I do not own Harry Potter, Black Butler, a Midsummer's Night Dream nor any of their characters.

It is dark.

He is standing naked in a place without light, yet strangely he can see everything clearly.

Except the ground.

It's black, as though there's nothing below him.

He waits, for what?

Suddenly a shadowy black hand erupts from the ground. It slithers towards him, he tries to move.

Tries, but does not succeed.

It grabs him by the leg, another appears, grabbing him as well more and more a appear grabbing his body attempting to drag him into the ground.

"Stop."

Stop? Why, we only mean to make you happy! Why stop? Submit! Submit! Submit!

He closes his eyes.

Submit!

"Step aside girl!"

Submit!

"No! Not Harry! Take me instead!"

Submit!

A green light flashes.

Submit!

A high cold laugh.

Submit!

He wakes up.

"Stupid woman." he utters into the night, as the shadows of the room creep back into place.

Harry looked around the Great Hall before sitting down and grabbing a piece of toast and eyeing the cereal curiously.

"Uhh Harry, what are you doing here?"

"Eating."

"This isn't your table."

He blinked. "I don't own any of these tables Mr. Mallicman"

The boy blushed before turning back to his food.

"Seriously Harry, you shouldn't sit here." whispered Neville.

Ignoring him, Harry pointed at the bowl of cereal a third year was eating.

"What's that?"

Neville sighed before replying. "That's cereal Harry."

"Does it taste good?"

"I suppose."

Harry grabbed a bowl, prepared to try some.

"Mr. Potter I believe you are sitting at the wrong table.

He did not show any indication of having heard the professor and continued to inspect the breakfast food.

"Mr. Potter."

The woman finally tapped the child on the shoulder.

Harry turned and looked at the teacher emotionlessly. "Oh, good morning professor McGonagall."

She frowned. "Mr. Potter, you will not pretend as though you didn't ignore me."

Harry looked around the table at the other students.

"Professor, who are you talking to?"

"You boy!"

"But, my name isn't Potter, it's Grey."

The woman blinked and blushed slightly. "Ahem, yes, well carry on then."

Neville stared as the teacher walked back up the the head table. He turned back to Harry.

"Wow Harry! I can't believe you just- Harry, you don't put water in your cereal."

"Oh."

"There, look."

"Where?"

"The spacey looking one."

'I'm not spacey looking.'

"Wearing the glasses?"

"Did you see his face?"

"Did you see his scar?"

Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left the his dorm.

People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring. Harry wished they wouldn't, because he was trying to concentrate on finding his way to classes.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: Wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump and one he nearly fell off of.

Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk.

Basically, Harry was beyond lost.

The Earl had always said, he wasn't blessed with his mother's sense of direction.

A pair of hands grabbed him from behind.

"Hey Harry!"

"You're goin' the wrong way Harry!"

Harry turned and said in monotone. "Hello Rangers Danger."

The twin laughed. "You've got Transfiguration right?"

He nodded.

"Well you're on the opposite side of the school!"

Harry looked carelessly around at the scenery. "Really?"

They nodded.

"Oh."

He turned on his heel walking in the opposite direction from before.

"That's still the wrong way Harry!"

"Tell you what, we'll take you to McGonagall."

Staring at the two boys he tilted his head to the side in confusion. "But, won't you be late?"

"Who cares?"

Grabbing his arm they pulled Harry down the hall.

"So where do you get those nicknames?" asked Fred after a moment.

"What nicknames?"

"Y'know, Ranger Perfect, Ranger Rude."

"Hmm? Those are simply positions in the Redheaded brigade."

The twins laughed.

"We're Rangers Danger right?"

"Yeah, Fred is Ranger Risky," he said pointing at the respective twin. "and George in Ranger Reckless."

The two boys stared at him in awe.
"You can tell us apart?" asked Reckless quietly.

"Yeah."

"How?"

"Your magical signatures."

They continued staring as Harry pushed open the door to the transfiguration room.

"Thank you for taking me here." he waved and closed the door.

"Oh good job Mr. Potter five points to Gryffindor, for a perfect needle."

Harry stared. "Are you talking to me ma'am?"

