Harry had difficulty waking up. His eyelids felt heavy and swollen, and his head swam when he moved it, making him sink back against the pillows.

"Go back to sleep, McKenna, this doesn't concern you."

Hearing Snape's voice, of course, brought him closer to wakefulness.

Forcing open his eyes, he turned his head, ignoring the wave of dizziness, toward Sirius' bed.

Snape was standing over Sirius, wand in one hand and a lamp in the other. The yellowish light was enough that Harry could see Snape's lips moving soundlessly.

Sirius never stirred.

The clock told Harry it was just past midnight. He remembered now that he had taken the Dreamless Sleep potion after all. Sirius had fallen asleep, or was pretending to be, and Harry had tossed and turned, unable to will himself to sleep. Clearly, it hadn't worked its way out of his system yet. Even now, he could feel it starting to pull him under again.

Whatever Snape had been doing, it was done. He raised the lamp higher, making Harry blink and flinch away from the brightness.

"I told you to go back to sleep."

"Yeth..." Harry moved his swollen tongue around in his mouth. "Yes, sir."

Snape left the room, taking the light with him and shutting the door quietly.

Harry wanted to get up and check on Sirius, but the potion wouldn't let him. He meant only to shut his eyes for a moment to wait out the blots of blue and red that the light had set to dancing through his head, but he was unable to open them again.

"Wake up, James."

Someone was shaking his shoulder insistently.

Harry's eyes snapped open. He instinctively looked at Sirius' bed, though quite aware that he had been asleep for some time.

Sirius' bed was empty and neatly made.

Lupin was looking down at him intently, his lips a thin line. "Did something happen?"

"Yes. Professor Snape was in here in the middle of the night, casting some sort of spell on Paddy. I'd taken Dreamless Sleep and couldn't wake up properly." Harry untangled his fists from the blanket, which he had unconsciously balled up. He shook his cramped fingers. "I don't know what he was doing."

"I do," Lupin said, his expression sour. "Patrick won't be happy about it. I was hoping it hadn't been done yet."

"What...?" Harry frowned. "Wait. Patrick?"

"You couldn't call him Patrick --well, you know what I mean -- so I suppose it makes little difference to you."

Harry nodded glumly. Why had Snape done it? Hadn't they been careful enough?

"I suppose it makes good sense," Lupin said. "There are a number of students for whom our nicknames are familiar."

Harry stared at him. For all of Lupin's false calm, he looked quite put out.

"Well, what's done is done," Lupin said with an exaggerated shrug. "I had just come to see if Patrick had been awake when it happened."

"He was asleep," Harry said. "And where is he, anyway?"

"Taking a shower. He tried to get into Professor Snape's room, but it was locked, and he gave up after a bit."

Harry looked closer at Lupin. Despite dark circles under his eyes, Lupin didn't look much worse than he had the previous day. There were no scratches or bruises anywhere that Harry could see.

"I'm fine," Lupin said, forcing a smile. "Really, the Wolfsbane does wonders and my headache is gone. It always goes once it's over with, for all I look sickly and pale for a while afterward."

Harry nodded.

"So, how is he?"

Harry considered for a few moments. "All right, I suppose. He told me the Sorting Hat tried to put him in Hufflepuff -- called him loyal because he didn't want to be in Gryffindor all alone -- and that's what had him all riled up." "I believe the Puddifoot family sorted Hufflepuff as well as Slytherin," Lupin said, frowning. "The more I learn about the sorting process, the less I like it. It seems to put very little stock in the traits favored by each founder, after all."

Harry, who had only then recalled that tidbit of information about Sirius' supposed family, suppressed laughter. "Let's not tell him. Let him think the Hat really thought he'd make a good Hufflepuff."

Lupin started to answer, but the door slammed open to reveal a freshly bathed Sirius, hair dripping into his face and a damp towel clenched in his hands.

"There you are! Lot of good you are! I pounded on that greasy git's door for nothing just now, and you're just sitting here?"

"Sorry," Lupin said flatly. "Do dry off. Your collar is soaked and you won't have time to change again."

Sirius did nothing of the sort. He crossed the room in a bound and dropped down onto Harry's bed next to Lupin, spraying both of them with cold droplets.

