NEW CHAPTER! Finally! I have no excuses for why it was so freaking late except the usual "life is a bitch", so I'll spare you the rambling about my life right now and get on to what y'all have been waiting so long for. Hope you enjoy it!

Harry's third morning at Hogwarts began with everyone in his dorm shooting up in their beds at the sound of a frustrated yell from outside the room's door. Harry patted around his bed and under his pillow for his wand or knife, head foggy from sleep. Dimly, he was aware of Ron struggling with his blankets beside him and Neville tripping to the floor, the boy caught up in his bed curtains. Dean helped his classmate off the ground and the Winchester quickly moved behind Seamus, who had opened the door and was looking around confusedly. The Irish boy bent over and Harry saw him pick up an unused dungbomb.

"Was tha' Peeves?" Ron questioned groggily.

Moments later, disgusted squeals were heard from the girls' side of the common area, shrieking about a horrid stench and needing to get Professor McGonagall to chase the poltergeist out.

Seamus snickered beside him and pocketed the dungbomb. "Well, think it's safe to say it was," he said in answer to Ron. "Don't know why he left us alone, but can you imagine the look on the girls' faces? I bet Lavender and Parvati and going to be complaining about this all day!"

The red head mumbled something in return before slumping back down to his pillow and began snoring soon after. The other boys shared a few laughs, Neville rubbing his sore nose, and they all climbed back into their own beds for a couple more hours of shut-eye before breakfast.

Harry smiled to himself. His hex bags had worked! It was the first time he'd put any of his hunter training to use without help from his family, and it had worked! The poltergeist couldn't get into his dorm room. He and his friends were safe, at least here where they slept. Maybe he could start setting them up further out into the common room? It would take some planning to do it without being seen by the others of his house. He kept thinking about it as he drifted back to sleep.

Later that day, Harry left the Great Hall and quickly darted down a hallway. Going by the past couple days, he thought he'd never get any time to himself, what with the other students constantly seeking him out or just watching him wherever he went. But somehow, he had managed to shake them all off. It was Saturday, and the Winchester planned to use what time alone he had to explore the castle and surrounding grounds. Hopefully he could find the library, too. It was mentioned in Hogwarts, A History and was supposed to be huge.

Turning a corner, and looking over his shoulder for any followers, Harry almost ran straight into the leering form of the resident potions master.

"Mr. Potter," Snape drawled, a slight sneer twisting his thin lips. "Where could you be going off to in such a hurry at this time in the morning? And without your little fan club, I see."

"I was just looking around, Professor." Harry shuffled to the side some, eager to get away from the man.

"In the future, I'd suggest looking where you are going. It would be a tragedy if you were to be injured due to your own foolish blundering about the halls."

Harry grit his teeth. "Sorry, Sir. I'll keep that in mind."

The teacher was silent for a moment longer, as if waiting for Harry to say more, before he swept past and down the hall. "See that you do, Potter."

The little hunter glared after him. What was that guy's problem anyway? Even back in the first potions lesson the day before, the man just seemed to have an innate hatred of him.

"Harry Potter. Our new… celebrity."The comment gained a few snickers from the Slytherin first years.

"It's Potter-Winchester. Sir." Harry wasn't sure why he'd said that. He hadn't corrected any of the other Professors about his last name. Perhaps it was just the way the man sneered around his name or the fact the Snape was one of the few who had actually met his family. Snape didn't respond to the correction either way and instead continued calling names. When finished, he moved to the front of his desk and peered down at him with narrowed eyes over his hooked nose.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making. 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." Well, say what you will about the man, he at least knew what he was talking about. Plenty of times during the years, the Winchesters had come across powerful substances made by witches and other creatures that did just what Snape was describing. Even used a few 'potions' themselves to hunt. "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death." He didn't have to be quite so dramatic about it all, though.

"Tell me, Potter," Any respect gained by his show of knowledge was lost immediately and Harry resisted repeating his full name again. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry blinked slightly. He knew what the two things were – had read about them in a potions book gotten from Diagon alley – but not what happened when added together. He noticed Hermione had her hand raised a few seats down. "I don't know, sir."

