably one of the best chances of defeating the Dark Lord. Unfortunately, his mind is weak, and easily overcome by said Dark Lord.”

Harry glared at Snape. No it wasn’t! He wasn't that easy.

Snape continued, oblivious to Harry’s glare or just choosing not to acknowledge it, “I am attempting to branch his substantial willpower against the Imperius curse to his pitiful efforts of Occlumency. If successful, it will give him protection against invasions of his mind and implanted visions.”

“Oh,” Hoppity breathed out and swallowed. She was overtaken by the importance of it all, and Snape realized that he had scored another victory over the brat.

He grimaced in pleasure. “Come, Potter.”

Harry stood up from the floor where he was sitting, and followed Snape. He was sure that he was marching to his doom.

Snape turned, and strode purposefully to the back room where he held almost daily meditation and Occlumency lessons with Harry.

“Sit, Potter,” he said, motioning to Harry’s usual spot on the floor.

Resigned to his fate, Harry did so, and watched Snape sit on the only chair. He closed his eyes, knowing what came next.

“Clear your mind,” Snape instructed, “Do not focus on anything but your breathing. Let your mind empty of all frivolities.”

Harry tried to follow Snape’s instructions, and when he felt a nudge at his knee, he opened his eyes.

Snape peered into them, then frowned, displeased. “Potter! Get those silly books out of your head,” he berated, for that was what was on Harry’s mind. The picture books, especially the one with all the little people in it.

Harry sighed. “This is hard,” he complained. He didn’t want to do this, not ever, and especially not now when there was such an interesting book to look at. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, and wondering what was in it.

Snape got off his chair and sat so that they were almost face to face. He looked at Harry very seriously, “Harry, it is very important that you learn this. Do you value a book more than your friends’ lives?”

“No,” Harry said, suddenly chastised. “Of course not.” But he still wanted to look at that book.

“Yet that is what you are doing. Now try it again, and concentrate this time.”

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. He concentrated on breathing, like Snape told him, and tried to firmly put the book drawings out of his head. Breathing, breathing… he was breathing.

A nudge came and he opened his eyes.

“Better,” Snape said, and Harry almost felt pleased. “Now get up.”

Harry suddenly had a great desire to groan, but he was sure Snape wouldn't appreciate it, perhaps even make things harder on Harry. He wanted to object, or argue, or run away, but he knew that he had to do this part, as much as he detested it.

Snape stood and after a moment, pulled out his wand. “We are going to try and link your resistance of Imperio, to your resistance of mind magic.”

He hated this.

Snape was in his element, instructing like it was a matter of life and death, “Remember to resist what you think you should do, what you want to do, what you can’t help but do. Ready?”

No! How could anyone be ready for this? Harry clenched his fists at his side and wished he were in a cupboard.

Snape swished his wand back and forth before jabbing it towards Harry, “Cognito face a Potter.”

Cool magic slithered into Harry’s head and he scrunched his eyes closed in concentration, maybe fear.

“Hover,” a voice inside said and Harry answered, “okay” and thought about how he was going to do that. He didn’t have his broom, how could he hover?

“Hover,” it came again, insistent. Harry closed his eyes and concentrated. He was going to hover… he tried to lift himself up, but his feet stayed firmly on the floor.

“Hover, hover,” came the spell.

I can’t, thought Harry, but I have to. I got to.

“Resist,” hissed Snape.

It was too hard. He couldn’t hover, and he couldn’t resist, and it was awful. The magic was in his head, pressuring him to obey. He wanted to, but he couldn’t!

“Hover… hover.”

Trying to float in midair, unsuccessfully, Harry thought he might go crazy. He had to hover, but he couldn’t!

Blessedly, as quickly as the spell came upon him, it was released. Harry shuddered to the floor, his eyelashes felt thick with unshed tears.

Snape came and knelt by him again, cupping his cheek and looking into his eyes although Harry tried to hide them.

“Hush,” Snape said before Harry could speak. “We’re done for today,” and Harry wanted to collapse in relief.

“I hate this,” he whined pitifully instead, feeling his eyes prickle, and a tear almost fall. It was awful and he never wanted to do it again.

“You did well,” Snape replied carefully. “Why don’t you have a glass of milk in the kitchen?”

The suggestion was welcome after the lesson, but Harry had to wonder at it and the praise. Snape was letting him off early, and suggesting that Harry have some milk. Did he really do well, or did Snape still think that he was sick?

