Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Harry's next few days at Hogwarts found him in lighter spirits as he maneuvered his way around his new environment. He attended many different lessons, and had mixed opinions on each one. He found Charms with Professor Flitwick engaging, even though it annoyed him when the tiny man fell out of his chair when he called his name on the roll sheet. Malfoy's smirk didn't help matters, either. But when Flitwick got to the heart of the lesson, Harry was fascinated despite himself.

However, Defense Against the Dark Arts continued to be a complete mockery of a decent class. It was clear that Professor Quirrell had absolutely no idea what on Earth he was doing, and it seemed as though he was a laughingstock amongst the students, and this went for every single house. Even more disconcerting was how Harry always felt around the man. Something about him wasn't normal, and several of his classmates continued to point out the stares Harry kept receiving from him. Harry was sure to always keep up his guard around him until he could work out this conundrum.

When it came to his classmates, he was having good luck in some areas, and bad luck in others. The reason for his better mood was due to the fact that Neville and Hermione were serious about keeping up a friendship with him, no matter what it might cost them in the eyes of their Gryffindor housemates. Every night, Harry would meet them in the library, and they would exchange anecdotes and tidbits from their day. Harry found friendship with them very interesting, because Neville and Hermione were very different in personality. Neville was soft-spoken and unsure about many things, yet Hermione seemed to know exactly the direction she wanted to go. Her bossiness could really get on Harry's nerves, and he could sense that Neville didn't quite know what to do about it either.

But in the end, it didn't matter. For the first time in his life, Harry had friends. He found himself thoroughly looking forward to the hours after dinner, where the three of them would always return to their same places in the library. Whenever it was time to head back to their houses for the night, he found himself truly disappointed, and highly anticipated the next day's meeting.

The two Gryffindors had also informed him of the goings-on that had occurred in the tower concerning Ron's feelings about him. He listened attentively, but he could honestly say that now, it didn't matter so much whether Ron wanted to be his friend or not. After all, he now had two friends who honestly appreciated his company and barely mentioned Harry's Sorting, other than when they'd given the details about Ron. Whenever his eyes fell on the Gryffindor table now, they never strayed to the youngest Weasley boy. They instead settled on Hermione and Neville; the two of them had truly taken the sting of Ron's rejection away. If Ron did want to reconsider, Harry knew he would have to think it through before he accepted. But for now, having the support of Neville and Hermione went a long way towards boosting his confidence. They helped to combat the hostility Harry still saw in the eyes of many students as he went about his days.

Where Harry had bad luck, though, was in the form of some of his dorm mates. Harry hadn't thought it was possible, but he now regretted shaking the hand of Draco Malfoy even more. Harry was so thankful that it hadn't gotten back to the arrogant blond that he had befriended two Gryffindors, because he knew he'd never hear the end of it once it did. And with the amount of spying and gossip that was rampant throughout Hogwarts, Harry knew that day was bound to come. But he was happy to prolong it for as long as possible.

Draco Malfoy never lost an opportunity to annoy Harry. It was plain that he wanted nothing more than to have him all to himself. He asked pointed questions about Harry's life with the Muggles at all hours, trying to manipulate him into agreeing that they were a waste of space. When Harry did not comply, Malfoy resorted to throwing barbs and insults. If Harry did something such as ask a question about magic that many wizards already knew the answer to, Malfoy's face would twist in contempt, and he'd make some crack about how Muggles should be wiped from existence because they were too dumb to rub two sticks together. Harry had half a mind to bark back at him that back in the old days, that was how Muggles created fires. But he would snap his mouth shut at the last minute; Malfoy wanted him to take the bait, and Harry refused to do so.

Unfortunately, Blaise Zabini often agreed with Malfoy, and Crabbe and Goyle would always yield to him, too, with big, stupid grins on their faces. The more Harry witnessed this, the more they resembled the trolls that constantly hung around Dudley, agreeing with every word he said like they didn't have minds of their own. Pansy Parkinson, the simpering fool that she was, was quick to follow in their footsteps, and it irked Harry to no end when she threw him looks of sincere pity, just like she'd done that first night when Harry explained his Muggle upbringing. He wished for the millionth time that he'd never revealed that slice of information.

But as for Theodore, Millicent, Daphne, and Tracey, they were another source of help for Harry. He honestly couldn't say they made him feel the same as Neville and Hermione, but he was grateful for their company all the same. They would often try to distract Malfoy from angering Harry too much, and they rallied around him as they went from class to class. If a student stared with anything less than civility towards Harry, they were always ready with a glare or nasty sneer.