"Really, Patrick," Lupin said, frowning at him.

"Oh, all right." Sirius threw the towel over his head, disappearing under it.

More water reached Harry's face, and he sat up, finally, pushing the blanket away from himself. His clothes were where he had left them the night before, on the floor, and he took the time to fold them and put them on the trunk at the foot of the bed.

"You'd better shower now, James. We have some time before breakfast, but not much."

Sirius reappeared from under the towel, his hair standing up on end. "I took the last towel. Sorry."

"There are more in the cupboard next to the bathroom. Do you think you can manage?" Lupin frowned at Sirius. "Brush your hair, Patrick."

"Sure," Harry said.

He picked up his school robes and a set of clean clothes, and headed for the door.

He only winced, and didn't stop, when he heard Sirius' confused voice behind him.

"Why did you call me Patrick again?"

Sirius was still sulking when they got their class schedules over breakfast.

"History first thing," Harry groused. "And Transfiguration right after it, just when we'll be half asleep from boredom."

"Shhh!" Lupin warned.

Harry looked around exaggeratedly. They were sitting at one end of the Slytherin table, with the upper years on the other end and the two first year girls huddled together in the middle. There were so few Slytherin students that every one of them could have sat without being able to reach out and touch fingertips with another person.

"Potions after lunch," he continued. "That's not too bad. It doesn't look like a double. Charms on Mondays and Thursdays only, but it's a double both days. Defense last thing --" Harry exchanged a troubled look with Lupin. Sirius still didn't know Snape would be teaching that class as well as Potions. "-- except on Wednesdays, when it's Herbology. I don't see Astronomy at all. I suppose they couldn't find an instructor."

"No, they haven't found one," Lupin said. "Nor for Herbology, either, but Neville Longbottom will teach the lower years and oversee the upper years' projects until someone is found."

Harry stared dumbly at Lupin. Neville? Teaching a class?

It seemed unreal to him that he could be sitting there, aged 10 or 11 and starting his first year of school all over again, while one of his friends, a sixth year like he should have been now, was going to teach a class.

While his other friends would be one year closer to leaving Hogwarts.

And he was starting over.

He shook his head to clear it. It did no good to dwell on it, and he didn't want Snape's voice floating up to the top of his memory.

I mean, Minerva, that the three miscreants will most likely spend the next seven years as our students.

He forced himself to read his schedule over again, just to clear his mind of the unwanted thoughts.

Sirius stabbed his fork into his eggs and hash. Their goblets of pumpkin juice trembled ominously.

"Stop it," Lupin said, steadying his glass.

"My life --" began Sirius.

"Don't say it," Lupin growled.

Sirius huffed and speared an overly-large portion of eggs, most of which fell off his fork and back onto his plate before they reached his mouth.

Lupin looked like he was fighting the urge to say something.

"Uh, so," Harry quickly put in, "it's Tuesday, so we'll have History, which has moved to the third floor."

Lupin took a long sip of pumpkin juice.

Sirius swallowed his food, which looked painful to do, and gulped his juice, sloshing some on his plate and causing Lupin to give him another dark look.

Harry read his schedule once more from the top.

"First years, follow me."

Harry grimaced.

Here was another of his year-mates who had decided to take on a more mature role.

Prefect Malfoy was already herding the other two students, of whom Harry only recognized Juliette Titus from the sorting ceremony, toward the exit.

"Come on," Lupin said, getting up and stepping over the bench. "Before we draw unwanted attention toward ourselves."

In spite of himself, Harry had to smile at Lupin's imitation of Snape's dire warnings.

They followed Malfoy, who lead them up the staircase, pointing out various features of the castle with about as much pomp as Percy Weasley was capable of.

"The little git," Sirius muttered under his breath as they were shown the well-familiar trick step and warned against wandering the castle at night. "Who put him in charge? Who even let him back into Hogwarts?"

"Shhh," Lupin said. "Just... shhh."

Harry stifled a snort.

At last they were deposited at the entrance to the new History of Magic classroom, which turned out to be a nondescript door in the middle of the third floor corridor, with a shiny brass plate stating:

History of Magic
Prof. A. Spinnet

Harry stifled a groan this time.

