Neville watched Harry in breakfast the next morning, slightly amused. Harry was jittery, looking nervous, and kept glancing at Snape and at the ceiling as if he was watching for something. Neville had a feeling he knew what was about to happen. The owls fluttered in with the morning post and packages and-ah. There it was.

Archimicarus, his mother's owl, swooped down and dropped a red envelope in Harry's oatmeal. Blaise took one look and scooted as far away as possible. All color drained from Harry's face. Harry snatched the letter up and ran to the large doors, but he didn't make it in time.

Harry dropped the Howler as a rip formed in the middle. The Howler drew in a deep breath, and the voice of their mother filled the Great Hall.

"HARROLD JAMES POTTER! WHAT ON EARTH WERE YOU THINKING, TAKING A DIVE LIKE THAT? YOU COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED! YOU COULD HAVE BEEN SERIOUSLY HURT!"

"Lily, it's not that bad-" their father's voice cut in.

"SHUSH, JAMES! I SWEAR NEXT TIME I SEE YOU YOUNG MAN, YOU WILL GET THE WHOOPING OF A LIFETIME AND YOU'RE GROUNDED UNTIL YOU GRADUATE! DONT YOU EVER, I MEAN EVER, DO ANYTHING LIKE THAT AGAIN. IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE, YOU ARE COMING STRAIGHT HOME, DO YOU HEAR ME, YOUNG MAN?"   

"Lily, come on-"

 "YOU ARE SO LUCKY THAT I WIL ALLOW YOU TO TRY OUT FOR QUIDDITCH NEXT YEAR! IF IT WERE UP TO ME, YOU WOULD NEVER SET FOOT ON THAT FEILD!"

 "Thank Merlin for some small miracles..." Neville could hear his Uncle Padfoot mumble in the background.

The Howler turned towards Neville.

"Oh, and Neville, dear. I am so glad you are feeling okay and that your arm is all better. Congratulations on making Hufflepuff. All of us are so proud. I hope you have been having a good first couple of days." With that, the Howler turned back to Harry, huffed, then ripped itself to shreds.

The entire Great Hall was completely silent. Everyone looked shocked, looking at each other to make sure that what just happened was true. Then a giggle arose from the Gryffindor table, and soon, the entire hall was giggling, including some of the teachers. Harry looked like he wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor, and Neville felt the same. It wasn't that he was embarrassed for himself, he just felt extreme second-hand embarrassment for Harry.

Harry slowly walked back to his seat, a pink-red color beginning to rise on his neck, face and ears . He sat down, and Blaise patted his back comfortingly. A hoot sounded above them and everyone looked up. Neville felt a small sense of dread fill his stomach when he spotted his father's owl, Amethyst, fly towards him. Harry followed the owl's descent towards Neville and mouthed 'good luck'.

     A small sigh escaped him when he noticed the letter was a plain white instead of Howler red. He fed Amethyst some of his bacon and she hooted in thanks and took off, spilling his pumpkin juice into his cereal. An apple rolled off his plate and Justin snatched it up and took a bite.

"Hey!" Neville laughed and lightly hit Justin on the arm. Justin grinned, a bit of apple falling out of his mouth.

"Oh my god that is so gross." Neville pretended to gag. Justin stuck out his tongue, apple mush covering the entirety of it.

"Ew." Neville shoved Justin and opened the envelope, peering inside. There were two letters folded neatly beside each other. He picked the closest one.

Neville, it began in his father's loopy handwriting.

I hope you have had a good first couple of days. How's Hufflepuff treating ya? Tell Harry that we are proud of him getting into Slytherin as well. Your mother was too much into a rage to remember to congratulate him.'

Neville snorted and Justin peeked over his shoulder to see what was so funny.

'Anyway, I hope you-

A long black line went across the page, as if someone had jerked the quill from his father's hands.

Hey Neville! The spikey handwriting of his Uncle Padfoot took the place of his father's writing.

How you've been? I heard you got into Hufflepuff. That's great! It's one of the better Light houses there, so that's good. I hope you're keeping an eye on Harry. Make sure he doesn't associate with the wrong crowd. You can never trust Slytherins. While you're at it, make sure you keep an eye on ol' Snivelly Snape, too. Greasiest git if I ever saw one.

Neville felt a memory began to tug it's way to the surface when he read 'greasy git', but it faded away just as soon as it came. Why did that sound so familiar?

