The tall thin boy with a mess of red hair and a smudge on his nose that sat across from him didn't seem to mind too much, as he was happy enough to fill the silence all on his own, telling Harry about the magical world, and about his brothers and the place where they lived called the Burrow. But the older and wiser students who passed through their compartment thought Harry a snob for not talking to them. Even the girl their age called Hermione that came in looking for a toad, gave him a dirty look when he didn't say anything except for tell her that he was Harry when she asked. Not Harry Potter, just Harry.

In truth Harry was afraid to speak. He didn't like speaking in public at all because he had learned to keep his mouth shut or else be made fun of. The children at his old school always pummeled him when they heard him, and laughed at him when he couldn't answer questions at school without waiting long moments for him to get a sentence out. So far he had managed to get away with few words when he had met Hagrid and gone to Diagonalley. The few times he had stuttered Hagrid hadn't seemed to notice. It wasn't that Harry stuttered everything out, just most things. There were some words he was well practiced at and could say just fine. For instance, Harry, sorry, yes, and my, were some of the few he could say because he was expected to say them so often.

"Are you excited Harry?" He looked over at Ron who had been talking non-stop. Harry opened a pumpkin pasty that he had gotten off the trolley by pointing, and stuffed it in his mouth as an excuse not to talk. He nodded, and Ron said, "I bet we won't really have to battle a troll. My brothers are always being mean to me telling me stuff that isn't true. Do you have any brothers?"

Harry shook his head and Ron continued on in a new vein about his oldest brother, who worked with dragons in Romania.

As the terrain grew wilder and the sky darker, Harry's excitement and apprehension grew greater. He hoped he wouldn't have to speak in order to be accepted into the school once he got there, because he always stuttered worse when he was excited or scared. Tonight he was a little of both.

When the train finally began to slow down, and students began filling the halls, Harry and Ron put their robes on and got ready to get off the train. Outside, Harry was pleased to see Hagrid and get into the largest boat with him and Ron and cross the great black lake towards the magnificent castle. As the castle loomed nearer in the darkness, Harry couldn't help but feel gratitude that he was here instead of back at four Privet Drive, mopping the kitchen floor and being yelled at by Aunt Petunia.

"All righ', off teh boats yeh lot." Hagrid ushered them off the boats once they reached a cave under the school, and then up a long flight of stone steps and into a tiny waiting room. With encouragement to stay out of trouble, Hagrid left them there in the semi-darkness.

Harry didn't care for the darkness, or small cramped spaces. He hated the feeling that he was back in his cupboard under the stairs, especially in such a large place as a castle. Only a few moments after Hagrid disappeared however, Harry's attention was drawn to a voice behind him instead of the claustrophobic room.

"So it's true what they say, that Harry Potter's come to Hogwarts."

Harry and Ron turned to face the pale boy with white blond hair. "Yes," Harry said.

"Well my name's Draco Malfoy. You'll want to make the right type of friends here. The wrong type could damage your reputation." Here he held out his hand to shake, and gave a glare at Ron at the same time.

As he looked down at the hand extended to him, Harry frowned and shook his head. Should he say something, and make a fool of himself? But he couldn't just ignore this boy in this crowded room.

"I can tell f for myself w who th that is th thanks," and then he turned back around.

Draco scoffed immediately, and said, "What's the matter Potter? Have I scared you into a stutter then? I would have thought the boy who lived would have been fearless, but I guess I was mistaken."

Several people that seemed to already know Draco gave a laugh, but Ron made a rude gesture in the darkness at him just as a tall witch with a pointed hat appeared at the door. She looked down at them, and appeared to have missed the gesture, because she began speaking immediately of houses and house points and a feast at the end of the term.

When she was finished she lead them out of the cramped room and into a magnificent dining hall with a high ceiling that seemed to disappear into the stars.

A small, ancient hat that sat on a stool in front of the staff table began to sing, followed by Professor McGonagall calling out names from a list, signaling students to approach the hat and put it on. The hat seemed to be the one determining which houses people were in, and just as Harry sighed in relief that there were going to be no trolls, Ron muttered, "Trolls, ha!" and Harry smiled.

After long moments of anticipation, Harry was called up to the stool and put on the hat. It slid right down over his eyes and began speaking in his ear immediately.

