Author's Note: Fun little aside - when I write this story, I often do so to the sound of John Williams' fantastic score for the first three Harry Potter adaptations, particularly his soundtrack for The Prisoner of Azkaban. There's something timeless and beautiful and obviously nostalgic about the compositions that really helps me set the mood for myself. Atmosphere is really important to me, so you think it'll help your imagination during the reading, feel free to indulge alongside me. Oh, and as always, I do not own Harry Potter.


Throughout Hogwarts' Great Hall, many students, staff, and guests alike were still digesting the previous chapter of Harry Potter's story.

"Poor Harry," Mandy muttered to Padma, Su Li and the rest of her friends at the Ravenclaw table. "Hardly a chapter in and already we've talked about his dead parents. That can't be easy."

Further down their table, Cho Chang stared at the boy who had been on and off of her mind for the last several years. Her heart went out to Harry, but a part of her frowned as she noticed how close the witches around him were getting, some holding his hands and rubbing his back, all of them tentatively gazing into his beautiful eyes. No doubt for the sake of 'comforting' him. She shook her head of those thoughts, guilt creeping into her. 'Harry deserves comforting, regardless of the fashion in which her gets it.'

"The Vanishing Glass," Andromeda read out to the hall.

This perked Harry up. 'The Vanishing Glass… the zoo? So we jumped ahead ten years! Oh, thank Merlin for that.'

Harry sighed in relief. He knew that the school might make a fuss over his parseltongue abilities being shown at such a young age, not that he'd been aware of it at the time, but most of the hall already knew about it and they would all soon learn what had happened during the Duelling Club in his second year. Harry would rather take a few more suspicious glances than any more of their supposed sympathy. He couldn't stand how people who had so often turned their backs on him could the next moment pity him. Deep down, he knew that it wasn't their fault, and the sympathy wasn't something one could just control. People feel how they feel. But Harry pushed that rational side down and stared steadily ahead of him.

The rest of the hall pondered the strange title. Apparently, magic would be present in this chapter, and they were curious about its circumstances.

Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their nephew on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at =-all.

"Hmm," came the sounds of curiosity from some of the halls occupants. Ten years was a long time. Surely, the family had changed some important things in their house. The Weasley Twins looked particularly scandalized.

Funnily enough, none of the few staunch purebloods in the room saw anything wrong with that. After all, their houses and customs had stayed practically the same through numerous generations.

"On their front stop," muttered Hermione, still clearly upset about Harry being dropped off in such a manner. Ron and Harry shared a fond look over their best friend's motherly antics.

The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into their living-room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed.

"Fateful?" Katie questioned while scrunching up her nose, something that Harry found immensely cute. "Rather overdramatic."

The table nodded as one.

Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bobble hats –

The students in the hall either laughed or grimaced at the description, while the adults merely quirked their lips in an attempt to look impassive. Harry had recognized his own thoughts regarding his cousin. 'So the books are at least partially coming from my thoughts? Damn!'

He snuck a peek at a still laughing Ron and Hermione and grimaced. 'I don't think they'll like my descriptions of them all that much. In fact, I doubt anyone will... well, except maybe Cho and...' His mind paused as his eyes wandered to a few other girls in the hall whom he'd found rather attractive at one point or another. As the list kept mounting, including all of the girls currently surrounding him and even some of his professors, Harry had a single, eloquent thought. 'Oh, bugger.'

- but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large, blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a roundabout at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother.

"Well, at least they're being shown affection," whispered Pomfrey, which got reluctant nods from the other adults and staff nearby. Dumbledore frowned, however, now expecting no such affections to be directed at Harry.

"What's a bicycle?" asked a reluctant Pansy. She knew it was a muggle thing, and purebloods didn't need to know about such matters, but she figured it couldn't hurt to ask. It sounded rather interesting.

Draco turned to his on-again/off-again girlfriend, and almost sneered at her. He was going to correct her for even wondering about such things, but Theodore Nott beat him to it. "Nothing important, Parkinson! It's a muggle device, and that's all we need to know about its usefulness."

A few seats down the table, Blaise saw the exchange and frowned. His frown grew when he saw the familiar subtle bow of the girl's head, something he found the raven haired prefect doing often. Deciding to speak up for once, he addressed the no-longer pug nosed girl with his trademark neutral face. "I believe that a bicycle is some form of transportation device for muggles. I'm sure Ms. Burbage would be happy to explain it to you, Parkinson."

Pansy turned to Blaise in mild surprise before catching the glint of resentment in Draco's eyes. The two boys had never gotten along with each other, though they were at least civil in public. However, Draco and Nott were both openly glaring at the seemingly blasé boy for challenging their "authority" on the matter, before turning their glares to her, wanting to hear her response.

Taking a gamble, Pansy turned back to Blaise. "I see. Well, I'm not all that curious in something muggle, but thank you anyway, Zabini."

The olive-skinned boy was taken aback. For that matter, most of the table seemed to gape at the former pug nosed girl. Blaise nodded in shocked acceptance, and turned away, having expected Parkinson to sneer at him in false contempt under the combined glares of Malfoy and Nott, but she had been surprisingly… neutral. Which, for Pansy Parkinson, was almost pleasant.

Pansy steadfastly ignored the mild looks of annoyance of Malfoy and Nott's faces, the former of which didn't notice the frown his own mother was directing towards him.

The room held no sign at all that another boy lived in the house, too.

The adults and upperclassmen frowned at that, while the younger years looked at Harry in curiosity.

"Did Harry move away?" questioned a curious Ravenclaw second year.

Yet Harry Potter was still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. His Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice which made the first noise of the day."Up! Get up! Now!"

"Mmmm. Screeching – a lovely way to wake up, eh?" the twins poked fun at Harry, who responded in kind.

"Oh, absolutely. Nothing quite like a horse's high-pitched neighing to start the day off right. If only I could wake up to that every morning," he finished with a wistful sigh. "Instead I have to settle for an ox's bleating and a bloodhounds slobbering as my alarm clock." Here, he pointed at Ron and Neville, who respectively blushed crimson and turned pale. Hermione playfully slapped Harry's arm in admonishment while the table's occupants laughed generously at the banter, enjoying it while they could.

Harry woke with a start. His aunt rapped on the door again.

"Someone's not very patient," muttered an annoyed Ginny with narrowed eyes. After what she'd heard about them from her brothers and now seen from the last chapter, she already didn't like these people.

"Up!" she screeched. Harry heard her walking towards the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the cooker.

"You're rather close to the kitchen. Ground floor room?" Hermione asked.

Ron spoke up. "Nah. Harry lives on the second story. Ain't that right, mate?"

Harry didn't bother responding to either of their comments. They'd know soon enough.

He rolled on to his back and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorbike in it. He had a funny feeling he'd had the same dream before.

"Whoa. You mean you actually remembered that?" questioned a curious Charlie, echoing most of the halls thoughts.

"Err.. I guess. I mean, at the time I'd thought it was a dream."

"But your subconscious remembered it, and that's what matters," spoke Madam Bones, entering into the conversation. She was rather interested in this new development.

"So I can remember something from when I was younger - big deal," Harry responded, not unkindly. There was no snap or aggression in his comment, just a sense of earnestness. It was clear he wanted to get the story over with quickly.

"It is a big deal, Mr. Potter. It's not normal to remember something from when you were only one. You might be what is known as a natural Occlumens – a person with natural barriers around their mind."

This froze Harry's train of thought about just how "normal" he was. 'A natural Occlumens? Me? If that's the case, then why does Voldemort still enter my mindscape… and why all of the training with that bastard Snape? Is it because I'm not strong enough in my natural defenses?'

Dumbledore saw the train of thought Harry was on and kindly told Andromeda to continue the reading. Harry almost narrowed his eyes at the headmaster, suspicious of what the professor might know on the matter. He'd promised himself that he was going to keep an eye on quite a few people's reactions during this reading, Dumbledore chief among them.

Perenelle saw this and smiled. 'The boy has even more potential than I'd realized.'

His aunt was back outside the door. "Are you up yet?" she demanded.

"Jeez, she's irritating," spoke an annoyed Angelina.

"Seriously, hasn't she heard of patience," voiced Alicia at the same time.

A soft chuckling from Ron drew their attention. His friends and siblings turned to look at him to see what was so funny. "I thought about this earlier on, but now I'm pretty sure of it. You've gotta admit - she sounds a bit like mum." Those who'd met Molly Weasley at the table snickered at that, having heard her barks and shrieks quite often. Unfortunately, Ron hadn't said his little comment quietly enough - so focused was he on what he was thinking - because his mother at the closest end of the guest table heard what he'd said.

"Ronald Weasley! I sound nothing like that woman," screeched the Weasley matriarch, which in turn set the entire Gryffindor table into a roll of laughter at the clear resemblance between the two, though they knew the two women were honestly far from alike from what they've seen and heard. The rest of the hall hadn't been privy to Ron's joke, but Molly's shriek had summed it up and they too joined in the laughter.

"Nearly," said Harry.

"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Dudley's birthday."

"They made you cook!? At ten years old? Was this a daily thing?" Hermione looked livid. It's not the fact that he was cooking at such a young age, as she had started helping her mother bake when she was but eight, if not younger. No, it was the fact that they made him cook food for them, like some sort of slave.

Apparently, her thoughts were mirrored by most of the female population who was familiar with the business of cooking, and especially frying, if the mutterings and scowls on their faces were any indication.

Harry could only shrug and try to downplay it in response. "Yeah, but it wasn't so bad."

"Nonsense, Harry. A child should never have to cook. That's the mother's job and privilege. Why, I'd like to have a word with your Aunt." However, those able to hear Molly Weasley's comment (which given who she was, was most in the hall) seemed to have mixed reactions to her comments. A majority of the men, and practically all of the pureblood boys unknowingly nodded at this. The girls on the other hand seemed affronted at the thought while the woman in the hall scoffed or raised delicate eyebrows at the Weasley matron. You'd never see any of them play the role of housewife!

"Actually, Mrs. Weasley, I think anyone can cook if they like. A man can cook for a woman just as easily as the other way around," Harry spoke up. While Molly merely brushed his comment aside, a few of the girls in the hall at least appreciated his thoughts on the matter, and the few boys who seemed to agree with his sentiments were taken note of.

"Nonetheless, Mr. Potter," said Poppy Pomfrey. "They are adults as well as your guardians, and they should be preparing your meals - NOT the other way around." The majority of the hall nodded with the Matrons words, quite a few people wondering just what were the Dursley's thinking.

Harry groaned.

"What did you say?" his aunt snapped through the door.

"Nothing, nothing …"

Mutterings were heard once more concerning Harry's aunt. The hall was now certain she wasn't a pleasant person, and this only made the professors and guests frown. An oppressive household was not something any of them wanted to read about.

Dudley's birthday – how could he have forgotten? Harry got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. He found a pair under his bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on.

Ron squelched his face up at the thought of actually touching a spider that was by his bed. The sight brought a slight quirk to Harry's lips, though it disappeared immediately, as he knew what might come next in the reading.

Harry was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them,

People were wondering what that information had to do with anything, though some of the adults in the room were beginning to pale. 'Surely, that couldn't be…'

"They make you clean down there, don't they?" Hermione's accusation interrupted the reading once more. Umbridge was growing impatient, and apparently, so was Harry.

"I'm sure it'll explain, Hermione. But yes… I do have to clean under the cupboard as well." He added the last part almost as an afterthought. He knew what was coming next and his simply rested his head on the table in preparation as Andromeda finished the sentence, just before she gasped.

and that was where he slept.

Andromeda re-read that part again, to make sure she wasn't seeing things. The hall was silent after her second iteration. Across the hall, multiple reactions were seen due to the revelation. Emotions slowly started to register in some people's minds as shock, anger, disappointment, regret, pity, loathing, and especially sorrow.

"Mr. Pott - Harry -… Why didn't you say something to anyone," questioned Madam Pomfrey. She'd seen the boy in the infirmary enough times to feel she could comfortably call him by his first name. 'No wonder he'd been so small when he'd first arrived,' she mused. Though she was glad to see him healthy and tall now, she was disheartened knowing that he'd been mistreated in his living conditions and that she'd never thought to follow up on it.

"I just didn't think it was important, Madam Pomfrey," came the quiet response from Harry, whose face was still on the table, covered by his hands as though he were napping. Truth was that he had told his teachers at school about it, because he'd come to refuse to believe the Dursley's lie that his living conditions were "normal for someone like him". Unfortunately, no one believed him due to his reputation as a liar and miscreant in the neighborhood and the Dursley's upstanding track record. That was where his mistrust of adults originated, and it had only grown since. Not that anyone in the hall needed to know that.

At the staff table, the older generation of the Hogwarts Staff was in despair. James and Lily were not only exceptional students, but friends in both the Order and as peers. Lily had been lining up to take over for Flitwick once he retired, an astounding feat for someone both young and muggle raised. James had always been endeared to most of the teacher's hearts, as were all of the Marauders and the twins as well, as they brought something to Hogwarts that was worth all the trouble they unleashed with their pranks. Overall, the lovely young pair was seen as not just friends, but actually represented what the older generation looked to in the coming future after the war. Discovering that their sole son was forced to live under such circumstances crushed them. Hagrid and McGonagall were especially tearing up at the thought of having placed Harry there personally.

The younger staff weren't fairing much better. Sinestra, Babbling, Vector – they all attended Hogwarts around the same time that James and Lily did. A few years separate here and there, but they knew the pair through reputation if not as best friends. More than anything they pitied the young man who had to grow up through such seemingly harsh living conditions, yet they also admired that he never seemed to let it get him down.

The guests such as Perenelle, Olympe Maxine, the Tonks', and the ministry personnel were equal parts furious over the boy's treatment and shocked. Even Lady Flamel hadn't expected this, though it wasn't too hard to believe seeing that Albus kept all information on the boy secret. Speaking of whom, the Headmaster was looking up at the clouds. His everlasting twinkle was missing from his crystal blue eyes, which weighed heavy on him at the moment. He had suspected a little regarding Harry's abuse and mistreatment, though he'd truly hoped for the best between the two parties. He'd never known just how poorly the boy had it growing up, and had relied on Arabella Figg's monthly updates on the matter. After all, he felt that the less direct interference with the boy, the better it would be in the long run. Clearly, this had all backfired on the aged wizard, and a slow and unseen tear slipped down the old man's cheek and onto his grey beard.

The students were - in a word - baffled. The Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived and the heir to the Potter line was raised as a muggle and slept in a cupboard of all things!? Preposterous! If the oath hadn't worked, most of them would simply have denied the mere thought of it. Unfortunately, it did work and this was the cold, hard truth, and that scared the student body more than they thought possible.

It was extremely evident that they'd all jumped to conclusions at one point or another concerning the young man. Some found the way he dressed poorly as a sign of poor fashion taste, or even as a message about how he doesn't care about what he wears. Others felt that his shyness was in fact his way of not mingling with people he found below him, despite the lowly company that many felt he kept. Numerous reasons and rumors swirled around their peer, hardly any of them positive, and within the last few minutes of reading a good portion of those accusations and theories had already come crumbling down.

The students in his class were particularly affected. Had it been another classmate of theirs, they might have actually stopped and thought about it and seen the signs. The Ravenclaws were gobsmacked that, for all their curiosity on the famed BWL, they never once looked into his lack of knowledge on the wizarding world or spells for that matter. Clearly, he wasn't raised a privileged pureblood.

