How odd it was to know the location of things, but to feel as if they were alien to him? He knew for instance that the charms classroom was just around the corner from his new room, but it was strange that Professor Flitwick taught there. Just like Snape, he didn't seem to fit right. And he kept thinking Transfiguration was the room on the right, when really it was the room on the left. He recognized Hagrid, the gamekeeper, and even knew his name, but didn't think he should be teaching Care of Magical Creatures, although he couldn't imagine anything else the man would be teaching. And then there were his friends... Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Luna, and a scattered bunch from other houses. He had met them the day he was released from the Hospital Wing, and had been sure to memorize their names and faces, but he was absolutely sure these people were not his friends. Where and who were his friends then if not these?

At first the other students in the school had found it funny to have their words involuntarily changed to lemon drop all the time trying to tell Harry of his life, but soon they became as annoyed as he did with it all. Why couldn't people just tell him about himself? It was a full four days after he had escaped Madam Pomfrey, and still he was nowhere close to the answers he longed for.

"It's this one Harry," Hermione stood in front of the next door down the hallway. Damn, why couldn't he just remember which room Transfiguration was in? He was so sure it was this one that was now empty.

"We could ask to put a sign up," Ron suggested.

"They want him to remember on his own Ronald," she scolded.

"Well I don't see why we can't tell him he's in lemon drop house. I mean why can't he come stay with lemon drops? Urg!" He gave out a grunt of annoyance.

"The whole thing is stupid," Harry said. "They won't even give me my broom... they said I had charmed the team name onto it."

"Fred helped you do that," Ron told him as they took a seat on the left side of the classroom behind a group of Hufflepuffs. Harry had been insisting they sit on the left side in Transfiguration and Potions, much to Ron's dismay.

"Who's Fred?"

"Lemon drop," Ron said, crossing his arms.

Harry blew air up at his bangs and after a pause asked, "D'ya think I should get a haircut? I mean, it's a little messy isn't it?"

"Hasn't it always been?" Hermione asked.

"I guess," Harry said, reaching a hand up to feel the tangled mess of black hair on his head. He hated looking at himself in the mirror in the morning since he didn't recognize his own face. He did know that he didn't like his hair however, and knew in his heart it should be shorter.

"Do elves cut hair?"

"We can ask Dobby after dinner," Ron told him as McGonagall walked in.

* * *

Who cared if other people didn't like it? He admired his new hairstyle in the mirror of the boy's bathroom outside the Great Hall. Whoever this Dobby was had done a good job cutting it exactly as he had instructed. His face still didn't look right, and his hair color seemed off to him, but the style was spot on. He didn't know why, but he suddenly felt more at ease in his body knowing the hair was different. Perhaps if he rid himself of the glasses as well?

He took them off experimentally and when blurred vision met him, he dispelled the idea immediately. Nope, the glasses would have to stay.

* * *

"I wonder what's gotten into him?" Minerva asked quietly as she leaned in to speak privately with Albus and Severus the next morning at breakfast. "Just look at his hair! And I wonder how he sees without those glasses."

"Speak for yourself Minerva," Severus said. "It's about time the brat took care of that tangle of hair. He's got a proper hair cut now."

"And it's the oddest thing don't you know," she continued, as if she hadn't heard him. "I hadn't thought about it until last night, but when he comes to Transfiguration, he always tries the door down the hall before his friends remind him it's the next door up. And I remembered that my class used to be in the other room until ten or so years ago when it grew too small after Bill Weasley's transfiguration accident."

"He's obviously still forgetful," Severus told her, leaning back in his chair.

"Is he? Because he seems to remember other classrooms just fine, as well as his friends names once he was introduced."

"You're making an oddity out of nothing," Severus told her dryly. "This Potter seems more respectful and less foolhardy. I'll be sorry to see the old Potter return."

She huffed and turned a cold shoulder to him, but continued to watch Harry interact with his friends, where he had been invited to sit at Gryffindor table today.

* * *

"Yuck Harry."