All in all, this had been the most interesting and rewarding week Harry had ever experienced. Despite some of the less appealing aspects of Hogwarts, and despite the looks that were still being thrown his way, Harry realized that for the first time, he was enjoying his life. He could eat as much as he wanted, had access to books that seemed to contain an infinite amount of knowledge, and got to hang out with people his age who were sticking up for him and not letting what others said rule their actions.

It was now Friday morning, and Harry and his classmates were on their way to their very first Potions lesson. Truth be told, Harry was dreading it. Even after his experiences in Defense Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic, it didn't hold a candle to how he felt now. Ever since that entire scene with Snape on his first night at Hogwarts, all thoughts of enjoying Potions had completely vanished. This was a class he'd been fascinated by before, and he'd really wanted to participate init. But now, because of Snape's unjustified hatred of him in which he had no idea of the cause, all the enjoyment had been wiped clean away.

As the Slytherin first-years headed down the corridor, Malfoy swaggered ahead of the group, his usual smirk prominent on his face. "Professor Snape is my godfather," he boasted smugly, his voice louder than necessary. "He already says I'm a great potion-maker. This class should be a breeze."

Harry scowled. Now of all times, Malfoy's posturing was the last thing he wanted to hear. He sent a glare in the boy's direction, praying that for once, he would just shut up.

"That's great, Draco," Pansy simpered. "You're good at everything, so I'm sure he'll love your work. You'll do Slytherin proud."

Theodore Nott looked at Harry and rolled his eyes. Seeing Harry's mutinous expression, he whispered, "Don't let them rile you up. The class won't be that bad."

"I don't know," murmured Tracey, and she honestly looked worried for Harry. "I don't know what Snape's problem is with you. I've been watching him, and I haven't ever seen him look at a student the way he stares at you, not even the Gryffindors."

"Great," said Harry. She wasn't trying to be malicious, but what Tracey said was hardly comforting. If anything, it put him more on edge.

But then, she went on, "I'll give you the same advice I did about the rest of the school. Just try your best and don't let him get to you. Potions is a really interesting subject, and you should be able to enjoy it."

Harry nodded at her in acceptance, but the butterflies stayed in his stomach nevertheless as he trudged his way into the Potions classroom. Harry saw that many of the Gryffindors were already sitting at desks. As Harry found his way to a seat, Neville gave him a discreet nod, to which he nodded back.

Hermione, however, wasn't at all subtle. She smiled at Harry and gave him a wave. Harry felt a jolt go through his body, because he hadn't considered this when he really should have. Hermione was eager to show the entire world, without restraint, that she was friends with a Slytherin. Neville felt the same, but due to his more shy nature, he was less open about it even though he would defend Harry up and down if it came to it. But Hermione had no such compunctions, and it was now on display for all to see.

And Harry knew, as he caught Malfoy's absolutely disgusted expression from the corner of his eye, that he had seen the interaction loud and clear. But it was then that Harry felt his universe shift again, because he suddenly realized he didn't care. It was almost a rule, an unspoken one but a rule nonetheless, that Gryffindors and Slytherins would never greet each other so brazenly. It wasn't normal. With all the bad blood between the two houses, it just wasn't done.

But what did Harry truly care for "normal"? His entire life, so-called "normal" people had bullied, taunted, and kicked him around. And for God's sake, Harry Potter was done with being normal, with doing what was expected of him. He'd gone into Slytherin, defying all expectations. Now he was going to defy the natural order of things, and unashamedly flaunt his friendship with two Gryffindors. He forgot all about prolonging the moment when Malfoy would find out. It didn't matter anymore.

So, he shot a furious glare in the direction of Draco Malfoy, and then proceeded to grin at Hermione. Finally, he cast his eyes towards Neville and smiled at him too. Neville's eyes lit up, and he gave a broad smile in return, as if motivated by Harry's example.

The reaction was priceless, from both the Slytherins and Gryffindors. Even Harry's Slytherin allies were looking at him in surprise, but it was a look which held more intrigue than disgust. Dean and Seamus's mouths gaped open in shock, and Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil reacted in the same fashion. Pansy, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle looked so appalled at the turn of events that Harry almost laughed out loud. Ron's gaze was flitting between Harry, Hermione, and Neville, his blue eyes wide in astonishment.

The tension in the room was so thick that it could have been cut with a knife. However, before anyone could react further, the classroom door flew open with a bang, and Professor Severus Snape stormed in, his black eyes glittering and a truly unpleasant expression upon his sallow face.

