As Monday night loomed closer and closer, Harry grew more anxious, and was finding it hard to sing things even without a stutter, and so had given up trying and had gone mostly silent again by dinner time Monday.

"Don't know what you're so worried about," Ron said through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. Hermione gave him a glare and Ron swallowed in response before he spoke to Harry again. "I mean, we did earn fifty points."

"Twenty five," Hermione said. "We did lose twenty five too."

"Ugh. Do you have to do that?"

Hermione had been hanging around with them since they had defeated the troll in order to save her, but she and Ron still seemed to be having a little trouble getting along.

"Do you have to speak with your mouth full, with food flying everywhere?"

Ron seemed to realize how disgusting it sounded, and refrained from talking through the rest of the meal, which seemed to please Hermione a great deal.

Harry headed off alone to the dungeons at five to six, unsure why exactly he was feeling so nervous.

At the office door, he knocked and was told to enter. He pulled his Transfiguration book out expectantly, since they had switched books now, and waited to be told which page to practice singing.

Snape however, fixed him with a pointed look, not quite a glare, but it definitely seemed as if the man was trying to look through him in some way, and Harry felt like he needed to squirm again to get out from under the gaze.

After a few moments Severus asked, "Want to tell me what really happened in the girl's bathroom Friday night?"

Harry bit his lip and thought that what he'd really like to say was no, but he didn't dare say it to this man who had been helping him and who could withdraw that help at any time.

"Ron said s something mean t to H Hermione earlier. Sh sh she was c crying in in the bathroom wh when we were a all d down at the feast. We r remembered she didn't kn know a about the t troll and went to w warn her. B b but it it was too late. Th th the t troll w was already in there."

"And the rest of the story rings true? Wand up the nose, and knocking it out with it's own club?"

Harry nodded and said, "Yes sir."

"You lied then." It was not a question, but a factual statement.

A shake of his head and Snape said "No? You do not think that withholding truthful information is the same as lying?"

He bit his lip. Well, when it had been put to him that way, maybe it was. But he hadn't thought of it that way before. "I I'm sorry."

"Perhaps. But for lying you will receive one detention. Tonight." He waved his wand and a mop bucket and mop appeared on the floor next to Harry.

Harry looked up, a little hurt in his eyes, but knew that lying was wrong and he could have easily not let Hermione take the blame. He stood and grabbed the mop bucket and mop, and moved out the door to where Snape pointed him. He followed the tall man to a large dungeon classroom he had not yet been in, and set to work mopping the floors, Snape monitoring him from the teacher's desk by the blackboard.

Five minutes into it, Harry was surprised to find the Professor talking to him, much unlike the one previous detention he had served. "Recite the page about the Wingardium Leviosa spell from Charm's book Potter. And no song this time."

"Sir?"

"Eventually you will need to begin reading without the song again. We might as well not waste the night while you scrub. Recite it until you are finished with the floor and then you may go."

Harry knew he could recite it easily, having looked at the page and memorizing it for weeks on end, first trying to do the spell in his mind and then reading it to get better at speaking out loud.

As he scrubbed at a particularly nasty stain in the back corner of the room, he started, "Levitation spells must b be grounded b by a w wizard's life force. Any l living w wizard can levitate any object s so long as th the wizard h himself is not b being levitated by any ch charm, in including on a broomstick. Th this is why a wizard c cannot l levitate h himself with a levitation charm, and why th the charm must b be made ex ex exclusive to an inanimate ob object such as a broomstick, in order to levitate a wizard for a pro pro prolonged period of t t time. Of of course th there are other m means of flight f for a wizard to employ..." he went on for another few minutes reciting the rest of the page, and then started over again. Before he knew it he was at the front of the room mopping under the blackboard and not stuttering at all as he recited.

"Stop."

Harry stood up straight, wondering if he had done something wrong or missed a spot.

"Sir?"

"You just recited five paragraphs without stuttering once."

"I... I did?"

"Yes. Why is that?"

Harry thought and then said, "Don't know."

"Hm."

Severus seemed to think for a few moments, and then asked, "What was going through your mind when you disarmed Mr. Malfoy?"

Harry thought back, and then said, "His wand, his wand, his wand."

"You were not thinking of the spell at all?"

He shook his head. "I j just did it."

"And just now, you were not thinking of the passage, but of mopping, correct?"

Harry nodded. "Yes sir."

"Perhaps we have been going about this in the wrong way then."

"Sir?"

"I have been telling you to stop and think of what you say before you say it. But it appears that you are more able to speak when you are not thinking of the words."

"B but I've been getting b better!"

"Yes, after the singing. Perhaps by the same principle. When you put something to song you can sing it automatically after a short while. Words are triggered by the words before them and by the melody, even if you can't remember what comes next a few words ahead of where you're at. I believe then that you are thinking too much about what to say." At the confused look on Harry's face, he continued, "Not in the way you think Potter. There is nothing wrong with stopping to compose your words before they tumble out of your mouth and get you into trouble. Let me ask you this: does the stuttering get worse when you're scared or excited?"