Harry knew he wouldn’t get an answer if he asked Snape, worse yet, Snape might decide that they were not done with the lesson after all. Harry decided not to ask, instead getting up quickly to escape the room.

After some milk, he was able to find the book he wanted and read it until bed time. Hoppity had sorted the books during Harry's lesson, and Harry was able to find this book after a short search. He only knocked down one pile of books during it, which was quickly set to rights.

All too soon he was sent to bed, taking his book with him to read in bed with permission. He feel asleep soon after, and didn't notice when someone came to tuck him in.

That night Harry dreamt he was sitting at the kitchen table back at the Dursley’s. He was in Dudley's seat, and he had a bib on. Chocolate brownies were pilled on the table in front of him as high as the ceiling, and he had a huge glass of milk by his elbow, bigger than his arm. As if they were under a spell, the brownies came to Harry’s mouth, one by one, allowing him to greedily gobble them down. They were delicious!

Harry ate his full, but the brownies just wouldn’t stop, forcing him to eat more and more. Harry’s tummy was getting round, growing unnaturally as he swallowed brownie after brownie. His shirt stretched out, and buttons popped off, he was getting as fat as Dudley! Rounder and rounder… soon he would be larger around the middle than he was tall! He wouldn’t be able to fit through doors, or on his bed. He’d break the chair from his weight! He'd look like a baby whale if he didn't already. And he was so full. He didn't think that he could eat another bite.

A giant brownie hovered in front of his mouth. Harry was already full of brownies, full to bursting, even his mouth. This one would choke him!

He tried to tell it to stop, to go away, that there was no more room, but he could only mumble and the brownie tried to cram itself into his mouth anyway. Flailing his arms about, Harry knocked the large glass of milk off the table, and it shattered on the floor.

He woke up with a little scream, no more than a yelp. Breathing hard, he realized he was in bed at his new home, not in the Dursleys’ kitchen. He looked at himself, and felt his stomach, relieved to discover that he was not as round as a beach ball. He breathed out a sigh of relief.

Luckily, no one had heard him scream earlier, no one came rushing into the room to demand what was wrong. Left in peace, it still took him awhile before he settled down enough to be able to go back to sleep. Silly that he would get worked up over brownies, right?

The next day he was tired at school and glad when it was nap time, or as the teachers aides called it, quiet time. He feel asleep quickly, welcome of the routine he had detested before.

After that, Harry and the other children started on a new project, creating story books. Harry thought and thought about what to write about. Next to him, Benny was writing about dinosaurs and what it would be like to have one as a pet. The girls were writing about unicorns and children, all drawn in rainbow colors with rainbow coloured hair.

Harry finally decided to write about himself. There was lots of interesting things he could write about, like giants, and dragons. His life was fantastic enough to be a story, and no Muggle would ever believe it was real. He relished in the opportunity to express himself without worrying what anyone thought.

He didn’t even need much help writing. When the teacher came by to check his spelling, she told him that he was doing a great job! Of course, Harry knew how to spell but he cherished the gold sticker she gave him anyway, and displayed it proudly to Hoppity when she picked him up after school.

“Wow, great job, Harry-bean!” Hoppity praised, reaching down to pat his messy hair.

He beamed. “I’m going to put it on my dragon when we get home.”

“I’m sure he would appreciate that,” Hoppity said, clasping Harry’s hand and leading him out of the building and towards their car. “But don’t forget that you have football practice today.”

Harry remembered. He had looked forward to it all day, and all yesterday too! It seemed like forever since he was able to kick the black and white football around with his teammates. Being sick had kept him away from their last practice on Tuesday. He had football practice every Tuesday and every Friday and today was Friday! He was on Michael’s team, Michael his ninja turtle loving neighbor, and they always had fun together.

Once Harry and Hoppity came home, they met up with their neighbors and went to soccer practice together.

Practice was a blast for Harry, the best one yet, and even better when Michael's mum dropped them back off at their house, she let Michael stay over and play at Harry's house!

“It’ll come get you for dinner,” Michael’s mom called from the doorway as the two boys scampered up the stairs to Harry’s room. “You won’t stay too long!”

“Okay!” Michael yelled down the stairs. They quickly made it to Harry's room, and shut the door on the sound of the women talking downstairs. “Wow, cool knights!” Micheal exclaimed, bee-lining for Harry's small collection of knights and wizard dolls on the top of his small dresser. “Where are your Ninja Turtles?” he asked, collecting the few figurines and placing them on the floor.

“I, erm, don't have any,” Harry said.

Micheal started poking around Harry's room, looking at the night table, and into Harry's toy box, pulling things out. “Come on, you gotta have one!”