The Hufflepuffs were ashamed that, despite being friendly and loyal to their own, none of them ever went out of their way to approach the spectacled teen. More often than not, their loyalty ended within their own house, something they knew their head of house, a now-crying Pomona Sprout, would not have agreed with.

The Slytherins were simply blown away by how wrong their presumptions about the boy were, and Draco was mildly aware of the looks being sent his way from several of his House mates. Apparently, the Malfoy scion had been the primary source of information on the Potter heir in their house, and the info was now proving to be worth shit, and in the house of the supposed cunning, information was as important as gold.

The Lions merely looked at their housemate with sympathy and sadness. None of them, not even Dean and Seamus, had ever bothered asking him about his childhood. Sure, he would most likely have rebuffed them, but at least they'd have shown an interest and possibly caught signs of this neglect earlier on. Harry was always politely curious about their lives, but the courtesy was never returned despite how often people enjoyed jumping to conclusions about him. It made all of them think less of themselves.

While shock was the profound emotion felt in the hall, it would eventually give way to bitterness, sympathy, regret, and anger.

.

All eyes eventually settled on the raven-haired wizard who had his risen his head off the table but angled it down so that his messy bangs covered his eyes. Hermione had tears threatening to spill as she coaxed her friends back and shoulder, trying to somehow convey her sympathy without strangling him in a hug. She knew that wasn't what he needed right now. Ron was still reeling from the revelation. Most of his assumptions about his best mate had been shattered well into first year and especially when he'd helped him escape during the summer before second year. Whatever suspicions he'd had on Harry's character or background were all but put away after the debacle with the Goblet, when he'd acted like a git, much to his shame. Still, he hadn't expected it to be this bad for his friend, and he only felt worse than ever over the way he had treated Harry in the past.

The boy on everyone's mind was simply biting his tongue, trying to keep from lashing out. He was feeling angry again, the same type of fleeting rage that made him feel dirty when it passed. He didn't need to chew anyone's heads off at the moment, no matter how much he hated the fact that they were sending him looks of pity or sympathy or even smirks. The way that he saw it was they didn't bother to care and understand him before, so why should they start now. It was an irrational way of seeing things, he knew, but it didn't stop the bitterness and embarrassment from creeping forth. He was about to tell Mrs. Tonks to continue reading when he felt a hand on his forearm from across the table.

Looking up, his eyes met the blue water-glossed eyes of Tonks. Her hair was now black and went to her shoulders, lying flat to her head. She looked at him with concern and sympathy, but upon seeing his look of frustration and embarrassment, Tonks readily changed tactics. Her hair turned a pale jade green and shortened to her usual punk-like crop. Her eyes, while still watery, gained her usual cheer, just as her mouth twitched into a sharp smile. She leaned over and whispered conspiratorially to a confused Harry, "Look at it this way. At least you're well accustomed to damp, tight places."

It wasn't the greatness innuendo she'd ever performed. In fact, it was downright terrible if she was honest with herself. It was, however, the only thing that came to mind at the time, and it seemed to work if the blush on a sputtering Harry's face was anything to go by. She laughed a little at his reaction, and the people on their table wondered what she'd said to him to get his mind off of the reading, but she merely winked at Charlie when he questioned her, causing him to blush in turn.

Harry regained his composure from the absolutely random bit of innuendo, and the blush slowly receded from his face. Looking into Tonk's cheery face once more he couldn't help but smile. Her concern was there, but she attempted to hide her pity in lieu of helping Harry. "Thanks," he said softly, but firmly. She seemed to know just what to say to make him feel better, a trait that only Hermione tended to possess every so often. She just smiled at him and turned back to the staff and guest tables.

Katie had watched the entire interaction closely. She had just been about to reach over and address Harry right before Tonks beat her to it, but the older woman's approach was completely different to her own. She would have asked if he was alright and tried to console him, but apparently all Harry needed was some humorous teasing from an honest friend to get him back on track. This made her question whether or not she really stood a chance with Harry, but she washed those thoughts away as Harry asked for the reading to continue.

While the student body was processing the information and Tonks was cheering Harry up, a private discussion was being held at the staff table behind several silencing wards.

"Albus, what have you done!?" snapped a furious McGonagall. After recovering from her shock, the Head of Gryffindor had not taken well to discovering that she'd played a part in forcing Harry to grow up under such conditions, and unfortunately for Dumbledore, the rest of the staff and guests were firmly behind her. Even the ever loyal Hagrid was looking at Dumbledore for an answer.

"He needed protection and anonymity, Minerva. The wards there would protect him and his family, while ensuring that he had a relatively normal childhood."

"N-n-normal childhood," sputtered an angry Flitwick. "Come now, Albus! I dare say he's experienced anything but a normal childhood, wouldn't you? Even I would have trouble fitting in a cupboard to sleep for Merlin's sake."

Dumbledore sighed. "You must understand it was for the greater g-", began but was cut off by an irate Perenelle Flamel.

"Don't you start with that greater good spiel, Albus. You might not have known what would happen, but you surely had a suspicion. Did you never check on the boy?"

"I felt that the less he saw of anyone from our world, the better. Prior to his entrance to Hogwarts in his first year, I had not seen Mister Potter since the night on which I'd dropped him off." This left the people at the staff table even more frustrated with the man, while Kingsley and Moody were beginning to question their leader's competence. While the table exploded with discussion and accusations, surprisingly much of which were coming from the younger teaching staff, others simply watched the conversation unfold.

Remus was doing his level best not to say something he'd regret to the Headmaster, but already he was emitting rumbling growls from his throat. Ted and Andromeda attempted to calm him down, but the man looked ready to hurt someone.

Amelia was saddened at hearing that Harry was treated in such a way, but it might not be considered enough reason to interfere and put him in someone else's custody, so she remained stoic and listened for more incriminating material. She didn't miss the way Narcissa Malfoy's eyes narrowed at her son. She also knew that Fudge was thinking about how he could spin this to his benefit in the papers. Umbridge looked utterly apathetic to the whole thing, as though the young boy had deserved it. This had the Director of the DMLE narrowing her eyes in disgust. The Minister seemed uncomfortable at the revelation while his Undersecretary almost smiled. 'The nerve of that… ugh, toad.' She saw that Remus and even the dog near Harry were especially downtrodden over the revelation, as they glanced sorrowfully at Harry then accusingly at the Headmaster, repeatedly. 'Hmm... strange behavior for a dog.'

The arguing came to a halt as they heard the very subject of their discussion ask for the reading to continue. Looking up, Amelia saw that the entire hall was staring at the staff table, no doubt wondering what they were arguing so frantically about behind their silencing wards. Some of the professors and guests had the good grace to blush, while others merely regained their composure and took down the wards.

"This conversation isn't over, Albus," hissed a still irate McGonagall to the nods of most everyone at the table. The aged wizard could only sigh in defeat and regret as Andromeda Tonks cleared her throat and picked up where she left off.

When he was dressed he went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all of Dudley's birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had got the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike.

The hall was struggling to get back into the story, still alarmed at what they'd read, so no one bothered asking or explaining what any of those muggle devices were.

Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to Harry, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise

A few snickers came from the students, the loudest of whom were the twins'. Harry smiled, glad that they were still their jovial selves despite what they'd just read, if only for his sake.

unless of course it involved punching somebody.

Remus tensed at the thought of someone punching his 'cub', as did Harry's friends.

"They better not touch you," said an oddly protective Luna, at the same time as Ron.

Dudley's favorite punch-bag was Harry,

A growl escaped from Remus' throat. One thing he would not tolerate was physical abuse. Snuffles tugged at Harry's pants leg.

but he couldn't often catch him. Harry didn't look it, but he was very fast.

"That's true. You are a speedy little git, aren't ya?" teased Tonks.

"You'd know, wouldn't you, Tonks?" Harry shot back, which served to cause a blush and a scowl to simultaneously form on his verbal opponent's face.

Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harry had always been small and skinny for his age.

Harry grumbled about it being unfair and being called small, while Ron just patted his friend on the back in mock sorrow. Harry had clearly filled out over the years, only a little shorter now than his best friend, and already broader in the shoulders, but that didn't keep the ginger from teasing his raven-haired friend about it.

He looked even smaller and skinnier than he really was because all he had to wear were old clothes of Dudley's and Dudley was aboutsixtimes bigger than he was. Harry had a thin face, worn down knees, raven colored hair and emerald-green eyes.

"I know you get this all the time, but you really are the spitting image of your father aside from your eyes and perhaps a fairer shade of skin. That's all your mothers," said Remus fondly - unknowingly voicing the thoughts of many of the adults in the room - staring at Harry with as much warmth as he could muster given the circumstance.

While Harry had grown used to the comparisons, he'd always appreciated them from people who truly knew his parents,and so he simply offered his ex-DADA professor a small smile.

He wore round glasses held together with a lot of Sellotape because of all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose.

While some of the matrons in the hall clucked or muttered in disapproval at the behavior of the youngest Dursley, Bill turned to Harry. "He doesn't do that to you anymore does he?"

"No, he's much too afraid of me to try anything now, especially after the events of this past summer," replied Harry. Bill nodded, knowing what he was talking about as did Tonks, the twins, Hermione and Ron. The rest were merely curious but figured they'd find out eventually. "Why do you ask?"

Bill flashed him a toothy grin, reminiscent of that of a goblin in Harry's amused opinion. "Because I know a few tricks on how you could get him back without using any magic."

Harry smiled at the man while his siblings looked at him in surprise, not aware of their eldest brothers practical pranking habits. "Thanks, but I prefer settling my own problems," Harry finished with a conspirator wink that was returned by the curse-breaker before they all turned back to the reading which had been going on for a short while already.

As he turned, Harry caught sight of Fleur sitting across from Bill and she smiled kindly at him when they made eye contact, forcing his heart rate to increase. Turning to Andromeda, he tried to get back into the scheme of things, but was finding it difficult. Ginny and Hermione saw his reactions and narrowed their eyes, but didn't comment on it.

The only thing Harry liked about his own appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead which was shaped like a bolt of lightning.

"You actually liked your scar then, mate?" Ron asked in incredulity. His friend hated it his scar!

His question was rather loud and once again caused the meeting to pause as curious occupants of the hall looked to the Boy Who Lived for a response. Umbridge gritted her teeth at yet another interruption, but resigned herself to the fact that rushing the reading would accomplish nothing when they clearly felt they had all the time in the world.

Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose in irritation, equally as irritated with Umbridge with the interruptions as he'd rather just get this all over with quickly. However, he understood that with a hall full of people, it would be impossible NOT to have mild interruptions every other sentence. "Yes, Ron, I liked my scar at the time for reasons I'm sure will be revealed. I didn't know what it meant or who was responsible for it. It was just different, and living with the Dursley's made me appreciate 'different'."

He had had it as long as he could remember and the first question he could ever remember asking his Aunt Petunia was how he had got it.

'This ought to be good,' thought a snide Snape, well experienced with the way Petunia stretched the truth. The Weasley twins unknowingly voiced his thoughts making him groan internally at thinking the same as the two menaces'.

"In the car crash when your parents died," she had said. "And don't ask questions."

"Car crash!? She told you they died in a car crash?!" Moody looked furious, his scarred face contorting in anger. It was one thing to listen to the woman talk low of Lily when she thought she was still living, to say nothing of her husband who had fought bravely alongside Moody on more occasions than the ex-auror could count, but to tread on her memory and legacy by saying they had died through something as trivial as a car crash was too far for a man of pride like himself to handle. For Merlin's sake, he'd fought alongside the couple and there was no way they'd ever die by something as mundane as a car accident!

The staff and Order were equally upset, but none so much as Remus. "You said you'd told them everything in a letter, Dumbledore!"

"And so I had. It appears they preferred to keep the truth from Harry, though I can't blame them for doing so. I only wish they had found a better explanation for his parent's absence," Dumbledore looked thoroughly displeased.

Snape sneered at the book, but held back his tongue. He didn't like someone brushing off the sacrifice that the love of his life committed so easily, but he had appearances to maintain. Then another thought struck him – after the reading is all said and done, he'd likely be revealed to the entire school and all of their guests as a Death Eater turned double agent. He paled at the thought.

Meanwhile, the students were baffled that the Boy Who Lived hadn't even discover how he had gotten his scar or who his parents were until after he was ten. It seemed the surprises just kept coming and they had no choice but to swallow the bitter pill that was the reminder of just how wrong they were regarding the savior of the wizarding world.

"Ouch, mate. Tough to swallow when you think that's what you were told most of your life, am I right?"

Hermione rubbed Harry's back consoling as Ron tried to talk to his friend. Honestly, both of them were doing it for their own benefit as much as for Harry's. After all, they felt uncomfortable hearing about some of the things that Harry never talked to them about being read for all to hear. Harry just nodded and remained apathetic to it all. He just wanted the reading to finish, too caught up in thought to be angry at Petunia more than he usually was. His lips quirked when he realized that Hermione was so concerned about him, she hadn't commented on the crime of not being allowed to ask questions.

Don't ask questions – that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.

"Then how did they expect you to learn? Honestly," huffed an exasperated Hermione, now registering the fact that Harry wasn't permitted to ask questions growing up. That would have been a true impossibility for her. The Ravenclaws and more studious individuals in the hall looked equally as incredulous.

Katie smiled sadly at the younger Gryffindor girl before settling on Harry. "I think that was the point, Hermione."

Hermione's eyes widened, aghast when she thought about someone purposely keeping her from asking questions. She couldn't understand why, really. Harry, however, knew that the Dursley's did actually want him to learn something – his proper place, in their opinion.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon.

"Honestly, cooking bacon for adults," muttered a flustered Molly Weasley and Andromeda Tonks.

Meanwhile Ron's stomach was reminding him of how long it had been since he'd last eaten bacon with a prominent growl that the whole table heard. "Hehe… oops?" Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes at Ron's hunger, one in amusement and the other in exasperation.

"Comb your hair!" he barked, by way of a morning greeting.

"Cheery fellow," said George.

"Say, does he even have hair anymore?" questioned Fred.

"Yeah, last we see that blighter he had a nice bald spot growing."

"Put our own fathers to shame it did."

The hall laughed at the twins antics while the adult friends of Mr. Weasley laughed louder at the flustered man's expression. After all, losing their hair was a large problem for adult wizards, so it's natural they found it funnier than others. Molly glared at her sons, but they ignored it.

About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Harry needed a haircut. Harry must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in his class put together, but it made no difference, his hair simply grew that way – all over the place.

Harry tussled his hair absentmindedly. It had calmed down considerably since then, but it still was rather messy, as though he'd just woken up or finished a satisfying few laps on his broom. Unknown to him, several girls were taking notice of his hair and thought if looked rather roguish looking windswept and all.

Harry was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother.

"One of these days, I'm going to have to give your cooking a go, Harry," Tonks suggested… or was it commanded? It didn't matter to Harry. He might not have enjoyed cooking for his relatives but cooking for someone like Tonks was just fine with him. "I'm rubbish in the kitchen myself."

"It'd be my pleasure, Tonks."

Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large, pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes and thick, blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head.

Grimaces were seen around the hall. The book had pegged the few characters they knew accurately enough that the thought of a ten year old boy looking like that was off-putting to say the least.

Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel – Harry often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig.

The entire hall exploded in laughter, even the staff, as the Twins - doubled over in giggles - congratulated Harry on the imagery, everyone now recognizing these books were from his perspective, as were the descriptions.

