Author's note: Thank you to zucca302 and redfox-9 for your reviews and kind words! I really appreciate your feedback as I feel like I'm slightly in the dark on people's reaction to the plot/style of writing/characters/etc. Redfox-9 regarding your question - hopefully the next couple chapters successfully explain Harry & Malfoy's behaviours. I'm trying to keep the stories directly from Harry's perspective so if something is confusing/unexplained for Harry, ideally it should be for the reader. A sincere thank you as well to everyone who has favourited and followed! :) This chapter is slightly awkward, but a necessary one to bridge to the next chapters. I may need to rewrite it in the future but thought I should post it in the meantime... Enjoy!


Harry lay his head down on the floor, stunned by the sudden silence and was left staring apathetically at the blood pooling on the carpet by his face. The sun had finally set and darkness descended on the empty carriage, casting shadows on Harry's hunched frame.


Chapter 8: Welcome To The Jungle

Harry had fallen asleep in the little carriage, exhausted beyond belief by the day's events. He hadn't needed to interact with so many people since the beginning of the summer and he was remarkably worn out by the freak incident with Malfoy. That's what he had decided to refer it is as – The Incident. Typical Death Eater scum, Harry thought with dark humour as he awoke from a foul, nightmare-plagued nap. The train was stopped, indicating that it had arrived at Hogwarts, but there wasn't the usual hustle and bustle of students so he assumed that he had missed the carriages to the school.

To be honest, Harry couldn't care less. If this was the tone of the school year already, Harry didn't want to disembark. Between Sirius' death, the reading of the will, his Black inheritance, finding out he hosted a horcrux for Lord Voldemort and that the monster couldn't be killed until all of his slimy, god-knows-what soul pieces were located and destroyed – by a basilisk fang no less… Fuck. Harry didn't have the energy.

His wallowing self-pity was interrupted by the carriage door opening with a bang. Harry sat up and met the concerned eyes of Nymphadora Tonks.

"Wotcher, Harry!" Tonks chirped, clearly pleased to see the young wizard.

"Hey, Tonks," Harry replied kindly, unsteadily rising to his feet.

"Lumos," Tonks chanted, bringing light to the shadowy carriage. "Merlin, Harry! What on earth happened to your face?" She whispered, making her younger charge wince.

"Just an encounter," Harry responded softly, looking down at the brown blood dried to the carpet in shame.

Tonks placed a hand on the edge of Harry's chin and lifted his face up to study his features. He looked at her shyly through thick eyelashes, hoping she wouldn't guess what he had done to himself over the summer.

"I'm not stupid, Harry," Tonks whispered as if she read his mind, looking down at Harry's newly acquired features. "Welcome to the family." She then grabbed him and hugged him with the warmth of an older sister. After a few moments, Harry relaxed and wrapped his arms around Tonk's thin frame.

A sob ripped out of Harry's chest and Tonks stroked his hair gently. He hugged her tightly and they swayed for brief moment, both enjoying the comfort of the other's touch.

"It's okay, Harry," Tonks whispered. "I miss him too. You didn't have to do this, you know."

Harry nodded in her shoulder and then winced as his broken nose shifted, cracking soundly.

Tonks tutted as she drew Harry away and studied him at arm's length. "Oh, Harry. You really do get yourself into the oddest of situations," she scolded without heat, drawing a weak smile from her young charge.

"I don't get it, Tonks. I really could do with a calm year," he admitted softly.

"I know, sweetheart," Tonks answered kindly, a genuine understanding in her voice that warmed Harry's heart. "Let's go and get you cleaned up. Professor Snape will be waiting for you by now."

Before he could protest, Harry was whisked off the train by Tonks, who appeared more sullen and thin since he last saw her. It looks like the summer was rough on everyone, Harry thought to himself. As they walked up the path to Hogwart's entrance gates, Tonks was mostly silent, walking the unsteady path with pursed lips and shadowed eyes. Before the path took the last corner to expose the gates, Harry grabbed Tonks' arm to stop her. She turned to him, expression questioning.

