Alrighty, the usual. Pretend there's a disclaimer here.

The internet has kind of been out at my apartment for about a week now, and it's really starting to get annoying. (It's not like I have a class where I need to do weekly research on the internet at all.) And two of my roommates are acting like assholes about it, which is great. (They've got the two routers in our apartment, and they've been changing the password or just unplugging them completely so I can't use it. Fun, right? Especially when I'm the only one washing their week-old dishes and emptying the garbage can that's got their broken glass in it.)

Anyway, I've found myself with more free time than usual, so I've been writing for Moonlight in between trying to work on homework. Things are going to start picking up, but a few chapters are coming where there will be time jumps. (The big shit starts to happen a few years from this chapter, and I'm looking forward to getting to it.)

Other than that, enjoy! (and feedback is always loved!)

Chapter 3

This time when Harry woke up, he found himself laying on one of the leather couches in the Slytherin Common Room. He could feel the warmth from the fireplace in front of him and he almost sighed. Bits of Voldemort's magic was still tingling pleasantly under his skin, and that feeling, along with the warmth of the fire, had him feeling happier than he could ever remember. He opened his eyes, wincing and groaning quietly when the light from the Common Room proved too bright for him, and shut them again. His head was killing him.

"Oh, you're awake?" a female voice asked. "Wait a few minutes before you open your eyes. You're going to be disoriented from that much traveling so quickly, and if you force yourself to acclimate sooner, you might end up vomiting," she said.

Harry nodded slightly and took a few deep breaths. As he did so, the feel of Voldemort's magic disappeared and, frowning a bit at the sudden loneliness that accompanied the loss. Finally, when the ache in his head subsided, he opened his eyes again. This time, the light wasn't too intense and he moved to sit up, only to find a hand pressing lightly on his chest.

"Not yet," the same woman said. "Drink this first. It'll get rid of any dizziness or nausea from your trips," she said, pressing a small vial of cherry-red liquid into his hand.

Harry nodded again and did as told. "It tastes like apples," he said, slowly sitting up.

The young woman nodded. "There's an additive potion that I add to most of Professor Snape's potions, because otherwise they taste like shit," she said with a slight smirk. "How are you feeling?"

"My arms are sore," he said quietly, looking her over.

She had a lithe build and olive-colored skin, just a bit darker than Blaise's coloring, and her long, dark brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She was wearing a light grey dress under her school robes, with ballet shoes. What struck Harry the most was how tall she was, for a female. She had to be almost as tall as Professor Snape, and he was around six feet tall. When the young woman noticed the forming frown on Harry's face, her brows furrowed slightly and she leaned closer to him. She was watching Harry's every move with calm charcoal eyes. "Just your arms?" she asked, looking at his wrists. "Your wrists are a bit red. Did he hex you?"

Harry shook his head. "They're just sore," he said, rubbing his wrists lightly. "Am I late for class?"

"You got back early, actually," she said. "It's about the same time that you left the Great Hall. Maybe a few minutes earlier, but not many."

Harry frowned, not sure what to think.

"He is a kind Lord when he's not disobeyed or disrespected," she said. At the glare Harry leveled on her, she pulled something out of the pocket of her school robes. "I've been instructed to give you this," she said, handing Harry a translucent, pearl-colored fang. The thing was one of the longest fangs Harry had ever seen - it was longer than the length of his palm, but it was thin, and for a moment Harry wondered if he'd end up accidentally stabbing himself with the tip of it. At the base of the fang, there was a small hole, and through it was threaded a chain the same color as the fang.

"Who are you?"

"Lisette Rookwood," she said. "I'm in the sixth year," she added. "Can you stand up?"

"I think so," Harry said, shifting a bit before getting off the couch and standing up. He looked at the fang for a moment longer before fastening the chain attached to it around his neck. As soon as he clasped it shut, the chain grew warm and the clasp itself disappeared. Harry looked up at Lisette, silently asking questions.

"It's a protective charm to make sure the necklace isn't stolen and that it doesn't break. Since you're the one who put the necklace on, you're going to be the only one who can take it off. It comes as a standard charm on all the necklaces sold in our world, though I've no doubt that he's made some changes to that charm," she said with a slight smirk. "Now, you've come back looking no worse than when you left, so I'm assuming that you're going to be particularly important. Come along," she said. "I'll take you to the Transfigurations classroom."