"Pig in a wig," cried Lee Jordon, wiping a fake tear from his eye. "I'll have to remember that for my neighbor when I go home."

Harry put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell. "Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."

"The brat got thirty eight presents on his ninth birthday? Who needs thirty eight presents, let alone a nine year old," questioned a pouty Gabrielle in a slightly accented form of English. She didn't like the way this boy was treating her hero and had no qualms with calling him a brat, older than her or not. While Fleur lightheartedly chastised her sister for calling someone she didn't know a brat, the men around their area were once again reminded they were in the presence of two Veela's.

"Someone with an extreme sense of self-worth, Gabby," replied an amused Harry. He found the girl rather cute with her arms crossed and a pout on her face. He looked from her blue eyes to those of Draco's across the hall which many of his tablemates caught onto and snickered at. They could all picture the blonde Slytherin complaining about similar circumstances.

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mummy and Daddy."

"cough-Enablers-cough," came the melodic voice of Professor Sinestra to the amusement and surprise of her students and colleagues. She wasn't one for outbursts or accusations, but apparently she didn't have a problem with calling these muggles on their faults. She was familiar with the term and felt that these so called parents were definitely enabling their son to continue his terrible behavior.

"All right, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face. Harry, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down his bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over.

"Brat", "Spoilt Brat", "Thank God I'm not like that… I'm not like that am I?" was muttered throughout the hall to the amusement of Harry's friends and their guests.

Aunt Petunia obviously sensed danger too, because she said quickly, "And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that alright?"

"You've got to be kidding me," muttered a flustered Pomona Sprout. The parents spoilt their child silly and she hated favoritism.

"Scratch that, guys. She's nothing like mum," said Ron to the nods of all the Weasley's and Harry. Mrs. Weasley would never give in to such demands from her kids, nor would they ever attempt to make them.

Dudley thought for a moment.

"That must have been hard work for him," said a serious Harry. Giggles followed his statement.

It looked like hard work.

More giggles and laughter followed Andromeda leisurely reading, as she basked in the humor that was slowly filling the hall at the expense of the non-present Dursley's. It surely beat talking about Mr. Potter's poor living conditions.

Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty … thirty …"

"Dear god! This cousin of yours is an idiot, Harry," Seamus said aloud before he could stop himself. While Harry might not have been fond of his family, they were still relatives. The Irish boy remembered how fiercely he'd defended his mum in his argument with Harry earlier in the year, and was wondering if he'd get a similar treatment now.

To his surprise, Harry just shrugged. "It's not his fault, at least not completely. His parents really did pamper and spoil him, so he's never had to struggle for anything." Seamus just nodded before turning away, a bit unnerved by the glare Ron was leveling at him for daring to speak to Harry.

Seamus gulped. 'I'll need to apologize sometime soon.'

"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia.

"Oh." Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."

"Sweetums,?" questioned Angelina. Alicia started giggling alongside her as they thought of a new name to tease the twins with.

Uncle Vernon chuckled. "Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair.

By now most everyone in the hall had a good grasp on how life was for Dudley in the Dursley family and frowned in disgust at the way Vernon encouraged his son's poor mannerisms. Narcissa was mentally drawing comparisons between the walrus and his son, and her own husband and child. While nowhere near as physically emotional or touchy, Lucius did spoil and condone most of Draco's habits as they were practical his own to begin with. She frowned at the thought of her son having any resemblance to the fat muggle.

At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a cine-camera, a remote-control aeroplane, sixteen new computer games and a video recorder. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch

"Holy crap! What ten-year-old needs gold anything?" questioned an irritated Charlie. His family had never been well off financially, this was no secret, though he didn't care about money enough to let it bother him. His family got by and loved one another, so he could ask for nothing more. However, seeing a spoilt ten-year-old given something as expensive and unpractical as a gold watch while his brother's best friend was clearly being mistreated grated on his nerves.

"Not to mention the rest of that stuff. I mean, sixteen computer games, a camera, a racing bike? Any one of those things must have cost a moderately paid family a fortune. But all of them? And while Harry lives in a cupboard (no offense, Harry)… that's just not right," spoke Dean. He always liked Harry and always supported him. While not as close to him as he was with Seamus, they were friends and even if they weren't, the mistreatment he underwent was still enough to piss him off. The teachers and students were for the most part thinking likewise.

"I wonder if they bought that watch with Potter's money," questioned a less than tactful Smith.

The Hufflepuffs looked at him as though he were daft before they too wondered at the possibility, as did the rest of the hall. Harry didn't find the thought pleasant at all if the clenching of his fasts was any indication. 'They better not have used my parent's money for something like that… oh, who am I kidding. Of course they did.'

"Now, now," sounded out a passive Dumbledore, though his face was worried as well. "I'm sure the Dursley's would not have stooped to that level." Harry and a good portion of the hall leveled a deadpan face at him making him wince. Minerva was glaring daggers at him, and he knew they would be discussing Mr. Potter's financials soon enough. "Very well, I will be going over this development, but until then may we continue the reading?"

Andromeda cleared her throat. She liked these people less and less, and her husband looked downright furious, undoubtedly ashamed that a man who was both a father and guardian such as he was could be so deviant.

when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone, looking both angry and worried.

'Oh, oh,' thought a worried Hermione and Ron. This perked up most of the halls attention.

"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take him." She jerked her head in Harry's direction, a look of contempt on her face.

"'Him'? Can't they at least say your name?" Ginny said fiercely. No one treated her crush the way these people treated him. Sure, she might be dating Michael, but that didn't mean she was over Harry nor did it mean that she would just sit here and listen to these people talk about him like he wasn't there. She wasn't the only one thinking along these lines as growls and scowls erupted across the hall, much to Harry's surprise.

Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, but Harry's heart gave a leap. Every year on Dudley's birthday his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger bars or the cinema. Every year, Harry was left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away.

While Dumbledore chuckled internally at that, knowing Mrs. Figg was a little mad, Minerva turned to him. "Mrs. Figg? As in the squib?"

Harry tensed at the reminder that Mrs. Figg was a squib and his watcher from the Order. This only made him more upset at the thought of the treatment he endured at the Dursley's that Mrs. Figg either never reported or Dumbledore never acted on. He glared at the Headmaster who dutifully ignored his side of the room once more.

Filch had twitched at the mention of the word squib, not that anyone cared enough to notice save Umbridge who smiled maliciously at a possible opening the man might provide due to his insecurities.

Harry hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made him look at photographs of all the cats she'd ever owned.

Ron snorted while Gabrielle spoke again in her thick french accent, "Sounds like Umbridge woman, no? Mad and is obsessed with pussy?"

The table erupted into laughter and blushes, much to the chagrin and confusion of the rest of the hall. Fleur looked mortified by her younger sister.

"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harry as though he'd planned this.

"They seem to blame you for an awful lot," Fay said meekly with a frown.

"Of course, they do. After all, I'm Harry Potter. Anything and everything that goes wrong around me is, in fact, my fault. I mean, I am well known for my plans always working, right?" Harry spoke kindly but sarcastically which made the tables occupants smile at his good sense of humor. He grumbled good naturedly as his two best friends snickered at the latter part of his comment. He had a habit of coming up with great on-the-fly plans, only to have them fall flat on their face due to further unexpected circumstance.

Harry knew he ought to feel sorry that Mrs Figg had broken her leg, but it wasn't easy when he reminded himself it would be a whole year before he had to look at Tibbles, Snowy, Mr Paws and Tufty again.

The students snickered at the names while those who had felines with those names glared at their peers. "When you put it that way, it's understandable that you didn't feel too bad. You were ten, after all," spoke a kind Andromeda Tonks, while Perenelle just looked at her future mark with humor evident in her eyes.

"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy."

Harry remained impassive at the mention of his 'Aunt'. 'The feeling's mutual, Marge.'

The Dursleys often spoke about Harry like this, as though he wasn't there – or rather, as though he was something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug.

Mutterings again picked up on how Harry was treated. Queue the glares at the book, Dumbledore, and even a smiling Umbridge. Snuffles hadn't stopped growling the entire chapter, aside from moments when they'd make fun of the Dursley's, and he was baring his teeth at the book as Harry rubbed his head. At the staff table Remus was growling in the back of his throat and Harry's friends remained quiet, already expecting this treatment from the Dursley's. They were all on their extreme-dislike list as far as they were concerned.

"Rather a right bunch of bastards, aren't they?" whispered Bill to Charlie's ear.

Charlie nodded with a frown marring his face.

"What about what's-her-name, your friend – Yvonne?"

"On holiday in Majorca," snapped Aunt Petunia.

"You could just leave me here," Harry put in hopefully (he'd be able to watch what he wanted on television for a change and maybe even have a go on Dudley's computer).

"You should've just stayed quiet, Harry," Neville spoke for the first time. When people turned to him in question, he blushed but continued on. "Whenever I suggest something to my Uncle, who isn't particularly fond of me either, he goes and does just about the opposite on purpose." Others around the hall nodded at the reasoning and sent Harry sad looks, but few seemed to catch the strange glint in his eye.

Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallowed a lemon.

"Drama queen," sighed Lily at the Slytherin table. She was getting tired of reading about these pathetic people already and wanted to move on to when Harry arrived at Hogwarts and perhaps see what he thought of her.

"And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled.

"Come to think of it, that… did… happen… once," Harry worded his words carefully. It was after he'd received a particularly nasty punishment and had been thrown afterwards in his cupboard for a few days. It was so cold that he wished it was warmer and sure enough a small fire erupted from the fireplace.

People looked at Harry as though he were insane. He quickly said that he hadn't done it consciously, but rather that it had just happened when he was cold. The students still looked at him funny while some of the more knowledgeable adults' eyes widened at the display of accidental magic. 'Starting a fire with a thought? How strong is he,' they thought with astonishment.

"I won't blow up the house," said Harry, but they weren't listening.

"Adults tend to tune me out," Harry said nonchalantly while said present adults who'd done so in the past winced. Amelia Bones took note of this.

"I suppose we could take him to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "… and leave him in the car …"

"That's against the law!" cried a surprised Hermione. She'd read of dogs and babies being locked in cars without air and dying due to suffocation or the heat. When a pureblooded Gryffindor asked why that was, she quickly explained what a car was and what happened to some people left inside of one for too long. Needless to say, those unaware of the dangers of a child being locked in a car glared fiercely at the book while the adults looked appalled at the thought. Dumbledore's eyebrows even rose past his hairline, not wanting to think of how the world might have been had Harry succumbed to something as… trivial, as being locked in a car.

"That car's new, he's not sitting in it alone …"

"You've got to be kidding me. They care more about the car than possibly suffocating you?" Angelina criticized.

"Well, I think they would have cracked the windows for me." Harry's friends, nay the hall, stared at him incredulously. Cracking the windows made it okay to leave an unattended child alone in public, in a sweat box? Seeing the looks he replied, "What?"

The adults shook their heads, understanding that the child must have been subjected to such treatment often enough that he found it normal. This of course didn't make them feel any better. If anything, it made them feel worse. Andromeda sent Harry one more glance before continuing.

Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn't really crying, it had been years since he'd really cried, but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.

Most people didn't even bother sounding their disgust at the youngest Dursley's actions. They'd either come to expect this, or were in fact too similar to Dudley to see anything wrong in the picture. "What a manipulative little prick," muttered a irritated Tonks. She hated cry babies and hated frauds even more.

"Dinky Duddydums,

This brought the reading up short. Even Andromeda had to reread that nickname, as she wasn't sure that she had pronounced it correctly. When she found that she had, she gave a short giggle that surprised those waiting for her to continue. Then a chuckle escaped her feminine throat that made her husband raise an eyebrow. As she saw his face and let her giggles explode, she suddenly snorted.

She gasped in embarrassment, paling at the thought of everyone having heard her undignified sound. Her daughter slammed her head on the table before once again staring at her mom in a mixture of pain, frustration, amusement, and especially embarrassment. Her husband Ted and even her friends didn't know what to say. Sure, they'd found the name funny, but apparently not as funny as she had. She didn't even want to think what her sister's face held in store for her. She was about to hide her mortification behind the book and continue her reading when she heard a bit of laughter.

Harry Potter was staring at her, a crooked smile plastered on his face as he laughed calmly enough. As she felt embarrassment return to her, thinking that he was laughing at her, his laughter ceased and he uttered into the silent and bewildered hall. "Dinky Duddydums." His laughter returned full force shortly after, and this time it was joined by the laughter of her daughter.

Slowly but surely people around him began to laugh, and soon the hall had a smattering of chuckling and giggling from all the tables. Within a minute nearly the entire hall was roaring with laughter, for reasons unknown to any of them. Snorts were heard, but no one paid any mind and Andromeda sent a dazzling smile of thanks to Harry which he just nodded too, still laughing jovially.

After another minute or two, the laughter had receded to a couple of giggles and fits of snickers. The only sign that there was ever a mass rush of hysteria was the keeling over students and staff who were out of breath, or the prominent blushes on those who recalled snorting or making other forms of embarrassing noise during the rabble. In fact, the only ones who didn't seem to have joined in on the festivities was a bewildered Umbridge and a steel-jawed Snape, though his lips quirked ever so slightly. Hell, even Filch had chuckled and Narcissa had let loose a beautiful if soft giggle, something that truly amazed Andromeda! 'You truly do have a way about you, Mr. Potter,' Andromeda thought rather fondly, before returning to the book.

Don't cry, Mummy won't let him spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.

"I … don't … want … him … t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge pretend sobs. "He always sp-spoils everything!" He shot Harry a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.

"God, I want to punch him," Hermione spoke, surprising those who knew her well. Before Ron could take the opportunity to turn her own policies about violence against her, openings that he rarely got, Harry spoke.

"What, punching Malfoy in third year didn't give you your proper fix of violence? Or has it worn off already? You brawler, you," Harry teased with a grin and a wag of his finger that had Hermione blushing at his antics.

Just then, the doorbell rang – "Oh, Good Lord, they're here!" said Aunt Petunia frantically – and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat.

"I hate rats," Harry said without a trace of the humor he'd had moments before. While some were thrown off by his one-eighty degree switch, Hermione and Ron understood and looked glum as they nodded at the reminder of Pettigrew. Harry, however, had a reason for hating rats long before having met the betrayer of his parents, and that reason was none other than the boy whom the story had just introduced.

He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them.

"That list included you?" Katie questioned softly. Harry just nodded his head, hands clenched at the reminder of how vulnerable he'd been growing up. Granted, he's always given the rat faced Piers as good as he got, but he still… he hated feeling vulnerable, and a small voice in his mind told him that there were ways to become invulnerable. He nodded absentmindedly, before he shook the thoughts from his mind.

Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.

"Of course. Can't be seen as weak in front of your mates, can you?" voiced a snide Dean. He hated bullies as much as the next person, and having been an art freak in grade school, he'd dealt with a few every now and then. But he'd never been physically beaten, which he was very thankful for.

Half an hour later, Harry, was smirking inwardly, sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life.

"You'd never been to the zoo before? Not even for primary school?" Hermione questioned. She came from a financially privileged lifestyle with two dentists for parents, and was thus accustomed to seeing all types of places abroad and at home. She also knew that most grade schools required trips to the nearby zoo, as did the other muggleborn or half-blood students.

"Nope. They never signed my permission forms or paid the necessary fees for field trips," Harry shrugged in response. While he had cared at the time, it all felt like another lifetime ago now.

By suggesting that he stay at home, he had lured his aunt and uncle into taking them with him out of fear for their possessions. While he'd liked to have been left home alone with the television or what-not, he knew the likelihood of not getting locked into his cupboard was slim to none.

