Chapter One

The sun was just setting over little whinging when harry potter dragged himself from the backyard shed covered in cobwebs and dust, one small spider still clinging to the web caught in his eternally messy black hair. He knocked once on the back door and waited patiently for his aunt to open it, before wiping his feet off and stepping inside without a word.

He headed straight to the bathroom, ignoring his aunt's screeches from the kitchen and stripping off quickly he stepped under the tepid spray. He needed to be showered and back in the kitchen cooking dinner before his uncle got home.

Two minutes later, he was in his room pulling on ragged, too big, but clean pants, and a long sleeved shirt that might have been blue once but was now a washed out grey. He was in the kitchen a moment later, so that by the time his uncle and his cousin got home and barrelled into the kitchen, he was ready to serve up.

"Did you finish that shed, boy?" his uncle glared at him.

"Yes, uncle Vernon, its all clean and sorted." Harry replied, before turning to grab the hot roasting pan from the oven. His uncle grunted, obviously annoyed there wasn't anything to fault him for and Harry quietly dished up large plates for his uncle and cousin, and a smaller plate for his aunt. When they were all busy with their food, he grabbed two slices of plain bread for himself and headed back up to his room.

An hour later, he heard the softer tread of his aunt, then the numerous locks on his door clicking closed and he breathed a sigh of relief before dropping his head in his hands and sobbing quietly. He was so tired. He hadn't slept well since the night at the ministry, when he'd finally defeated Voldemort but gotten Sirius killed.

He hadn't heard from Ron or Hermione at all, his uncle was worse this summer than he had ever been, and he was incredibly lonely. Hedwig hadn't come back from the last time he'd sent her off with a letter to Ron, and he'd be worried if Dumbledore hadn't sent a small note saying he was keeping her at Hogwarts for Harry's safety. Voldemort might have gone, but he still had quite a few death eaters still clinging to their loyalty and out for Harry's blood.

He was tempted some days to just hand himself over to them. The prophesy was fulfilled and his part in the war finally played out. He wanted peace now.

His birthday had passed with no fanfare, and no gifts from anyone, including the usual sweets and home cooking he got from Mrs Weasley. His uncles gift had been to come into his room that night with his belt already in his hand, and give harry a lashing for each year he had forced his presence on them.

It seemed like everyone had abandoned him, and as angry as he was at them all, he also felt like he deserved to feel this bad for being responsible for the complete screw up at the ministry.

He finally fell asleep worn out from a day of cleaning but jolted from a nightmare about the ministry only a couple hours later. He spent the rest of the night reading some old school book of Dudley's, before starting a new day of acting the house elf.

Summer passed in much the same way, and before he was ready, but weeks after he was done, a note from Dumbledore arrived dropped through the bars of his bedroom window by a large brown barn owl who hooted rudely at him before flying off again, another envelope still tied to its leg.

He'd gotten his school letter from the same owl weeks before but hadn't bothered opening it. What was the point if he couldn't get into London and Diagon Alley to buy them.

He was almost tempted to not open this one, but curiosity finally one out and he dragged his body off the bed to retrieve it from the window sill. In the end all it said was that someone from the school would pick him up from his house tomorrow morning and escort him to the train station, and to please be ready by nine thirty in the morning.

Harry scoffed. He was ready to go now. His trunk with everything but his wand was locked in the cupboard under the stairs. He hadn't done any of his school work, or been able to look over his photo album all holidays and it was just luck that his uncle hadn't noticed his wand shoved in the sleeve of his shirt when he was picked up from the station. He'd lied when asked and told his uncle it was locked in his trunk, and since he'd magically locked it at school his uncle couldn't get in it to see if he was telling the truth or not.

He had gotten several lashings with the belt and 48 hours locked in the cupboard with his trunk for that bit of defiance, but his belongings were safe and he got to keep his wand on him, so it was well worth a few days of pain and the indignity of going to the bathroom in a bucket.

Sudden thumping of footsteps on the stairs brought Harry out of his memory and he quickly bunched the letter into a ball before throwing it in the trashcan by his rickety desk. By the time the locks on his door were clicked open, he was lying casually sprawled out on his bed.