"Would… Would you mind if I contacted you sometime?" Harry enquired softly, feet shifting uncomfortably on the mossy forest floor.

"Of course, Harry," Tonks breathed, suddenly looking alert. "If you promise that I can contact you anytime, that is," she added with a cheeky smile. The expression was so completely Tonks that Harry felt himself tearing up. He brushed his eyes with the back of his hand in embarrassment, pulling a watery laugh from Tonks and she hug Harry fiercely. They composed themselves after a few moments and braved the last corner of the footpath to Hogwarts.

A shadowy figure waited for their arrival, dark and disturbing behind the enormous iron wrought gates. Harry cringed, curling in on himself. While he didn't particularly hate Snape, despite his much deserved emotions of betrayal at the beginning of the summer, he also didn't want to be left alone with the man for any extended period of time. Or at all. Ever.

"Wait," Tonks suddenly announced, holding Harry back. She pointed her wand at Harry's face and before he could protest, a quick "Episkey!" was thrown in his face. His nose made a rather loud snapping sound and he groaned in relief as the cartilage realigned itself.

"Dramatic, as always," Snape intoned caustically through the silence, piercing Tonks with a glare.

Tonks merely smirked in response, pushing Harry towards the gates. A small doorway opened, instead of the entire set of gates as Harry had expected, and Harry was pulled through aggressively by Snape.

"As always, Auror Tonks, you are excused," Snape sneered, sounding less than pleased to be dumped with Harry Potter on the first day of school.

"Wotcher, Harry," Tonks crowed, sounding much happier than when she had first found Harry, and disapparated with an ear-splitting crack!

Harry refrained from flinching at the loud noise and supressed the wave of insults that washed into his mouth like an ocean wave. Why hadn't Hagrid come to collect him? Why was this measly, greasy, backstabbing – Harry shook his head. He couldn't let himself get caught up in these rollercoaster emotions again, not when it killed his godfather a few months ago. Against his instincts to rip Snape a new one, he kept his lips tightly shut against the onslaught and cleared his mind, a concept that was becoming incredibly easy since the battle of souls ended with Voldemort's horcrux kicked to the proverbial kerb.

"Hmph," Snape hummed in disgust, looking down his hooked nose at Harry. Harry ducked his head in response, carefully studying the heavy scuffs on his new Oxfords that Kreacher had forced onto feet that morning. Harry had pitched a fit about those obscene suede Chelsea boots Kreacher adored and had finally got it into the elf's head that he did not like suede. Trying to explain that he preferred muggle sneakers over Italian leather seemed like way too much effort after winning the small battle with the elf. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Kreacher was going to be extremely distraught by the large scratches. The poor house elf had polished them only yesterday. Harry felt bad for the creature despite the hell he'd gone through today; he'd need to get his overworked companion a gift.

Snape seemed irritated by the boy's lack of attitude and jerked his head towards Hogwarts, escorting the boy in silence. Harry spent the time thinking of a gift that would most satisfy his monstrous, evil little house elf.

They finally approached the entrance of the massive castle and Harry looked up in fondness, smiling at the sight of his much-missed home. His heart leapt at the vision of the steeples, the torches and the overall glow of the castle against the backdrop of the milky way.

Just as he looked up, Snape had turned to address Harry with a sneer (Harry doubted the man knew how to speak to people in anything other than scathing hatred) when he caught sight of Harry's face exposed to the light of the torches littering the castle entrance. Snape's hand shot forward, grabbing Harry's chin before he could retreat, and studied the boy's features with appalled shock.

"You stupid, stupid boy," Snape breathed in awe, yanking Harry's neck into painful angles as he looked at Harry's face from every angle. Harry knew pulling away would only bring more pain, so he closed his eyes patiently and waited for the professor to observe his fill.

Finally, his chin was released with a painful push and Snape stepped back to take in Harry's full form.

"God, you look just like Regulus," Snape murmured. Harry resisted rolling his eyes and counted the pebbles on the path before him, lips sealed tightly.