As one the hall turned to look at him in impresses surprise. A ten year old boy had purposely manipulated his guardians into taking him with them and it was the Gryffindor golden boy no less? Once again, presumptions and theories surrounding the savior of the wizarding world went up in flames. It appears he wasn't as block headed as some thought.

"Very… devious, Mr. Potter," commented a serious Snape, which shocked just about the entire hall. Did Snape just send a Gryffindor, Potter no less, a compliment? Or was that some flimsy insult? Regardless, Harry had to respond in kind.

"Thank you, professor. One has to think on their toes in order to make it in this world, am I right?"

The potions professor merely nodded stiffly before returning to staring at the hall in general with his usual stony sneer. The staff and students were thrown for a loop by the interaction, but the prominent thought in most people's minds was just how smart was Harry Potter. His own friends were even looking at him as though he'd grown another head. They knew he was clever and adaptable, but to know that he'd manipulate his own guardians to get out of the house… it was surprising. The staff was too caught up in the comment about being locked in the cupboard to comment on his obvious manipulations on his guardians.

"What do you mean locked in a cupboard, Mr. Potter?" questioned a concerned McGonagall, narrowly beating Pomfrey, Sprout, Hooch, and the other matron figures presents.

"Uhm... nothing. I mean... yeah, just casual locks. 'For my own good' and all that," answered a suddenly nervous Harry. If the books weren't going to comment on it, he shouldn't either. He didn't like talking about his conditions himself, and was thankful that the books were being read by someone else. The women narrowed their eyes at the answer but waited to hear more about it from the book.

And even sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley, couldn't get his spirits down. His aunt and uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with him, but before they'd left, Uncle Vernon had taken Harry aside.

"For what?" questioned a cautious Remus, who had a bad feeling about what was coming.

"I'm warning you," he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Harry's,

"He'd better not be threatening you," said an unusually serious Arthur Weasley. Harry didn't give a response, which further worried the man who'd come to care for the raven haired teen, whom he owed much to, not the least of which was he and his daughter's life.

"I'm warning you now, boy – any funny business, anything at all – and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas. And that'll be the least of your worries."

Leading up to that sentence, the hall had grown steadily more tense at the way Harry was blatantly being threatened by the very man who was supposed to be his guardian, his protector. By now, they all understood that there was likely little love lost between the young man and his supposed family, but the way Vernon was addressing his nephew with such malice was causing several warnings bells to sound in the adults' minds. His friends in particular - even those whom he didn't know considered him a friend - were completely on edge.

He emphasized this with a swift punch to Harry's stomach, causing him to fall to his knees and gasp in pain.

To Harry, the quiet that settled upon the hall was almost violent. Young and old, professor and student, friend and foe alike; they all struggled to comprehend what they'd just heard. Even Andromeda, who had forced herself to re-read the passage in case she was mistaken, didn't react immediately aside from the slight breaking of her voice.

'So this is what utter shock looks like,' Harry mused. It struck him as almost amusing, picturing all the times he must have been in such a state in his life, and he idly wondered if he looked anything like what Ron or Neville or even the likes of Malfoy looked like right now. 'Probably worse,' he mused wryly, though no smile showed on his blank face.

Harry didn't want to think about how everyone would react to his abuse, and he certainly didn't want to dwell on the abuse itself. He had moved past it by the time his third year had rolled to a finish, or so he told himself. He just wished he could fast-forward to all of the parts that mattered in his supposed story, the moments regarding Voldemort and Sirius and the Ministry. To hell with the rest. Harry didn't think he could stand to see any more tears fall down Hermione's beautiful face because of something from these books. He didn't want pity, or false sympathy, certainly not from the sheep of the wizarding world, but he especially didn't want Hermione to shed any more tears on his behalf. Or Ron to look so helpless as he did in that moment. Or any of his friends to look so lost. He didn't even want Sirius, in the form of the large black dog at his feet, to whine so brokenly.

Harry didn't want any of this. Not for him.

Nearly half a minute after the revelation of Harry's physical abuse, and things had finally clicked for the majority of the people present. It started as a dull wave of murmurs from the student body, a few gasps and stuttered prayers from the adults, and before anyone realized it, the hall had erupted into full blown pandemonium.

At the staff and guest tables, the adults were in an uproar.

Harry immediately registered additional pressure on parts of his body, which he soon recognized belonged to his best friends. On his right, Hermione was sobbing into his side, clinging to his shoulder and muttering apologies for things that were clearly far beyond her control. Her surprisingly strong fingers had wrapped around and gripped his body so tight that he almost felt a loss of circulation in his arm. He almost smiled when he remembered that she had been the one to give him his first real hug as well, which had been nearly as tight but nowhere near as needy as the one she was giving him now. He gently wrapped his arm around her lithe body, whispering reassuring nothings into her ear to let her know that he was okay. Then he just held her as she cried, and cried. Upon reflection, the best friends would laugh at how Hermione had once again wound up being comforted by Harry, instead of the intended other way around.

As he reassured one best friend, Harry looked to his other one, who was responsible for the reassuring hand on his left shoulder.

"You okay there, mate?" Harry asked with a gentle tone and a teasing smile that his friend couldn't return. Ron was looking at him with puffy eyes and tears streaming down his freckled cheeks, a sight that truly shocked Harry.

Hermione was passionate and emotional in nearly everything she did, especially when it came to her friends, so her tears were almost expected, though not remotely less appreciated. But Harry had never seen Ron cry due to something other than pain or fear before, and Harry was touched by the liquid pooling in his freckly brown eyes. He'd expected the usual Weasley outburst from his friend, but after absentmindedly hearing several familiar voices cursing out the Dursley's, it was now apparent that Bill, Charlie, and the Twins had that more than covered. Instead, his best mate remained uncharacteristically silent with a look of what appeared to be guilt in his eyes, for reasons that eluded Harry.

Harry was unaware that his ginger-haired friend was actually feeling guilty over the fact that he had always envied Harry. Despite small moments of clarity during which he was able to acknowledge just how bad his friend's life truly was, Ron had remained more or less jealous of his best friend. He struggled to hide it - bury it away somewhere - in fear that it might ruin their relationship, but to no avail. Even now, he felt twitches of envy at all of the attention Harry was getting from the people upset over his treatment. Girls were especially sending him remorseful looks, some of which looked casual while most were honest and stricken. Of course, his raven-haired friend was oblivious to all of the attention, which only made it worse. Ron briefly wondered whether people would have been as upset if it were his life being read out to the hall and he weren't the "Boy Who Lived". He knew they wouldn't. This only served to make him even bitterer, at both his friend's fame and his own contrite thoughts. Feelings of jealousy left him, however, when an image of his best friend being punched by his no-good relative came to mind, leaving him with only feelings of guilt and remorse.

Harry watched the conflicting emotions play across his friend's face, but put it out of his mind for the time being as his hand (the one that wasn't encircled around Hermione's waist) was gripped. Half expecting it to be Tonks, he traced the soft hand to be surprised with none other than a glassy eyed Katie. Confusion must have been evident on his face, because she gave him the slightest of headshakes, as if to tell him to just go with it, which he did.

Gently holding her hand in his, he marveled at how soft it was despite the calluses that had formed on it from years of aggressive broom riding. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a bun, with a few bangs left out, framing her fair skinned face. Her eyes conveyed concern and sympathy, with an easily overlooked undercurrent of anger that was no doubt aimed at the Dursley's and not him. She smiled softly at him, though he couldn't bring himself to smile back under the circumstances. She seemed to understand and just kept looking at him. Ron's hold on his shoulder eventually lessened before he was given a brief pat on the back. Hermione was still buried into his side, hugging him fiercely, though her hold on him had lessened, and her muffled sobs had quieted as her body stopped shuddering. Still Katie looked at him, and Harry would have been unnerved if he'd been anyone else. Instead, he knew that she couldn't find the proper words to say to him, so she conveyed what she could through her eyes; a tactic that he'd used with her one time when the tables had been turned (1). The fact that she remembered the encounter well enough to return the favor made his heart beat a little faster. It was moments like this - more than anything - that endeared the Gryffindor chaser to him.

"I'm listening," she said simply. With that soft but clear message, she finally loosened her grip on him. Harry almost pulled her hand back, but resisted the urge. Instead, he finally managed to send her a smile of gratitude in return.

Tonks was staring at the area where his and Katie's hands had been interlocked with an unreadable expression on her face. Noticing that he was staring at her, she quickly met his eyes and gave him a watery smile before turning away with another unreadable expression. Harry took it to mean that she was trying to act casual despite the circumstances, which he was grateful for, but it still hurt to see her seem almost apathetic towards his plight. What he didn't know was that Tonks was suffering from a whirlwind of feelings herself at the moment, and simply didn't know what to do but look away from the sole cause of her many conflicting emotions.

Moving on, Harry saw the Neville was looking glum at nothing in particular, and when he caught his eye, the round faced Gryffindor blushed and turned away after muttering an apology. This caused Harry to raise an eyebrow at his friend's reaction, but he continued on. Neville was in fact thinking about how hard he once thought his life was, secretly envying Harry over his parent's death, thinking he at least had closure. Of course, he hid these feelings well, because he honestly liked Harry more than any of his other friends. Reading about how Harry had grown up had made Neville question whether he really had it that bad. At least he was aware of how his parents came to their fate growing up, which Harry hadn't been, and while picked on verbally by a few of his relatives, he'd never been beaten or physically assaulted like Harry. He was beginning to reevaluate his life and see just how lucky he'd had it, all things considered.

Meanwhile, Harry noticed that reactions were still rippling across the hall. Oliver and Lee Jordan had joined the rest of the Weasley's in cursing the Dursley's and coming up with more and more ideas on how to pay them back. Alicia and Angelina were looking between Harry and Katie, sending the former sympathetic looks and the latter knowing looks. Katie was just looking around the hall and back at Harry, and next to her, Victor's frown was more prominent than ever as he nodded in a show of comradery at the emerald-eyed Gryffindor. Across from him, Tonks was still looking steadily at the staff table.

Luna herself had lost her usual dazed look. Instead, she was looking at him with a frown and a somber countenance. Frankly, it scared Harry, as he was one of the few who'd come to enjoy her bizarre company – dazed look and all. It was more shocking than seeing Dumbledore without his damned twinkle, in his opinion, and it wasn't right. Deciding to remedy that, he spoke.

"Luna, are you okay?" She brought her eyes to his, and he felt as though she was holding back tears. Touched even more, he pushed on, gazing into her blue orbs. "You seem to be infected by nargles, or something. You might want to get that checked out."

He'd struggled with the foreign words, but the effects were immediate. Hermione popped her head up and looked at him as though he were crazy, oblivious to the tears still seeping from her eyes and her completely bedraggled look. It was almost enough to make Harry laugh, but he knew that wouldn't go over so well, so he kept it inside. That and she looked rather adorable at the moment. Luna herself looked at him in shock, or as much shock as someone like Luna can manage, before slowly gaining a watery smile as a good portion of her usual blissful countenance returned.

Fleur had carefully watched the exchange, long since having given up half-heartedly scolding Gabrielle for joining in the verbal assault on the Dursley's, which had become as ridiculous as it was profane. It hadn't helped that Bill had encouraged her sister, but she couldn't really blame them for wanting to vent their anger and sympathy somehow. In truth, the whole reading had been an awkward affair thus far, and this outburst offered a much needed opportunity for the students and guests to blow off their steam at the non-present offenders. Instead, she'd taken to watching the young man who'd shocked her so much last year. She saw that he'd grown taller and his shoulders had broadened; sure, he'd grown more attractive. In truth, she always knew he was handsome. That wasn't what had drawn her attention to him, though. It was his countenance that had changed.

Last year, Fleur had met a boy who seemed to have all the pressure a person could take without snapping under it. She even helped contribute to that pressure, much to her shame. This year, however, the weight he seemed to carry with him had only increased, much to her shock. With it, his eyes had also dimmed. The same eyes that had been darkened in horror and anguish at the end of the Third Task were now clouded with weariness and depression. All in all, he was not the same boy whose company she'd come to enjoy during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Yet despite all this, he was still going out of his way to offer comfort to others, as she'd seen with the Granger girl and the blonde sitting next to her sister whose names was apparently Luna. How he was able to do it, she didn't know.

Harry, whose eyes had been gauging the reactions of the table's occupants, met her curious gaze. They didn't smile at each other. Fleur continued to look at him with a look that Harry couldn't place. Its ambiguity was only outclassed by its beauty in his opinion. While he'd grown resistant to her allure, which was actually the main reason Veela were considered universally attractive, he couldn't deny that she was beautiful without it. Her hair was pulled back into her usual ponytail, but a few of her silvery-blonde hairs had escaped capture and rested carelessly on her forehead. There was concern and sympathy in her eyes that he was sure of, but there was also something else. As it was, he returned the impassive look before letting his eyes continue their roaming. In his mind, he knew that all the defensive yet humorous exclamations from his friends and the myriad of beautiful women were serving as great emotional distractions, but he'd have to face his emotions sometime.

By now the students had mostly settled down and sat back in the chairs from which several of them had exploded off of. It was clear that they were still angry and shocked at the knowledge of Harry being physically abused, though they gathered themselves admirably. The Slytherins were unsurprisingly the ones who looked the most composed, though some of the less mature ones almost looked smug at the news that "Potter" had gotten his. Harry dutifully ignored these looks and instead searched for the reactions of the few in the house who'd caught his interest. First off was Blaise Zabini. When he'd seen Harry staring, he simply gazed back before giving the slightest of nods that thankfully no one from his house seemed to catch. Harry didn't smile either, for two reasons. He didn't want to give anything away, and furthermore, he didn't know what the nod meant. Was it a nod of understanding, of compassion, or was it more than just common courtesy and instead a nod of support? Regardless, he felt that Zabini was okay in his book until he found out more about him after the reading.

Next were the Slytherin girls he'd seen. Once again, they were in his year and all very attractive in his opinion, but that wasn't what drew his attention. As far as he knew, those three girls had never taken part in Draco's attempts of discrediting, challenging, or outright attacking him. As far as he knew, they only ever kept to themselves and a few Ravenclaws in the library. As he saw them now, he was surprised to see tears streaming down the cheek of the girl he was sure was called Lily, while her friend Tracey appeared to have wiped hers away if the wetness on her face was any indication. Greengrass, on the other hand, had no such tears present, but when Harry caught her eye, he saw wetness form in her glacier-blue eyes, threatening to spill over. He couldn't understand how three strangers could feel so strongly about his condition, unless they could relate to it, which he hoped wasn't the case for anyone. Looking around the hall, however, proved that they weren't the only three girls with tears in their eyes and their hearts on display. It shocked Harry, who quickly turned towards the staff table to once again avoid the embarrassing and annoying barrage of emotions he was feeling himself.

Half of the staff table was still off of their seats, yelling incoherently, and pointing accusatory fingers all around as they expressed their anger at his treatment. However, Harry could see that the prominent emotion in most of their eyes was guilt - guilt at knowing about his poor health upon his entrance and not caring enough to follow up on him. Their loud expressions of distress were as much for their sake as they were for his. Thespians, they were, but honest ones. Harry didn't blame them, of course. How were they to know it'd been that bad when they were constantly reassured by the god-amongst-wizards Albus Dumbledore? He barely held in a snort.