"What do you think you're doing, boy?" His uncle roared from the open doorway and Harry forced himself not to flinch, but sat up slowly to stare at his uncle. He was red in the face and looked close to having a heart attack. Harry smirked to himself at the thought, which only seemed to further anger his uncle.

"Stop smiling you imbecilic little shit!" His uncle spat out and forced his large frame through the doorway and into the room.

"Your Aunt was just sitting in the kitchen, minding her own business, when one of those, those things flew through our window and dropped a letter on her head!"

Harry lost his smirk and pulled back a little into himself when he realised what must have happened. Knowing what was coming didn't make it any easier though, and when the back of his uncle's hand landed across his face he went sprawling across his bed and his vision turned dark for a second.

"What have I told you about those vermin?" His uncle asked, quietly this time which only set Harry more on edge. Things were never good when his uncle stopped yelling.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon. It must have been from the school. They're sending someone to come and get me in the morning, so you don't have to drive me all the way to London for the train. I go back to school tomorrow." Harry answered, hoping the mention of school would stop his uncle from doing too much damage.

"Lucky for you then boy," his uncle said, spittle flying from his lips to land on Harry's arm. He didn't dare wipe it away yet though. "I was going to make you walk."

Harry had no answer for that and wisely kept his mouth shut and sarcastic replies to himself.

"Now it's time for your goodbye gift," his uncle stated, producing a belt from somewhere and giving Harry an evil smile. Regretting having not given in to his sarcasm and at least earning some of the punishment his uncle was about to give him, Harry simply removed his shirt resigned to spending the next week in pain and hiding it.

The next morning, Harry chose to sleep in, ignoring his Aunt's calls to come and make breakfast for her 'Duddykins.' Once he was sure his uncle had headed out to work and Dudley to cause havoc around the neighbourhood, he dragged himself to the bathroom, toiletry bag in tow.

The lock on the door was flimsy and wouldn't really stop someone who was determined to get in, but it gave a small modicum of privacy so Harry engaged it before stripping out of his clothes. The boy who looked back at him from mirror was a shade of what he used to be.

Lack of proper food since he'd been back from school was evident in the way his ribs showed through his chest, each individual bone clearly showing, and in his clavicle standing out so far there was shadows underneath them. He'd managed to keep the little muscle he made playing quidditch simply because he was the Dursleys house elf.

He was pale skinned, but you could barely see that through the red stripes that marred his back, buttocks and thighs, and the whiter scars from years of similar abuse. His face sported a bruise on the one cheek and he flinched at the thought of being unable to simply cover it up and thus pretend it didn't exist.

He snarled at the freak that stared at him with empty green eyes and stepped in the shower. After briefly washing himself down, hissing at the sting of the soap on his back, he looked at the bag he bought in and bit his lip. It'd been ages since he'd used what it contained, but after seeing the damage inflicted on his body, he had a sudden irrational urge to make his own.

He drew a small blade, taken from one of his cousins old pencil sharpeners and held it to his arm for a few seconds before breathing deeply and pulling it sharply down. He did it several more times until his arm was a mess of shallow cuts and scratches and the water at his feet turned pink.

There, now his body was his own again, to inflict his own sort of punishment on and take over that of his uncles.

Five minutes later he was back in his room and pulling on the best pair of jeans and shirt he owned. The jeans were too big, but a belt around the waist held them up well enough and the long sleeved shirt was long enough that he'd made holes in the wrists and was able to pull it down over his thumbs, ensuring it wouldn't ride up and reveal something he didn't want to.

He snuck his wand up a sleeve, pulled a ragged denim jacket on and made his way down the stairs. His uncle had placed his trunk by the front door that morning, so when the doorbell rang he was sitting on the bottom of the stairs, already exhausted from the morning, in pain from his back and his arms, but ready to go.

His aunt hurried from the kitchen to answer the door and when potter heard the voice that responded to her clipped greeting he flinched and was in the midst of debating whether he should sneak out the back door when the owner of the voice stepped into view.

"Potter, don't just sit there like a useless sack of flobberworms, grab your trunk and move it."

Snape stood there, dressed in muggle clothing but just as imposing in the black suit as he is in his teaching robes. Harry forced a smirk and stood up, forcing back the grimace as the action pulled on the abused muscles in his back and thighs.

"Drew the short straw, huh?" he quipped.