I'll be sending something awesome for both of you soon, so watch out for-

Another line of ink.

Sorry about that, Neville. Your Uncle Padfoot took the letter away from me and ran upstairs to write his own bit.

Neville rolled his eyes. He expected that was the case.

I agree to an extent to what Sirius said. Keep an eye out for who Harry hangs out with. Not all Slytherins are bad, but you never know. But with how his encounter with Malfoy went I don't think we'll have to worry much. Snape is okay. Leave him alone. Your uncle is just being paranoid.

A splotch of ink was in the middle of the word 'paranoid', as if his dad was letting the ink drip.

Sorry about that smudge. Your Uncle Moony says 'hi', by the way. Anyways, I love you, and I hope you're having a good time. Write often and I'll see you at Christmas.

                         -Dad
P.S. Give the other letter to Harry when you see him. 

 Neville neatly folded the letter back and put it in his pocket alongside his Remembrall. He figured his dad was being nice about Harry being in Slytherin because his mother was breathing down his neck, but who was he to know. He could have finally grown up and realized how bigoted he was being when Harry got sorted. His Uncle Padfoot though...he knew he wouldn't change much. He was still so immature, despite being in his thirties.

The bell rang for the end of breakfast and Neville got up along with the other Hufflepuffs. He spotted Harry talking to Ron and Hermione and tapped him on the head with the letter.

"It's for you." Harry took the letter and peered inside.

"Thanks. See you later in Defense." They tapped fists and Neville followed the other firsts years to Transfiguration.

                                                                      *`*`*`*`
    

Harry took a quick peek at the letter from his dad and put it in his satchel next to his books. He tightened the strap and walked beside Blaise.

 "Ugh, I cant believe we have Potions first thing in the morning," Blaise complained, stretching. His arm bumped the back of Harry's head and Harry shoved it away.

 "I'm not even awake yet. Watch, I'm going to blow up our potion because I fall asleep." Blaise yawned, and Harry yawned with him.

"Hey! Don't make me tired, too!" Harry yawned again. "I'll wake you up if you do. But I don't think we have to make a potion on our first day. I think we just go over rules or something."

Blaise huffed. "Bo-oring. I want to blow stuff up!" Blaise pumped his fist in the air.

Harry scoffed light-heartedly. "You sound like a Gryffindor."

"Hey! What's wrong with being a Gryff?" Ron came walking beside them, swinging his arms at his side. Harry clapped him on the back in greeting.

"Nothing." He grinned. "I should know. I live with four of them."

They reached the Potions classroom. Snape was waiting for them, arms crossed and looking rather fierce. Harry was a bit shocked to see his professor. He didn't see him leave before them. How had he gotten there without Harry seeing him pass?

Snape held open the door. "Go in and pick a seat," he growled, sending them all a dark look. Harry scurried behind Ron and Blaise into the classroom. His head of house was definitely not in a good mood this morning.

Harry chose a seat between his two friends near the back of the room. He pretended not to notice Malfoy sit right in front of him and pulled out a notebook and quill, Blaise and Ron following his lead. Snape walked in and shut the door, nearly slamming it shut, making Harry and a few others jump in their seats. He turned and faced them, leaning against his desk

"Put your wands away," he said, his voice ringing around the room. "You will not need them for this class." Some students grumbled, looking a bit put out, and shoved their wands in their pockets or packs. Snape's gaze swept slowly across the room, studying them, making the students lean forward in attention. 

"Today," he began, his voice going eerily quiet. "you are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making. There will be no silly wand-waving in this class. As such, I suspect many of you do not consider this magic. However, for those of you who possess the pre-disposition, I can teach you many things." His voice got even quieter, dramatically so. Despite this, Harry could hear every word he was saying, as if he was charming the walls to echo every word.

"I can teach you how to bewitch the mind, ensnare the senses. I can teach you to brew glory, bottle fame, and even put a stopper to death..." Some students gasped, and Snape smirked.

 "Now!" he barked, making multiple students jump. "Can anyone tell me where to find a bezoar?"

No students raised their hand. Harry swore he heard a cricket chirp somewhere to his left. Harry inched his hand up, but quickly brought it down when he noticed nobody else made an attempt to raise theirs.