“I don't have any, I'm sorry,” Harry said, “We could play with my wizard action figure instead.”

“No, wizards are lame,” Micheal said, tossing toys to the floor. “What can you do with a wizard?”

Harry could think of several things to do with a wizard. There were savage dragons to capture and ride on, dangerous trees to shoot spells at, and toy trains to charm and make fly. But Micheal didn't seem interested, so Harry tried to push his wizard figure away from the pile to where it wouldn't be noticed.

“How are we supposed to have fun without Ninja Turtles?” Micheal complained, crawling out from under the bed.

“I don't know.” The play date didn't seem to be going so well, and Harry desperately tried to come up with something to save it, and keep Michael as his friend. He was suddenly struck with inspiration, “How about we be the Ninja Turtles?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!” Harry said warming up to the idea. “We could pretend we're in the sewer, training, or something.”

“Okay!” Micheal jumped up, enamored with the idea. “But we need nunchucks and shields and a boomerang....”

“I don't have any of that,” Harry said, looking worried. “And anyways, I think I might get in trouble if we threw a boomerang around. Couldn't we train without weapons?”

Micheal sat down, disappointed. “I guess, but it's not so fun.”

“No, it could be! They have to train other ways, how else would they be able to run through the sewers so fast- or, or hide from the bad guys?”

“I know! We'll train hide-and-seek!”

“Yeah!” Harry agreed. “I'll hide first.”

“No, I want to hide first. I'm the guest, so I get to,” Micheal said.

Harry thought he was acting rather bossy, but Micheal let Harry go first sometimes when he was at his house, so it was only fair. He should be happy that he had a friend to play with in the first place, and letting him go first wasn't that big of a deal.

“Fine.”

“Okay, count to twenty- no, thirty and try to find mee!” Micheal started out of the room, “And no peeking! Or cheating!”

“I'm counting now!” Harry warned, turning to face the wall of his room. “One.. two...”

He reached thirty, shouting the number out, and waited a little bit more before setting off to find his friend. He searched his extra play room, which was empty, and the extra space around the stairs. No Micheal. He went back down the hallway, trying to be quiet, searching for his Muggle friend.

Harry found him in the hallway linen closet. He opened the door, and reached in to pull his friend out gleefully, “Found you!”

Pulled, Micheal tumbled out from the linen closet, laughing, “You got me!”

Harry beamed with pleasure. “Yup! It's my turn now!”

After leaving Micheal in his room to count, Harry hurried off, trying to come up with a great place to hide. It was his house, so he would be better at this than his friend.

His heart was racing, this was so much fun! Harry thundered down several stairs before stopping and sneaking back up. If Micheal was listening, Harry's thundering would throw him off, he'd think Harry was downstairs! But where to hide now?

After frantically looking around for a good hiding spot, he finally settled for the cabinet under his bathroom sink. It was sneaky, and Harry was sure it would take Micheal awhile to find him. When he did, Micheal was sure to think him clever! Harry shut himself in, closing the doors of the cabinet so no one would suspect a little boy under it. It was almost roomy, not having very many things in it, but the pipes of the sink went down, and Harry almost banged his head against it.

“Ready or not, here I come!” Micheal called out from the next room over. Harry tried to stifle his giggles from under the sink.

Sounds of running footsteps... “I'm going to find you!” and then the sound of someone going downstairs.

Harry was sure that Micheal would quickly search downstairs before coming directly up. Harry wasn't down there, after all.

Harry waited for what seemed like a very long time for his friend to come back upstairs and find him. The excitement of the game was quickly turning into anxiousness,

A sink turned on somewhere in the house, Harry was able to hear it faintly through the pipe next to his ear. He pressed his ear to it to listen closely, hearing more clearly a sound of water rushing somewhere downstairs. Maybe it was Hoppity starting dinner? No, usually Snape was the one who did that. He claimed that the food Harry's fake 'mum' made was inedible...

Harry was fast loosing patience. Where was Micheal?

Shut away in his bathroom upstairs, he did not hear Micheal's mum come back over and retrieve his friend to go home for dinner. Despite Micheal's pleading to have time to find Harry to say goodbye, his mom made him leave right away.

“Harry, I'm leaving now!” Micheal called out desperately as his mom pulled him out of the house. “BYE!”

Harry, listening to the sound of the pipes next to him, didn't hear his friend call out, or leave. The front door shut, and Harry was left, waiting for a friend to find him who would never come.