"Oh, a Potter! I've been wondering when I would meet you young man. Both of your parents were in Gryffindor you know."

‘Really?' Harry thought.

"Oh yes, and a bright student your mother was. I wanted to place her in Ravenclaw, but something told me Gryffindor before I even touched her head. But where to put you? I sense you would do very well in Slytherin under Professor Snape..."

‘No!' Harry thought desperately. Draco had just been placed in Slytherin, and he didn't want to go where people were already making fun of him. Ron had also said something about Voldemort coming out of Slytherin.

"Not Slytherin then? Better be Gryffindor!" The hat was shouting now and Harry was gratefully pulling the hat off his head and hurrying to the table that was shouting the loudest.

After a few more minutes Harry was pleased to find Ron sitting next to him again, and a magnificent feast set before them.

"Wow," said Ron. "This is more than mum ever made, even for cousin Jenna's wedding! And there were a hundred and five guests there!"

Harry happily dug into everything he could reach, and used eating as an excuse not to answer people's questions. Instead Harry listened in to everybody else's conversations, taking in every stray bit of information he could get on the wizarding world. He wanted desperately to fit in here. He didn't want to end up just like he had in every other school year so far... secluded and disliked, and where Dudley's gang was concerned, a punching bag.

Prefects lead the first year Gryffindors up through the castle to Gryffindor tower after the feast and showed them to their rooms. Harry was pleased to find that the first year boy's dormitory was much larger than a closet under the stairs. He had his own bed with deep red hangings, a warm blanket, a desk, and a nightstand. And near his bed was the only window in the room, looking out over the dark grounds and a small piece of the lake.

"Harry?" Ron was calling from somewhere in his own bed next to Harry's through the darkness.

"Yes?"

"Night mate."

Harry struggled for a moment with what to do. He hated to lose his only friend because he stuttered. Should he ignore him? Making up his mind, he said, "N n night."

To Harry's encouragement, Ron didn't laugh, and he fell into a peaceful sleep, feeling for once that he now had a home.

* * *

Harry made it through his first day of classes without a hitch. He had had Herbology, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Most of the day had been rules and expectations, and he hadn't been given a chance to worry about doing spells yet. Harry wasn't sure if he was pleased or excited, or both, to find that Professor Quirril had a stutter too. Like himself, Quirril seemed to stutter worse when he was excited or scared. Some of the students made fun of him after class was out, but the jokes weren't too bad, and Harry had a little hope that maybe he might be accepted here.

The second day didn't start out bad, but in Charms Harry wasn't able to perform the Wingardium Leviosa spell because he couldn't get the whole incantation out without stuttering at least some part of it. Draco Malfoy laughed at him from behind, but Harry didn't feel too badly at the end of the class because Ron, Seamus, and Neville hadn't gotten the spell right either.

After lunch, Harry couldn't help but be excited by Potions. Like Herbology, Harry had been told that Potions didn't require talking to make work. Harry had read the first chapter the night before so that he could be ready, and he felt in his heart that at least this class would go well for him. He generally did well in classes where there was a lot of reading, but not a lot of question answering involved.

In the Dungeon classroom, Harry and Ron took a seat right in the middle, and had just pulled out note taking supplies when Professor Snape, a man of impressive stature flung the door open and strode into the room.

In a capturing voice he said, "In Potions I can teach you to ensnare the senses, and put a stopper in death, I can-" he paused, and looked over at Harry, who was taking notes, trying not to let his parchment blot too much with the quill he wasn't used to using.

"Well well, Mr. Potter, our, new, celebrity."

Harry's head snapped up. Oh no! What had he done to get attention? Attention from teachers wasn't good... they always asked questions if they thought you weren't paying attention! Panicked he tried to calm down, knowing he would have to answer questions.

"Tell me Potter, what would you get..." Harry was breathing deeply, not even listening anymore. If he could just calm down enough he might get a half way understandable answer out of his mouth.

The professor was done speaking now, and Harry shook his head.

"Don't know? Tell me then the difference between a bezoar and..."

Harry tuned out again. He didn't know any of these answers... they weren't in the first chapter of his book. Should he have read further?

Hermione was at the table next to his bouncing up and down off her seat with her hand raised in the air now. Harry pointed to her, hoping to convey that she knew the answer.