Harry nodded and made to follow her. He only made it a few steps before he frowned and started looking around the Common Room. "Where's my schoolbag?" he asked.

Lisette looked around as well, her brows furrowed. "Oh, it's on your bed, in your room," she said. "I'll wait."

Without saying anything else, Harry went into his room. His bag was on his bed, with the books he'd need for class that day - and he'd double-checked to make sure they were the correct books. Before he picked it up, he glanced down at his fang, wondering if it would be better to keep it hidden. Deciding to err on the side of caution, he tucked the fang under his shirt. The silhouette of it was visible, but only if someone was looking closely would they be able to tell exactly what it was. He grabbed his bag and headed out to the Common Room. "Are you related to the Zabinis?" he asked suddenly. "You've got the same eyes that Blaise has," he added when she frowned at the question.

"Lady Zabini is my aunt, but our families are removed from each other by two times, I think. Two or three, at least," she said. "Of course, my mother is Turkish, and the Zabinis are Italian," she added. "Do you know any of the shortcuts?"

Harry shook his head.

"I'll make a map for you. It'll come in handy later," she said with a smirk. "But for now, come with me."

After a quick five minute walk, and a shortcut through a false wall, the two of them made it to the front of the Transfiguration classroom. Lisette looked around, making sure that they were alone, before she knelt down to be closer to eye level with Harry. "If you ever need to speak with him, or if you need to pass on any information to him, I will pass it on for you," she said. "And the same will happen if he needs to contact you."

Harry nodded. "Thank you," he said.

She smiled slightly. "When the Gryffindors give you shit - and they will," she said. "Make sure you make them regret ever even thinking about speaking against you."

At that, Harry grinned. "I will," he said.

"Good," Lisette said as she stood up and headed down the hall and disappeared around a corner.

Harry watched the empty hallway for a moment before heading into the classroom. He quickly chose a seat in the back corner of the left side of the room. There was a tabby cat sitting on the desk in the front of the room, and Harry found the way it was watching him unnerving. He pulled out his assigned book and started re-reading the material. He'd read through his books within a week after getting them, but it was something to take Harry's mind off of the cat watching him.

The classroom filled up slowly, with most of the Slytherins arriving early. Harry quickly found himself flanked on the right by Theo and on the left by Draco. Pansy was sitting on the desk behind Harry, and she had decided to pass the time before class started by absently playing with Harry's hair.

One of the first Gryffindors to show up was the bushy-haired girl that Draco had labeled the Mudblood. She'd looked over at Harry and smiled brightly at him in an attempt to get his attention, but his inattention to her and a cold glare from Draco had sent her to the other side of the classroom, pouting.

A few other Gryffindors had tried the same thing, only to end up sitting on the other side of the classroom.

Just a few minutes before the class started, the redhead known as Weasley barreled into the classroom. He ignored the glares that Draco and Theo sent him and leaned on the front of the desk that Harry was sitting at. He grabbed Harry's hand, trapped it between his as though to shake it, and pulled Harry halfway across the desk and into a hug. He completely missed Harry's flinch at the touch and the way Harry's body stiffened at the extended contact.

Theo didn't miss it, though, and his expression darkened slightly. "Daphne," he said quietly, quickly glancing over his shoulder at her and silently asking her a question. When she nodded, he returned his focus onto the scene in front of him.

The Weasley boy finally let go of Harry, though whether he'd done so because the hug was over or because Harry had wriggled himself out of the hold was debatable. "You're Harry Potter. My mum's always wanted to adopt you, but I kept telling her that you're the Harry Potter and that I'd welcome you to our family first," he gushed eagerly, his eyes straying to the scar on Harry's forehead before he met Harry's eyes. "You're really Harry Potter," he repeated, his gaze going back to Harry's scar.

"So I've been told," Harry said, his eyes narrowing when he saw the arrogant, expectant look on the boy's face. "Mostly by nosy little twats like you who can't bother themselves with common courtesy," he said, his hackles going up when he saw Weasley start to reach for his hand again. "Leave me alone," he snapped, jerking his hand out of reach.