"What?" Lupin whispered.

Harry only shook his head.

"Well, come on, then." Lupin pulled on Harry's sleeve, nodding meaningfully toward the other first years, who huddled together and looked to have no intention of being the ones to knock on or open the classroom door.

Sirius rolled his eyes and yanked on the door handle.

The door swung open and the three of them stepped inside.

It was quite a regular classroom, with neat rows of desks, bookshelves lining one wall and several large maps on the opposite one, and a podium at the front.

"Clear the way, please," someone said from the back, in a voice that was achingly familiar. "Step all the way inside. We have more students coming."

Harry moved to the side, pulling Sirius with him and using him as a shield to hide behind.

"This is the History of Magic classroom," Hermione continued, ushering in a group of Gryffindor first years. It is taught by Professor Spinnet and is one of the seven --" She paused, apparently remembering that Astronomy had been dropped. "One of the six core classes offered at Hogwarts."

"Are you all right?" Lupin whispered.

Harry nodded miserably.

"I will be back at the end of your class to escort you to Transfiguration, should you require assistance."

Hermione turned smartly on her heel, having never once glanced in the direction of the Slytherin students, and walked away toward the staircase.

"Here we are. You have a lovely first day, now. Anthony and I will come by when your class ends."

Harry watched warily as a group of Hufflepuffs trooped in, turning back every few steps to wave at their cheery guide, Prefect Abbott.

"Stop yanking on me," Sirius told him, extracting his sleeve out of Harry's grasp.

"No one is looking at us," Lupin whispered. "Let's just find seats before all the good ones are taken."

Harry and Sirius watched with identical expressions of dismay as Lupin headed for the front of the room.

"I don't believe him," Sirius said at last.

Harry nodded in agreement.

There were enough desks to accommodate them all, even when the Ravenclaw first years arrived.

"Are we having this class with all the other houses?" Harry asked, leaning close to Lupin. "I don't think that's ever been done."

"I don't think there are enough first years to make four classes, or even two," Lupin whispered back. "And there aren't enough teachers."

Harry did a quick count -- something he had not done at the Sorting -- and found there to be eighteen first years in all, down from the usual thirty to forty, but perhaps not as few as he had been thinking.

He had already forgotten most of their names.

"Hello."

Harry looked to his right, where a girl with gold ringlets and an upturned nose had settled into the neighboring desk.

"I'm Juliette Tate."

Lupin elbowed him.

"I'm James. McKenna," Harry said quickly.

Juliette waited expectantly.

"My friends are Milo and Patrick."

Juliette waved to Lupin and Sirius. "Hello. I'm glad I'm in Slytherin. All my family was. Aren't you glad?"

Harry stared at her. "Yes," he said finally, after his ribs suffered another blow from Lupin. "Really glad, of course."

"I was chosen by Headmistress McGonagall to be part of a special leadership group, you know," Juliette continued. She looked smug. "But you won't hear about that for a while yet. It's very important and very special."

"Oh," Harry said.

"Stop bragging," snapped a girl with nut-brown hair who threw herself into a seat next to Juliette. "Honestly. You don't even know what it's for yourself yet. Hi!" She waved at Harry, Lupin, and Sirius. "I'm Wilma."

Harry braced himself for another verbal assault, but the twins who had been sorted into Gryffindor plopped into seats behind the two Slytherin girls, and the conversation promptly turned to some senseless article in a fashion magazine.

Harry looked reproachfully at Lupin, rubbing his bruised ribs.

Sirius had his head in his hands and was cracking up with laughter.

"It isn't funny, really," Harry muttered.

"Be nice, now," Lupin said. "I don't imagine you were much better."

The room was getting noisy with so many students. Every desk was occupied.

Harry saw poor Perkins in a far corner, trying not to be noticed and looking rather green. His robes looked like they had been bought for a child half his size, and they weren't new.

Harry tried to smile, but the sight of him seemed to push Perkins closer to being sick all over his desk, so Harry looked away again quickly.

"Odd, isn't it?"

"What?" Harry and Sirius said together.

"Most of -- uh -- most of us have been here since before the sorting. Almost everyone knows each other already. They're friends... even if they went to different houses."

Harry, with fresh eyes, looked around the room.