"Nobody?" Snape tut-tutted. "Shame." A sneer twisted his face and his voice was laced with venom. "It seems nobody bothered to open a book before coming here, eh? Did you think you would not need to learn such trivial knowledge? Is that what you think?" His voice rose, angry, and some students in the front shrank back in fear. 

     "You are just like the bunch of dunderheads I usually-"

Harry raised his hand. "Sir?" he called out, cutting his professor off mid-sentence. Blaise and Ron's eyebrows went up nearly to their hairline in shock.

"What are you doing, Harry?" Ron hissed at him.

 "Shut up," he hissed back. He turned back towards Snape. "I know the answer, professor."

Snape looked mildly annoyed. "And why didn't you answer before, instead of interrupting me?"

 Harry's hand fell a bit. "Uh..."

Snape waved away his stutter. "No matter. Let's see if you actually read the book. Mr. Potter, where would you look to find a bezoar?"

Harry gathered up his inherited Gryffindor courage, trying to remember all the lessons with his mother over potions, and tried not to stutter. "In the stomach of a goat, uh, sir." He started off confidant, but his voice trailed away to a whisper as more people stared at him.

Snape nodded. "Very good. What is the difference between monkswood and wolfsbane?"

That was easy. Harry could answer that one in his sleep. Living with a werewolf for an uncle taught him a few things. "Nothing sir. They are both the same plant and are also known as aconite."

Snape seemed impressed. He folded his arms and crossed his legs at the ankles, still leaning his hip against the side of his desk. He cocked his head sideways.

"And what, Mr. Potter, would I get if I added a powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry had to rack his brain for that one. He tried to remember his mother's lessons, but nothing was coming. 'Think, Harry! Think! Mum went over this a million times!' 

"Er...I..." Harry stuttered, trying to find the right words. Malfoy and some other students snickered, but a glare from Snape shut them up.

Blaise raised his hand, and Harry let a breath of relief escape. At least Blaise could answer the question for him! "I don't know, sir. But I think Blaise knows. Why don't you ask him?" Harry motioned towards his friend. Blaise waved his hand a bit, making little grunting noises. 

     "Put your hand down, Mr. Zabini." Blaise slowly lowered his hand, looking a bit rejected. "Mr.Potter, I am asking you, not him. I expect you to know the answer." Snape waited expectantly.

Harry wanted to scream. 'Asphodel and wormwood. Asphodel and wormwood. What is it?!'

A memory wiggled its way to the surface. A man with a deep voice was reading to him, telling him something from a book.

*"Now listen closely, Neville, Harry. Harry, quit playing with Archimicarus and pay attention. Thank you." The man cleared his throat, and Harry sat beside Neville on his lap. "Basic Potions for Beginners," the man began. "Chapter One: Sleeping Potions. Asphodel and wormwood. Harmless on it's own. But when mixed together can create a very deadly potion. The Draught of..."* The memory faded, and Harry shook his head, a bit annoyed. Of course the memory would end there.

'A powerful sleeping potion?' Harry thought, recalling the man's words. "Maybe...'

"Uh...the Draught of Living Death...?" Harry took a shot in the dark, hoping his intuitions were correct. To his surprise, Snape nodded.

"Correct again, Mr. Potter. See, was it that hard?" Even Ron snickered this time. 

Snape went up to the board and began writing. "The Drought of Living Death: a sleeping potion so powerful that whoever drinks it will go into an instant coma so strong it is like death. So far, there has been no cure and all the patients remain in a deep sleep even now." He turned to them. "Well, why aren't you writing any of this down?" The sound of parchment rustling and quills scratching filled the room as everyone hurried to write everything down.

 Snape seemed to have lost his bad mood from earlier and the rest of the class went smoothly. Or as smoothly as it could with Gryffindors and Slytherins sharing a room for an extended period of time. Finally the bell rang, and Harry, Ron, and Blaise quickly began to walk to the door. Snape motioned for him to come over and Harry branched off from his friends.

 "I'll join you in a bit, Blaise. Tell Professor McGonagall where I am. I'll see you at lunch later, Ron." He waved to his friends and walked towards Snape's desk. Snape finished erasing the chalk from the board.

"I would like to congratulate you on knowing the correct answers, Mr. Potter. Not many first years do. That material is usually for third years." Snape dusted chalk off his hands and sat in his chair.

"But then why is it in Potions for Beginners?" Harry asked, readjusting his strap on his shoulder.