Snape stood there for a minute, face impassive, before barking out "what happened to your face, Potter?"

Harry put a hand up to cup at his cheek where the bruise bloomed blue and green and just stared at Snape.

"Answer me,' he growled when it had been several moments and harry still hadn't responded. His aunt stepped in then and forced a laugh.

"Oh, the Bo...Harry, and his cousin get a little rough sometimes, as boys do. He's fine." She simpered at Snape and he curled a lip in obvious disgust.

"Very well, grab your things Potter and let's move, the taxi will not wait indefinitely."

Harry was so shocked that Snape have come to pick him up in a taxi of all things, that he simply moved towards his trunk without a word and dragged it out the door. He didn't bother saying goodbye to this aunt, and she didn't bother with one either. Minutes later, Snape had thankfully helped him load his trunk into the boot of the taxi as there was no way he could have lifted it without giving away some sort of sign to the pain he was in, and they were on their way.

Neither one of them bothered with speaking, although Harry did catch Snape looking at him with some curiosity that he ignored. Finally, after pulling up at Kings Cross and making their way onto platform 9 ¾, Harry was ensconced in an empty car of the train and Snape had disappeared. Probably to find some Gryffindor's and take points before they'd even earned any Harry thought bitterly.

Just as the train blew its last warning whistle, Harry's carriage door opened and Hermione stuck her head in.

"He's here," she spoke to someone behind and smiled at Harry before stepping in, followed closely by Ron and Ginny.

"Hey mate," Ron grinned and Harry fought back the scowl he wanted to give his friends and instead just continued to look out the window he'd been staring out before they arrived.

"Hey Ron, Hermione, Ginny," he greeted them without turning to look at them.

"Er, how are you mate?" Ron asked as he took the seat across from Harry. Hermione sat next to Ron and Ginny sat down in the seat next to Harry.

"Fine," he answered simply still not bothering to look at any of them.

"You aren't mad at us are you Harry?" Hermione asked and Harry fought back a bitter laugh but was unable to prevent a snort.

"Why would I be angry Mione?" He all but spat out. "I only fought and killed Voldemort, saw my Godfather die because I was stupid enough to fall for a trap, and then spent the holidays on my own with no word from my so-called friends. I'm just peachy."

"Hey," Ron started, but was quickly shushed by Hermione.

"He's right, Ron," she started. "But Harry, Professor Dumbledore was worried that our letters could be intercepted and put you in danger. We wanted to talk to you, but we also wanted you safe."

This time, Harry did let out a bark of bitter laughter.

"So let me get this right." He paused and for the first time looked directly at his friends, who visibly startled at the bruise on his cheek. "Dumbledore sent me back to the Dursleys because its supposedly the safest place for me, and yet was still worried that something would happen if you were to contact me?"

When Hermione nodded, then opened her mouth to speak, Harry interrupted her.

"Do I look like I was safe there?" He ground out through his teeth.

"We're sorry, Mate, really we are, but you know how the adults get, how Mum gets, we had to do what we thought was right." Ron spoke up and Harry turned his gaze to him.

"Whatever, ok, I'll get over it, I'm just bitter and still upset about Sirius." Harry said quietly, having had enough of the drama, and going back to staring out the window as the scenery went past.

Obviously uncomfortable with the tension in the room, Ginny excused herself explaining she was off to find Luna, and they all just nodded as she left the room. It was quiet for about five minutes before Ron leant forward and got Harry's attention.

"So what happened to your face?" He blurted out, grunting as Hermione elbowed him in his side, but she also leant forwards curious about the answer.

"Nothing, just my cousin and his usual bullshit," Harry lied.

"Harry," Hermione chastised and Harry and Ron shared a look at the typical Hermione response which then lessened the tension in the room and helped everyone settle back into their seats. Having gotten some of his frustration off his chest, even if he'd only let out a fraction of what was bothering him, Harry felt better and the remainder of the train ride was them catching Harry up on what he had missed while locked away at the Dursleys and hypothesising which of the Slytherins would have returned this year, which ones were locked up in Azkaban with their families and which ones had fled the country.

Given that Malfoy hadn't stuck his head in their car with insults and jeers like he had every other year, they were all positive he wasn't coming back this year at least. This knowledge helped raise Harry's spirits further, so by the time he stepped off the train and made his way to the carriages he was in pretty high spirits.