The boy's eyes narrowed, a flush growing on his cheeks. "You rotten git! I came over to tell you how to get away from those slimy snakes and that my mum's waiting to introduce you to the proper sort!" he said loudly, ignoring Draco's quiet snort.

That had everyone's attention directed to their conversation, and Harry frowned slightly. He didn't like being the center of attention, and he was quickly growing to dislike this boy, this Weasley person. "You are aware that I am one of those slimy snakes?" he asked, his eyebrow quirking up. "If not by the fact that I'm sitting with them, then by the crest that's woven into my school robes, at least. Or by the Sorting that happened last night."

"That was a mistake! The hat was obviously cursed by You-Know-Who!"

Show this imbecile no mercy, Marvolo all but hissed to Harry.

At the suggestion, Harry smirked suddenly, the cold expression making him seem oddly frightening for his age. "No, I don't know who, actually. I'm just so completely useless without your mum introducing me to these proper people," he said. "And I'm complete rubbish at knowing how to function without you having welcomed me into your family. I'm ever so eternally grateful for your concern for my wellbeing," he said, his voice dripping with a sarcasm that was advanced for his eleven years.

The flush had taken over the boy's face, and he opened his mouth to respond, but Draco cut him off.

"Honestly, Weasley, you should really just quit while you're behind. There's no need for you to humiliate your family's reputation after you've done such a good job of dirtying your own," he said with a sneer.

"At least my family has a reputation! Everyone knows your father is a boot-licking Death Eater!" Ron yelled, and the classroom erupted with quiet gasps and poorly hushed whispers.

Draco, though, seemed completely unaffected by the reaction. "My father was cleared of all charges, and that's a matter of public record. Though I suppose I can't fault you for not knowing. I don't suppose you'd be able to afford both the newspaper and such properly fitted school robes," he said, casting a less than impressed look over Weasley's clean but obviously secondhand clothing. He leaned forward a bit. "And my family's reputation is well respected. We don't have to grovel at the feet of every celebrity for a scrap of attention," he said, his voice slightly hushed.

Harry smirked, genuinely amused by the rant. "But you do a wonderful job at treating me with the respect you might give anyone else," he said conversationally. "And you had the decency not to gape and paw at me like I was some beast on exhibit," he added.

Theo chuckled quietly. "There is certainly something to be said about good breeding," he said. "The Malfoys pride themselves for it, and it's well deserved," he said, looking over at Draco. "Your mother, especially, is a role model."

"She's a cow," Weasley snapped, pulling attention back to him. He'd earned a number of glares at the statement, even from some of the Gryffindors in the room. Draco, furious, had reached for his wand, but the look on Harry's face stopped him. "She gets on her knees for a Death Eater and then pretends that she's proper enough to walk around as a lady instead of the inbred whore she really is," he all but snarled, spittle flying from his mouth.

That had more than one Slytherin reaching for their wand, and Harry took a moment to be impressed at the respect they all had for Draco's mother before standing up. He pulled his wand out of the pocket of his trousers and pressed the tip of it to Weasley's chest. "Where I was raised," he started, casually enough. "It's incredibly disrespectful to speak ill of someone's mother, no matter how much you dislike the person. Like, I can call you an unintelligent idiot who's worth less than the flies that eat dog shit, and it'll be perfectly fine. But if I go further and tell you that your mother should have stopped popping out brats when she could no longer afford to feed them all, and that she should have been spayed before she had the chance to sleep with whatever swine happens to have the misfortune of being your father, that would be unacceptable," he said, ducking a punch and pressing his wand harder into the boy's chest when he made to take another swing at him.

"I'll kill you!"

"See?" Harry asked. "Insinuating that your mother is no better than a dog rutting in the street was what pulled you over the edge. And really, it was completely unnecessary for you to have insulted Draco's mother," he said. "Especially when it's obvious that she's raised a much better job of raising her son than your mother did with you," he added. With a strength that he hadn't realized he had, Harry grabbed the back of Weasley's neck and shoved him to the desk in front of Draco. He smirked when the boy yelped in surprise and pain when he knocked his hip against the corner of the desk. "I'd say you owe Draco an apology now, and it would only be appropriate for you to draft one for his mother as well."

Draco smirked, watching Weasley expectantly.