Snape looked a bit confused. "You remember the...?" he mumbled then shook his head. "Nevermind. I just wanted to congratulate you and five points to Slytherin for your extensive knowledge." Then Snape did something that Harry thought he would never see: he smiled.

Harry stood in shock while Snape wrote out a note for his next class. He took the small green slip from his teacher's potion-stained hands and walked out the door, still a bit in a daze. Granted, the smile wasn't even a really big one. It didn't even reach his eyes. It was just the sight of the most feared professor smiling-if only a little-let alone at Harry, was odd. No doubt no one would believe him if he told. 

He stepped through the threshold into the Transfiguration classroom. McGonagall was standing in front of the class, taking roll. She peered at him out of the side of her eye as he walked in and placed the note on her desk, but didn't pause in her talking. He found Hermione and Blaise near the front of the room and chose an empty seat beside them. 

 "Harry Potter?" McGonagall called.

'Just in time,' Harry thought as he raised his hand and replied, "Here!" Some of the students stared at him, blatantly obvious, until their names were called. They answered then went back to staring. Hermione glared at them while Harry shrank in his seat. It seemed the Howler incident from breakfast was still fresh in their minds.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and the students turned back to her, which made Harry relived. Hermione quit glaring and turned to face McGonagall, which suited Harry just fine. He had to admit, she looked rather terrifying when she was angry, and was glad the glare wasn't pointed in his direction.

 For the next hour and a half, Harry was shown how to Transfigure multiple things into other things. His dad had always gushed about how Transfiguration was his favorite subject, how Harry would excel in it because he had James' blood and obviously had a natural knack for it, but Harry didn't really see the point. Sure, it could be useful, but Harry wasn't about to go about his everyday life Transfiguring a mouse into a glass every five seconds. Harry turned to whisper his opinions to his friends was unpleased to find Blaise and Hermione listening with rapt attention.

He didn't want to be rude to his professor, so he paid attention and tried to Transfigure his rat into a needle, which to his disappointment, was one of the only few that got it on their first try besides Hermione. It seemed he did have a natural knack for it after all. It wasn't going to make him like the class any better, though.

When the bell rang for lunch, Harry was one of the first ones out of the class. He speed walked to the Slytherin table, Blaise panting behind him trying to catch up. He scarfed down chicken and bread, drank his pumpkin juice with one gulp, and sat jiggling his leg up and down, receiving odd looks from the other Slytherins.

"Harry?" Blaise asked, swallowing a bite of potato. "What on earth is wrong with you? Dinner started not five minutes ago, and you're already done?"

Harry barely heard him. "Hmm? Oh, I just can't wait for Defense." His leg jiggled even faster.

Blaise put his hand on Harry's knee, affectively making him stop. "Stop shaking your leg, Harry," he said with a small laugh. "You're making me nervous." Harry gave him a small apologetic smile.

Blaise let go of his leg, turning back to his plate. "If it's about seeing Neville, he's literally right over there." He pointed his thumb behind him to Neville at the Hufflepuff table, who was in a heated conversation with Justin over Merlin-knows-what. "You can just walk over and talk to him."

Harry shook his head. "It's not that.". Defense was the one class he had been looking forward to ever since he had gotten his letter. With the combined excitement from his Uncles and his father, Harry had practically buzzed with excitement each time he had heard stories of Defense class. He wanted lunch to be over as soon as possible so he could experience the same excitement his family had.

"Well then," Blaise replied. "do something else then, besides shake the entire table. Eat some treacle tart, read that letter you got this morning, something!" With a small shove, he made the plate of treacle tarts and pumpkin pasties move towards Harry and then returned to devouring his potato.

Something clicked inside Harry's head. That's right! Harry rummaged in his bag, looking for the letter. He had completely forgotten about the letter from Dad that Neville had given him. Finding it wedged between his Potions book and some spare parchment, he yanked it out, smoothing the edges that got crinkled.

Hey, Harry! his Dad's handwriting spread across the page.

I just wanted to say how proud we are of you getting into Slytherin, all of us! And that includes Uncle Padfoot.

Harry blinked at that. Surely not. His mother had to have written that.

I also heard of that little debacle you got into with the flying lessons.

Harry's felt his face turn red. Great, he had gotten in trouble with his mum and now his dad was going to tear him a new one as well.