The skeletal horses pulling the carriages and the reason he could see them as explained by Luna pulled him up short a little, but he pressed one hand to the cuts on his arm and rubbed briskly for a few minutes and the sharp sting of it was enough to bring him back out of the melancholy that threatened.

The sorting song was upbeat and spoke something about combining together as one family, rather than four separate houses, but Harry barely took note as his stomach growled in hunger. He'd eaten a couple of pumpkin pasties off the cart on the train, but otherwise hadn't eaten since yesterday and he was famished.

He knew better than to overdo it when the feast appeared though, and instead placed a plain chicken breast and some mashed potatoes on his plate. He ate slowly, letting the words of his classmates wash around him, and everyone seemed content to let him eat in peace. No one asked him what it was like to defeat Voldemort, or where he'd been hiding over the summer, and when it did look like someone's curiosity was getting the better of them he would see Hermione or Ron give them a glare or a kick to the shins and they would go back to eating.

Finally, the feast was over, the last few stragglers finishing the ice cream or tart or slice of cake in front of them and Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat and stood up to address the school.

"Welcome back to all," he beamed, allowing his gaze to linger on each table for a few minutes before he continued.

"We may be missing a few people, and each house is victim to the losses, but we have strived through the war that waged and have come out the other side stronger and more united. I've no doubt that most, if not all, have heard the good news and I am happy to also confirm that Voldemort is no more. Thanks to our very own classmate and student, Harry Potter, his reign is over and we are free from the tyranny and prejudices that he bred."

Everyone in the hall turned as one and Harry resisted the urge to duck under the table and instead forced himself to remain stoic and impassive as the staring and whispers increased.

Dumbledore cleared his throat a few times until he had the attention of most of the hall again. Several Slytherins and a few other people dotted about the hall continued to stare at Harry, but he ignored it the best he could and forced himself to listen to Dumbledore as he started speaking again.

"I ask that you all respect Harry's privacy and keep your questions and opinions to yourselves, anything you needed to know is available in last month's special addition of the daily prophet, of which I have several copies if one needs, and the rest is for Harry alone to choose to share."

The hall turned again to stare at Harry and he fought harder to keep his face impassive until Dumbledore cleared his throat again to get their attention once more.

"This year we will be doing something different. In order to further encourage house unity, we will have an exchange program between the houses. Every week for the first term, we will randomly pick people from one house, fifth year and above and swap them with someone from another house. These people will take the bed of the person they swap with for the week and participate in all the classes with their new house."

The hall erupted in a burst of excited or angry muttering and Harry could hear several of the Gryffindor's in his class muttering that there was no way they'd stay in the slimy dungeons, no matter what the headmaster said. Curious about how the teachers felt about this idea, Harry looked up at the teachers table.

Most of them seemed indifferent to the idea, although Snape was clearly unhappy with the idea if the daggers he was shooting from his eyes was any indication. He caught Harry staring and directed the scowl at him, forcing Harry to retaliate with a smirk of his own.

Realising he had missed some of Dumbledore's speech, Harry forced his attentions back to the headmaster.

"This is a compulsory requirement, so if you are one of the few chosen to participate, I suggest you cooperate," Dumbledore stared over the edge of his half glasses at the students below him.

"This war was exacerbated by prejudice which began in this very school and grew from there, and if it is within my power to prevent another from taking that prejudice and further mutating it to what Voldemort preached, then I will do what I can to prevent it. The first names and house changes will be posted in your common rooms at the end of the week, and I encourage everyone in each house to accept the exchangees and treat them as they would the rest of their housemates.

"Now, I've spoken enough for one night, prefects lead your newest members to their beds and the rest of you, off you trot."

Harry rolled his eyes at the abrupt finish and stood from his seat to follow Ron and Hermione to their common room, surrounded by chattering first years trying to suppress their excitement at being in the same house as Harry Potter, but failing miserably. As soon as he stepped through the portrait of the fat lady, Harry grunted a quick goodnight to his friends and headed up to the quiet of his dorm room.

By the time anyone else came in, Harrys curtains were closed tight in a semblance of privacy and he was sound asleep curled around his pillow, the load upon his shoulders lightened some by simply being back home.