Harry hurried down the steps to the Great Hall. He had had no idea that doing magic could work up such an appetite, but after spending the past two hours with Professor Flitwick, working on his Accio, Harry was ravenous.

When Harry had returned from his overnight visit with the Weasleys four days ago, Professor Snape had greeted him with a revised schedule. In addition to his regular classes (and, of course, Quidditch), Harry now had individual study sessions with Professors Flitwick, McGonagall, and of course Snape. He had blinked as Professor Snape had brandished the new schedule beneath his nose. “But how come I have to do extra?” he had asked, curious.

“Foolish child!” Snape scolded. “You have to work to overcome the inadequacies of your upbringing. Those disgusting creatures you lived with have ill-prepared you for a life in Wizarding society. Just as you must take nutritive potions to overcome their physical neglect, you must similarly engage in remedial classes to overcome their inattention to the development of your magical abilities.” Snape saw no reason to share with the brat that he had made it very clear to the other professors that, far from maintaining a focus on remedial material, they were in fact expected to advance Harry’s knowledge as quickly as possible.

Snape’s visit to Azkaban, hearing Bellatrix’s maniacal screaming and the howls and threats of some of his other former comrades, had brought home the reality of Harry’s situation like a punch in the gut. The boy was practically a Muggle for all intents and purposes, and yet some of the most evil and twisted witches and wizards in Britain wanted him dead. If the Dark Lord ever returned – or Lucius Malfoy’s never-ending efforts to solidify his political power were successful – Harry would need to be well-prepared to defend himself. Having him sit around in class, surrounded by a bunch of little dunderheads trying to float a feather, was a ridiculous waste of his time. He should be advanced through the material as rapidly as his mind and magic would allow, not forced to wait patiently while idiots like Longbottom struggled to catch up.

If he had thought Albus would let him get away with it, Snape would have pulled Harry out of school altogether, in preference for individualized tutoring at an Unplottable location. Realizing that Dumbledore’s rampaging sentimentality would never permit Harry to skip the alleged joys of youthful schooldays (not that Snape had ever found much to enjoy about his time as a student at Hogwarts, other than the indisputable fact that it took him away from home) and that McGonagall would never give up a talented Seeker on her House team, Snape had decided it was better not to engage in a battle he knew he would lose. Instead, he ensured that Harry would begin to receive advanced training from those professors whom Snape trusted… as much as he trusted anyone, that is.

Snape was more than ready to deal with the little monster if he wanted to whinge about his loss of free time and his inability to sit around doing nothing with the other empty-headed idiots. Perhaps a few hours spent staring into a corner or copying pages from his Potions textbook would convince the brat that extra lessons were a lot more entertaining than the alternatives.

“I will not tolerate any complaints about your lack of unscheduled leisure time, Potter,” Snape continued, his voice rising. “You are here at school to learn, regardless of what your cretinous peers might think, and if you –“

Harry frowned up at him in confusion. “I wasn’t complaining, Pr’fessor,” he protested. “I just don’t know…Erm – that is, I can’t…” He looked down in embarrassment. This was mortifying!

Harry knew perfectly well that he needed extra lessons; his visit to the Burrow, where magic was used in such a casual, unthinking way to carry out everyday household chores, had taught him just what a new world he had entered. As much as he had enjoyed his time with the Weasleys - after that rather unfortunate beginning - it had made him realize just how much he didn't know about Wizarding society.

Hogwarts was where students learned to use their magic, so naturally there was magic around. But since most of the students were still relatively unskilled with their magic, it wasn’t yet fully integrated into student life. Harry and his peers still did many of their daily tasks in ways that weren't all that different to Muggle life, but at the Burrow, Harry had seen for the first time what it was like to live in a Wizarding home, among powerful, mature wizards and witches.

Molly, Arthur, Bill, and Charlie used magic as easily as breathing. They accio’d objects rather than walking to the next room to retrieve them. Housecleaning was done with magic, not elbow grease. The books, magazines, and games in the house were (despite Arthur’s fascination with all things Muggle) completely foreign to Harry.

So when he had floo’d back to Hogwarts and Professor Snape had informed him that he had – with typical thoughtfulness! – arranged extra tutoring, Harry’s first reaction was unmitigated relief. But then he had remembered how special lessons at Muggle school – whether extra prep for maths or training in a musical instrument or participation in a sports team – cost money. Although Harry was still getting accustomed to the Wizarding world, he could think of no reason why Wizard instructors would differ from their Muggle counterparts and eschew payment for extra time and effort.