I talked to your Head of House, Professor Snape, and we both came to the conclusion that you can try out for the Quidditch team. How awesome is that! You can try out, and your a first year! That hasn't happened in nearly one hundred years! Of course, it is all up to your Captain if you get a position or not, but I wouldn't sweat it. You're a natural. But don't tell your mother. We haven't told her yet. (And I honestly don't want to. She's terrifying when she's angry!)

Harry swore his jaw hit the table. He could try out for the Quidditch team?! He looked up at the teacher's table, where he spotted Snape talking with Professor McGonagall. Snape noticed him staring and turned to look him in the eyes. Harry held up the letter with a questioning raise of an eyebrow, and Snape simply nodded, as if he knew exactly what the contents of the paper was.

On the other hand, Professor Snape and I both agree that if you do make the Quidditch team and it makes your grades suffer, we will have no guilt in pulling you from the team either infinitely or until your grades get better. Most likely the latter. I don't want to make you suffer.

 Anyway, you need to talk to Snape about it sometime this week, before tryouts. If everything is the same as it was like I assume it is, tryouts will be held around next Saturday. Better get started on that!

I am so proud of you, and I hope you have a great time.      

-Dad.

P.S. Don't reply to this letter. Don't want Mummy finding out do we?

Harry folded the letter and put it back into his bag in silent shock. He grabbed a pumpkin pasty and nibbled on the tart until lunch ended, where he walked beside Blaise and Neville to the Defense room, still in a daze. They poked and prodded at him, wanting to know what was wrong, but Harry didn't answer, still mulling the contents of the letter over in his head.  

The sight of the Defense classroom door snapped him out of his thoughts and he eagerly ran to the front of the line waiting. Quirrell came not far behind Harry, stuttering out an apology for being late, and unlocked the door. Harry quickly chose a front row seat, and Blaise and Neville sat on either side of him.

"H-hello, c-c-class," Professor Quirrell stuttered as he stood in front of the chalkboard, where 'Defense 101' was written in spikey, jerky handwriting. Instantly, the smile fell off of Harry's face only to be replaced by a look of irritation. Great, the one class he had looked forward to, and it was taught by a bumbling idiot.

With a sigh of resignation, he rested his head on his hand and tried his best to keep his eyes open and pay attention. Merlin, he wished he were anywhere but in the garlic-filled classroom.

                                                                           *`*`*`*`
    

Neville couldn't keep the shock off of his face as Quirrell taught-if one could call it teaching- at the front of the classroom, stuttering and trembling, even tripping over the corner of his desk. The shock quadrupled when he pulled out a giant iguana seemingly out of nowhere and began to pet it as he stumbled through his speech. What was the iguana for? What purpose did that serve in Defense class? Was it some Dark iguana that they were going to fight to see how much they knew?

 He shot an unbelieving glance at Justin beside him, who shrugged, a mixed look of confusion and shock written over his features as well. This was the class that his family loved so much? Things definitely must have been different back in their day if this was the "fun" class.

As it turned out, the iguana wasn't something that they should have feared or fought, and certainly wasn't Dark by any means. It passed gas multiple times, apparently something Quirrell didn't notice, but the class certainly did. The iguana toots plus the overwhelming smell of garlic made nearly everyone want to gag.

The remainder of the class was spent trying not to breathe in the toxic fumes of the iguana's flatulence and try and stay awake over Quirrell's stuttering. Neville really regretted sitting in the front row, and by the look of it, so did Harry. He glared at Quirrell and the iguana over the robe that covered his mouth and nose, making it blatantly obvious what he thought of the class, and didn't even stop when Quirrell looked him dead in the eyes. 

     Quirrell seemed to have a fascination with Harry and Neville. He stared at them both the entire time he talked, only breaking eye contact when a student asked a question, then went back to staring creepily at them. Neville narrowed his eyes. Something was definitely wrong with the professor, besides the stuttering, although he shouldn't judge. Some people couldn't help having a stutter. Quirrell, when not petting the giant reptile, would fiddle with a strange golden locket that hung around his neck, shooting what appeared to be almost menacing looks at them the entire time.

Neville was more than happy to leave when the bell rang. He grabbed his bag, swung it over his shoulder and walked beside Justin, Blaise, and Harry out the door, not even taking a backwards glance to the turbaned professor.