Most of the adults were actually ranting and raving at the stoic Headmaster, who stayed silent with his eyes locked impassively at the goblet in front of him. By not defending himself, it was clear for all to see that he had no useable excuses for his prior choice in placing Harry with the Dursleys. The guilt at being responsible for Harry's treatment weighed heavily on him, and most could understand why, though none knew the true extent of his plans and how thoroughly he'd manipulated the boy's life. He knew that abuse might be a dark possibility for Harry, but he'd blinded himself into thinking that all would turn out well in the end with the Prophecy already dictating that Harry would be the one to defeat Voldemort, and thus a Champion of the Light, right? So far, that belief had held true and it might have been the best for everyone… but not for Harry. In the end, isn't that what mattered? His happiness and well-being? Dumbledore honestly didn't know the answer to that anymore.

Severus Snape gazing at him with an unreadable expression. He looked at his most hated Professor, who looked back. Then without a single exchange of dialogue, the Potions Master looked away and stared impassively at the hall in general. Harry didn't know what that was about, but he left it be for now as the staff table finally settled down. Molly and Andromeda were still ranting alongside the other matrons in the school, though he acknowledged that the former was far more irritating than the latter.

Narcissa meanwhile was looking at "Potter" out of the corner of her eye. He was surprisingly aware and courteous for a teenager, that much he'd proven in the last few minutes, as well as resilient against exceptional embarrassment. Her gaze soon stayed fixed on Draco, however, who was under the scrutiny of many of his housemates. Clearly, he'd flaunted all types of stories about the Boy Who Lived's childhood that were anything but true. She held in a bitter snort. Who was more foolish? The fool that sprouted the foolish lies, or the fools who readily accepted the fool's foolishness to begin with. The house of Salazar truly has diminished, she mused.

Umbridge meanwhile was looking bored with the revelation, something Amelia Bones seemed to bristle at, while the Minister and his aid (Weasley, was it?) were sputtering in indignation at the treatment of the wizarding world's savior. She found this exceptionally funny because it was only a semester ago that Fudge had tried to have Potter committed to Azkaban, a place far worse than whatever place this Privet Drive was.

At last, she acknowledged the veiled character at the end of the hall. She remained impassive for all to see, but there was something strangely familiar about her (and it was definitely a "her") that she couldn't quite place. The way she slid her fingers against each other, back and forth millimeter by millimeter, reminded her of… it couldn't be. No, but it was familiar all the same, and she narrowed her eyes at the figure who seemed to sense her gaze and turned her veiled face towards her. Narcissa had no doubt the individual was staring right back, so she steadily turned away just as her sister began to read once more.

"I'm not going to do anything," wheezed Harry, "honestly…"

Hermione - who had yet to release her grip on him completely and was instead leaning on his shoulder – felt tears sting her eyes again at the thought of a young Harry wheezing on the ground with the air knocked out of him. None of his friends seemed any better off at the disturbing thought.

But Uncle Vernon didn't believe him. No one ever did.

Numerous people across the hall shifted guiltily, including McGonagall, which was noted by her peers. All of these people had at one point or another refused to believe Harry on something he'd said, despite his protests that it was the truth. When they thought about it, and ignored his so-called reputation, he didn't strike any of them as the type to lie. In fact, he seemed almost intensely honest, albeit a little secretive towards strangers. Others in the hall simply took further pity on the Boy-Who-Lived, slowly getting a taste of just how dreary his everyday life was and possibly still is.

Seamus especially was fidgeting in his seat, counting down the hours to when he'd be able to apologize to Harry privately for his behavior. Dumbledore and the others seemed to believe him concerning You-Know-Who's return. Whether it was actually true or not, it was illogical to think that Harry would knowingly lie about it even after these books were announced. Worst case scenario of Harry being wrong? He was just honestly mistaken. Worst case scenario of Harry being right? The Wizarding World is launched into another great war. The pros and cons gave Seamus the final push he needed. When their next break was announced, he'd talk to his once and hopefully future friend.

The problem was, strange things often happened around Harry and it was just no good telling the Dursleys he didn't make them happen.

"Accidental magic, eh?" questioned a surprisingly soft but firm Ted Tonks. Harry nodded numbly in response, not sure of what else to say. "I had a problem with that as well growing up. Parents thought I was doing a bunch of nonsense pranks." He smiled kindly at the teen, just as his daughter shot him a pointed look that said for him to shut up and allow the reading to go on, which he paid mind to.

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barber's looking as though he hadn't been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his fringe, which she left "to hide that horrible scar".

The girls in the hall looked at Harry in horror, reassuring themselves that he still had his roguish mop of hair upon his head and doing their best not to imagine the horrible haircut described. The boys, meanwhile, were looking at him trying to do the complete opposite. Some succeeded if their snickering was anything to go by, among them were the Weasley boys (of course) and surprisingly enough, Remus.

"Oi! What are you laughing at, you shabby git?" A mock indignant Harry questioned a chuckling Remus. While everyone could tell Harry was simply playing around, most were still shocked he'd address an adult, and a former teacher at that, so casually. Even Ron and Hermione were caught off guard, as they didn't think Harry was able to call him anything other than Professor half of the time. To the surprise of all, Remus only chuckled louder.

"Nothing… nothing," he reassured the teen, though his continued laughter spoke otherwise. Finally, he relented to the now numerous looks of curiosity aimed at him. "It's just that, well, you're father underwent a similar punishment once, though I dare say he deserved his. In fact, it was in our fifth year as well. After having been caught in the girl's bathroom-"

At this, the girls in the hall shrieked indignantly at the trespass, and almost glared at Harry as though it were his fault. Remus immediately moved to defend his best mate's reputation, just as Harry turned pink in embarrassment at his father's unbecoming actions.

"- for a prank, of course! He didn't need to peak at girls like some pervert, he already had more than a few of them interested in him. No, the bathroom was supposed to be a prank placed on a particular group of girls that had teased your mother, Harry. Despite not dating at the time, your father was very protective of the girl of his dreams."

The females in the hall settled at this. Some found it even endearing that a boy would defend his secret crush in such a way. Harry felt something in him, something akin to pride.

"You know James; there was never a frontier unconquerable and a taboo impassable for the sake of a good prank, especially in Lily's name." Remus shook his head at his deceased friend's antics. "Anyways, he was caught by yours truly," he indicated McGonagall, who seemed to be lost in a fond memory of another life, "and his mother was asked to come down here, to the school. As a punishment, his mother shaved off half of his beloved hair, and when I say half, I mean she took the hair off of half of his head until he was half bald. Needless to say, he was quite unbearable for the following two days that it took to magically re-grow his hair, between avoiding your mother, Lily (who was unaware of the reason for his prank and merely chastised him a usual for being immature), and grumbling about ignorant authoritarians messing with "the do"."

At this, the hall laughed heartily at the image of an older and more approachable Harry Potter (which is how the hall pictured James Potter), grumbling about his "do".

Harry himself laughed mirthfully for the first time in quite a while, more so than his outburst with Andromeda over Dudley's ridiculous nickname earlier. This was a laugh full of amusement, pride, and melancholy. Stories about his parents, particularly about his father, weren't told very often unless that person's name was Severus Snape, and then it was more pathetic hurled insults than anything. He hadn't been told hardly anything about his parents by Remus and Sirius over the summer, but he'd enjoyed every anecdote he could get from the two remaining Marauders. They usually consisted of his father's pranks, or how much his parents loved him, and they were nice… but this was different.

Harry could care less that he'd heard this personal story alongside the rest of the hall's occupants, most of whom he couldn't honestly say he cared for one way or another. The fact that they enjoyed his father's antics as much as he did was appreciated, but it just didn't matter. This was a story about his dad, his father – the man who'd given his life for him - and how he'd been when he was his age, how he'd loved his mother, and even how he'd carried himself (or, rather, his hair). It was a story he knew he'd treasure for a while.

Remus and McGonagall shared a smile at the site of a laughing Harry, glad the memory of such a beloved friend/student could bring about such a reaction from his son. Indeed, the entire hall seemed a bit brighter whenever Harry's laughter joined the fray. They only wished James could see his son now.

Snuffles barked in remembrance and laughter, as he nudged into Harry's leg in both amusement and comfort.

Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry, who'd spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where he was already laughed at for his baggy clothes and Sellotaped glasses.

The hall sent him more winces and looks of sympathy. His life truly was miserable for a child. Hermione felt guilt creep into her. She'd always thought that she'd had the worst childhood amongst her two best friends, due to being a social outcast at her old schools. However, she acknowledged that it was just as much of her own volition as it was the cruelty of her peers. Harry, on the other hand, was ostracized without ever having had a decent chance to become otherwise.

"Tough luck, mate," sighed a despondent Ron. He could relate to having hand me downs, though rather than being too big, his were usually too small.

The next morning, however, he had got up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off.

Aurora Sinestra whistled appreciatively. "That's interesting accidental magic, Harry. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were a metamorphmagus." Her comment was warm and her dazzling smile always made Harry feel a little self conscious, but he didn't have long to think about that, as once more the Hogwarts rumor mill started running.

"What's a metamorphmagus?" questioned several people. While friends and classmates explained it, those who already knew what one was looked at him as though he were even more special or freakish, depending on whom you looked at. Harry groaned at the comments and sent a light mock-glare towards his Astronomy professor. He didn't want to push his boundaries too much, after all. Thankfully, she took it in good grace and only laughed at his predicament, no doubt amused by the absurd theories that always surrounded him.

Tonks, however, wasn't amused. Between the occasional comment about the possibilities of being a metamorph and how lucky they were, and the even rarer comments about the potential of having one as a sexual partner (something that made her eyes darken in anger), she was biting her tongue in irritation. But what really got to her was the person in front of her, her emotions coming to the fore even more so now.

Harry was staring right back at her and seemed to read her mind. Quick to cut off her particular line of thought, he scoffed before speaking. "I'm not a metamorphmagus, Tonks." Her eyes dimmed at this and he winced at how calloused his words had been, so he quickly continued. "Not that I wouldn't mind being one either way, but I'm just not... I'm sorry." He finished softly before taking her hands, which were fists, in his. He knew what this really meant to her. She was one of a handful of known metamorphmagi in Britain, and it made her feel more alone than most people could care to understand. However, he understood just fine. Being alone was almost a specialty of his; another reason they immediately got along so well during their midnight rendezvous' at Grimmauld place (2).

Tonks was despondent over what she knew to be the truth, and equally upset that she'd even allowed her hopes to get up in the first place. She heard Dumbledore quell the remaining noise with a firm denial of Harry being anything remotely similar to a metamorphmagus, and almost winced. She wanted Harry to be one so much, if only to finally have someone who would fully understand her, but she realized that he already understood her as best as he could at the moment, and their understanding and familiarity would only grow given time. She took his hands gently, and quirked her lips in an attempt to smile. He was one of the few people who she could at least relate to. He and

Andromeda understood what her daughter was thinking and continued the reading in earnest.

He had been given a week in his cupboard for this, even though he had tried to explain that he couldn't explain how it had grown back so quickly. The rations he was given were also cut back to a single meal a day, if one could call them that.

What little humor remained in the hall from Remus' anecdote earlier all but vanished as the scene became frigid once more. The same thought occurred to all of them – 'Monsters'.

"A week?! A week, they kept you in that cupboard? Without food?!" shrieked an indignant Hermione, gripping Harry by the front of his clothes and pulling him into her personal space as she questioned him needlessly. The book had, after all, just said as much. Harry knew that this was more for her sake than his, though, so he just went with it and stuttered out an excuse about not being completely without food. Even he knew it sounded pathetic, but it was all he could say to try and alleviate her anger.

Across the table, business was going down as Tonks had finally awoken to herself. She'd let emotions cloud her when she'd discovered that Harry had been hit earlier, but not this time. Her hair turned a fiery red as she glared at Dumbledore and the book dually. Molly Weasley was shouting up a storm about not feeding a child, while Umbridge made a snide comment about the boy deserving it, getting glares from all the staff nearby and even Narcissa, not that anyone noticed her instinctual response aside from a smirking Ravenclaw prefect. Thankfully no profane shouting was done on the student's part, though dark mutterings and curses filled the air for a few minutes.

After his initial burst of anger at the Dursley's, Ron's one track mind kicked in and he conveyed his deep sympathies to Harry, admitting that he couldn't bear the thought of not being able to eat three full meals a day for a week. This seemed to lighten Harry's mood and even Hermione took time out of her doting to absentmindedly scold Ron for his lack of tact. The ginger just rolled his eyes, having expected Hermione to say something along those lines. Harry had a suspicious feeling his friend had made that comment for that very reason, and thanked him when Hermione wasn't looking, which got him a simple and quiet "anytime" from Ron, confirming his theory.

Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into a revolting old jumper of Dudley's (brown with orange bobbles).

Noses scrunched across the hall at the thought of such a sweater being worn by anyone. Lavender and Parvati, whom Harry had forgotten were sitting at the end of their table, were especially vocal in their disgust. Lavender went so far as to squirm in her seat and shudder overdramatically at the thought of such poor clothing, which did interesting things to her covered chest. Harry looked away, but noticed with a frown that Ron and several of the boys were watching unabashedly. He frowned even further when he realized that Lavender was probably doing it on purpose, and from the glares and looks of disinterest the males were getting from the girls at the table, they'd figured out as much as well. Shaking his head at teenagers and their hormones (not that he wasn't tempted to stare as well), Harry brought his attention back to the reading, which hadn't stopped.

The harder she'd tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a glove puppet, but certainly wouldn't fit Harry. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his great relief, Harry wasn't punished.

'A child shouldn't be relieved when he's not punished for something he had no control over,' thought Narcissa with a frown, who recalled her own upbringing and how unfair her stern parents had been towards the three Black sisters.

On the other hand, he'd gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school's office.

The hall groaned almost simultaneously, something that both amused and frustrated Harry. It wasn't his fault he had bad luck in life!

"Why were you there, mate?" asked a curious Dean. The rest of the hall turned towards him, curious as well.

Harry struggled to keep from rolling his eyes, as the book would clearly explain why he was up there if only they kept reading. "I'm sure the book will explain."

Dudley's gang had been chasing him, as usual when, as much to Harry's surprise as anyone else's, there he was sitting on a chimney clear across the school.

Amelia dropped the quill she was using to write down notes in shock, the sound of it hitting the table filling the silent Hall. Half of the hall's eyes were on either the book being read or on the boy himself. All of them were wondering the same thing – 'Did he just apparate?'

Even Dumbledore looked shocked for a moment, though for seemingly different reasons if the look in his eyes was any indication. Aberforth picked up on it, getting more and more interested in the raven haired young man who was currently blushing under all the gawking looks he was on the receiving end of.

"What's the big deal," Harry finally bit out. His cheeks were red in embarrassment, though his voice was just as curious as it was irritated. Apparating accidentally wasn't that big of a deal, right? Clearly he wasn't in on the loop, nor were a good deal of the students (muggleborns especially), if their looks of confusion meant anything. Thankfully, Pomona Sprout took pity on the young man and decided to enlighten them all.

"As you know, apparition is a form of magical transportation that is optionally taught to students in their sixth year, and is the most common form of transportation in the wizarding world, though it's by no means the most preferred."

"Definitely not the most preferred," grumbled a Hufflepuff prefect, obviously not a fan of that particular method of travel. His seventh-year peers nodded in agreement.

"Why is that," questioned the ever curious Hermione, seeing the looks many of the graduating class held.