"Settle down, settle down," he sneered as he surveyed the students, who had all snapped to attention at his entrance. For now, the exchange between Harry, Hermione, and Neville was pushed to the backs of their minds, but Harry had no doubt it would reemerge once the lesson was over.

"Now, there will be no foolish wand-waving in this class," Snape intoned in a silky drawl. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making."

Despite the animosity that had already developed between Snape and Harry, the boy instantly realized how much passion the Potions Master had for his subject. When he spoke of being able to teach his students how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death, he saw Ron, Seamus, and Dean roll their eyes, thinking the speech was full of melodrama. Harry conceded the point, but how was he to know those things couldn't be done? There was so much he still didn't know regarding magic.

But then, right after Snape said this, he threw out an insult, saying they would only learn if they weren't the usual dunderheads he had to teach. Wow, what a great way to get us to learn anything at all, Harry thought sarcastically. Insult us before we even try.

Then, Snape went down the roll sheet, and when he inevitably spoke Harry's name, his eyes glittered with malice as he stared him down. For an instant, it looked as though he was going to comment further. But after a silent staring contest that seemed to drag on and on, Snape looked away, and moved on to the next name without saying anything more.

"Today," Snape drawled once he was done taking attendance, "we will be making a simple boil cure potion. The instructions are on the board. Begin."

Harry felt completely out of his league as he collected the ingredients he would need for the potion. Tracey helped him with this task, and Harry was sincerely grateful. He was quite ruffled by the fact that Snape hadn't explained much about how Potions actually worked, or the finer aspects of making them. He just expected them to brew a potion on their first day, and it was plain to see that several students felt the same, especially Ron and Neville. Neville, in particular, looked terrified.

Harry returned to his seat, and got to work. Tracey was in the seat directly next to him, and they shared a cauldron. They made a good team, and she gave him advice as the lesson dragged on. Harry was sure that he would have started to relax if not for the fact that Snape began prowling around the room, peering into cauldrons with a sneer plastered to his face, his large, hooked nose and greasy hair only making him look more intimidating.

"That's pathetic, Weasley. You have no skill, Thomas," Snape snarled as he looked into Ron and Dean's cauldron. "Do you honestly call this a potion? You will not succeed in this class if your efforts are this appalling. Evanesco." He waved his wand, vanishing their potion. He stalked to the next cauldron, leaving a speechless Dean and a livid Ron, his ears growing as red as his hair. He had many similar comments for the other Gryffindors in the class.

When he reached the cauldron where Malfoy was working with Pansy, Harry was not at all happy to discover that the blond was right. Snape actually took the time to praise Malfoy's work, calling it a stellar effort. The smugness Malfoy now radiated practically oozed off him, making Harry supremely annoyed.

When he reached Harry and Tracey's cauldron, he stared into it, and Harry could see it was taking every single modicum of effort for Snape not to make a comment, and he wondered what in the world was holding him back. His glare spoke volumes, though, and his robes billowed behind him as he stalked away. Harry and Tracey exchanged puzzled looks; what was going on?

He was steps away from Neville's cauldron when his potion exploded spectacularly, and Neville was drenched in the warm liquid. He moaned in pain and distress as boils appeared all over his arms, hands, and face. More of it seeped across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes.

"You idiot boy!" Snape roared in fury, staring at the melted cauldron with an enraged, ugly look on his face. "You complete fool! You added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire. Have you no sense, you stupid boy? Finnigan," he snapped at Neville's partner. "Take him to the hospital wing immediately."

Neville, who was now in tears, was led out of the classroom by Seamus, who looked livid at Snape's treatment of Neville. As the class wound down, Harry felt the same way. For a second, he had heard Vernon Dursley instead of Severus Snape. They spoke in the same cadence, and Harry was not going to let a friend of his suffer the same treatment he had had to put up with for ten years.

So, as the students packed up their things at the end of the lesson, Harry glowered at Snape, almost daring him to react. To his frustration, all Snape did was glower back at him with equal venom, but he refrained from commenting.

What happened after he left the classroom ... well, he should have expected it. It was now time for break, and Harry, Tracey, and Daphne headed back to the Slytherin common room. What they had not banked on was that upon their arrival, Malfoy, Zabini, Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle stood just inside the entrance, not moving a muscle. They had gone in ahead of Harry and the others.

And Harry had barely taken a breath when Malfoy pounced. "We need to talk," he sneered.

Harry drew himself up. He knew what that look on Malfoy's face meant all too well. He felt that same sense of recklessness that had kept seizing him ever since his meeting with the Sorting Hat.

"Fine," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. Tracey and Daphne took up spots on either side of him.

He was ready.