It was just plain bad luck, really, that Harry had double Potions the very next morning. At least this time, though, he was thoroughly prepared to face Snape's particularly intense wrath and didn't need to wonder over why the man seemed even more vindictive than usual. He was furthermore prepared to be given detention, whether he deserved one or not. That's why...

“Mr. Potter, tell me. When you get up every morning, do you go out of your way to make yourself into such an eyesore or is it an ingrained constituent of genetics that makes you such an affront to those of us with a modicum of respectability.”

The rest of the class watched on in blank silence, only Hermione narrowing her eyes sharply at the completely sudden and seemingly unnecessary comment. Harry, meanwhile, debated whether or not he should pretend he had understood it at all. Based on his friend's reaction, he had rather obviously just been insulted (not that that surprised him), likely for something trivial, and Snape was just being a bastard to bring it up at all. He could pretend to be righteously angry and therefore might manage to fool the man; but he really didn't feel up to putting in such effort. “Er...”

The professor rolled dark eyes at the boy's obvious confusion. “You look like a vagrant, Potter. Do you even own a comb?”

Harry completely ignored the snickers that comment brought about from the Slytherins in the room, still trying to convince himself he had indeed heard correctly. His hair? Snape was making fun of his hair? He knew it was always a bird's nest, but still... The oily snake had no right to pick at anyone's hair until he learned the meaning of shampoo! “As a matter of fact, sir, yes, I do own a comb. I even know how to use it.” It really wasn't his fault his hair was such a perpetual mess, nothing he tried could ever make it behave. The only way his hair would ever lay flat is if he took half a bottle of wax to it every morning and made himself look like Malfoy, and that was just... ewww!

“Indeed. I'm quite sure, Mr. Potter, that we're all duly impressed.”

The Gryffindor did his best to ignore the blond shaking in near silent laughter across the room.

“I believe since you are apparently incapable of presenting yourself like the proper young wizard you supposedly are, you can join me in the evenings here. For a week, shall we say?”

Malfoy was now vibrating so hard he looked like he was having a seizure, and from his right Harry heard Ron's not so soft exclamation of, “What! He can't do that!” He, for his part, didn't bat an eyelash. He knew everyone in the room, including the Potions Master himself, expected him to scream and throw and fit and then pout for the rest of the class when he inevitably didn't get his way... and up until quite recently he would have done just that. Except now, Harry knew that was exactly what Snape wanted. He wanted Harry to act like the spoiled little brat he always said he was, and Harry wasn't about to give him the satisfaction.

Besides, these detentions didn't have a damn thing to do with his hair or even with Snape just being a hateful git. This was Snape's way of punishing him for not telling the truth about why he and his friends were in the hallway with Mrs. Norris last night. And while, in his opinion, they still hadn't been doing anything wrong, he knew Snape certainly thought they had. It was a little easier to calmly accept a detention when he had actually done something to earn it; not that he was happy about it, of course, because it still wasn't bloody fair.

Turned out he had bigger things to worry about anyway besides Snape and his stupid grudge or whatever it was. Later that very day at lunch Justin Finch-Fletchley all but ran from him when he was just trying to say hello.

*“Dunno why you care. I thought he was a bit of an idiot,” said Ron*, but Harry did care. And though Justin hadn't necessarily seemed to be the brightest crayon in the box, 'idiot' was an awfully strong word. Harry personally would have gone with something more like 'naïve'. Besides, he had been really friendly.

Then, of course, things just got worse from there after Binns told their class about the Chamber of Secrets. Because, apparently, Harry was the heir of Slytherin bent on destroying all Muggleborns. Never mind the fact that Hermione, one of his best friends, was Muggleborn, let alone his own mother. It did make him feel a little uneasy, though, recalling how the hat had nearly put him in Slytherin. Because only bad wizards and witches came from Slytherin, right? What did that make him?

He also had the unfortunate pleasure that day of seeing the inside of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

By the time he had finished the day at eight o'clock, having scrubbed desks for his first detention with Snape, Harry was exhausted, both physically and mentally. He also knew he had a Transfiguration essay due the next day that wasn't quite done and a reading assignment in Charms he should do unless he wanted to be lost in class, but at that moment, the thought of returning to the Gryffindor common room was just too much. He wanted to be somewhere quiet, somewhere where he could just relax and properly organize his thoughts. Somewhere where no one would bother him about this ruddy Chamber stuff and he could feel secure.

His feet led him, without command, up numerous flights of stairs until he stood for the second time in as many days in front of a very plain-looking oak door. Tentatively, he knocked.

“Harry!”

“H'lo, professor.” The boy shifted awkwardly, feeling foolish for coming. Yes, the man had extended an open invitation the night before, but still. It wasn't like anything was actually wrong; Harry shouldn't need to seek out his Astronomy professor.

Then again, though there was plenty of surprise there, the man's face looked utterly delighted as well. Maybe he really had meant it last night when he said he enjoyed talking with Harry. He definitely didn't seem upset at least.

“I'm glad you came.” The man's eyes were kind and sincere, forcing the boy to relax even further. “Please, come in.”