Harry knew he had a lot to learn about the economics of his new world – beyond the basics of how many knuts in a galleon – but Hogwarts tuition must cost a lot and while he hadn’t had the chance to really look around his vault when Hagrid took him to Gringotts’, he knew that whatever money was there needed to last him until he was old enough to have a job of his own. He was certain that in addition to school fees and uniforms and potion ingredients and textbooks and the odd chocolate frog, there would be other expenses as he grew up – did wizards go to uni, and if so, how much did that cost? – and so he was leery of spending any money he didn’t absolutely have to spend.

Maybe, instead of tutoring, he could just do extra reading? Granger would probably be thrilled to bits if he asked her for advice, and maybe Professor Snape could suggest some books. He hadn’t actually spent much time in the Hogwarts library yet, but surely they had to have some books to help Muggle-borns and –raiseds learn about the Wizarding world?

“Can’t do what, you insolent brat?” Snape demanded. Make time? Be bothered? Obviously the boy’s paternal heritage was making itself felt.

Harry stared at his feet, crimson. Now he knew how Ron felt when everyone else was buying sweets on the Hogwarts Express. “Erm… ‘S just that my relatives won’t, y’know, help me out with money ‘n’ I’m just not sure how much money’s left in my parents’ vault ‘n’ I want to be sure that I have enough for all seven years at Hogwarts…”

“And?” Snape demanded. What was the child babbling about? What difference did it make how much money was in the Potter account?

“Well,” Harry mumbled, “I know that I need tutoring but you ‘n’ the other professors must have really high fees since you’re all so smart an’ busy an’ all, and I’m just not sure I c’n pay for it.”

Snape’s world reeled around him. The boy actually thought – “Potter!” the snap in his voice brought the boy’s head up, eyes wide with alarm. “Did your oaf of a cousin have to pay his own school fees?”

“No, sir,” Harry replied, thinking the professor must be really unfamiliar with the Muggle world to imagine such a thing. “My aunt and uncle pay for everything Dudley needs for school – or anything else,” he added a bit resentfully. “That’s how it works with Muggles. Parents pay for their kids’ stuff. But my relatives never would pay for anything for me, not back at my Muggle school and definitely not here. I mean, when Dudley wanted to –“

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose as the little nitwit rabbited on about how his dreadful relatives spoiled their fat son, completely missing the point of his question. “Potter. Your aunt and uncle paid for your cousin, correct?”

“Y’sir.”

“Because he is their responsibility.”

“Y’sir.” Harry thought he understood what Professor Snape meant. “But sir, they don’t really think of me as their responsibility, where they owe me certain things. It’s more like I’m a –“

Snape cut him off before Harry could say something that would prove intensely depressing to hear. “Yes, your relatives have made their opinion quite plain.” Which is why Black will have such a fun time with them. “However, you have forgotten something.”

Harry frowned in thought. “Ummmm, like what, sir?”

Snape glared at him. Insolent, arrogant, thoughtless brat! “You are now my responsibility. As such, I will be financially responsible for you while you are a minor.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. It was one thing for the professor to buy him some gifts – positively brilliant gifts, mind you! – but quite another for him to assume full financial responsibility for Harry. It had never crossed Harry’s mind that Professor Snape was willing to do more than let Harry have a room in his quarters and provide paternal supervision and discipline. Surely that was enough of an encumbrance on the man!

To say that in addition to all that, he was also willing to spend his own money on Harry, as if he really were his own flesh and blood… Even Harry’s real flesh and blood had balked at that. The Dursleys had always explained their niggardly treatment of Harry with loud complaints of how much it cost to house and feed an unwanted orphan. And now Professor Snape was assuming such a burden without even commenting upon it?

“B-but kids are expensive, Pr’fessor!” Harry blurted out before he could get too used to the idea. Obviously the professor had no idea what he was offering to do. “I mean, I won’t eat all that much when Hogwarts isn’t in session, but just letting me live with you is going to cost you plenty. I figured you’d take the money from my vault and –“

“Do I look like an innkeeper, Potter?” Snape snapped, feeling a sharp pain in his chest at the child’s deep conviction that no one could ever want him as a member of their family but would only be willing to tolerate his presence in exchange for financial compensation. As usual, empathy made him grumpy. “I neither want nor need reimbursement for your care. I am now in a similar position to you as your uncle is to your cousin. I doubt that your cousin is presented with a weekly bill to cover his room and board.”

Harry snorted. “If he were, it’s be about four zillion pages long!” But then he sobered. “But, sir, why would you do all this?”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Did you not ask me to become your guardian?”