"It's because not only is apparition difficult to master and awkward to stomach, but it's also taxing on ones magical reserves," chimed in Amelia, who'd regained her composure. She was staring at Harry with rapt curiosity that didn't go unnoticed by his friends. "You see, there's a reason apparition is illegal without a license, which is only available to wizards and witches who are of age. The reason for this is because when one becomes of age at seventeen, their magical maturity is complete. Thus their cores are stable, their reserves are at their peak, and they're at the most resilient stage of their lives. Thus, it's clearly the most ideal age to learn apparition not only because you need to be mentally able to properly comprehend the three D's of apparition, something you'll learn about later, but also because you'll likely be able to apparate acceptable distances, several times in a short period of time, safely. This can't be said for a person whose magical core is still partially in flux and doesn't have the mental maturity to properly grasp the form of travel in the first place. Apparition is a heavy responsibility, not to be taken lightly." Here she let them absorb this information as she took a breath and then narrowed her eyes at the boy. "Yet you managed to do it at the age of, what, ten?" Harry, who'd been listening in growing realization, nodded slowly. "Yes, before your first magical maturity even kicked in at the standard age of eleven. It's an unprecedented thing, to say the least, accidental magic or not."

To say Harry was stunned was an understatement. As abnormal as he acknowledged he was going into this reading, even he wasn't aware of just how different his life would prove to be. He appreciated his differences on occasion, but for the most part, he hated them. Of course, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little proud of his feat, whether he knew it was something extraordinary at the time or not. Looking at the Slytherin table and seeing the envious face of Draco Malfoy made his face want to break out into a shit eating grin. He was a competitive young male after all. That being said, he knew this would only attract more attention, none of which he was sure to like. He could feel the academic envy rolling off of Hermione, who was equal parts jealous of his magical feats and curious of his ability. Ron was much the same, sans more of the former and less of the latter. Not that his friends didn't hide it well, which he appreciated their effort, but he felt he'd always known them far better than they'd known him. He'd like to think he knew what was going on in their heads most of the time. Knowing they felt that way made any humor he'd gotten at Draco's expense leave him, as a tired sigh escaped his lips. This seemed to be a familiar cycle with his life. Perhaps facing Voldemort was the only way to break said cycle, but maybe not...

Meanwhile, the staff and guests sat impressed with Harry's raw abilities. It now made sense that he'd been so average-proficient in their classes, as the larger your reserves, fluxing or not, the harder it is to control and aim it to do certain tasks. They never really checked cores at the school, as it was deemed illegal and impractical. After all, a fluxing core is just that – fluxing. Still, the boy would have outstanding potential if he simply applied himself. Little did they know that with Harry Potter, there was always more than meets the eye.

The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from Harry's headmistress telling them Harry had been climbing school buildings. But all he'd tried to do (as he shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of his cupboard) –

Simultaneous growls emitted from Remus and Snuffles, as the hall narrowed their eyes once more at the unfair treatment of their peer/student.

-was jump behind the big bins outside the kitchen, and that he supposed that the wind must have caught him in mid-jump.

The narrowed looks turned to looks of disbelief. He hadn't really expected them to believe that, had he?

"Merlin, Potter. Could you be more stupid!?" sneered an unusually aggressive Nott to the snickers of Draco and his goons. Some of the boys around the hall tried to hide smirks of their own, clearly agreeing with the Slytherin despite what they'd read thus far saying otherwise.

As it was, Harry remained impassive, as though knowing something they didn't, and the Slytherins were quickly silenced with combined glares from both McGonagall and Snape. The latter looked nearly anguished at having to correct his charges (and did so only after a pointed look from the Headmaster), and did so half-heartedly while simultaneously trying to glare at Potter himself. It was almost amusing, but not enough to keep the adults from noticing and narrowing their eyes at the sulking Potions master.

Of course, Harry hadn't expected the Headmistress or the Dursley's to believe that. Whether he'd climbed up the roof purposefully, ignoring the fact that it was impossible due to it being clear across the campus, or was swept up in some unnatural wind, the punishment would have been the same – a mere three days in the cupboard, as school was still in session.

The staff and Harry's friends winced at how apathetic he was towards his treatment. Three days in a bedroom is like house arrest reserved for offending criminals, but three days in a cupboard is like a short jail stay. It was abundantly clear that these things happened often to the raven haired teen, and he had merely grown accustomed to it.

At least this way he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of admitting to breaking the rules when he really hadn't. Besides, he knew his relatives hated it when anything unnatural was mentioned, and the looks on their contorted faces during their bouts of irritation and outrage when he spoke the actual truth were almost enough to make the weekend long lock-in bearable.

The hall once again looked at Harry like he'd grown another head. Here he was, a ten year old, purposefully provoking his relatives out of some bitter and fully justifiable distaste for them, knowing the punishment would be the same anyway due to the weekend. Cunning, but more than anything, recklessly brave. Some found it admirable, fewer found it immature, while most found it simply crazy impressive for someone so young.

Hermione just stared mouth agape at her best friend, who was currently being silently congratulated by Ron, who seemed to agree with him very much on the matter. She wouldn't bother scolding him on his treatment of his guardians, as the family deserved everything her bespectacled friend could dish out on them. What shocked her was Harry's sense of justification and happiness at the smallest of paybacks. Unknown to her, Dumbledore was warily thinking along similar lines.

But today, nothing was going to go wrong, he promised himself. It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn't school, his cupboard, or Mrs. Figg's cabbage-smelling living-room.

'I can only hope so, Harry,' thought a concerned Sirius, hoping the fates would give his godson just one good day.

While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain about things: people at work, Harry, the council, Harry, the bank and Harry were just a few of his favorite subjects.

The hall rolled their eyes at the man's immature antics, as the twins frowned and turned towards Harry.

"Normally, Harry, we'd congratulate you on a job well done," said George.

"Aye, it's clear you've managed to properly tick off your authoritarian figure," commented Fred.

"A sign of a true prankster," they muttered in unison. Harry opened his mouth to cut them off, but they pressed on.

"However, these aren't normal circumstances," George pointed out with a frown.

"It's rather apparent this guy has it out for you for no fault of your own, so it doesn't really count," shrugged George.

"We can however, sympathize having been under similar circumstances this past year," continued Fred.

Here, they both nodded conspiratorially towards Umbridge who narrowed her eyes at the gesture, just as the hall, who had been listening in, snickered silently or winced at the reminder of just who their High Inquisitor was.

"Having learned what life is like under the weight of a dick…," smirked Fred, as the students snickered even more.

"…tator, we sympathize with your plight and congratulate you for having given your best go of it under a complete," George paused

"- and utter," continued Fred with a look at his twin.

"ASS!" they finished in unison, to the amusement of the hall and even the guests. Yet again, Harry was eternally thankful for the humorous good nature of the twins. Annoying as they might be on rare occasions, they always managed to brighten up whoever they were talking to, and during these readings especially, they'd been in top form. Almost as though they were applying their beater positions to the reading by blocking the verbal assaults aimed at him and dishing out humor to even the scales. He had a feeling they wouldn't be half as funny without the other, however, and dreaded the thought of just one twin telling jokes… not that such a thing was likely to happen, right?

This morning, it was motorbikes.

"Which I just so happen to love," commented a dry Harry, to the amusement of the others. It was clear that the Dursley's and he were polar opposites in just about everything.

"Of course you would," commented a half-hearted Hermione. "If it's not risking your life on a broom, it's risking it on a death machine."

At her comment, Molly began rambling about how Harry would have no such dealings with a pointless muggle death machine. This served to both amuse and irritate Harry, and he could tell her children were embarrassed despite having grown accustomed to her… passionate, behavior.

"Roaring along like hoodlums on the road, the maniacs, where there are dozens of things to hit! It's madness, Harry!" she screeched/bemoaned.

Harry gave no reply, not out of rudeness, but out of sympathy. He knew she was an overbearing mother, through and through. It's how she showed her love, after all. So he wouldn't slap it in the face by replying annoyed or dismissive. He'd take it as long as he could, just as he always has.

"…roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a motorbike overtook them.

Everyone almost did a double take as Molly's words were practically repeated by Vernon. The Weasley matriarch blushed red enough to match her hair and scowled at the book in embarrassment, as her children blinked owlishly.

The pureblood boys, loathe as they were to admit it, were highly curious about the thrills involving these "motorbikes".

"I had a dream about a motorbike," said Harry, remembering suddenly. "It was flying."

The hall groaned at Harry's comment. Did he have a death wish?

"More badgering of your relatives," Hermione questioned with a raised eyebrow and a pointed stare.

Harry saw this and frowned at his best friend's barely concealed accusation. 'Who is she to judge me? What does she know about living with them? Nothing!' His scar warmed and he rubbed it absentmindedly, feeling angry from nowhere once again, but he fought the emotion down and answered calmly with no visual sign of a struggle.

"No, this time it honestly just came out..."

Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front.

"Oh, dear God," muttered Remus, rubbing his brow line in worry and agitation.

He turned right around in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face like a gigantic beetroot with a mustache "MOTORBIKES DON'T FLY!"

"Disgusting image, mate," commented a dry Charlie Weasley.

Dudley and Piers sniggered.

"Pricks," accused Dean.

"I know they don't," said Harry, softly. "It was only a dream."

But he wished he hadn't said anything. If there was one thing the Dursleys hated even more than his asking questions, it was his talking about anything acting in a way it shouldn't, no matter if it was in a dream or even a cartoon – they seemed to think he might get dangerous ideas.

"Ahh, but who can blame them?" rang the unwelcome voice of Umbridge. "You always struck me as a sensationalist and a danger, Mr. Potter. If you were as delusional then as you are now, then they have good cause to fear your foolishness."

Several people, including most of the staff, rose to his defense, but Umbridge tuned them out.

For his part, Harry remained unaffected by the woman's words and met her gaze unflinchingly without visible hate or malice. Instead, he seemed almost apathetic to her comments; a confidence was present in his silent challenge that once again had the hall wondering why they were even listening to anyone but the book.

Normally, when he was already in trouble, which was quite often, he wouldn't mind a little teasing so much. They had yet to catch him on it, and it was the only source of amusement his days usually got besides tongue twisting Dudley. What more could they do to him anyways? Today, however, was going to be a good day, and as such, he didn't want to risk upsetting a single hair on his uncle's neck.

"Good idea, mate," commented Ron with a nod. He felt deeply for his best friend, and didn't enjoy hearing about his abuse in the least.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice-creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harry what he wanted before they could hurry him away, they bought him a cheap lemon ice lolly.

Hermione just huffed in annoyance. Their treatment was getting increasingly pettier, though she proffered it to hearing about Harry's outright abuse. Ron was simply wondering what a lemon-icy tasted like.

"She had a great smile," Harry commented idly, lost in thought about the cute stranger working the ice cream van. His thought had unintentionally been verbal.

"Is that so? Bit old for you now, ain't she Harry?" teased Bill, wiggling his eyebrows at Harry. This got laughs and smiles from his friends.

Harry replied in good nature. "Who knows? I may be into older women," he challenged. For all his powers of perception, unfortunately, Harry was still human. He hadn't realized his mistake until he saw the lecherous looks on his male friends and the blushes on his female ones. "Oh, bugger." (3)

Almost every upper-class girl in the hall was blushing at the thought of the emerald eyed teen being "into" them. Professor Babbling laughed at the hidden blushes on both Professor Sinestra and Professor Vector's faces.

Narcissa raised a dainty brow at the boy's declaration. Most pureblood wizards proffered to chase younger company, after all. 'Interesting.'

Tonks laughed heartily at his foul-up, always delighting in his stuttered protests and tomato-red face.

Katie blushed, being a mere one year older than Harry, while her friends flashed her each a thumbs up that made her bury her head in her arms. Across the hall, Cho looked morosely at Harry, unsure of what to feel.

Ginny and Gabrielle pouted, being each a year younger than he was. They glared at the older girls around the hall, before noticing that they were mirroring the actions of the other. Soon enough their glares switched to each other. Luna was laughing openly at the sight, though most mistook it for laughter at Harry's expense.

The Slytherin girls remained outwardly impassive at the information, not being affected by it one way or another, though Lily was holding back a nosebleed when thoughts of her mother (who looked like her older twin) and Harry suddenly came to her mind. Despite her attempts to hide it, the three friends knew each other almost as well as they knew themselves, and so Tracey seemed to pick up on these thoughts from her not-so-mildly perverted friend. "Oh, Morgana… Lily!" Hearing her friends sharp whisper, the gorgeous half-Japanese snapped out of her daze and looked at her auburn haired friend questioningly, a hint of a blush on her cheeks. "Were you just…" Tracey trailed off as the blush that adorned her friends cheeks deepened. "Lily," she gasped in shock and embarrassment, while her friend stuttered to defend herself from the rebuke.

"It was just a thought, it's not like I did anything wrong, or that it even would be wrong, or… or…"

"No, sweetie. Just no. That's so…" Daphne trailed off at the thoughts that now entered her head involving her own mother, "…wrong." She cursed herself for reading some of those smut books Lily always carried around, as she shuddered at the thought. Tracey simply rolled her eyes at her two best friends. Why did she hang out with such perverts?!

All of this was lost on Harry as he was faced with a decidedly evil Fleur who was in the process of teasing him. She smiled sultrily at her co-champion and allowed a bit of her heady accent to come through. "Iz this true, 'Arry? You're really into zee oldeir women?" Her focus was purely on him, making him extremely hot under the collar. Bill had joined the other men in laughing up a storm at the teasing he was undergoing, though he kept his eye dutifully fixed on Harry's reaction.

Thankfully, Harry managed to simply smile back, "It depends, Fleur. Some women just scream youth and sexiness, regardless of age." He leaned in closer towards her 'till he was only a few inches from her face. She seemed surprised by his boldness, but didn't pull back. Rather she leaned in closer. By now, Bill was sweating bullets and the rest of the guys were trying their best not to drool as her allure flared. "Unfortunately, someone like you, on the other hand, may be a bit too… 'leetle'… for my tastes."

His shot-back had made the boys howl in laughter at the affronted look on the veela's face, though she smiled a second later at having been played by the young man. Bill nearly sighed in relief when they seperated, and chuckled along with the rest of the guys at how the tables had turned on the would-be seductress. Fleur hid it from all, but Harry's joke had struck a nerve with her, whether there was truth in that statement or not. Why wouldn't a woman like her be good for a man like him?

Gabrielle watched her sisters face contort in confusion and her eyes flash with something akin to hurt before looking at Harry – who was busy being teased by the rest of the guys and admonished by the girls – and subtly glaring at him with a hint of a challenge. The younger veela narrowed her eyes at her sister, deciding to watch her from now on.

Of course, not everything was about the emerald eyed teenager, and discussions broke out across the hall about liking older men, or women, or just amorous thoughts in general. The adults shook their heads in a mixture of humor, nostalgia, and exasperation – leave it to teenagers to take any moment they can to talk about sex and the nature of things that lead up to it. Andromeda had, had her fill of the banter around the hall and continued on when the noise was once again reasonable.

It wasn't bad either, Harry thought, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head and looking remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn't blond.

Everyone had a laugh at Dudley's expense, amazed at young Harry's astonishing sense of humor.

"Where do you get these things, mate? How do you come up with them," questioned a still chuckling Lee Jordan.

"I don't know. I just see people and immediately liken them to animals, or things I've seen. It's all really just spur of the moment, though now I wish I could filter it for the sake of the reading."

"Oh? And what does your description say about me, Harry?" Tonks batted her eyelashes dramatically at him.

