A/N: Okay, so remember at the beginning of Chapter One when I said that Years 1,2 & 3 were going to be rushed and should be considered a Prelude? Yeah... ignore that author's note. I realise that I need to take things slow with this story and explain or show a lot. Besides, I'm enjoying writing this; plus Awaken Emrys and Must Have Been Love is my first experience writing Merlin, and I don't want to make him too out of character whenever it's time for him to show up in this story. Please remember that this story is AU. Enjoy part one of Harry's second year...

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Chapter Three

Second Year

Harry shuffled into an empty compartment further up the train, where he knew few students ventured. He struggled for a few minutes to stow away his trunk, but he gave up when the weight became too much for his sore body to bear. Instead, he shoved it into a corner and placed Hedwig's empty carrier on top, then settled himself gently into a seat.

The day they'd all left the school grounds to get the Express at Hogsmeade Station, Hagrid had given him a precious item that had turned his world upside down. It had been one of the reasons that this summer at the Dursley's was one of the worst he'd ever had.

First of all, the Dursleys had been more vicious than in previous years, and he soon learned that one of the main reasons was Dudley's cursed pigtail that they'd had to get surgically removed. Dudley had missed his first week at Smeltings because of it.

Harry frowned as he wondered if it really was so easy for non-magickal people to terminate something done by magick. He knew that Hagrid had been trying to turn Dudley into a pig; was it possible that the curse was still there? Dudley had seemed - though it blew his mind to think so - hungrier, messier and fatter than Harry remembered. If he got the chance, Harry decided that he would ask Hermione's opinion on the matter... or maybe an older student who would know more. Thoughts of Hermione brought Harry's mind back to his summer resolution concerning his 'friends'.

Harry had chosen to end his friendship with Ron when, during the week before they left for summer holidays, he came to the conclusion that the redhead was only his friend because of Harry's 'Boy-Who-Lived' status.

As for Hermione, he chose a wait-and-see approach even though he'd already decided that he would not willingly seek out her companionship. Hermione had been the one to jinx Neville, but Harry couldn't put all the blame on her because the girl had been doing it for him, and they'd both left their friend there, while Ron had never cared for Neville at all.

Since the end-of-term feast, Harry had decided on a course of action, and it was thanks to Neville's rejection of friendship.

Not that he blamed Neville, no, Harry really was grateful; Neville had done to him exactly what Harry had done to Malfoy when the Slytherin had offered his friendship. However, where Neville had been calm and almost sad in his rejection of Harry - and in defence of his own self-worth - Harry had been rude and insulting to Malfoy just to impress Ron.

Neville's action had allowed Harry to see - further down the path he'd been on - what his life would have turned into. Keeping friends whose only loyalty was to 'the hero', The-Boy-Who-Lived... not Harry Potter.

Harry shuffled in his seat and froze with a sharp gasp, he winced as he shook his head. Would they still be loyal to Harry Potter, the boy who couldn't defend himself against an overweight and slow-moving muggle?

What about when they realised that he was a fraud?

Over the summer, Harry had wished he'd had friends to confide in, and he shook his head again; another flaw on that path... keeping friends because he's lonely and afraid. Terribly afraid.

No, not anymore! If Neville could stand up for himself - chose not to have unworthy friends - then Harry could do it too, even if it meant not having anyone to confide in or depend on.

The strange creature that had appeared in his room at the Dursley's, had made the separation from his friends even easier. Dobby - the being called himself - had kept all of Harry's letters from him, it had been a small stack, about six envelopes at the most and one had definitely been his Hogwarts letter.

If any of the letters had been from Ron or Hermione, then they would really believe that he'd broken things off with them. Harry would never know who the letters had actually been from; Dobby had burnt them to ashes using some sort of Fire Charm that Harry had gotten the blame for when he'd received a warning letter from the Improper Use of Magick Office.

As for his Hogwarts letter, Harry had no idea how he was going to manage without school books; his robes would fit well enough though they were just a bit short; he had a few school supplies that he could manage with, but he would eventually run out. Harry had no idea what he was going to do, but again he guessed that he could ask an older student, maybe one of the Prefects.

Anyway, Dobby had told him that there was a danger at Hogwarts this year, but Harry didn't care. Anywhere was better than being at the Dursley's, in fact, Hogwarts was his home no matter what the Headmaster said. Harry had practically begged Dumbledore to allow him to remain at Hogwarts over the summer, but the Headmaster had refused.

Dobby had said he was only trying to keep Harry safe, but the creature had only made living at the Dursley's intolerable. For a moment, Harry had even thought that Dobby had been trying to keep him from getting through the barrier at platform 9¾, but the sensation of walking through a thick clay-like substance wasn't going to stop him from going home. Harry hadn't felt any different after he got through the barrier, so he assumed that whatever Dobby had tried to do had failed.