She blushed, "Sorry, Mr. Grey."

A few people snickered at the teacher's mistake.

Dean Thomas patted him of the back for gaining back the few points Ranger Rude and Finnigan lost for being late.

The majority of the classes went like this, the teachers forgot his name and he gained points for performing spells correctly.

There were only two classes that were a bit different.

One, which happened to be Harry's favorite was History of magic.

The only real reason why he liked it was because it was taught by a ghost, in actuality it was rather boring.

The other was potions.

Harry was sitting at a table by himself as the students waited for the potions master to enter.

Suddenly the door slammed open a professor Snape sauntered in, his robes billowing behind him.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word — like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort.
"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Harry who had stopped listening halfway, had felt his speech to be rather boring and instead picked at his cuticles.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"Draught of the Living Death sir, and my name is Grey." he answered quietly.

The teacher frowned.

"Where would you look if I asked you to find a bezoar?"

"The stomach of a goat, though the apothecary would probably work as well."

A few people giggled at his unintentional joke.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"They're name is their only difference."

"And what is their real name?"

"Aconitum, sir and my real name is Grey."

Snape turned on his heel and walked back to the front of the classroom.

"Five points from Gryffindor, for you cheek Potter."

"Grey sir."

"And a detention."

"Yes, sir."

The rest of the period went relatively well, in comparison to the day of the apocalypse. Ranger Rude added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the first and his and Seamus' potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Seamus, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"
Seamus whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Ranger Rude. Then he rounded on Harry, who had been working behind the pair.

"You — Potter — why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

Harry blinked.

"Oh, okay." said the child, not even slightly deterred by what had just taken place. "I'm done, so can I give my potion to you now?"

Snape sneered. "This potion takes at least 40 minutes to make boy, do not lie."

"Oh okay."

So for the rest of the period Harry sat quietly staring at his caldron.

When the bell finally rang the children handed their potions, but Snape stopped him as he tried to leave.

"Potter."

"It's Grey sir."

"Yes whatever, come here." he snarled.

Walking back up to the teacher's desk Harry stared up at the man's towering form.

"I'm not blind boy, I know you only spent the first ten minutes of class brewing. How did you make this potion?" he held up the vile of perfect cure for boils.

"I brewed it."

"I see that, but how?"

"You turn the flame to medium heat, stir counter clockwise every two clockwise stirs and clip the tips of the porcupine quills off."

A flicker of amazement crossed the man's face, but it was quickly replaced with a sneer.

"Lies."

Harry blinked. "I don't lie sir."

"Then prove it!" snarled the man. "Remake the potion!"

Nodding Harry sat down and pulled out his cauldron, doing exactly as he did the previous time he created the potion.

Again the teacher was surprised by a perfect cure for boils, this time made in seven minutes.

"Where did you learn to do this?"

"It was an educated guess, sir."

The teacher sneered. "You could have put your fellow students lives in danger with your 'educated guess' if it was incorrect."

"Well I have tested it before, but to be truthful sir, I probably wouldn't have cared if that was the case."

"That is selfish."

His voice darkened a bit, "I prefer the term human, sir."

Snape was silent for a moment as he mulled over this. "Tell me, how is your aunt Petunia?"

Harry blinked at the sudden change in topic. "I wouldn't know."

"What do you mean?"

"I haven't seen her in years, sir. Why do you ask?"

The man abruptly stood and pointed an accusatory finger at the boy. "So you haven't been staying at the Dursleys!"

"No sir."

He smirked. "Who have you been staying with? Don't try to hide it."

Harry blinked. "I wasn't trying to hide it sir, I've been staying with the Grey manor ever since my Aunt left me there when I was three."

Snape stared at Harry in something akin to fear. "As in, Charles Grey?"

"Yes sir, now if you don't mind, I'd like to leave."

With the child swept out the room, closing the door behind him.

"But that's impossible." said Snape to the empty room.

"Charles Grey is, dead."

That was okay, but sorta choppy towards the end, what do you think?

So what do ya'll think of the twins being his friends? Or should it be just Percy, Neville and Luna?

Please review!