"You even act like him now," Snape whispered once more and Harry raised his eyes to challenge Snape with an unimpressed glare. The man merely laughed disbelievingly. "James Potter's son, becoming a Black by will. What would your parents think?" He whispered in scathing derision. The hatred in his voice was obvious but Harry realised, for possibly the first time, it wasn't directed at him but rather his long-lost father.

"What does it matter?" Harry whispered softly, staring at his professor in exhaustion. He didn't want to have to deal with this nonsense; not now, not ever. "They're dead, aren't they?" He pressed sardonically, a pinch rhetorical and a little too cruel.

Snape reared back as if slapped. The silence between them grew heavy as Snape considered the boy before him with a scowl.

"Get a move on, brat," Snape barked, finally breaking the staring contest and walking up the final steps to the castle doors.

Harry smiled darkly at his professor's turned back and followed him home.


Walking into the Great Hall was just as dramatic as Harry wished it wouldn't be. The heavy doors opened upon Snape's command and the duo were exposed to the curiosity of every face in the hall. Harry studiously ignored the Slytherin table and walked quickly towards the concerned faces of his friends. Upon approaching the table, Hermione gasped and Ron looked a little green.

Fuck, Harry thought to himself. Was he still covered in blood? Did Episkey not clear blood?

Upon settling down to the shocked, growing whispers of those around him, Hermione quickly whipped out her want and murmured a spell that banished the blood covering his lower face.

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry whispered into the growing noise of gossip. She smiled at him despite the tears glimmering in her eyes and he wished dearly that he could have gone straight to bed instead of making a scene in front of the entire school, again.

"What happened, Harry?" Ron whispered back with righteous anger lighting his eyes. Hermione nodded in agreeance with Ron's enquiry, seeming like she was ready to beat whoever had hurt him by hand.

Harry dared not to look at the Slytherin table, knowing instinctively that Malfoy would be boasting to his friends about how he had seduced the Golden Boy and then beaten his face in. A light blush covered his cheeks, mortified by his actions and not understanding what had happened on the train. Merlin, his life was a depressing mess.

"I'll tell you later, in The Room," Harry promised hollowly, pouring himself a glass of water and ignoring the dessert piled high on the plates around him. The conversation in the Great Hall had turning into a deafening roar and despite the fact he had not eaten Kreacher's packed lunch, Harry couldn't face swallowing a bite. Not when every person in Hogwarts had seen his great entrance, covered in blood and looking like a direct descendant of the House of Black. If Tonks and Snape had caught on immediately, there was no way this wasn't going to be on the front page of the Daily Prophet tomorrow morning.

Harry couldn't handle looking up at the Head Table either, knowing full well that Dumbledore was looking at him with heavy disappointment. Despite the fact that Harry had the best summer in his entire life, had learned more about defeating Voldemort than in five years of 'Dumbledore lessons', had grieved Sirius' death in the best way he knew possible, and had come into his magical own – Harry knew Dumbledore would still manage to turn this around into some horrible betrayal of trust. He didn't have the energy nor headspace to deal with the old man's manipulations.

Harry politely ignored Hermione's attempts to make him eat and he sat at the table in silence, quietly playing with the gold gallon he procured from his pocket. Once Dumbledore rose to give his welcoming speech, the heavier than ever gossiping died out. Harry wasn't sure what Dumbledore said, for he'd tuned out the man's words exhaustedly. Once everyone stood, he pocketed the gallon and rose to join his classmates.

Hermione muttered on about Dumbledore's speech, trying as she always did to decipher the nonsensical words. Harry didn't have the heart to tell her that Dumbledore may be the most powerful wizard alive, and the best dueller in the past handful of centuries, but he was also completely off his rocker. If she couldn't understand what he meant, the old man was probably just losing his mind.

Once in the Gryffindor Tower, Harry excused himself and collapsed on his four poster bed, wishing dearly that he was in Sirius' room in Grimmauld Place instead.


The next morning, Harry felt a fair bit better. He was dressed in one of Sirius' dark green shirts and charcoal cotton pants, carefully tailored to his frame by Kreacher not too long before, and wrapped the black robes he had purchased at Madam Malkin's over the summer. Just as he finished dressing, Ron woke with a snort and stumbled out of his bed, feeling out blindly for the bathrooms.