When Weasley didn't immediately apologize, Marvolo almost eagerly supplied a mild stinging hex. Harry murmured the phrase and twitched his wand in Weasley's direction, his amusement growing when the boy started tearing up from the pain.

"I'm sorry your mother's a whore," Weasley snapped.

"Not good enough, Weasley," Draco said coldly, his eyes hard as he jabbed his wand against the boy's forehead. "And you should remember that slander like this can lead to legal problems for your family, especially when there are a classroom full of witnesses to testify," he said. "My family's solicitor hasn't had fun in a while, so I'm sure she could get creative, too."

At that, Weasley paled noticeably. "I apologize for the insults," he bit out, and though he clearly lacked sincerity, Draco smirked.

"I suppose it's the best I can expect from someone of your standing," he said before looking over at Harry. "I don't suppose you've met my mother yet?" he asked.

Harry shook his head, returning to his seat and completely ignoring the furious glare that Weasley shot in his direction before going to sit amongst his own housemates. "I've not had the pleasure, no," he said, playing along and hoping this would crush any further attempts Weasley would make at getting his attention.

"We'll have to have you over for Yule, then," he said. "I'm sure she'd be glad to help you make the proper connections in high society, if you'd like, and she prides herself for the holiday parties she hosts."

Harry smiled slightly. "I'd be honored," he said.

Before they could continue their conversation, the tabby cat hopped off the desk in the front of the room and, in seconds, had changed into the stern form of Professor McGonagall. "Thirty points from both Gryffindor and Slytherin for attacking fellow students. And you, Mister Potter, will have detention for using your wand on a fellow student," she said. "You will report here at eight o'clock sharp." When Harry nodded, seeming only mildly annoyed at the inconvenience, she pursed her lips together and started to lecture about the lesson for the day.

Harry only paid attention enough to learn the spell and the wand movement, but the rest of the time he was rubbing the hand that Weasley had grabbed. The other boy had held it tight enough that he could practically feel the bruise forming. He thanked Marvolo for the stinging hex, and spent much of the rest of the class listening more to Marvolo's instructions than McGonagall's lecture.

...

The rest of the day passed in a much less uneventful manner. They only had three two-hour classes on Mondays, but unfortunately, they'd shared all of them with the Gryffindors. Weasley had glared at him the entire time, and during Charms, when Flitwick had been teaching them the Wingardium Leviosa spell, he'd tried to drop a book on Harry's head. Harry's quick thinking and advice from both Marvolo and Theo had ended up with a broken nose for Weasley and ten points to Slytherin for exceptional casting - he'd levitated Weasley's chair quickly enough for the boy to fall forward and slam his face onto the stone floor of the classroom. Flitwick had merely seen it as a misdirected spell with an unnecessary amount of force behind it, though the quiet jokes Weasley had made about Flitwick's height before class had no doubt helped Harry.

After classes had finished for the day, the group of Slytherins decided to take advantage of the wonderfully nice day - weather like that wasn't going to last too much longer - and had spent most of the rest of their day outside, talking a bit about their homework and generally gossiping. It had taken to a bit of negotiation on Pansy's part, but Harry had finally relented and allowed her to put his hair in a French braid.

Dinner came with more whispers and stares in Harry's direction, no doubt from the rumors of the burgeoning rivalry between himself and Weasley. Still not appreciative of the attention, Harry excused himself early and went back to the Slytherin dorms to shower before his detention with McGonagall.

Marvolo? he asked when he'd finished cleaning up and was on his way back to the Transfigurations classroom.

Yes, child?

Weasley's not the sort to just glare at me and hope my head spontaneously explodes, is he? Harry asked.

Marvolo chuckled. I very much doubt it. But I will not allow him to put your life in danger with any of his schemes, he said, his voice dark with malicious promise.

Of course not, Harry said, adopting a small smirk of his own. Just please don't interfere until I ask or until I've got no other way out. I would hardly be able to impress the Dark Lord by relying too much on your help.

I have no intention of interfering too soon, child. I told the Dark Lord that you have potential, and I meant it. I am looking forward to seeing you put that potential into action, Marvolo said. He faded away almost completely when Harry reached the Transfiguration classroom, where Professor McGonagall was waiting for him.