Harry slowed his walk midway to the Great Hall, falling behind. Neville turned to him, concern showing on his face. "What's wrong, Harry?"

Harry peered at him over the rim of his round glasses, an emotion that Neville couldn't place flashing in his green eyes. "Nothing. I'm not really hungry. I think I'm going to go to the common room. I'll see you guys later, okay?" With that, he turned on his heel and headed down the hallway in the opposite direction, not even waving goodbye. Blaise gave Neville and Justin an odd look.

"D'you think something's wrong with him?" Blaise asked. Neville shrugged, while Justin made an "I don't know" noise. Blaise furrowed his eyebrows, his dark eyes shining with worry.

 "He seemed sad. Why would he be sad?"

"Perhaps it was because the Defense class sucked," Justin piped in. Neville had to agree whole heartedly. Blaise's worry frowns deepened. "No, I don't think so," he muttered. He took a couple of steps in the direction Harry was going, then turned in their direction.

"I think I'll head to the common room as well. I'll check on Harry. See you tomorrow Neville, Justin."

Neville and Justin waved at the retreating form of their Slytherin friend. Neville watched with a sense of concern and worry. What was wrong with Harry? He seemed fine before Defense. Did Quirrell do something without them realizing it?

Justin tugged on his wrist, pulling him towards the large doors of the Great Hall. "Come on, Neville. There's no reason to worry. I'm sure Harry will tell us later."

Neville hummed in reply, still looking down the hallway, and Justin sighed. He got behind Neville and shoved him forward, effectively making him walk towards the Great Hall. "Harry will be fine, Neville. You can worry about your brother later. Right now, we need to focus on not being late for dinner. Professor Sprout will be mad if we're not there with the other Hufflepuffs."

With reluctance, Neville walked with Justin to the bustling and loud room. He barely ate, mind still caught up in worrying about Harry. Justin kept flashing him looks, both worried and slightly angry, as he ate, but other wise left Neville alone. As if in a daze, he got up with the other Hufflepuffs and walked in a single file to the common room, where a Prefect tapped on the correct barrels to let them in. He quickly dressed in his pajamas and shuffled under the silky sheets, letting a small sigh of content escape.

Justin threw a pillow at Neville's head, which Neville quickly threw back with a small laugh. Another Hufflepuff that Neville didn't know the name of put his finger to his lips, shushing them. Justin and Neville gave another small laugh, much to the annoyance of the other Hufflepuff, and finally settled down.

Justin gave Neville a small look from behind his pillow, which he was clutching to his chest. "See, there's the Neville that I know." His eyes crinkled from the large smile.

Neville gave his own small smile back. He looked down at his sheets, fiddling with the smooth fabric between his thumb and forefinger. "I just can't help but worry about him, you know? He's my brother."

Justin nodded, which surprised Neville. "I know what you mean. I have a little brother at home that I worry about constantly. But Harry will be fine, Neville. If he wants to talk about it, he will. Now, go to sleep, okay? Professor Sprout will be here any moment to check up on us."

 Neville complied. He settled back down under his sheets, turning off his lamp with a single twist of the little knob. "Goodnight, Justin," Neville whispered.

"Goodnight, Neville. Sweet dreams."

"You too."
                                                                   *`*`*`*`
    

Harry tried to ignore the twinge of hunger in his stomach, and closed his eyes. He knew he wasn't going to get any sleep. His dorm mates had come in after dinner and had promptly fell asleep after hitting their heads on their pillows. That had been nearly three hours ago, and Harry was still as wide awake as he was when he first came in.

Blaise let out a little snuffle and rolled over to face the window. Harry looked at his friend, who slept one bed away. The moonlight that travelled it's way into the Black Lake illuminated their dorm with watery swirls and ripples. It was serene and calming. Blue light covered each of their black bed covers, making the outlines of the kids sleeping visible. 

Harry had feigned sleep when Blaise had walked in after Harry. He knew that Blaise knew he wasn't asleep, but silently thanked the other boy in his head when he didn't bother Harry, seeming to understand that Harry wanted to be left alone. Blaise had ordered dinner from a House Elf, and had even left some for Harry to eat, but when it was obvious that Harry wasn't going to eat the offered food, he called the House Elf back and it went to the kitchens.