Harry nodded.

"And what are you thinking?"

"It's g going to come out all f f fumbled." This wasn't exactly true. Sometimes he was just too scared to speak properly and knew if he said anything at all he'd be in even more trouble. Harry knew from experience with uncle Vernon, that it was never a good idea to start talking when you were already in trouble.

"And what are you thinking about right now?" He saw the far off look the boy had suddenly gotten, as if he were in another time and place.

He shook his head. "N nothing sir."

Snape eyed him, and Harry wondered if he'd have to scrub the floor again for lying, but the man seemed to remember his promise that Harry could leave once he'd reached the blackboard with the mop, and dismissed him.

* * *

Snow began to drift down over the grounds in mid November, and all around the castle people's spirits seemed to be lifting as the Christmas Holiday drew nearer. They were to leave on the train to go back home December first. Harry wasn't keen on the idea of going back to Privet Drive, even now that he had Dudley's second bedroom, but Ron and Hermione (who now seemed to be very attached to them) were both going home for the break, and Harry had no desire to spend the holiday alone in the common room.

Once his name was on the list of students to go back home for the break, an idea struck Harry, and he was positive it would change his life. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had always told him what a stupid boy he was and seemed to hate him for it... but what if he could change their minds? His stuttering was so much better now. What if he could just hop off the train with his good grades in hand and say brightly, ‘Hello Uncle Vernon!' Surely they would treat him better then. Maybe not as good as they treated Dudley, but still, any change had to be for the better. He certainly seemed to be fitting in better here now than he had imagined he would.

Harry practiced singing out his greeting to his uncle for a few days, and eventually switched to saying it out loud to himself. At Professor Snape's suggestion, Harry had been singing up in the air during Quidditch practice, his mind on other things allowing him to get the words out easier. And the best part was that nobody noticed when he was all by himself up in the air hunting for the Snitch.

Professor McGonagall was not the only one who noticed Harry and Ron's increase in performance in class on tests and essays, although their Head of house would never have dreamed that it was because Professor Snape was making Harry memorize text books in song, and Harry was then in turn making Ron do it too. Instead she attributed it to the Granger girl they were now hanging around with, which agitated Severus to no end. Harry asked twice why he must follow rule eight: do not tell a soul except for Ron and Hermione that Snape was helping him. He could see that it bothered the man that people didn't know how exactly Harry was getting better, and yet the man refused to let him tell anybody.

"Maybe he's barmy then," Harry helped Ron heave his trunk down the stairs of the boy's dormitory and set it next to a pile of other trunks of students going home on the train in the morning.

Hermione rolled her eyes as she walked next to them and said, "Don't be ridiculous Ronald. It's quite obvious that he doesn't want to ruin his reputation."

"Reputation!" Ron sputtered. "Of what? Being a greasy dungeon bat?"

"Of being unfair to other houses and less scary than he actually is. He's better able to keep control over students if they're scared to do anything wrong."

"Right," Ron scoffed and rolled his eyes. "McGonagall doesn't do that you know."

"I seem to remember you saying to Harry yesterday morning that you'd better hurry to Transfiguration because if you were late she'd turn you into a toad. Sounds as if you were a little scared to me." She crossed her arms and Ron smacked himself in the forehead, at a loss for what to say to the girl who seemed to tie his tongue in knots as bad as Harry's was done up.

As Hermione walked off to levitate her own trunk to the pile, Ron turned to Harry and said, "The eight hour train ride with her ought to be pleasant."

Harry laughed as they went back up the stairs to get his backpack. He actually didn't mind Hermione too much. She liked to talk and often filled the quiet between them, and she didn't seem to mind Harry's singing or reciting at all.

The next morning they traipsed down the front lawns through the snow, Harry's bag on his back full of the few Muggle clothes he had, newly repaired by Hermione, along with his Potions, Charms, and Transfiguration book. He knew he couldn't do magic over the break, but he could still read, memorize, and recite. It was almost like a game to him now when he was bored, to see if he could recall the way the books had something worded, or to recite information on command. Hermione had even made a game out of the recitation on the train, which annoyed Ron, who would rather talk about Quidditch instead of school.

Harry was ready for this however, and had brought along the book he had checked out on Quidditch tactics for Seekers, and handed it to Ron.

"O open up a a page then."

Ron flipped through the book to the middle and said, "Ok smarty, what's a flying rhinoceros got to do with seeking?"

Harry grinned and recited off the instructions for the tactic which involved flying straight at the other seeker head on to scare him out of the chase if he had seen the Snitch.

"Not bad," Ron said with a grin. "Only got one or two words out of place, but otherwise spot on!"

At lunch Harry treated his friends to snacks off the trolley, and after that sat back and listened as Hermione and Ron spoke of various wizarding laws and the ministry, some of which his father had helped turn from idea to a written law about Muggles. Harry began to get anxious in the interim. Hello Uncle Vernon. Hello Uncle Vernon. He repeated it in his mind several times. He wanted Christmas to be a pleasant one, and if he could just show them he wasn't stupid anymore...