Harry’s jaw dropped again. Had Snape actually thought he'd expected him to take on such an enormous burden? And had Snape actually been willing to do it? Just because Harry had asked him to? “Y-yes,” he gulped, “but I never meant that you’d have to pay for all my stuff or –“

Snape glared at him. “Foolish brat. You should never request things if you don’t know what you’re asking for, particularly in the magical world. It’s a good thing I at least am fully aware of the responsibilities of a legal guardian.”

“But – but you shouldn’t have to pay –“

Again Snape overrode him. “Are you presuming to tell me how to live up to my obligations, Potter? Or – worse – to imply that I have accepted a responsibility that I am unwilling to fulfill?”

Harry might be in shock, but he wasn’t stupid. “No, sir!”

“Then kindly keep your inane and ill-informed blathering to yourself, you impudent wretch. You are eleven years old. You are not to concern yourself with the details of your fiscal support. That is my responsibility, not yours. You are responsible for obeying me. If I determine that additional tutoring is necessary, you will not concern yourself with the financial details of that tutoring, but simply attend the sessions as required and perform to the best of your abilities. I will not tolerate laziness, Mr Potter! If you fail to attend your classes – any of your classes – you can expect a very unpleasant outcome.”

And it happened again. Despite his best, most menacing glower, the contrary brat was beaming up at him with a soppy smile on his face! Snape nearly cursed in frustration. How was he supposed to instill fear in the little fiend if his threats went unnoticed?

“I’ll study harder than anyone – even Hermione!” Harry promised, his heart singing. Merlin, it was so nice to have someone looking after him! Now he wouldn’t have to feel so dumb when the other kids started talking about different spells or Wizard bands or any of the thousand other things that were second nature to those raised in the Wizarding world.

Hmf. Well, at least the brat said the right things. Snape glared once more, just to be on the safe side, and dismissed him back to his dormitory.

The first few lessons had gone very well, Harry reflected happily. Learning more than just what was on the class syllabus had given him a better grasp of the material by broadening the context. Now that he more clearly understood what you would use transfiguration or charms for, it was a lot easier to be interested in class exercises and to see the importance of floating a feather or changing a needle into a toothpick. And the fact that he was taught new stuff in these extra lessons, so that he felt like he even knew a little more than his classmates, well, that was just the best part. Already some of the other kids were beginning to notice and ask him for help, which was quite a change from his Muggle schooldays when he had always been considered stupid, thanks to the Dursleys.

The only problem with the extra classes was that they tended to be so interesting that Harry stayed late – and that meant he was late to dinner. Since Professor Snape tended to get cranky if Harry was tardy, especially to meals, Harry tried hard to be punctual. He thought it was kind of strange that Professor Snape was so worried about his eating habits – what he ate, how much, when, whether he ate quickly or slowly, and so on – but he figured everyone had some little quirks, and if the professor’s was to fuss over Harry’s eating enough vegetables, well, that was okay.

But it meant that Harry needed to hurry if he was going to be at the Gryffindor table by the time the food was served. He'd had to run up to his dormitory to drop off his books after Professor Flitwick had finally shooed him out of his office, and despite running most of the way, it was still clear that he'd be among the last to arrive at the dining table. He could tell from the deserted corridors that most of the school was already in the Great Hall.

“Hey! Look who’s there!” The shout from behind him didn’t really register at first, but then the sound of running footsteps caught his attention.

Harry turned just in time to see four large boys – probably sixth or seventh years – sprinting towards him. They were all in Ravensclaw robes, and Harry didn’t think he knew any of them.

“Hi,” he offered, a bit uncertain. He didn’t really like the way they had moved to ring him, and he retreated until he had the wall at his back.

“Hi,” the tallest boy replied, smiling. Harry wasn’t sure why, but there was something about the smile that made him feel uncomfortable. “You’re Harry Potter, aren’t you?”

Harry nodded. He really hoped they wouldn’t ask to see The Scar.

The boy turned to the others. “See? I told you it was him. The Boy Who Lived. The Boy Who Doesn’t Go Anywhere Alone.”

Harry frowned. He had heard of the first title, but not the second.

Another Ravenclaw grinned and stepped closer. Harry edged away. This was beginning to remind him of Harry-hunting. “Yeah, you were right, Jeffreys, though you can’t blame the rest of us for doubting you. Potter here always has an entourage with him. Who would have expected him to be here, all by himself?”

“I don’t have an entourage,” Harry objected. “I just have friends.”

“Of course you have friends,” the first purred, draping a friendly arm around the younger boy’s shoulders. “But it made it hard for us to talk with you, in private.”

Harry looked at the other boys. They were all tall and athletic, and they now ranged about him in a semi-circle, effectively trapping him. “What do you want to talk about?” he asked, his nervousness increasing. What could a bunch of upper years from a different House want with him?