Harry did so eagerly, almost instinctively going to sit in the same chair he'd occupied the previous night. He did his best not to wince when his sore back (lousy Snape) hit the hard wood. “Sorry to bother you again, sir,” he said softly, truly meaning every word of it. The last thing he wanted to do was become a burden to one of the few people who seemed to honestly like him.

Jenkins looked absolutely scandalized. “Harry, you're never a bother. If you were, I wouldn't have invited you back.”

Trusting the man in a way he rarely did with adults, Harry let himself become fully unguarded. He was normally much more diligent with his defenses but... well, he rarely felt so wanted as he did then. “Thank you, sir.”

The professor took up the seat behind his desk and leaned forward to fold his hands together, eyes showing some clear concern. “Are you all right, Harry? Happy as I am to see you, I wasn't expecting it to be so soon. Did something happen?”

“No— yes— well, sorta.” Harry scratched the back of his head awkwardly, wishing he were smarter, or at least more eloquent. “Nothing happened really, s'just... Snape really pisses me off, sir.”

Rather than a rebuke as every other professor would give him, Jenkins' lips twitched in amusement. “Yes, I gathered that much from before. What did he do now?”

“He gave me detention,” Harry grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest sullenly. “For my hair.”

Professor Jenkins listened politely and attentively while he vented, surreptitiously ordering tea for the both of them. Harry's chest felt warm when the man made his tea for him just the way he liked it, and even warmer when he noticed the biscuits on the plate were only the kinds he had eaten last night, his favorites. He smiled. Jenkins had noticed.

“Well, Harry, that certainly wasn't very fair of him,” the man agreed easily once the boy was done. “However, I must admit I suspect a greater plot in the works.”

Harry snorted uncouthly, watching as the excess air rippled across the top of his tea. “Well yeah, I figured that out the first time, when I had detention for 'disturbing the peace of the courtyard'. Every time I do something he doesn't like he gives me detention for something else. You know, because he can't give me detention for what he really wants to.” He ran a hand up through his hair agitatedly, not really paying attention to the odd look Jenkins got in his eyes when he did so. “It's like, he hates me, so he's turned it into a game.”

The professor cleared his throat harshly. “Yes well... Slytherins do like their games, Harry.”

Harry thought about that, about the way Malfoy always seemed to be playing with his victims before going in for the kill (except for him, of course, then the blond went right for the jugular), and decided Jenkins was right. Slytherins did like their games, and he was the latest piece for Snape to play with and move about the board as he pleased. Frustrated with it all, he sagged heavily back in his chair, flinching upright again almost immediately afterwards.

“Oh dear, that silly old thing. Can't be very comfortable.” Jenkins eyed the rickety little seat of wood critically before mumbling, “Well I was never very good at Transfiguration, but...”

A wave of his wand and an unrecognizable spell later, and Harry was seated on a very comfortable, excessively cushioned armchair, complete with red and gold stripes. He grinned. “Wow, thanks.”

The older man waved him off. “Enough about Severus, Harry, tell me about the rest of your day. Surely that went a bit better?”

The laugh that sounded from his mouth startled even him with its bitterness as he sank back gratefully into the upholstery. “Not quite.”

They talked for at least an hour more, before the professor gently told him he'd better leave. “Don't want to be keeping you up too late. And you said you had homework to finish?”

“Er...”

The man smiled softly. “Bring it with you next time. I'm sure I can be of some assistance.”

Professor Jenkins declined walking Harry back to his common room this time, saying there was still plenty of time until curfew and, “I'm sure you wouldn't want to be seen walking about with your old professor now.”

Harry frantically shook his head. “No, sir. I mean— I wouldn't mind being seen with you, sir.”

Jenkins' smile changed a little at his words, but Harry couldn't quite place his finger on it. Not that he really cared, since it was still wholly pleasant. “Thank you, Harry, that's very kind of you. You're such a good boy.”

Harry blinked stupidly, not quite understanding. Good boy? His face got very hot. No one had ever called him anything like that. Not ever. He was always the freak, the burden, the hero, the savior, but he was never... He swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

Jenkins reached out and ran his fingers through the boy's hair, chuckling lightly when Harry leaned appreciatively into the touch. “Don't listen to Severus, Harry. Your hair's quite all right just the way it is. In fact...”

Harry felt the man then purposely manipulate his dark locks around, made them stick up even further, made them more messy than usual.

“There we are. That ought to drive Severus up the wall, eh?”

Oh yeah. This man was definitely, without a doubt, the most brilliant adult Harry had ever met.

-Mangled-

Severus tried, he really did, but he couldn't help but frown at the somber, dark-haired boy sitting in front of his desk with arms crossed moodily over his chest. He'd been trying, for the better part of an hour, to get the child to open up. Both because it was his job as the boy's Head of house and because he had once been there himself. He knew what it was like to tear yourself apart over the actions of your father; so likewise, he knew talking about it, being able to get everything off your chest in a safe environment was the best medicine you could hope for and just about the only plausible cure.