Snape frowned. "Is that supposed to mean something Potter? Have you no manners? When a professor asks you a question, you are expected to answer." Harry had only made him angrier.

From the back of the room Harry heard Malfoy snigger, and from the front of the room Snape said impatiently, "Well?"

"I, I, I think sh sh she kn kn knows s s s sir." Harry pointed at her again. Darn, that hadn't come out good at all. The man's glare was positively hateful now and he strode to Harry and Ron's desk and slammed his fist down on it, making both boys jump.

Close to Harry's face Professor Snape said, "I don't know what you've been taught at previous schools Potter, but here we do not tolerate disrespect to teachers. Making fun of Professor Quirril will not gain you popularity points Potter. It will however gain you detention, tonight at seven o'clock, scrubbing dungeon floors."

He strode back up to the front of the classroom and tapped his wand hard on the dusty blackboard. Long, handwritten instructions appeared there for a potion, and Snape said, "Let the ten points I'm taking from Gryffindor serve to remind you that potion making is serious business. A potion wrongly brewed can explode in your face, or turn to poison instead of a cure. Do not make me take points by brewing stupidly... and do not make me test your potions on you." When nobody moved, he snapped, "Get to work!" and everybody scrambled to pull out their cauldrons and potion's kits.

Harry hurried to chop his ingredients and get them added to his cauldron in the right order. Ron was muttering something beside him, and Harry hoped he wasn't angry at him for losing points. He hoped he knew that he hadn't really been making fun of Quirril. He just wouldn't do that because he knew what it was like.

After class several Gryffindors glared at Harry as Slytherins laughed at him on their way to study hall. Ron muttered something about his brothers being right about Snape, and Harry kept quiet.

"He's a stupid git Harry. Rotten luck we have to take Potions at all. Sucks to get detention on your second day here."

"Bad?"

Ron nodded. "My brothers generally do something in the first week to earn one, but what old Snape did was just rotten. Fred and George told me about scrubbing out old potions ingredients jars for him... but I reckon floors won't be too bad."

Harry nodded. Scrubbing floors was something he did well.

"Th think h h he'll k k k keep giving me d d detention?"

"I hope not. It's not your fault talking like that. Aunt Rosie had a stutter once after a spell gone wrong, but Uncle Job made up a potion and gave it to her and she was good as new!"

"P p potion?"

Ron nodded. "I don't know what it was, but I reckon I could find out if I wrote home about it."

"Th thanks." Harry grinned and Ron slapped him on the back as they sat down at a table in the Great Hall to do homework. They couldn't talk any more after that however, because Professor Sprout was patrolling the isles, keeping people on task. Ron and Harry kept up a dialog on a piece of parchment however, and Harry found he much preferred communicating in this way because there was no stutter given through a pen.

After dinner and a good luck from Ron, Harry made his way back down to the dungeons for the second time that day. He found Professor Snape in his office, along with a mop and bucket. Snape didn't say much except to lead Harry to the largest dungeon classroom and set him to work mopping, with a warning not to slack off because he wouldn't leave until he was done.

Forty minutes had passed, and Harry had been made to do the floor a second time before he was allowed to leave, but he had been lucky enough not to be asked to speak before the detention was over.

Snape was just locking the door with his wand and Harry was ready to head back upstairs when Harry was struck with the idea that it might be rude not to say good night. He turned back and waved to Snape and said, "N n n night p p professor."

When he saw the man turning purple he made a run for it and hurried back up to Gryffindor tower. Perhaps he thought again that Harry was making fun of Professor Quirril. Harry hadn't thought of that, and as he sat doing his Potions essay, he hoped the man would forget all that had happened and let Harry get off on the right foot when next they met. Generally teachers were pretty nice to him at his old school, and most seemed to be nice here as well, even given his stutter. He hated to think one might be mad at him all year.

"How was detention?" Ron asked as he sat down next to Harry and pulled out his own homework.

"N not b bad. I m made h him m mad again."

"Brilliant," said Ron. "Maybe you'll get detention with Fred or George sometime. Snape gave them detention right after dinner for throwing a fanged frisbee at his head." He laughed and Harry smiled. He was glad that Ron was still talking to him. Even with just one friend, he didn't feel lonely at all like he was so used to being.