The four girls on his right, two Slytherins and two Gryffindors, were not the only odd group. And nowhere did he see students glaring at one another or picking fights. The conversations around him were friendly. Only the unfortunate Perkins was off by himself, having pushed his desk as close to the wall as he could.

"Hmm," Harry said.

"Might be an interesting year," Lupin said.

"Good morning, class."

Harry drew a deep breath to steady himself and turned, along with the rest of the students, toward the door.

It took a moment for him to be entirely sure, but in spite of the glasses, severe hairstyle, and smart dark red robes, the teacher who was making her way toward the podium was definitely Alicia.

Alicia. His Quidditch teammate for five years. Teaching a class.

"All right, there?" Lupin asked.

"It's just... odd," Harry said, shaking his head to clear it. "Like I'm not supposed to be here."

Sirius snorted.

"Let us try that again," Alicia said, taking her place behind the podium and regarding the class with a stony expression. "Good morning, class."

The conversations in the room died into complete silence.

"Good morning, Professor Spinnet," the class chorused timidly, Lupin leading.

"Excellent. You look like a bright lot and I expect great things from every one of you." She swept the room with a glance and paused with a frown when she saw Perkins and the new location of his desk. "All of you," she repeated. "Let us get to know each other." With a flourish, she produced some parchment and unrolled it. "When I call your name, please rise and say 'Here'. You may also state how you wish to be addressed --" She adjusted her glasses and peered over them. "That means any schoolroom-appropriate nickname or short form of your name."

Harry did an uncomfortable wiggle in his seat, causing Lupin to elbow him again.

Alicia consulted her parchment. "August, Miranda."

The Hufflepuff girl tripped over her feet as she got up, bobbing an odd sort of curtsy. "Here, Professor."

She fell back into her seat, her face pink.

"Cuthbert, Edwin."

Harry tried to match names to faces and remember them all. Edwin was a short boy with mousy hair and brown eyes. Gunther, Gemma, was a thin, pinched-looking girl who was sickly and pale.

"Isaac, Norah."

Perkins made a frightened squeak and almost fell out of his seat, earning him another frown from Alicia.

"Here, Professor," said Norah, who was a very pretty, dark-haired girl with feather earrings dangling down to her collar. She graced everyone with a wide, white-toothed smile before sitting down.

Soon enough it was his turn.

Harry dragged himself out of his seat, sure that every eye was on him. "Here, Professor."

It felt like an eternity that he stood there, silence around him.

"Well?" Alicia said.

Harry stared at her blankly.

"Do you have a nickname you wish to be called?"

"Er... no," Harry said, very stupidly.

Lupin pulled him down into his seat, amid snickers.

"Moony, Milo."

Lupin stood up promptly. "Here, Professor Spinnet." And sat down again.

Harry felt like sinking through the floor.

"Pembleton, Amelie."

Harry couldn't see the twins, as they were sitting behind him.

"Here, Professor."

"Pembleton, Anita,"

"Here, Professor. I prefer to be called Annie, if you please."

"So noted," Alicia said, marking the parchment with her quill. "Perkins, Noah."

There was silence, long enough that Alicia looked up, her eyes raking over the students in search of the missing Perkins.

"Perkins, Noah," she repeated sharply.

Perkins squeaked and tumbled out of his seat, then finally to his feet. "Here, ma'am."

"Professor."

If possible, Perkins turned a shade redder. "Yes, Professor. Here."

Harry felt horribly sorry for poor Perkins, and annoyed with Sirius for tittering along with the rest of the class.

They got through the list, with Quincy Zoltan, the last to be called, insisting on being addressed by surname.

Class began with a brief lecture, during which most students stared at Alicia with wide-open eyes before she snapped at them to take out parchment and quills and take notes.

Lupin, who had come prepared, handed out spare quills to Sirius, Harry, and a Hufflepuff sitting to their left.

Harry was already making comparisons between this and his least favorite class, Potions, the very first of which had left a permanent bad memory.

Several times, Noah Perkins squeaked nervously when Alicia called on Norah Isaac, earning him more irritated looks.

"Poor boy," Lupin said sympathetically.

"Ugh," grunted Sirius. "No. Reminds me of my teddy bear."