The train began to move, and again he appreciated this end of the train as he hadn't even realised that there were currently hundreds of students on board.

Harry gingerly lay on his side and winced as he moved, but he was tired so he placed his feet up on the seat next to him and settled down to sleep for most of the journey. By the time the train got to Hogsmeade, Harry's magick had at least healed his internal injuries.

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Harry sat at the Gryffindor table near the end where the first-years were going to be sitting, and he absently replied to a greeting from Dean and Seamus on the bench opposite him. They - like everyone else so far - treated Harry the same as last year, so that meant his secret was still safe for the moment, and all anyone cared about was catching a glimpse of his scar. Harry shook his head; he'd have to do something about that scar.

Ron was sitting somewhere further down the bench with his brothers, thankfully; and not too surprising - since she'd probably written to him over the summer and hadn't gotten a reply from him - Hermione sat near to the girls from her dorm room and ignored him.

Neville was sitting next to Dean at the very end, keeping to himself but replying to comments respectfully and to the point. Neville didn't look up at him at all, and Harry - sad that he'd lost a good friend - sat silently and waited for the Sorting.

His mind turned to the strange black skeletal creatures that had been pulling the carriages. Last year, he and the other first-years had travelled to the castle by boat, so of course, Harry hadn't seen them then, but it almost seemed as though no one else saw them today. Harry wondered what they could be, and decided he would search the library for an answer to that and other things.

As the Sorting began, Harry looked up at the head table. All the familiar faces were there except for one man, who was grinning around at the students and extravagantly dressed, with glossy dark-blond hair. It must be the new Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher, Harry thought, as his gaze moved on to the professor sitting next to the man.

He hurriedly looked down to hide his amusement and bit back a laugh; Snape was gazing directly at the man in absolute disgust, unfortunately, the grinning man was oblivious.

Finally, the Sorting ended and the Headmaster gave a welcome speech before he introduced the new DADA teacher, Professor Lockhart who stood and waved as though greeting inferior vassals. The meal appeared and Harry ignored the head table to pour himself a drink.

He swallowed a much-needed gulp of orange juice as his gaze darted over the sumptuous, and immense platters of food along the table.

Harry wanted to eat, but there was nothing on the table that his empty stomach could handle. His body had become accustomed to the soups and watery cereals his Aunt Petunia had shoved through the cat-flap of Dudley's second bedroom for him, at least once a day, over the summer.

Nevertheless, Harry was extremely hungry and he eyed a platter of grilled chicken that begged to be eaten. He pulled a small leg onto the plate in front of him and speared a slice; swallowing heavily, as he tried not to drool, he took the slice of meat in his mouth and began to chew.

It felt wrong. His teeth felt weak... or more accurately, unaccustomed to their proper function, and he couldn't continue. Using a napkin, he allowed the offending object to fall out of his mouth, and he wiped his lips and hands clean before pushing away his plate.

"I could use a nice hot bowl of oatmeal right now." Harry sighed to himself, but immediately his eyes widened in surprise when a steaming bowl of oatmeal appeared in front of him.

Harry glanced around, but everyone was focused on their own food or talking to each other. He looked back down at the thick and creamy looking concoction, and his mouth watered; picking up a spoon, he took a mouthful, swallowed and waited. When his stomach didn't rebel, he continued taking small bites and slow, careful swallows as he forced himself not to cry in relief.

So completely focused on his first real meal in weeks, Harry was unaware of three different sets of eyes observing his actions.

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Down in the dungeons, grey eyes gazed restlessly at the canopy above.

Draco couldn't have seen what he did, or he did see it but it couldn't possibly mean what he thought. If Blaise had seen it, his best friend would have known what it meant immediately, but Blaise hadn't been facing the Gryffindor table.

Draco sighed and shifted to his side, Potter's actions concerning the food had reminded him of his first week of school when he'd been getting to know Blaise; even the way Potter had awkwardly stretched to get something from the table in front of him was familiar.

Regrettably, it had been Draco who'd caught Potter's disturbing behaviour, and now he wondered if he should do anything about it. Uncle Sev had seen, Draco knew he had, but would Uncle Sev even want to help Dumbledore's Golden Boy. His Godfather hated Potter, everyone knows it.

Then Draco thought of Longbottom, who was - now that he thought of it - sort of similar to Potter. Uncle Sev hated both Gryffindors, yet, he'd decided to help one of them; not that Longbottom knew this, but help the awkward Gryffindor would get.

I'll leave it up to Uncle Sev.

Draco relaxed, the weight of responsibility lifted off his shoulders, and his eyes drooped as sleepiness grew. Whatever happened, it was no skin off his nose; Potter had chosen his own path last year.