He waited under the sink for what seemed like forever. Where was Micheal? Was Harry's hiding spot too hard, did he give up?

Did he decide that Harry was no longer any fun, and leave?

It was just like all those times in primary school, when children tried to be his friend, or pretended. Harry was always left alone, waiting for someone to play with who would never come.

Would anyone come and find him? Would anyone remember that he existed?

“Harry, where are you?” a woman's voice called out, muffled through the cabinet doors.

Harry didn't want to come out of his hiding spot, he just wanted to melt away, like the darkness. He was forgotten. He had been remembered, but for some reason he didn't want to be found.

“Do you think he left the house with his friend?”

So Micheal left then. A sudden sadness filled Harry, now that he knew he was truly abandoned by his friend, not even a goodbye...

“No, he's here,” a low male voice answered, full of displeasure. A sound like metal clicking was heard. “I'll find him. Don't let the roast burn.”

It was Snape.

Harry huddled closer to the back of the cabinet, and hit his head against the pipe in his haste.

Ow.

Ow ow ow. Harry reached up to rub his head, more concerned with the pain than staying in his hiding place.

Light flooded the space, blinding him and adding to his discomfort, but in some way he was glad that he was finally found.

When Snape opened the bathroom cabinet, it was to see Potter huddled underneath the sink with tears in his eyes. He knelt down to better see inside. “Harry, what happened?”

The little boy shook his head 'no', unwilling to speak.

“Come out from under there.” Snape reached and pulled him out, narrowly avoiding hitting Harry's head on the top of the cabinet door. “Why are you hiding in a cabinet?” he demanded, and pulled Harry's hand away from where he held his hurt head. “Didn't you hear us calling?”

Why did Snape think he was hiding in a cabinet? He had been playing hide and seek, of course!

“Well?”

“I was hiding. I hit my head on the pipe,” Harry answered tersely. He was not in a good mood after being forgotten, hitting his head, and being found by Snape, of all people.

“Ridiculous child.” Maybe Harry hit his head too hard, but he thought there might have been a touch of affection in Snape's tone. “Why in Merlin's name would you think it a good idea to hide under a sink?”

It had been a clever idea, but of course Snape wouldn't recognize that. “It was hide-and-seek, only no one found me,” Harry felt his eyes welling up with tears again as Snape inspected his bumped head, brushing against the hurt spot with long fingers. “I waited forever.”

Snape finished his inspection, sure that the injury was not serious, or even apparent. There wasn't even a bump. He stood up. “You'll live. Stop wailing.”

“I'm not wailing,” Harry glared, tears long forgotten. He was close to stomping his foot. Why didn't Snape understand the importance of being forgotten in a cupboard?

“Surely you thought of the possibility of never being found when you hid, correct?” Snape's tone was indifferent as he reached out and picked up a gold pocket watch off of the bathroom counter. “Therefore, it should have been no surprise to you when you weren't.”

Harry folded his arms and pouted. Why did Snape have to be so mean sometimes?

“Haven't you ever been forgotten?” he demanded.

Snape almost looked uncomfortable for a moment. “No, of course not.” The truth was that he had, and not only during childish games. He felt a stirring amount of empathy for the boy, but he wasn't willing to express it, or even fully think of it. Those times were past, and he was not going to revisit them, even in memories.

“Oh good, Severus, you found him,” Hoppity said as she made her way upstairs from taking the roast out of the oven. Upon spotting Harry in the bathroom, visibly upset, she started for him, “Harry, what's wrong?”

“We were playing hide and go seek, and I was forgotten, and I bumped my head.” Harry gratefully left what seemed like Snape's unfeeling care for Hoppity's compassion.

“Oh, you poor child!” Hoppity said, holding her arms open and scooping Harry up in a hug. “How terrible!” Finally, someone who understood that it was the end of the world when your best friend left you in a cupboard.

Snape shifted uncomfortably, trying not to think of all the times he was forgotten and had no one to console him afterwards. All the parties, Hogsmead weekends, the time he had been left on an unknown street by his mother just because she didn't want to take care of him for the day... no. It was ridiculous to think on such things when they couldn't be changed.

It was as ridiculous as this child, sniffling in his temporary guardian's arms. There were worse things in the world than being forgotten in a cupboard, and Potter had already faced them.

“Well, Potter, when you are finished with your theatrics it is time for dinner. Hurry up, it'll soon be cold,” Snape folded his arms, and swiftly moved toward the stairs. “And afterwards you can clean up the mess you left in your room.” Someone had to put the boy back on track, and it looked like that someone was going to be him.