Snape's lips curled slightly. "Clearly, fame isn't everything."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? It was an effort to not outright glare at the man, now.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Harry gave a little smirk to match Snape's sneer. "In the stomach of a goat. Sir."

The sneer slipped away and the Winchester felt a little burst of triumph at that. "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"Nothing since they're the same plant. Sir." And added, because he could, "It's also called aconite and is a key ingredient in many potions dealing with werewolves and other shape shifters."

A hush had fallen on the rest of the class as the two of them stared coldly at each other, Harry trying to look as innocent as possible.

"Well?" Snape snapped out suddenly. "Why are you all not writing this down?" There was a rush of quills and scrolls being pulled out. "And one point shall be removed from Gryffindor for your cheek. Potter."

Was it just him, or had Snape put emphasis on his incorrect name on purpose?

The rest of the class time had gone little better than those first few minutes, and for some reason, he doubted it would improve during the rest of the year.

Despite Potions being the worst first class so far, and Transfiguration being pretty informative, the most unnerving had been Defense. Up until walking into the classroom, Harry had not seen the professor aside from across the Great Hall.

Just like in Transfiguration earlier that first day of classes, Harry had stopped dead upon entering the classroom. Quirrel had his back to the class, fiddling with papers on his desk, and everyone around him found seats. Once again, the hunter was the last to sit down and his year-mates had looking at him worriedly. Seamus was the one to motion him over this time, but Harry had ignored him and found a seat as far back in the room as possible. Unlike before, with the strange cat that turned out to be his teacher, the… thing inside Quirrel gave off a definite air of 'I-am-evil'. And it had stared straight at him.

It wasn't a ghost possessing his professor. The thing wasn't demonic, so he doubted an exorcism would get rid of it. It wasn't any kind of spirit he had seen before. After studying it and completely ignoring the class lecture, Harry decided it wasn't controlling Quirrel at all, just hanging onto him like some kind of parasite. Surely it wasn't possible that Quirrel was unaware of the thing's presence, which meant that Dumbledore had to know about it as well. For as powerful as the old man claimed to be, missing something as obvious as an energy such as this surrounding one of his employees should be unthinkable.

As a precaution, though, Harry had asked Castiel to observe the professor from afar, being careful that the man or spirit-thing had not noticed him. The angel's reassurance that the creature was weak, would probably die soon after leaving Quirrel's body, and did not seem as if it had any ability to harm Harry or the other students, had allowed him to go on with his lessons as if nothing was abnormal.

Of course, that didn't mean he would be spending any alone time with Quirrel and his parasite any time soon. Harry had stayed in the very back of the classroom on the second day and planned to keep doing so until the thing went away.

It was close to lunch time before Harry finally found the library. The book had said it was large, but Jesus, he hadn't expected this! The librarian almost immediately swooped down on him as he ran his fingers down the spines of the closest book shelf and began questioning his presence. She honestly seemed surprised that he merely wanted to look at the books and after a few narrow eyed looks of suspicion and warnings about proper care for the tomes, had pointed out the different sections and given a brief tour of what all he could find in the large room.

Forgetting all about lunch, he grabbed a couple books about dragons and settled at a corner table that he would claim as his own during the following school weeks.

It was nearing October now, and coming to the library during break periods had become a regular part of Harry's schedule. He'd grown to love Gryffindor tower in the short time he'd been in Hogwarts, but the common room was just too loud sometimes and he never knew when a couple of the boys he shared a dorm with would decide to stop by. Besides, this library was enough to make even the Men of Letters drool and Harry wanted to take advantage of it as much as possible and relay anything interesting to his uncle back home.

Classes had passed as normally as you could expect magic classes to – Snape continued to be a jerk, Quirrel continued to stutter, the man's parasite continued to stare at him creepily – you know, the usual. Ron had finally seemed to have enough of moping around and came up to him in the common room one afternoon and asked straight out why Harry had lied to him about who he was on the train.

Seriously? That had been the other boy's problem this whole time? After explaining his adoption by the Winchesters and his name change, Ron had flushed a brilliant red that clashed horribly with his hair color. He had given an awkward apology for his attitude, but continued to largely avoid Harry for a few more days, mostly from embarrassment this time, if Harry had to guess. Since then, the boy had cautiously tried to make conversation and the hunter found that Ron was usually pleasant to be around. Sure he was more interested in complaining about the class lessons and work than learning and finishing the assignments, and watching him eat was almost enough to put Harry off his own food, but Ron was happy enough to explain the odd Wizarding culture Harry now found himself in and was always up for a game of chess.