Now Harry had wished he had eaten at least some of the food. His belly rumbled constantly, and nothing short of putting his pillow over it could muffle the sounds. He was hungry, and he missed his home. He missed his Uncles, his mum, his dad. He even missed Neville, despite the fact that he had seen him not five hours earlier.

He didn't know when his homesickness began, but after Defense class, he had felt drained, tired, and sad, and wanted nothing more than to lay in bed and wallow in his own thoughts. And he had done that, until Blaise popped in.

 Harry sighed, bringing his pillow to cover his face. He wanted to see Neville again, to curl up with him like they used to do when one or the other had a bad dream. Maybe then some of his homesickness would go away.

Mind set, Harry put on his slippers, threw back his cover and headed for the portrait. He padded down the cold dungeons, hoping that he was heading in the right direction, and prayed to whoever above that a teacher didn't spot him. He had heard an older Hufflepuff give directions to a first year and tried to remember exactly where he was going.

'Past the pear portrait, then left a bit-aha!'

He stood in front of multiple barrels in front of a giant Hobbit hole. He tried pushing on the door, but it didn't budge. He looked around, hoping to spot something that would open it. He leaned against a barrel, thinking, then got the shock of his life when the barrel he was leaning against and others suddenly exploded, drenching him in what smelled like vinegar.

"Oh, yuck!" Harry flapped his arms, shaking away some of the salty liquid. He heard the Hobbit hole begin to creak open, and without thinking, booked it as fast as he could down the hallway, knocking over a barrel in the process, making even more vinegar go sloshing onto the floor.        

He didn't pay attention to where he was going, he just ran. Finally, when he got too tired, he stopped, leaning against the hard wall to catch his breath. He realized he wasn't in the dungeons anymore, and wrapped his arms around himself, shivering from the cold that was seeping into his body.

All he wanted to do was visit Neville. He didn't want to be soaked to the bone with vinegar! He leaned his head against the wall, wincing at the rather hard thump it caused. He sighed. Well that didn't help him one bit. And what was up with the vinegar?

 A cat's meow caught his attention and he swiveled his head around to see two large green eyes looking at him from the shadows, and a small sense of dread filled him. He had heard of Mrs. Norris from his mother. Apparently that cat loved to slink around at night, catching students off guard and go running to her master, where he would then appear out of the clear blue and give horrifying detentions. Just what he needed. A detention on his third day.

 The cat gracefully walked out of the shadows towards Harry, her green eyes still locked firmly on him.

"Heh, nice kitty. Good Mrs. Norris," Harry tried, holding out his hand to sniff. The cat wrinkled her nose, as if she was displeased.

"You're not Mrs. Norris?" Harry guessed. The cat cave out a 'mrow' in agreement, and Harry slunk back against the wall, relieved. The grey tabby cat came closer, and this time wrinkled her nose at Harry's stench.

 "Yeah, I know. Apparently the Hufflepuff's warding against intruders is soaking them in vinegar. What type of warding is that?" Harry threw his arms up, and brought them down against his sides, which made a disgusting squish sound.

"I just wanted to see my brother," Harry grumbled. The cat came closer, and Harry ran a hand over her sleek fur. She didn't seem mad that he was getting her fur wet, so he continued to pet her. He began to rub the velvety ears, which made a rather loud purr erupt from her chest. Harry laughed.

 "Whose cat are you anyway? I'm sure they're missing you right now," he mused as he rubbed all the way down to her tail. The tabby gave him a sideways glance, her large green eyes glittering with something, and began to walk down the hallway. She stopped and turned back, her tail twitching, as if to say "Well, aren't you coming?"

Intrigued, Harry got up from the ground, leaving a small puddle of vinegar, and followed the cat. She seemed to know Hogwarts well. She zoomed past suits of armor, went out of Peeves' way, even managed to slip past Filch!, and began to travel down the dungeons to what Harry only assumed was her owner's rooms.

 A rather familiar black door began to come into view, and Harry had to look down at the cat in wonder. The cat belonged to Snape? Then Harry realized where exactly he was heading, and felt a twinge of guilt and fear. No doubt Snape would take away points for being out so late.

The tabby sat on her haunches right in front of the door and gave a rather loud yowl. When nothing happened for a few moments, she did it again. The doorknob rattled, and Snape poked his head out. He looked like he hadn't even gone to bed. His hair was the same as it always was, hanging limply around his face, and he still had on his teaching robes. When he spotted the cat, he stepped all the way through the door, not even noticing Harry. If he did, he didn't let on.