Finally at King's Cross, Harry met Mr. and Mrs. Granger, who were Muggle dentists, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Ron's younger sister Ginny, who blushed furiously when Harry said hello. Standing on tiptoes however, Harry couldn't see any sign of Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, or Dudley. He had sent them an owl telling them he'd be home... perhaps they'd gotten the date or time wrong?

"We'll wait here with you Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley said when the Granger's walked off towards the entrance. "Just until your family comes."

"They drive a car don't they Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked. Ron had already informed Harry that his father was crazy about Muggle inventions and how they worked, so for the next ten minutes Harry fielded questions about cars, plugs, toasters, and legwarmers.

When the station had emptied out again and there was still no sign of the Dursley's, Harry said, "Th they must have got th the wrong date."

"Not to worry," Mr. Weasley said. "I can apparate you back. All I need is the address."

Harry gave him the address, and said goodbye to Ron's family as Mr. Weasley gripped his arm tight and they turned on the spot.

In the driveway at four Privet Drive, Harry gasped for air. He had not been prepared to feel as if the world was closing in on him during the transport.

"All right there Harry? Looks like your family are home." He pointed to the car in the driveway and the lights on inside the house.

"Thanks Mr. Mr. Weasley," Harry said, snow crunching under his feet as more flakes began to fall from the sky.

"I'll wait until you're in then." He ushered Harry up the walk with a wave of his hand and Harry knocked on the door.

After a few moments the door swung open, and Aunt Petunia stood there looking surprised and suddenly angry.

Quickly Harry turned and waved to Ron's dad, who disapparated with a loud pop, further startling Aunt Petunia.

"Get inside you little wretch!" she hissed.

Harry hurried in and said, "M my train came in t tonight. I kn knew you must have f forgotten." He grinned, hoping she'd heard how little he had stuttered just then, but she glared down at him as she shrieked for Vernon to come into the entry hall.

"We didn't forget boy. You were meant not to come back!" Uncle Vernon lumbered into the hall. Harry's insides fluttered. This was it, his big moment had arrived.

Beaming, he said proudly, "Hello Uncle Vernon!"

Uncle Vernon narrowed his eyes at him. "Don't take that tone with me boy! Hello my arse! You can just spend the holiday in the cupboard for all I care!"

He seized Harry's thin jacket collar and tried to push him towards the cupboard, but when he reached for the handle, the door wouldn't budge. Quietly Harry had sent the reverse to the unlocking charm at the door. There was no way he was going back inside the cupboard. He had barely fit in there anymore last summer, and knew he'd grown since then.

"The key Petunia, the key!" cried Uncle Vernon as Harry struggled to get free of his grasp, and Uncle Vernon held tight to the small body with out any trouble. Aunt Petunia pulled the key off the nail above the cupboard door, but once inserted in the keyhole, the door still would not budge.

Vernon looked down his nose at Harry, still struggling below, and gave him a sneer. "Don't want to unstick the door then boy? Fine by me. You can spend the holiday out in the garden! And see if I care if you catch sick and die!"

He flung the front door back open and hurled Harry down the front steps. Harry thought he heard a crunch as his ribs broke but couldn't be sure because the front door had slammed closed right behind him, masking the noise. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and examined his hand. It was bleeding a little because he'd tried to stop his fall and it had scraped on the icy steps. His elbow had hit the ground hard too along with his chin, and he was sure he'd have numerous bruises by morning.

"F f f f fine!" he shouted back up at the door.

Suddenly Harry was glad he had had the foresight not to bring his entire school trunk back home with him, and that he had left Hedwig at Hogwarts in the Owlery, although now he silently wished he had her there for comfort.

The kitchen window slid open a moment later and Aunt Petunia said, "Your uncle is calling the police and telling them you're a beggar and to come take you away to the orphanage. I wouldn't be here when they get here if I were you." And then the window had slammed shut again and been locked tight.

Slowly he pushed himself to his feet and started walking, gingerly because he noticed now that his leg was also hurt and he had to limp a little.

Harry thought of going around to the back garden where he knew he could unlock and sleep in the shed, but he would still need food, and if the police were coming they might search there. If he were sent off to an orphanage, he'd never be able to get himself back to Hogwarts at the end of December, so he scratched that idea altogether.

His next thought was Mrs. Figg's house. She had always been kind to him when Aunt Petunia asked her to baby sit while they went away on day trips and on vacations, but Harry didn't think he could stand the smell of old cats for the entire holiday, and wasn't entirely sure she'd take him in anyway.

Hopeless, Harry walked down the street as far as he could and turned into an alley to think in case the police really were coming, so that they wouldn't spot him on the road.

He supposed he could go back to Hogwarts, but how to get there? Did the train even run on Holiday? Did it go other places? Deciding that he could at least try, and ride the train until it went to Hogsmead, Harry set off towards town, shivering in the darkness, and wincing with every step he took because his ribs hurt like hell. This was going to be one long Christmas.