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The next morning Harry decided to tackle the issue of his empty backpack.

"Percy, I was wondering if you could help me with something. I don't know who else to ask."

"It's what we, as Prefects, are here for, Harry. How can I help you?"

Harry was glad he'd chosen Percy, the Prefect was efficient at his duties and very helpful.

Percy took Harry to a room located a floor above the library. The enormous room was empty but for a black line on the floor in front of a desk with a stack of papers, an inkwell and quill lying next to it. Percy pulled one of the sheets of paper and Harry realised it was some type of sign-up form that would temporarily give him access to the Hogwarts Tuition Welfare Fund.

"Once you fill out and sign the form, everything you should need as a second-year student, and more, will appear on the other side of the line. So I suggest you remain on this side until that happens."

"Okay."

"We only ask that at the end of the school year you return the textbooks and other large equipment, if they're still intact, so that someone else may benefit at a later date. Oh, and here you go," Percy said, taking out a stack of books from his own backpack, "You won't find these books in here, so you can borrow mine."

The grinning face on the cover, was enough for Harry to guess that these were all the books for Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Lockhart.

"Thanks, Percy, but won't you need them for your classes?"

"To be honest, I don't think anyone actually needs these books, but I can borrow them from one of my brothers. Fred and George usually share books, but mum still gets two of everything... I think it's habit on her part."

"I'll take care of them until I can give them back to you. Thanks a lot, Percy, I was really worried about what to do."

Percy smiled down at the second-year, he wished that more of the students, especially his brothers, were as affable as Harry.

"No problem, Harry. Oh, here, give me your knapsack."

Harry handed over the bag and watched as Percy tapped it a couple of times with his wand. His backpack glowed for a moment before it went back to normal.

"I put a Weightless and an Extension Charm on it," Percy said as he returned Harry's backpack, "the charms will last until morning, so you can stay as long as you have to and get all that you need today, seeing as it's Sunday."

"Wow, thanks! I can't wait to learn spells like that. Would you be able to teach me those spells, Percy?"

Percy felt a rush of pleasure, "I'm sure I could teach you the Weightless Charm, but the Extension Charm is a seventh-year spell. Hey, I've been asked to tutor a few of the younger years on Friday afternoons. Why don't you join us then?"

"I'd really like that. Do I meet you at the library?"

"No, I usually find an abandoned classroom, as it can get loud and Madame Pince doesn't appreciate loud. Meet me in the common room after your last class on Friday and we'll take it from there."

Harry nodded and began to fill out the form; once he was done, Percy tapped it with his wand and it disappeared, Harry guessing, to the Headmaster's office or maybe to his Head of House. He forgot about the form when the rest of the enormous room behind the line was flooded with shelves, racks and boxes of everything he could possibly need for the year.

"Well, I'll leave you to it, Harry. I have a study session myself."

"Okay, see you later, Percy and thanks again."

Once Percy had left, Harry took his book list from the pocket of his bag - Percy had gotten one from somewhere for him - and began his hunt.

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As Percy strolled to the library for his study session with Penelope, his mind was occupied by thoughts of Harry Potter.

Why hadn't Harry been able to get his school supplies over the summer?

Why was Harry still the height of a first-year student? Did it have something to do with his strange eating habit Percy had noticed at the Welcoming Feast?

And finally...

Why had Harry kept flinching every time his empty backpack brushed against his back?

I think I'll keep an eye on him... just to be safe.

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The counter was jam-packed.

Harry stared, bewildered at the number of things he'd found and temporarily stored on the empty counter. Then he turned to the trolley that he'd used while he ambled around the aisles; that too was full.

He'd found a set of school robes, shirts and pants that fit his slightly bigger frame better than the ones he'd brought, and Harry decided to bring his old school things, that he didn't need anymore, to put into the Fund. There were even muggle clothes, shirts, tees and jeans, that he could wear during the weekends. Harry chose mostly black clothing as they hid stains better; he'd even found a pair of sturdy black boots that he could wear to classes and black sneakers that he could wear at other times.

The only thing from his school list that he hadn't gotten were potions ingredients. Harry didn't know what to do about those as he didn't have any money - obviously, if he'd been allowed to go to Diagon Alley during the summer, he would have had all his things and visited Gringotts then.

With a shrug, Harry began to pack everything into his enchanted backpack. Snape always allowed them to use the ingredients from the school stores, and Harry hoped that the Potions Professor would continue with that habit this year.

Harry was about to start packing his textbooks when a couple of them fell from his grasp. He bent to retrieve them when his eyes fell on the open page of one of the books. Someone had written along the margin of the book - a potions book from his glimpse of the content - and had crossed out a few of the printed lines here and there.