"Uhm, oh, Well… you see… I mean, you're - and I'm - so I thought… it-doesn't-say-much-of-anything, really… just… … …. yeah."

Harry's stuttering and then despondent "yeah" of defeat had the whole Gryffindor table laughing at his expense. Tonks was trying her best to glare at him, but her megawatt smile ruined the effect. It was clear for all to see that she loved messing with Harry.

Hermione had never seen Harry so flustered before, and she could tell that he really cared about what Tonks thought. A sudden part of her felt envious of this, but she shot it down and focused on more important matter.

"Do you mean to say that I have some funky description as well, Harry James Potter?" Her hands on her waist and her stern face inches from his, and Harry knew he was in trouble when they got to her introduction. All he could do was groan, which brought on more laughs from his friends.

Harry had the best morning he'd had in a long time.

Remus almost smiled at this, while Snuffles barked happily up at Harry from beneath the table, though it did little to change their moods The thought that a morning wherein Harry was decked by his uncle was still considered a good morning upset a lot of people.

He was careful to walk a little ways apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunch-time, wouldn't fall back on their favorite hobby of hitting him.

Once more, the book was on the receiving end of several glares.

"Those two need to get the hum-dungers out of their heads," commented a very serious Luna. This unsettled not a few people, not the least of whom was Hermione, though Harry was curious about the new animal his unique friend had thought up… err, discovered.

They ate in the zoo restaurant and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knicker-bocker glory wasn't big enough, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Harry was allowed to finish the first.

"Sloppy seconds a usual for you, eh, Potter?" sneered a far too smug Nott. His last comment hadn't gotten anything from the Gryffindor Golden Boy, which angered him, and as such, a retry was in due order. Three fourths of the student body glared at the boy, causing another fourth to glare right back in defense of their housemate, whether they agreed with Nott or not…

While his friends glared, Harry didn't even spare the fifth-year Slytherin a glance. Tonks just took it upon herself to reply for him. "No, but it's abundantly clear that you've received quite a few seconds yourself; second helpings, that is." Previously looking at Harry, she finally turned to look at Nott and looked him up and down in transparent distaste. "More like thirds and fourths if your bust is anything to go by."

While Harry gaped at her, and the staff admonished her, the students laughed heartily at what was actually true – Nott did have what would normally be called "bitch tits". Even a majority of the Slytherins couldn't keep their faces neutral, their lips twitching and noses crunching, and some let loose bits of snickers and muffled snorts even as they tried to remain impassive or glare at the rest of the laughing students. This only increased the laughter of the others in the Great Hall.

It took Dumbledore and the staff a couple minutes to restore order, even as Nott nearly passed out from all the blood going to his face in embarrassment and anger. Harry honestly couldn't tell which emotion was more dominant. Instead, he just stared at Tonks like a rockstar.

Harry felt, afterwards, that he should have known it was all too good to last.

On cue, the hall quieted their snickering and Harry almost snorted at how their emotions mirrored that of the book's tone.

After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Harry felt it was an earthy and atmospheric environment, so he rather liked it. He could've done without all the snakes, however. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons.

A few of the younger girls made faces while the first year boys were clearly approving of Dudley's animal selection. It almost brought a smile to the trio's faces as they thought about how little and young they themselves once were.

Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place.

The twins only barely held themselves back from making a comment about the largest snake being the one in Harry's pants, and Alicia and Angelina seemed to have read their minds if their blushes and choking were any indication.

"Of course he did," muttered an exasperated Fay Dunbar. She rolled her eyes at boys always thinking about size.

"Oh, this isn't going to end well," muttered a nervous Molly Weasley.

It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a dustbin

The hall was shocked at the fact that such a large snake was in a zoo, and they didn't want to think about what might happen with Harry "the-Universe-Hates-Me" Potter there.

Hermione thought of Harry having to face a basilisk alone in his second year, one that was clearly a mammoth compared to what any extra-large snake could ever hope to be, and shuddered. Harry instinctively grabbed her hand; unaware of what was wrong but wanting to be there for her.

but at the moment it didn't look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.

"Come again?" questioned a deadpan Terry Boot. He was really looking forward to hearing about such a snake, a weird hobby of his being animals.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.

Some of the adults had already started remembering the name of the chapter and had begun putting pieces into place. Some of them paled at what they eventually came up with, but remained silent.

"Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge.

"Did the spoilt brat really expect that to work?" questioned an annoyed Dennis Creevey. Nobody commented how amusing it was to see a boy three years Harry's minor call his cousin of equal age a "brat".

"Do it again," Dudley ordered.

"I guess so," Dennis muttered in incredulity.

Pomona leaned into Minerva. "Terrible child, indeed."

Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.

"Smart snake," nodded Lee Jordan.

"It must be part of the survival instinct most intelligent animals have. You know, avoiding jack-arses," stage-whispered a sage-like Harry, to the snickers of the still tense hall. The teachers hadn't even bothered correcting him, too worried about their irrational fears of what came next.

"This is boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.

Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. He wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself – no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake you up – at least he got to visit the rest of the house.

His friends looked at him as though he were insane. "Seriously, mate?" questioned an amused Ron. "Comparing yourself to a snake? Isn't that weird even for you?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't think so. Similar habitats is fair cause for a comparison, Ron."

His friend could only nod gently at his nonchalant reasoning.

He felt pity for it. No animal, human or otherwise, should be confined from the sky – from freedom.

A few people nodded firmly at that, completely in agreement, while others looked at Harry in both sympathy and fondness. It was abundantly clear he suffered a similar enough fate with the snake to understand its pain, but the fact that he felt sorry for it despite likely having the worse of their respective situations really showcased his true character; precious innocence that he now seemed to have little of.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry's… It winked.

The student subconsciously leaned closer to the staff table in interest, as though the act would increase their ability to imagine the scene.

Harry stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren't. He looked back at the snake and winked, too.

"Nutter, he is," muttered Malfoy to a still embarrassed Nott.

The snake jerked its head towards Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry a look that said quite plainly: "I get that all the time."

"Is this the actual parseltounge ability, or are you just reading into things?" questioned Kingsley Shacklebolt, honestly curious.

"I don't know. I mean, the few times I've spoken parseltounge has been under duress or subconscious, and it always sounds like English. I don't even know when I'm doing it. As it is, I've hardly encountered any snakes to speak to and test the abilities out," Harry half-lied to the man. In truth, he's been practicing it lately, but there was no reason to divulge that to a room full of bigots and strangers. While he felt more comfortable talking about it now that he knew the hall would learn the truth about his second year, he didn't like the suspicious glances superstitiously sent his way either.

Indeed, the students seemed uncomfortable talking about something supposedly taboo, though they were reassured at the fact that it was an auror talking about the subject so plainly in front of the Head of the DMLE, the Headmaster, and even the Minister.

"I know," Harry murmured through the glass, though he wasn't sure the snake could hear him. "It must be really annoying."

The snake nodded vigorously.

"Where do you come from, anyway?" Harry asked.

Katie laughed at Harry's curious personality shining through. "Ever curious, aren't we Harry?"

"You're one to talk, Bell," Harry shot back with a grin, making the older girl smile.

The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry peered at it.

Boa Constrictor, Brazil.

"This is just too weird", muttered Justin to an enthralled Hannah. His second year encounter with the snake had scarred him for life.

Susan reached over and patted her friends back. "It's okay Justin." She looked at Hannah who hadn't responded, and saw that her friend's attention was firmly on a certain Gryffindor table. She bit her lip, knowing full well that Hannah was just as fond of Harry as she was.

"Was it nice there?" he questioned, not wanting to push his boundaries with a stranger… even if it was a snake.

"So polite," Sinestra cooed to her fellow professors who nodded with smiles on their faces.

"I'm sure he appreciated being talked to at all, Harry," smiled Luna.

The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Harry read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Oh, I see – so you've never been to Brazil?"

As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Harry made both of them jump.

"DUDLEY! MR DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!"

"That's rude," sniffed a faux-haughty Tonks. "Butting into a civilized conversation like that." Harry snorted.

Dudley came waddling towards them as fast as he could.

Mild laughter came again.

"Out of the way, you," he said, punching Harry in the ribs.

The laughter instantly ceased.

Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor.

Winces of sympathy for Harry accompanied growls of aggravation and anger directed at the book.

Minerva once more glared at Dumbledore, while Amelia continued her notes. She'd already noted physical abuse and starvation, which meant she had more than enough to host a proper investigation (for appearance sake, as these books were inadmissible to anyone outside of the reading) and hopefully sentence the Dursleys to their just punishment.

What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened – one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.

The hall leaned forward in anticipation, though several students and all of the adults had already figured out the cause for Dudley's fright.

Harry sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished.

"Alright, Harry!" cheered Colin as the students snickered and cheered at the unintended prank. Harry tried not to wince at the sound. The boy had backed off on his devout fanaticism when his younger brother had arrived the year prior, but his fanboy ravings were still rather annoying to listen to, and had thus left a poor taste in Harry's mouth. Nonetheless, he forced himself to smile in thanks at his fellow Lion, not wishing to hurt anyone's feelings.

The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor – people throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.

"No one bothered helping you up?" questioned an irritated Professor Vector.

The hall hadn't caught this, but they now saw what she meant and glared at the book. Harry just shrugged, not blaming anyone. He was closest to the snake after all, and panic sets everyone's moral compass askew.

As the snake slid swiftly past him, Harry could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, "Brazil, here I come … Thanksss, amigo."

"Well, at least he thanked you." Everyone turned to look at Neville in surprise, unsure of whether he'd been rhetoric or had simply stated the obvious. The twins guffawed at this.

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.

"I can imagine," said a dry Remus. He was amused at Harry's accidental magic, but not at its cause. He hated abuse ever since he was a kid, and the more that was read, the worse he felt about abandoning Harry to Dumbledore's plans. It wasn't thought of remotely as abandonment at the time, but he now saw it differently, and he knew Sirius likely would as well.

"But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?"

"Typical," the school matron said. "He's in shock."

A first year girl with freckles question what she meant by shock.

"Shock is what happens when someone's mind or body, sometimes both, experiences an intense or sudden amount of trauma. It's a way of your brain coping with the trauma, be it pain or fear, and not going crazy from it. It numbs you, shuts down most feelings, more uncommon sense, and sometimes even certain motor functions. The more aggressive the traumatic event, the worse the shock is likely to be."

Harry thought back to the night of the third task, and he could hardly remember how out of it he'd been afterwards. His shock must have been something else. Unknown to him, Pomfrey was looking at him with a sad expression the entire time she was talking, something which several people caught onto, all of whom frowned worriedly.

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as Harry had seen, the snake hadn't done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death.

The hall almost rolled their eyes in unison at the cowardice and immaturity the two goons displayed.

"Oh, grow up," muttered an irritated Hermione. The things she, Harry, and Ron had done made a snapping snake seem tame in comparison, and they never gloated or complained about them to anyone.

Harry chuckled at Hermione's aggressive tone. Despite having an often times too clean view of the world, the beautiful bookworm was highly defensive of her friends. For that he was eternally thankful.

But worst of all, for Harry at least, was Piers calming down enough to snidely say, "Harry was talking to it, weren't you, Harry?"

Groans filled the air as Harry's friends and DA members silently cursed the rat-faced boy.

"What a douche-canoe," muttered Fred.

"More like a douche-cruise", spoke an equally unamused George. No one bothered questioning them on how they knew what a canoe or cruise even were. They sometimes seemed more knowledgeable of the muggle world than any pureblood had the right to be.

"I hate rats," Harry bit out as he glared at the table. Snuffles growled in agreement.

Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting in on Harry.

The hall tensed even further, not wanting to think about Harry's punishment after the incident. Hermione gripped Harry's arms once more as Ron balled his hands into fists – no one hurt his friend!

He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, "Go – cupboard – stay – no meals," before he collapsed into a chair

"No meals?! For how long?" demanded an even more disgusted Pomfrey.

"That's no way to punish a child, especially when the child hasn't done anything to deserve it," growled an angry Minerva with Filius and the other teachers - with the exception of Snape - voicing their vehement agreement.

Ron breathed out a sigh of relief. "Just a grounding without meals? Well… it could've been worse, right?"

Hermione and the others turned to look at him incredulously, and he realized how tactless his comment had been, but Harry shushed everyone with a wave of his hand. He understood what Ron meant, and it was well intended. He didn't like to be pampered, and being sent to his bedroom without meals was definitely something anyone could survive without fuss.

More than anything, he just wanted this chapter over.

- and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy. This only made Harry's eyes widen in fear.

"Oh dear God," whispered a teary eyed Remus. He alternated between hiding himself away with his head behind his hands, and looking pathetically at his best friend's son, who wasn't looking in his direction.

The adults were appalled. "Alcohol? An abusive guardian who already punishes his charge unjustly now indulges in excess alcohol!? Is the Aunt insane?" hissed a disturbed and extremely pissed Andromeda, trying to keep her voice from spreading past the staff table. The younger years looked frightened enough and she didn't want to exacerbate their fear. She made Molly Weasley, who was voicing her own thoughts on the matter rather loudly, seem tame, only her eyes did most of the talking as opposed to her mouth.

Aberforth wanted to defend alcoholic consumption, but in this instance, he knew the distress was well warranted. That Dursley was a fiend, and alcohol certainly never made a fiend a saint.

Needless to say, no one bothered asking why Harry was afraid.

Harry lay stiffly on his back in his dark cupboard much later, wishing he had a watch. He didn't know what time it was and he couldn't be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet. Until they were, he couldn't risk sneaking to the kitchen for some food. (4)

"Oh, Harry." Hermione snuggled into his side, once again being comforted by him instead of the other way around. She just never knew how hard his life had been, and even now it was hard to believe he'd been treated like this when he'd turned out so good. Many others were thinking the same thing.

Harry groaned as he tried to roll onto his side, hissing in pain.

"What'd he do to you," growled a red-eyed Remus along with Ted and Arthur. Padfoot had gone stiff against Harry's leg a while ago, and a strange rumbling had started emitting from his throat.

His Uncle had opened the cupboard a few hours after they'd gotten home, reeking of alcohol, and cussing up a storm. The beating he'd gotten afterwards had landed him in his current state.

The men in the hall clenched their fists in anger, trying to hold back from exploding until they'd heard all of it. The women were just as angry, though they couldn't keep their eyes from watering at the same time. The student body sat silent, their bodies tense in morbid anticipation and genuine horror.

Many, Su Li, and Lisa were already crying as they held each other's hands to steady themselves. Susan grit her teeth through blurred eyes, Hannah clenched her fists until they were white as a sheet. The Slytherin trio tried their hardest to remain impassive but lumps formed in each of their throats and their eyes watered.

Bill and Charlie were muttering dark curses while the twins stared eerily quiet at the book. Ron himself was caught between sympathy and anger, not knowing which emotion was more appropriate. Flitwick seemed to be silently hexing the book with his eyes. Surprisingly, Remus remained completely quiet, waiting for the final toll before he sounded off.

Several gashes lined his back from being thrown into the sharp shelves on the wall of the tiny cupboard,

Winces from people who'd ever gotten gashes were heard around the hall.

Andromeda had trouble reading these next few lines, but her ever considerate husband took her hand in his and squeezed reassuringly, doing his best to keep his own cool under the circumstances. Narcissa, who was doing her best to stomach the blatant child abuse she was hearing, saw this and almost envied her sister. Mediocre looking and muggleborn he might have been, but Ted Tonks was always a genuine boy at school and appeared to have maintained his kind and considerate nature through the numbing years of adulthood.

