"Sasha, why do you suppose we're not allowed on the third floor?"
"How should I know? Smells like dog, though. A lot of dog. Strange, maybe we could take just a quick look?"
…
"Potter, a word. Now," Severus Snape loomed over Harry and Draco at breakfast, looking far more menacing than is appropriate for eight on a Wednesday morning.
Harry got up quickly to follow Snape and his impressively billowing robes from the Hall. Nervous, he wiped his sweaty palms on his robes. Snape had never spoken to him; he seemed to take Harry's house placement harder than anyone bar McGonagall and appeared to be denying the boys existence.
Something Big must've happened to interrupt that coping process. Harry spotted a crumpled newspaper in Snape's clenched fist and thought he may have had a fair idea.
Snape stopped abruptly in a vacant classroom, brandishing the newspaper.
"Is this true?" His voice was cold and deadly quiet. Harry fought the urge to confess his every (numerous) sin.
"It is," he confirmed carefully, getting the feeling he was facing a cornered animal.
"Why did you go to the press? Wasn't your fame enough for you?"
Sasha glowered, "Want me to bite him?"
But in Harry's mind, understanding dawned; he hadn't considered that perception. He met Snape's eyes squarely, "I wanted out. The story reached the muggle news a few days ago. The Dursleys can no longer show their highly self-valued faces. This just saves my time, since I don't have to go back to get even."
The professor was quiet for a long time. "I had wondered why you were in Slytherin. Come to my office after classes, I will lend you a book that is usually recommended to muggleborns to explain the basics of potions brewing. I do not waste valuable practical time spoon feeding dunderheads too lazy to read; you will not be memorising ingredient properties in my lessons. I suggest you read ahead to chapter seven before Friday."
Harry figured that was probably the surest sign of approval he'd ever get form the Potions Master, and he smiled.
…
"I-interesting revenge, Mr P-P-Potter."
"Do you disapprove, sir?"
"I-it's not what I w-would've d-done, but I-I don't h-have to wait s-s-seven years to c-curse th-them legally, d-do I?"
Sasha laughed, singing praises to the Defence teacher that caused Harry to nearly forget himself and roll his eyes.
…
"Harry, my boy, please take a seat."
Harry did so, wondering if the headmaster always acted so familiar with his students. He kept a wary eye on the young red bird. It was looking at his pocket intently.
"Ah, Fawkes. He is a phoenix, Harry. Remarkable creatures, phoenixes."
"You wanted to see me, sir?" Harry reminded him.
"Yes." He stroked his bread, sounding saddened and displeased, "I'm very sorry to hear about your home life, my boy. I hate to see a family break apart."
Harry shifted uncomfortably, but he didn't know what he was expected to say, so he remained silent. Dumbledore leaned forward gravely.
"I admit I am concerned. There are many people, even those who would appear to be friends, who would choose to hurt you for ending Voldemort's tyranny. I implore you to see reason, Harry, I understand that you would like to be part of this new world you've discovered, but healthy family relationships are important. Rejecting the family that has raised you is no way to impress people and make true friends."
"I appreciate your advice."
"Excellent. I'm sure you can patch things up and all will be well–"
"You misunderstand me, sir, I'm not going back. I did not exaggerate the situation with the Dursleys, just to fit in with the purebloods. Ideally, I wouldn't want to believe it possible to treat someone the way they did me, either, but I won't blind myself. We were a disaster waiting to happen."