Flipping through the pages, Harry could see similar markings on almost every page. He was about to take it back to the shelf and pick another book, but then he read the words in the margin next to the recipe for a Swelling Solution Potion.

Whereas the printed words stated that the puffer fish eyes should be added to the mortar containing dried nettles, ground then added to the cauldron; the margin writer states instead to ground both separately - each into a fine powder - and a level spoon of the powdered nettle, then puffer fish eyes, are added to the cauldron with three clockwise turns between each.

Harry's frenzied studies of Potions, in the beginning of his first year of the class, had left solid memories of some of the information he'd learned. Nettle was not an ingredient to be used or handled lightly... if the puffer fish eyes were added to the nettle simultaneously, the guanine crystals contained in the eyes would immediately begin to break down. This deterioration would, in turn, cause a slight but noticeably sluggish effect, including an off olive green colour of the potion.

The margin writer's solution, Harry guessed accurately, would cause an immediate effect once the potion is used, and - according to the writer - the potion would become a beautiful chartreuse green.

Taking a quick glance at some of the writings in the margins, Harry surmised - off of the bit he remembered from his studies - that the writer had been really good at potions, and had probably enjoyed the class. The inscription on the inside cover of the book further intrigued him.

"This book is the property of The Half-Blood Prince," Harry murmured, and he stood to continue his packing, "a half-blood... like me. I wonder if I could find the rest of your second-year texts in here too."

Harry yelped when all the texts, but the Potions book, shot away back to the shelves. His mouth slackened when replacements floated from the shelves and onto the table in a neat stack. Lifting the covers of the books, he took note of the Half-Blood Prince's signature on all of them. Harry's eyes narrowed and his lips pressed together tightly.

"I'd like a single roll of parchment, please," he said tersely, and facepalmed when a roll of parchment floated toward his table from the back of the room.

Harry glared fiercely at the immense trolley he'd been pulling and shoving around for about two hours, and he shook his head with a resigned sigh.

"Well, I had asked for a trolley."

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Harry rose early the next morning, gathered his school clothes and took them to the bathroom with him. He was usually the first one up, as he'd gotten used to waking at five-thirty every morning at the Dursley's.

They had Potions first thing this morning, and he found himself excited to use the Half-Blood Prince's guidelines. He had to get better at Potions... it was necessary now.

Stepping out of the shower stall, Harry twisted in front of the full-length mirror to check out the injuries on his back. They were gone.

'Much better than yesterday, young man. About time you went to the Mediwitch.'

Ignoring the chatty mirror, Harry brushed his hair and thought again about the Mirror Of Erised and his conclusions over the summer. His hand shook as confusion, fear and that damned hope filled his heart.

Harry didn't look like his father, he looks were a blend of both his parents; yet, everyone says he looks exactly like James, but this was untrue. Harry had studied repeatedly, the photo album Hagrid had given him, and there was no resemblance.

Lily was definitely his mother, he had her eyes and some of her features, but there was no way that James Potter had anything to do with his conception. The man he'd seen in the Mirror Of Erised though, Harry could see how he was definitely a blend of that man and Lily.

His father - and maybe even a kind and loving stepmother - was still out there somewhere.

Did Harry's father know about him? It was obvious that one of his parents or James had known he wasn't a Potter; there had to be some kind of magick over him if everyone thought he looked like James.

But... how come I can see my true self, but others can't? Whoever had cast the spell had probably done it wrong, or hadn't cared if I grew up knowing that I wasn't a Potter.

Whatever the answer, Harry was determined to find it, therefore, doing better in his subjects and scouring the library for more magickal knowledge were good starts.

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After a breakfast of some oatmeal and orange juice, Harry went down to Potions class. The door to the room was opened and when a quick glance around told him that Snape wasn't there yet, Harry entered and chose the first bench he came to - technically it was located at the back of the class - on the left side of the room facing the blackboard.

There were four rows of benches that each seated three people on either side of the room, and Harry knew that he would be on that bench alone which was what he wanted.

Harry set up his cauldron on the burner, took out a letter-sized pad of parchment and a self-inking quill he'd gotten from the fund. Taking out his Potions textbook, he settled down to read and take notes until the class began.

His classmates began to stroll in sometime later and Harry glanced at his wristwatch; he hadn't realised that he'd gotten to class so early, he had to have been reading for at least half an hour as the first page on his pad was full of notes.

As he'd thought, no one sat next to him, for which Harry was grateful. It was about time he started to take his schooling seriously, he had the Dursleys to get away from and a father to find.

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A/N: I just to take this opportunity to thank all my readers and especially those who reviewed:

Nataly SkyPot

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The Guest that LOOVE's this story ;)

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Thank you all so much, your reviews made me feel even better about my writing. Thanks to all who favourited and followed. Happy Holidays, Everyone!