"That bastard," gritted Ginny Weasley, whose hand was being held in comfort by an absent minded Ron. No child deserved to be beaten for wrong doings, let alone things beyond their control like her Harry was.

an aching stomach from a couple of meaty uppercuts to the solar plexus, making it difficult for him to breathe,

Tears flowed freely down Hermione's face as she once again hyperventilated into Harry's side. She'd cried more today than she had in the past year, and she couldn't help but feel she was going to cry a lot more as these books were read. She was already exhausted, and she could only imagine what Harry must be going through reliving these moments with strangers and people he looked up to. This thought only made her heart clench more.

Tonks wanted to hold Harry's other hand, but it was now being held by Ron in a show of absolute support. She wanted to hurt the Dursley's. Really hurt them. The blank look on Harry's face was almost as heartbreaking as hearing about his treatment, knowing that he was struggling to block out the memories and emotions from showing on his face. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a pale Parvati and Lavender staring at Harry in horror, and then almost inching away from him as though abuse was some type of disease one could catch. She caught their eyes and glared so fiercely at them that they simply stood stock still. She sneered at their ignorance and cowardice, Gryffindors or not, before turning back to Harry. It pained her to see a friend, one of her few, hiding away in plain sight – so very vulnerable. A single tear fell from her now glassy, rose-tinted eyes.

Next to her, Katie Bell was crying into her friends' shoulders, unable to look at Harry's blank face for fear of exacerbating the problem. The books had already made it clear that he'd suffered such beatings often, but hearing about it in detail pained her deeply. She could do nothing but feel weak and shake as she cried into Alicia's side, who rubbed her bang consolingly even as she and Angelina looked stricken themselves.

Across the hall, Daphne Greengrass' pink lips parted in an inaudible gasp. Her glacier-blue eyes watered but refused to spill, even as her heart went out to the boy who probably deserved a life a dozen times better than the one he'd been dealt. Her blonde bangs were messy from the several times she'd shaken her head absentmindedly at the thought of Harry being hurt, and had stuck to her flawless forehead. She could feel Lily, the most emotional of the three, silently crying into a distraught Tracey's shoulder who sat shaking herself.

Fleur was statuesque as she stared at Harry. Not impolitely, just as though she were trying to convey all of her feelings through sight alone. Her crystal blue eyes filled with so much sorrow, and Gabrielle - already weeping due to her particularly accurate imagination - sobbed into her shoulder as Fleur absently rubbed comforting circles on her back.

-and, finally, what felt like two cracked ribs from his initial push into the cupboard door which had resulted in him being hurled mercilessly into the iron doorknob.

"Damn them!" exploded an enraged Remus, nearly frothing at the mouth in anger, and he wasn't the only one.

"Two cracked ribs and no medical attention, on top of starvation!?" roared Pomfrey, looking leagues more formidable than Harry had ever seen her.

Once again, the circus act occurred - people up in arms, yelling over each other - and even at each other - with little rhyme or reason.

This time, Dumbledore even joined the fray when it was commented by a faux-concerned Umbridge that perhaps he had always intended for the boy to be built "modest". Needless to say, the old wizard lashed back and defended his mistake by claiming ignorance and alienation, and that he'd never have sent him there under the circumstances of such abuse. It was a testament to just how powerful and forthright the upstanding wizard's reputation was, that when he spoke so fiercely, no one dared question him.

The woman (Perenelle) that Harry had seen earlier stared at Harry in equal parts pity and sorrow. Harry couldn't shake the feeling that she meant no harm to him, but went to turn away nonetheless. As though sensing this, the woman turned away first, once more perplexing the young man who'd taken to ignoring the rest of his peers.

Next to the couple, Aberforth stared at his brother impassively, not sure of what to make of Albus' outburst. While he knew his brother would never put another in direct danger of such treatment, he felt there might have been some truth to the under secretaries blind reaching. His brother was, after all, a manipulative old goat – greater good or not.

Snape remained impassive, not bothering to enter the fray those around him were in He felt something akin to pity for the young Potter boy, but that was as far as his calloused heart allowed him to go on the matter. He didn't catch Narcissa sitting a little ways away from him eyeing the boy with something as close to sympathy and pity that someone like her could show in public. No boy should have to suffer that way; especially one that she had to admit didn't seem all that bad. Quite the opposite..

Hermione still clung to Harry and just sat there, her tears already dry but not for a lack of crying. Ron felt the same way, helpless, wishing he could do more and feeling worse than he'd felt since the Goblet of Fire fiasco. To both friends, this was far more significant than hearing of a child's abusive past - something quite horrible already. This was a reminder of just how badly they had neglected their best friend. Harry had always taken care to ask how they were, question their home lives, etc. They hardly ever returned the favor, and when they did, he'd shrug it off and they wouldn't bother digging deeper. They wondered just how long Harry had lived like this, and whether or not their knowing could have stopped it any sooner. Their best friend was so strong yet so secretive, and to find out about his treatment like this was a brutal reminder of just how little they really knew about him.

Harry just fazed all the noise out, as memories of his treatment at the hands of the Dursley's surfaced. Reliving this, in front of hundreds of strangers no less, was harder than he could have ever imagined. He almost wanted to call the reading quits, but he knew it was too late for that now. He had to remind himself that this story would free Sirius and show the wizarding world the truth. If it meant reliving this pain… this intense, emotional pain and humiliation, then so be it.

If he were honest with himself, he didn't have it too bad at Privet Drive. In his opinion, while terrible guardians, the Dursley's didn't abuse him all that often; an average of once every other week or so, for one reason or another. Harry was sure that others, perhaps even within the walls of Hogwarts itself, had it worse. While the beatings hurt, they somehow never scarred other than emotionally on the worst of days. He'd always heal well enough and he'd simply get through it. Whatever the case, it made him who he was today. He was never put in immediate danger of death, or even on its doorstep, for which he was thankful. It's as if the Dursley's knew exactly what to get away with, without crossing the truly uncrossable line of murder or permanent disfigurement.

No, he could stand the beatings well enough. What he couldn't stand, however, were the words. At least, not at first. One would think that growing up in a hostile environment, one would be used to cruelty and verbal abuse, but not Harry. Every time he was cut down, yelled at, sneered at, told he was no good, reminded of his "filthy, disgusting parents", or outright torn into, all of which was very often, he'd feel a portion of him ache. No one would ever know what it was like, every day, to be torn down by the very people who were supposed to love you. Every hour, every day, every week, every month, every year for eleven years, a piece of his childlike fervor was extinguished. That type of abuse is the type that numbs people, turns off a switch in their head, makes them into the very monsters they're accused of being. And Harry knew he had a few issues that would never be resolved because of it. All he could hope was that this story would move on to what he felt was actually important, and that eventually… someday… he might be okay.

After about ten minutes of rapid fire arguments and discussions, sobbing and screaming, the hall finally quieted. The air was silent, and the atmosphere equal parts tense and awkward. The students didn't really know how to act in the situation. They'd just heard about a peer, whether he be seen as ally or enemy, having been extremely abused all his life. What did you say to that? What words of comfort could a stranger offer someone after hearing something so dark and personal?

It was clear that many people wished to stand up and pay the Dursley's back in kind, chief among them a pacing Remus. It would appear to Harry that the Headmaster had dissuaded them from taking any immediate action, a point which he could readily agree with. He wanted them to stay focused on the matter at hand – the truth behind his years at Hogwarts.

With a reassuring hand from her husband, Andromeda cleared her throat and continued the reading. She hoped the chapter would be over soon.

He'd lived with the Dursleys almost ten years, ten miserable years, as long as he could remember, ever since he'd been a baby and his parents had died in that car crash.

"As if," muttered a disgruntled but surprisingly soft Moody, who took a bitter pull of his flask.

No one felt any better being reminded that Harry was being lied to on top of his abuse.

He couldn't remember being in the car when his parents had died. Sometimes, when he strained his memory during long hours in his cupboard, he came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on his forehead.

Professor Vector gulped into the radiant silence after that sentence was read. "The killing curse."

The students unfamiliar with the curse immediately understood what Harry had seen and looked at his silent form in shock and astonishment. The staff and guests, sans the usual suspects, were horrified that a child would remember such a uniquely terrible thing. Even Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up into his head before they wrinkled in sorrow.

"Merlin, you remembered that?" breathed an awed yet saddened Padma, to which Harry nodded tightly. He couldn't trust himself to speak right now.

This, he supposed, was the crash, though he couldn't imagine where all the green light came from.

"Oh, Harry," sobbed Hermione, still buried into his shoulder. Harry noted that she fit rather nicely in the crook of his neck, her breath warm and comforting, even as she shuddered in sadness. She cared so much. It made him feel guilty for bringing her such pain, even if it was through empathy for his own plight.

He couldn't remember his parents at all. His aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course he was forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house.

"Thanks Hagrid," Harry said, confusing the somber hall. His voice was somewhat cracked.

The half-giant understood him just fine, however, and nodded back in kind. He didn't say anything, as he was still too choked up and enraged over what he'd just heard to say anything.

When he had been younger, Harry had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take him away, but it had never happened; the Dursleys were his only family.

Remus, who had finally stopped pacing and had sat down, and Padfoot dropped their heads at this, tears in their eyes in knowing that it should have been them to rescue Harry – to raise him and care for him like James and Lily would have wanted them to. They'd let their fear and foolishness, respectively, get in the way of that, and Harry had suffered dearly for it.

Remus especially felt guilty, knowing that he had little reason not to have been there for Harry, or at the very least visit him under false pretense just to check on him. Sirius would have done it in a heartbeat, damned the laws or Dumbledore's wishes, but he was suffering through living-hell at Azkaban. He, however, had no excuse, and he knew that Sirius would confront him about his lack of contact sooner or later. He knew he wouldn't have an answer.

Yet sometimes he thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know him. Very strange strangers they were, too. A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to him once while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking Harry furiously if he knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed them out of the shop without buying anything.

"Paranoid much," questioned a snide Alicia, though her voice was course from crying, and soft, not wanting to shatter the foreign silence in the usually animated hall. She didn't like a single bone in the horse-like woman, and she knew she wasn't alone in that regard.

A wild-looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily at him once on a bus. A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken his hand in the street the other day and then walked away without a word. The weirdest thing about all these people was the way they seemed to vanish the second Harry tried to get a closer look.

"Apparating away like that? *sniff* Rude," muttered Molly Weasley. Though what were they supposed to do, Harry thought bemusedly. Stick around and explain things to him? That train of thought brought something else to mind.

"Speaking of admirers," Harry's voice filled the Great Hall, clear yet detached. Some were surprised he could talk at all under the circumstances, let alone coherently. "How is it that people recognized me on the street if I'm supposed to be in hiding? I haven't been seen in years, and my scar is hardly noticeable from a distance. Not to mention that, if they had found me, wouldn't they insist on telling their friends where the B-W-L was spotted? Wouldn't they find me at Privet Drive eventually?"

These questions blindsided the Headmaster, who was looked to by the entire hall - sans Perenelle and his brother - for answers. He had none to offer other than, "I'm afraid I hadn't calculated the possibilities of you running into wizards, though I assure you the wards would have protected you had anyone with ill-intent discovered your location."

Harry snorted at the terrible reply. "That would have helped me outside of the house… how?"

Again, the Headmaster had nothing to say and merely looked away. The school was reeling at how thoughtless the Headmaster had truly been in hiding Harry away. He could've been kidnapped, killed, or worse. What if one of those wizards had been a Death Eater? The dark possibilities were endless and they all pointed to the aged wizard's carelessness. Harry saw this and pressed on with more aggression to his voice.

"On top of that, why was checking in on me something you neglected, supposedly due to wanting to keep my life segregated from wizarding influence, when I was already seeing other magicals randomly in the street?"

"That's enough, Mr. Potter," cautioned Professor McGonagall.

Harry turned to face her and when their eyes met, what McGonagall saw frightened her. Anger; the boy had so much of it that she was nearly drowning in a pool of rage. She knew the boy would be angry, but she hadn't expected his anger to be so severe, so deep and infested within his being. She flinched and turned away immediately, the image already burnt into her memory. Her actions shocked the hall, both at her defense for the Headmaster when he was obviously in the wrong, and her flinch.

Something in several people snapped at that moment. Putting what they'd learned together, several of them were no longer able to look at the Headmaster in the same light again. He was no longer the infallible and ever right Albus Dumbledore. He was the man who sentenced a mere child to an abusive childhood on a whim, seemingly without much thought or justification.

At school, Harry had no one.

The entire hall seemed to stare at him in pity, even people who in the past would much rather have disliked him. Being alone – truly alone – was something none of them had ever truly experienced in their life. From what they'd read, Harry was more deserving of friends and company than most. It just didn't make sense in their "what you sow is what you reap" mindset.

Everybody knew that Dudley's gang hated that odd Harry Potter in his baggy old clothes and broken glasses, and nobody liked to disagree with Dudley's gang.

"Of course not," spat a tear streaked and bitter Hermione. Her lip trembled at the thought of her best friend being abused and alone his entire life, yet he was still the caring, funny, resilient man he was today in spite of it. He deserved better, better than she felt she could offer him.

Settling into as comfortable a position as he was allowed, given the cramped space and his injuries, he settled for putting his thoughts and problems to rest for now.

"Good," whispered Pomfrey to herself, though some of the staff heard it well enough. "Don't worry about the past, just get some sleep."

The matron was back in her usual motherly mode, and her face was soft as she - and everyone else - pictured the tired and beaten boy, emotionally exhausted, lying alone in his cupboard. McGonagall grabbed her hand under the table in support.

Remus felt as if all the anger and murderous rage he'd had for the Dursley's had evaporated, replaced by crushing guilt. He pictured Harry, fragile and isolated since he was born, and he actually cried. Tears fell silently from his eyes, though they thankfully went unnoticed aside from an understanding Kingsley and Arthur. The disappointment and anger he held for himself in that moment; Remus couldn't look at anyone right now – not Andromeda, not Sirius, not Tonks. Definitely not Harry himself.

He was too tired to dwell on the unfairness of his life. He hoped that someday, if no one else would, he'd be able to stand up to his relatives and everyone like them. That was his final thought before darkness took him, and he once again saw a familiar flash of green.

Dumbledore pondered this development. While he was glad that Harry's wish was to stand up to bullies and those in the wrong, he could see how his treatment could easily have swayed him against muggles not unlike Tom Riddle. "Everyone like them" the book had said. The old wizard could only count his blessing that his lack of foresight hadn't cost him and the rest of the wizarding world their savior.

"It may yet, Albus," came the barely audible voice of Perenelle. Despite a century of knowing one another, Dumbledore was still amazed at just how perceptive she was. He frowned at the remark, knowing Perenelle had a point.

"That's the end of the chapter," spoke Andromeda, closing the book after marking their place. The clouds above the Great Hall had turned even darker, as though it were almost night. Thunder rumbled softly in the background and the wind seemed to still. The atmosphere of the hall basked in the aptly reflective weather outside; gloomy and emotionally charged.

Andromeda was exhausted after such a chapter and the story had only just begun. Her husband took her hand in his, before he kindly took the book from the table. Andromeda gave him a questioning look.

"I'll read next, love," he said in answer to her unasked question. His firm but soft tone told her that he wanted to read next. No one argued with that, so Ted opened up to where they were and began.