"Hello, Minerva. Here to give me back one of my wayward students?" Snape asked. 

 Harry had to take a step back in shock when the cat in front of him transformed into professor McGonagall. Instead of feeling terrified that he had been caught by not one, but two teachers, the first thought that ran through his mind was, 'I was petting my Professor?!'

"I found him not far from the kitchens, Severus. I'm sure you'll know what to do with him." At Snape's nod, she twirled on her heel, and most curiously, placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed as she passed, seeming to give him courage to face the Potions Professor. With a gulp, Harry turned to face the wrath of Snape, expecting to see a look of pure fury over his Head of House's face, but instead turned to see Snape with a calm mask softening his features. Without a word, Snape opened the door wider and pointed inside, where Harry quickly scurried past the black robed man and into the abandoned classroom.

 Snape shut the door and sat behind his desk, where stacks of parchment were piled high. Harry had a sense of Deja vu from when he stood in the exact spot after the flying lessons travesty.

"I assume you weren't heading to the kitchens for a late night snack?" Snape said suddenly, making Harry jump. Snape had his hands folded together, his black gaze fixed squarely on Harry.

 "Oh, uh, no sir. I'm not hungry," he said, but then not a second later his stomach growled loudly. Snape raised an elegant eyebrow, and with a wave of his wand, a plate full of sandwiches appeared. Harry slowly grabbed one and took a giant bite, settling his rumbling tummy.

"Why then, pray tell, were you near the kitchen corridor?" A slight sneer graced his face, making his onyx eyes go even darker.

 "I just wanted to see Neville," Harry complained. Snape seemed to notice then the stench of vinegar rolling off of Harry in waves, and with a wrinkle of his overlarge nose and another wave of his wand, Harry's clothes became dry, the stench evaporating with the wetness.

"I should take points, Mr. Potter, for being out so late," Snape snapped. Harry ducked his head.

"M'sorry, sir. I just wanted-"

"To see your brother, yes, I know. But did it ever occur to you that you could have waited until breakfast?"

Harry looked up. "Yes, sir, I know. I just...miss him. I'm not used to being away from him so long. Or my parents."

Something akin to understanding shone in his eyes, making Harry feel a little bit of relief.

"I see. You're homesick."

"Yes, sir." Harry nodded.

Snape made a 'come here' gesture, and took a vial of purple potion from one of the shelves above the desk. Harry walked forward and took the potion from Snape's outstretched hand.

"What is it, sir?" Harry asked curiously.

"It's a Calming Draught. It will keep your mind clear of thoughts and soothe you. It should help you go to sleep without any problems. Take it before you go back to bed."

 Harry nodded, clutching the vial tighter. Harry went to exit the classroom, but was stopped by Snape.

"And another thing, Potter. If you are ever homesick again, come straight to me. Don't go wandering around the corridors. You don't want another incident like this one to happen again, do you?" Snape smirked.

Harry shook his head vigorously. He never wanted to even see a bottle of vinegar again.

 "I will give you another Calming Draught if you ever feel homesick again, but please try and not make this a habit. Calming Draughts can get addictive, and with one as young as you are, it can happen very fast," Snape said.

"Thank you, sir. For the potion, I mean," Harry thanked. Snape inclined his head slightly in a small nod, turning back to the parchment on his desk. Before leaving the room, he stopped for a second time, remembering something.

"Oh! Sir!" he added, twirling around. "My dad sent me a letter. He said something about Quidditch-"

Snape's head snapped up. "We'll discuss that at a later time, Potter. For now, I would suggest you go back to your dorm before another teacher spots you."

Snape motioned for Harry to leave with a wave of his hand, and Harry went his way, closing the door softly behind him, the Calming Draught stuffed into his pajama pants pocket. He tiptoed the rest of the way to the common room, taking extra precaution to avoid the teachers that might be lurking in the darkness.

He managed to get into his shared dorm without waking anyone and quickly uncapped the cork on the vial. He got himself comfy underneath the covers, creating a loud squeak from his bed. He paused. Blaise opened one eye, snuffled, then went back to sleep. Harry sighed, then quickly downed the potion. He placed it on his bedside table then snuggled deep under the silky black bedcovers.

He went to sleep with no homesickness and no dreams.