Smiling at his best friend's antics, Harry called out to Ron. "I'll be at breakfast, okay? Don't take too long!" Harry scolded Ron playfully and incidentally waking up his other roommates. He was quickly shooed out with a rather rude finger gestures by his groggily awakening roommates.

Hermione was already at breakfast by the time Harry stepped into the Great Hall. He carefully focused on her face as he made his way over to her, having seen a flash of white-blond hair in his peripheral vision and not ready to face anyone other than his best female friend. He sat down with a sigh of relief, glad to not have been accosted by the other staring students.

"Morning, 'Mione," Harry greeted, watching the girl pull her head out of the morning paper with a start.

"Harry, don't freak out," Hermione began and Harry began to laugh. "What?" She asked, upset.

"I feel like we should make that the motto of my life," he finally answered between chuckles.

Hermione's lips twitched and he could tell the poor girl was trying to stay serious. "Okay," she finally bit out. "I guess that's fair enough."

They dissolved into giggles and the overall mood of the Gryffindor table lightened after seeing the Boy Who Lived laughing.

"Alright, seriously, what did you want to show me?" Harry asked after settling down with a cup of black coffee and a bowl of porridge.

Hermione grimaced and handed Harry the Daily Prophet. He dramatically rolled his eyes as he opened the large paper. Harry groaned as he saw a large image of himself and Snape entering the hall taking up the entire front page. Someone had clearly taken a covert photo last night, to Harry's disgust. Harry was shocked to see himself enter the hall with a dark liquid splattered over the entire lower half of his face, the substance obviously blood even in the black and white photo. He looked savage, as if he had just finished fighting and was now strolling in for his evening snack.

Harry Potter: Unseen Battles for Hogwarts! Screamed the title in enormous, capital letters. For more details, see page 4.

Though he was a little disturbed by seeing the amount of blood on his face, Harry chuckled darkly. He hadn't realised the break had been quite so bad. He wondered what the editors of the Prophet would say if they found out his nose was accidentally broken after being molested (admittedly willingly) by a sixteen-year-old Death Eater. Though, to be honest, 'accidentally' was debatable. He slapped the paper down on the table with a sneer and dug into his breakfast.

"Merlin, they're fucking morons," Harry muttered into his oatmeal, drawing a loud snort of laughter from a surprised Hermione. He glanced up cheekily at the girl as she quickly wiped away the spilt tea on her robes and smiled at her fierce glare.

"Language, Potter," she warned, though without the customary heat. Harry nodded his head in her direction in deference but couldn't completely hide a playful smile.

They settled into a companionable silence, Hermione finishing reading the paper and muttering in disgust while Harry gazed off into the distance, daydreaming of freedom as he stirred the last of his oats. Professor McGonagall came by a few minutes after Ron ran into the entrance hall, desperate to catch breakfast and inhaling his pork sausages with determination.

McGonagall winced at Ron's lack of table manners and passed the NEWT class schedule over to Hermione, discussing classes while Ron wiped his chin and had the good sense to look ashamed. McGonagall finally turned her attention to Harry and he was surprised to see that her expression softened slightly.

They negotiated the course schedule and Harry was stunned (but ecstatic) to find out that he could take Potions. Harry was suddenly grateful Kreacher had forced him to do the extra classwork for potions during the summer. The biggest stick in the mud was finding out that Snape was now leading DADA (a fact that grated Harry's nerves endlessly), but Ron's suggestion that the old bat was going to fall to the DADA curse put a smile back on Harry's grim face.

Hopefully, Snape will be so incapacitated that he won't be able to return next year, Harry thought nastily to himself but then he rapidly shook his mind to clear the cruel thoughts. He was disappointed that the professor could rip a hole in Harry's carefully constructed calm, even when he wasn't present. Harry pursed his lips and returned to his schedule, focusing on clearing his mind of all thoughts regarding Severus Snape and how much he'd like to punch the git in the throat.