"Hi, Harry!"

The boy glanced up from his book to see a now familiar head of bushy hair sitting down in the chair across from him, then turned his attention back to the pages.

"Hey, Hermione."

For the past few days, Hermione had seemingly deemed him a good study buddy and joined him at his table. He didn't mind. Sometimes it was nice being able to talk through the things he'd learned with someone else who's just learned them as well. She was just so… eager? Harry wasn't sure how to describe the girl's great enthusiasm about homework. Sure it was about magic, but it was still homework. Writing papers shouldn't make her this excited – and he was sure it didn't, but he hadn't figured out what it was about these study sessions that made her so happy.

"You've read the next chapter for Defense, I'm sure," Hermione started immediately. "What did you think about - Is that Latin?"

Harry gave the girl his full attention now and quickly shut the book his grandfather sent him for language practice. "Um, yeah? I was just-"

"You can read Latin?" She went on, looking quizzical. "Why would you – Oh!" Her expression brightened. "I bet a lot of spells are Latin based, aren't they? Knowing the language must come in handy for later classes if you're interested in spell creation, right? That's brilliant! Perhaps I should…" She trailed off, looking thoughtful and Harry quickly spoke and changed the subject.

"You finished the Defense paper?"

"Oh, yes! I know Professor Quirrel only asked for a foot, but I just couldn't fit everything. I hope he doesn't mind a foot and a half. Do you think he will? Surely not."

Harry breathed out a quiet sigh, glad that she was so easily distracted, and discreetly put the book back in his bag. Time ticked past and when Harry started growing hungry, he snapped his Charms book shut and began packing.

"Think that's enough for tonight, don't you? I'm starving." He picked up his bag and stood up.

"Is it that late already?" Hermione frowned up at the window in the far wall and the darkness it showed. "Alright, I suppose we should stop." She was still frowning slightly down at her book and Harry started getting a bit impatient.

"Well? You coming to eat or not?"

The girl blinked at him a couple times, like she didn't know what he was asking. "What?"

Harry frowned. "Food. Eat. Yes?"

Another moment passed before a large smile glued itself to Hermione's face, along with a happy flush across her cheeks. "Right! Food!" She quickly packed up her numerous books and scrolls, being more careless with them then he'd ever seen before. "It's time to eat isn't it?" She stood and gave his arm a little tug as she passed. "Let's go then. I hope they have those cinnamon biscuits during dessert tonight."

The Winchester caught up with the girl and glanced toward her, slightly confused by her quick changes of moods. She was smiling still, looking happier than he'd seen since the start of the year. What was she so happy about? It was just dinner. You think she'd never –

Harry almost stopped dead in the hallway at his realization. Every night, the boys from his year would gather around him at the table and other years tended to gravitate to his area sometimes as well. Most of the first year girls sat in their own group – all, but Hermione. Every time he could remember, she'd always sat a bit away from the others, usually with her nose stuck in a book and eating the food on her plate distractedly. He'd always assumed that she preferred it that way, reading in peace, but maybe it was because… Had no one really invited her to join them before? That couldn't be it, right?

Looking again at Hermione – her smile hadn't faded at all and she was miraculously quiet – he felt a slight, sick sense of guilt. She'd really been left alone this whole time, hadn't she? He couldn't believe he'd only just realized it. Harry knew what it was like to be the odd one out. He'd experienced it himself often enough, being the weird kid at school who sometimes said odd things, acted strangely, and refused to let anyone come over to his house. But he at least had a few friends that accepted his oddities.

Did Hermione?

Well, she did now.

I can't tell y'all how much I appreciate you sticking with me through this story. I'm so thankful for all the alerts and reviews! They always gave me motivation to write just a little bit more for this story, even when I thought I had run out of words and was almost ready to drop it. Honestly, I don't know if this chapter would ever have been put up without them. As long as y'all seem to want more, though, I'll try my best to get new chapters up quicker.

Thank you all again!