Severus Snape was perplexed. It was not an emotion that he particularly enjoyed. He'd known that Harry Potter was nothing like his father. James Potter had been a brash, fame-seeking bully. He may have matured when he graduated Hogwarts, but his over-the-top, Gryffindor personality had grated on Severus's nerves like a chainsaw. Harry Potter was also very unlike Lily. He had acquired some of her studious ways and a bit of her sweetness, but he was far too withdrawn most of the time to be like his social butterfly of a mum. It pained Snape, but he knew better than to cling to a lie, no matter how beautiful it may be.

So he was his own person, and that was fine, albeit unusual. The thing Severus couldn't figure out was what kind of person was he? It seemed like it not only changed from day to day, but hour to hour! Accustomed to the quicksilver changes of children as the Potions Master was, Harry Potter was just a little too different. Changed a little too much.

Like now, for instance, Severus thought as he accompanied the boy back to the dungeons. He had not expected to find the first year outside, sprawled in the grass with his shoes off. His mouth had nearly dropped open in shock when Potter used him as a stepping post to put said shoes back on. It was a gesture only girls seemed to do, yet Potter was a boy.

Although he hadn't intended for one of their sessions to take place until the next night, it occurred to Severus that right now might be a perfect opportunity to get a better glimpse into the contradiction that was Harry Potter. As such, he directed the boy to his office, taking a secondary route that bypassed the corridor in which he'd been attacked.

"In here, Potter," he said perfunctorily, slipping in ahead, with a wave of his wand to the sconces set in the wall. They glowed brightly, chasing away the shadows that clung in grim persistence to the corners of the shelves and the slightly dusty edges of the walls.

"Yes, sir," Potter answered, and climbed up on one of Snape's guest chairs. As a general matter, the chairs in Severus's office were relatively comfortable. He only changed them to hard, wooden ones when he'd a particularly egregious miscreant sat in front of him. Still, the softness of the chair seemed no reason for the soft sigh of pleasure that escaped Potter's lips. If it hadn't been nearly deathly quiet in the office, he never would have heard it. As it was, he stared at the eleven-year-old hard, willing the puzzle to reassemble itself into anything approaching sense.

Since it didn't, Snape instead opened the conversation, striving to let Potter know that for these twice-weekly sessions, it was to be considered a safe space. While Snape would act on anything that went against the rules in any sort of overt manner, it was still a place for Potter to speak out about things that concerned him, and his own thoughts and feelings regarding the assault earlier in the year. Violent and profane language was allowed and to some extent, even encouraged.

As he spoke, Severus intently watched the boy. He'd begun to fidget, hooking his feet around the legs of his chair, and behaving, in nearly all respects, like someone entirely different from the child who'd sauntered into the dungeons with him. What was the matter with this boy? In frustration, Snape nearly snapped out for Potter to simply tell him what was wrong with him, but he swallowed it back with Slytherin-born instincts. Nothing would be gained and in all likelihood, quite a bit would be lost by him blundering ahead like a foolhardy Gryffindor.

"Do you understand, Potter?" Severus concluded and sat back, steepling his fingers in front of him. Potter nodded once, his gaze firmly directed at the floor. The stiff line of his shoulders bespoke a world of tension, and if Severus hadn't known better, he would have claimed that an aura of fear lay about the first year like a carefully gathered shroud.

"Well, then. We may as well get started. I do not wish to leap into any specifics, unless you wish to go into them yourself, Mr. Potter. But, perhaps this may do as a start. How do you feel about what took place earlier this year? Either the assault itself, the aftermath, or the revealing of the perpetrators?"

The change was extraordinary. The shoulders loosened, the feet casually unhooked themselves, and the face came up. Eyes brimming with both anger and a curious sort of arrogance.

"How the fuck do you think I feel?" Harry Potter retorted and smiled.

Severus blinked. The world rearranged itself briefly. For just a moment, a thought danced along the edges of his mind. The changes in behaviour, in personality, in appearance, they all meant something, but what? What? The thought skittered tantalizingly against his brain, then vanished. Nothing. No matter. He would find out, regardless of how long it took. At another time. Now, he had a very angry-looking eleven-year-old boy to handle. And that, he was more than capable of doing.

Really? Tom raged at Jay the entire time they walked back to Slytherin quarters. Jay couldn't stop smirking, an expression that even curled their lips outside. Could you not see he's already getting suspicious? Do you WANT to get caught?

Relax, Jay said dismissively as they slipped inside the common room. No one was around but a few older years in a corner, pretending to study. He went up to bed, performing the usual locking spell on their curtains and adding a warning alarm for when someone entered the room. He doesn't know a thing. No one does. Remember? Harry Potter is normal. A derisive snort escaped as he flopped back on the pillow, spreading his arms wide. Their earlier exhaustion had returned with a vengeance, and it felt good to simply lie down.

Dumbledore believes that, but Snape isn't that blind, Tom retorted. He sees more than most. Particularly being the Head of this House. We have to be careful. We've been far too lax with switching in front of other people, and it's going to bite us in the arse sooner or later.

My money's on later, Jay said lazily. Besides, it was fun. It's fun to fuck with him.

Be that as it may, Tom sighed. He knew talking about it any further was pointless. Jay was too busy riding the high of shocking the Potions professor to actually bother to calm down and listen to him. It had been a bit of fun, but at what cost? Tom was right. He knew he was. Snape was suspicious. The other professors might be soon, but he doubted it. Not unless something startling happened. But Snape was their Head of House. He had a knack for noticing what others didn't.

For that matter, he was fairly sure some of their friends had noticed something was off, as well. Not Theodore, that boy was oblivious (how had he made it in here again?), but Blaise. Possibly Hermione, although he doubted Hermione cared, even if she'd noticed. She had precious few friends, even among the studious bookworms of her own kind, and cherished the few friendships she did have.

He couldn't keep as tight a hold here. Vernon wasn't here. Petunia wasn't here. They weren't being abused anymore (although the ever-present threat of returning to the Dursleys was always there, staining their thoughts), and so the system was growing a bit wild. Pushing the boundaries, testing what was okay and what wasn't. It was unacceptable and couldn't be allowed to continue.

You could tell someone, the thought crossed Tom's mind, but he firmly rejected it. No. Perhaps if there was no other choice, he'd attempt to explain it to someone, but until then?

The world could stay convinced that Harry Potter was normal.