Harry frowned and looked up at Hermione.

"What?"

"You've smothered your eggs in ketchup! It looks like they're bleeding."

"So?" he shrugged and took a big bite, smiling to let a little ketchup show. "They're wonderful. Try them."

"I thought you hated ketchup."

Another shrug, and then, "Well maybe I like it now. Tastes can change."

They'd been having a similar conversation at least once a day for the last week. He would do something they considered strange, like ketchup on his eggs, the new haircut, or asking Hermione to spell his eyes right each morning, and they would tell him how unlike himself he was being. But truth be told, he was feeling more and more like himself every day.

"Hermione?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think Professor McGonagall would let me change subjects?"

"To what?"

"I've been thinking about kicking Divination at picking up Runes. I mean, I'm daft at seeing the past or the future, so why stay in it?"

"I've been telling everyone that for ages. But if you switched to Runes now you'd be three years behind... we're already sixth years and I don't think Professor Babbling will let you into her NEWT class now."

"But I can try it can't I? I feel like I'd be good at it."

Hermione gave a snort and Harry glared at her, making her quiet and serious again. "Well we can ask, but don't be disappointed."

Harry was in fact rather pleased with himself later that day when he was given a sheet of Runes to decipher by Professor Babbling and read it aloud perfectly. Hermione was dismayed because she had studied long and hard at it, only to have Harry be proclaimed as a natural, and be let into the class.

"It just doesn't make sense Harry," she told him. "You go three years without any interest in the subject and then all of a sudden you can decipher last week's homework?" She crossed her arms as they walked Harry back to his room on the second floor.

"So?" Ron asked. "Good on you mate! Mum has been bugging me for years to try Runes because it was her favorite subject!"

"No it's not good Ronald," Hermione stopped walking as she scolded him. "There's something very odd about Harry and nobody seems to care! He knows Runes, he changed his hair, he likes different foods now, and this morning he went to Slytherin table and sat down!"

"Hey," Harry said indignantly, "Professor Snape said I had friends in all houses, so why can't I sit there?"

"Because you lemon drop Slytherin house Harry!" she screamed.

Ron raised his brows and Harry glared at her. "Well lemon drop to you too Hermione! If you were my friend you'd accept me for who I am! Not who I used to be!" Harry stormed off down the hallway and slammed the door to his room around the corner, throwing the borrowed Runes book on his bed. Suddenly angry with his brown bedspread, he shot out a spell that turned it Slytherin green, and felt satisfied that something else in his life had been set straight.

He flopped backwards on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He felt right at Slytherin table for the brief moment he'd been there this morning before Ron had dragged him away, and had felt awkward at Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw tables. And he did like the new green bedspread. Perhaps he was in Slytherin house? It would explain why he'd been getting dirty looks from the other Slytherins whenever he was with Ron and Hermione, which was constantly. He did know the location of Slytherin common room, which was something at least. He had been let into Gryffindor when he followed Ron and Hermione one day, but he hadn't remembered it at all.

An idea hitting him, he grabbed his wand and made his way down to the dungeons, to the bare patch of wall that felt familiar. He traced his fingers along the edges of one particular stone, and a word popped into his mind. "Cauldron."

Nothing happened. He thought again and said, "Pride." Again nothing. A flash of memory hit him suddenly and he recalled standing in front of this very patch of wall with a lean boy his age, with pale skin and long black hair.

‘C'mon Sev, it's not that bad, she's only a Gryffindor.'

‘Easy for you to say, all your friends are in Slytherin.'

‘Lemon drops,' he muttered, and the bare patch of wall opened wide to reveal an entrance.'

‘Well, let's start our Runes homework or we'll be up all night with it.'

Harry shook his head, amazed that he'd had a clear memory. So he was in Slytherin after all!

Excited he stepped up to the wall and said confidently, "Lemon drops!"

The wall moved aside to grant him entrance, and he strutted in, confident that he would receive a warm welcome, the lost Slytherin finally returning home.