The problem was that no matter what he said or did, Theo Nott remained silent and sullen. It was rather apparent to Severus that the boy simply didn't find him trustworthy enough to share his secrets with, and he knew he shouldn't be surprised. He knew how hard it was to take that first step and say those first words. A part of him just really wished he could be of more help to one of his favorite little snakes.

“Very well, Theo, you may go. Please remember that my door is always open should you wish to speak with me. About anything.”

The boy scowled at him before offering only a curt nod and making a hasty yet dignified exit, neither fully acknowledging the offer nor even the familiar way in which he'd been addressed. Turning left out the door he quickly stepped out of sight, forcing Severus' frown into new proportions.

That wasn't the direction of the Slytherin common room. Mind there was still an hour until the boy's ten o'clock curfew, but where was the child disappearing to for an hour? The library? Or perhaps (hopefully) the hunger of perpetually skipping meals had finally caught up with him and he was slipping away to the kitchens for a bit. Curiosity getting the better of him, Severus Disillusioned himself and stealthily followed.

His intrigue grew as the boy went to neither of the previously assumed locations, instead taking Severus on a long walk from the dungeons all the way up towards the towers. Just where on earth did Theo think he was going? And... was that Potter?

Sure enough, another, even smaller raven-haired boy was rapidly approaching from the other direction. Potter paused when he caught sight of Theo and his green eyes darted about for a moment, obviously scouting the area for other, more hostile green and silver ties. Finding none, he relaxed and continued on as normal, surprising the Potions professor by actually nodding congenially in Theo's direction. An action the taller, pale boy reciprocated after only a moment's hesitation. Interesting.

It was as Potter passed directly by him that the boy stopped dead in his tracks, face scrunching in confusion as his eyes once again examined his surroundings. Severus smirked. So the brat could sense him but still couldn't see through the charm. It must be nearly maddening to know someone was there, watching you, but being helpless as to determine who or what they were.

After a moment, Potter shrugged and kept on his way, making Severus hesitate as to which boy he should follow. He was curious as to Theo's destination, yes, but at the same time he wanted to know just what Potter was up to, walking around with that stupid smile on his face and... had the boy purposely made even more a mess of his hair?! Horrid little brat. He was clearly up to something. Deciding it was more important to catch Potter in the act than invade young Nott's privacy, Severus changed directions and followed after the Gryffindor, smirking at the way the boy would occasionally glance searchingly over his shoulder. Oh yes, Potter could feel he was being followed all right.

The man was disappointed when Potter led him nowhere but the Gryffindor common room, cursing his decision and wishing he had indeed followed Theo instead. Regardless, he now knew Potter was plotting something. He must be, wandering around nearly uninhabited parts of the castle at night, grinning like the cat who'd caught the canary. Yes, Potter had some sort of mischief in the works; and Severus would be sure to stop him in the act. He'd wipe that smile from the boy's face easily enough. He looked forward to it.

-Warped-

“Harry!” Hermione called brightly the moment he stepped through the portrait hole, bringing the boy hero's thoughts forcefully away from the presence he knew had been following him. Looking around, he spotted her and Ron tucked tightly in the corner— far away from Percy and any other possible prying eyes. Hastening over, he gave them both a cheery grin. “Hullo.”

“Where you been, mate?” Ron demanded irritably. “We've been looking all over for you. I thought that greasy git normally only keeps you an hour.”

Harry nodded absently, taking his bag from Hermione's side and digging through it to find his Transfiguration homework. “Yeah, he did.” Okay, so the essay was about three quarters of the way done. If he stuffed in a paragraph that went into detail about the more vague subjects earlier on and then wrote a lengthy conclusion that should be enough to—

“So then where've you been?”

Blinking stupidly, Harry glanced up, wondering what Ron was on about. “Excuse me?”

Rolling his eyes, Ron repeated once more, “Where've you been? Y'know, if you weren't with Snape?”

Unaccountably, the smaller boy found himself getting quickly annoyed, mostly by his friend's tone. It was as if Ron thought he was entitled to know where Harry was every second of every day. Which he most certainly wasn't, best mates or not. Harry was the one entitled to some normal privacy, something he rarely got in the castle and often got too much of at the Dursleys. Wasn't he allowed to have a few secrets not meant for the public eye? “I just took a walk, Ron. Cleared my head.”

The ginger pulled a face. “Why?”

“Oh, I dunno, maybe because I just spent the whole day with everyone staring and whispering behind my back?” Was Ron being thick on purpose or was he really so oblivious that he hadn't noticed the increasing attention being heaped on his friend?

Luckily, Hermione was quick to catch onto Harry's growing anger and believed a distraction was in order. “That's what we wanted to tell you,” she hissed excitedly, looking over her shoulder to be sure they were definitely alone. “We think we know who the real heir of Slytherin is.”

Now she had Harry's full attention. Sitting up straighter, he looked to her expectantly, hopeful. If they could catch the real culprit, it would mean people would stop blaming him. Less stares, less whispers, and no one would run from him again.

“We went over the possible candidates, and only one really makes sense.”

Harry barely needed to think on that. “Malfoy.”

“Exactly.” Hermione's smile turned a bit predatory, making the raven-haired boy shiver, glad he wasn't the one she was after. “And best of all, we know how we can prove it.”