Lupin and Harry looked at Sirius with identical frowns of confusion.

Sirius had clamped his jaws shut, looking outraged. Livid red was creeping up his neck.

"Reminds you...?" Lupin repeated. Suddenly he sat up perfectly straight, his lips pinched together.

"What...?" Harry said, not understanding.

Sirius' quill snapped in half in his hand, spraying ink over his notes.

Wormtail, Lupin mouthed to Harry.

"Oh," Harry said, swallowing.

More of Snape's trickery.

He was very glad when class was over.

"Be sure to bring your books to our next class," Alicia said. "Tonight's homework is to read the introductory chapter and highlight all information covered in today's lecture. Your books and your notes will be checked at the start of class. Dismissed!"

The students spilled out into the hallway, where mixed-up bags and borrowed quills were quickly exchanged as the prefects began herding them towards Transfiguration.

Malfoy was notably absent, but the Slytherin girls were walking with the Gryffindor twins and a Hufflepuff, apparently unconcerned by their lack of personal escort.

Harry, who didn't feel like talking, trailed behind Lupin and Sirius, who had their heads close together. Sirius still looked sour, but Lupin seemed to have the situation under control, and Harry was content to let him deal with it.

He didn't look up from the floor until they reached the Transfiguration classroom.

For a moment, before McGonagall swept in, Harry was afraid this class might hold unwanted surprises, as well.

But McGonagall, it seemed, was willing to take on both teaching and Headmistress duties.

Harry sat silently through her introductory lecture, part of which he and Ron had missed the first time around. The first years were impressed, just as he remembered himself being, when she transformed into her Animagus form.

Sirius yawned.

"Did you not get enough sleep, Mr. Puddifoot?" McGonagall demanded. "Or shall I transfigure your wand into a pillow?"

The class laughed, while Sirius scowled.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," McGonagall continued sternly. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

She said the exact same thing to me and Ron, Harry thought. The odd feeling of not being meant to be there was back, making his chest ache.

McGonagall waved her wand, and for a moment Harry was afraid she really would bait Sirius' temper further, but her spell merely summoned a matchstick to every desktop.

"Today you shall attempt to change a match into a needle --" McGonagall demonstrated the spell. "-- like so. Do not be upset if you are unable to do so on first try. Take notes."

There was shuffling as every student readied their quills and parchment. Sirius slammed his ink bottle on the desk, his narrowed eyes following McGonagall's every move.

Lupin's parchment was the only one out of their three that was covered in small, precise writing by the end of McGonagall's lecture. Sirius was doodling on the margins of his sparse notes; Harry thought he had done a particularly good job on a stick figure with a nose larger than its head. Harry had taken notes diligently at first, but found his mind wandering.

"You may begin."

Harry stared at his match for a long moment before reaching for his wand. He hadn't succeeded the first time around; only Hermione out of all the first year Gryffindors had managed to make any change to her match that first class; and he didn't have high hopes for this time, either.

"No, Mr. Perkins," McGonagall was saying, somewhere behind him. "The wand must be pointed at the object you are attempting to transfigure... unless you are attempting to transfigure your nose?"

Harry exchanged a look with Lupin.

Sirius, still snickering over Perkins' misfortune, managed to turn his match into a neat pile of ash, which he was still trying to sweep under his stack of parchment when McGonagall stopped by their desks.

"Perhaps more focus, Mr. Puddifoot?" McGonagall said acidly, placing another match in front of Sirius.

The class ended with Harry making no progress at all, Sirius firmly on McGonagall's bad side, having gone through a small army of matchsticks, and Lupin attempting to hide his perfect needle, pricking his finger badly, and bleeding all over his notes.

"Homework is chapters one and two, and a two inch summary of each. Class dismissed."

"That woman," Sirius muttered mutinously as they made their way to the Great Hall for lunch. "That woman...."

Lupin, still nursing his injured finger, glared at Sirius.

Harry consulted his schedule, reading the whole thing from top to end, though he had it memorized.

"You should have that framed," Sirius snapped irritably. "Hang it above your bed."

Lupin shoved him. "Lay off him."

Harry looked at the schedule again.

It hadn't changed.

They still had Potions and Defense to go.