McLaggen stormed up the hall as Harry, Ron, and Hermione were going into Transfiguration.

"Potter! Welcome back!" But he didn't sound all that welcoming at all.

Harry turned to face him, and was suddenly missing Dudley like crazy. He'd evaded all attacks at Smeltings and was far out of practice for confrontations. He was very glad when Ron and Hermione came up close on his shoulders.

"Hi, McLaggen," Harry said sternly. "I heard you were Seeker – and Gryffindor's Captain."

Bring this up seemed to please McLaggen, because he puffed his chest out and Harry caught sight of a flash of gold from the Gryffindor's Quidditch Captain's badge pinned just there. "That's right! That's what I'm here about."

Ron took a strong step forward into McLaggen and Harry's way, and said, "Well you can just go and not be here, because Harry's taking over captaining again!"

Harry grabbed a hold of Ron's arm, keeping him – he presumed – from clogging McLaggen right in the face.

"Is that right, Potter?" McLaggen said, looking really defensive – like Harry was there to steal his baby from its crib. McLaggen looked him over from head to toe, shaking his head, "Look at you! You just got back from the mental hospital! You don't look fit to sit through class, let alone play on the team!"

Ron, too, gave Harry another once-over, looking a little deflated at Harry's thin frame and that sorry excuse for a flame burning behind his eyes. For Harry's part, he thought he was doing well with stress of his current situation. Holding it together by the skin of his teeth sometimes – yes – but he had all his faculties about him.

"He's still Gryffindor's Captain, even if he doesn't play on the team. You can't take that from him!" Ron said harshly.

"Come on, Ron. Let's get to class," Harry said, tugging him away.

"Are you taking the badge back?" McLaggen demanded.

Harry just tugged Ron inside the doors to the Transfiguration room, avoiding the question.

Actually, Harry distinctly remembered giving up the position of captain. In his mind, he had no hold over the position at all. He wondered why McLaggen felt so defensive, and thought he ought to talk with Professor McGonagall after class so she could clear things up. Did he really have a chance to get the Captain badge back? In all honesty, all the mental space Harry had room for was to find some way to talk to Draco Malfoy. But he should clear up with McGonagall just what the rules are. He thought he had told her to tell Ron the position was his – through and through. She was the person who gave Ron the badge in the first place; maybe she hadn't given him all of Harry's instructions along with it.

Professor McGonagall introduced the lesson (transfiguring a glass cup into a porcelain bathtub) which went right over Harry's head, and then set them off to doing the work. Before Harry even had a chance to examine his cup, Dean Thomas, the stand-in Chaser who replaced Katie Bell, came over to Harry's group.

"Hey, Harry, I heard what McLaggen was saying, and you have to get him off the team! He's a tyrant! Always telling everyone what to do and –"

"He already knows," Ron said, pushing him away from being so close to Harry. "He's going to do something already. Aren't you, Harry?"

Harry didn't want to let the team down, but honestly, he'd never been so distracted in his whole life. Being back at Hogwarts, and looking at Ron just about every moment of the day, was draining his reserve of confidence Marty had given him that last therapy session. It was beginning to be clear that life at Hogwarts hadn't stopped without him; not that he figured it would, but he just hadn't figured on his being back being such a central cog in the machine suddenly.

"Yeah, I'll do something. Soon, okay?" Harry promised.

Dean smiled widely, "Thanks, mate! Really glad to have you back, by the way!"

And Dean leaned in and hugged Harry. It was one of those things Dean did often enough to anyone. A simple gesture – arms around the shoulders, breath on the neck, the scent of him brief – but it fired every nerve in Harry's body. His joints locked up in place and he couldn't bring himself to even fake a smile.

Ron was by Harry's side in an instant. He didn't coddle, he didn't ask even one question, he just stood right by Harry's side looking at him – protecting him as Harry did what he could with the information he was just given.

One hug – unwanted contact with a male: stress compartment, discomfort zone.

Ron stood faithfully until Harry's hands twitched.

The scent – unfamiliar male odor: unwanted, unneeded, sickening.

Suddenly, Hogwarts seemed very different than Smeltings. At Smeltings, Harry was bumped into by many boys – in fact, every student there was male and many of them touched him in none-so-friendly a manner. The difference was that here he expected to have more control. He thought he would dictate who would touch him and when. Dean was a friend and a very good boy – that was innocent enough of a hug – but it was unwelcome.

"Are you okay?" Ron finally asked.

Harry's eyes rose from the depths they had sunk, and he shook his head.

"You will be," Ron said as a promise.

All through that lesson Harry hesitated from doing the magic, holding his wand awkwardly and realizing it had been so long since he last cast a spell that he almost didn't want to. He had told himself two months ago that he was going to throw in the towel to magic, and he was so committed to Smeltings that sometimes he noticed it had been hours before he even thought of a spell.

So he sat there on his bench, Ron casting him doubtful glances, wand held lazily in his hand, until McGonagall came over.

"Have you given it a try at least?" she asked.

"I can't do this one, Professor."

"Sure you can," she said, stepping up next to him and performing the charm herself, and then undoing it with another few swipes. "You've been out of circulation, Potter, but you're not inept. Try it."

So Harry did, but hardly tried to get it right. McGonagall corrected a few things, and then moved on to the next student, and Harry tried it a few more times but didn't get anywhere close to doing it right. He could feel himself holding back, still thinking about the Quidditch team, the hug, and still wondering how he was going to get Draco Malfoy alone to ask him if it was him who he slept with. He now had a great many doubts if that conversation was going to go the way he will plan. He was just too stressed to get to work.

Touching…he'd have to accept it from magical people. He'd have to accept that it was a part of daily occurrences. Everyone touched and hugged and kissed. He'd have to start doing those things again.

Professor McGonagall bid the class goodbye, and told Harry she was sure he'd catch up with the rest of the kids soon enough – he was only two months behind. Harry agreed with her, only because he was sure she was right. Maybe he wouldn't be caught up with the work, but he'd certainly keep up after he got to their level.

After Transfiguration was Care of Magical Creatures, and they were performing cleaning spells on small animals with the new teacher, but even using that spell the mud was hardly brushed from the tip of the rabbit's fir. In the end, he had the dirtiest rabbit of all, and Professor Grubbly-Plank told him to wash his rabbit by hand. Harry sighed inwardly and reached out to the soft creature, getting ready to pour his beaker of water over it. He wondered suddenly if it held still because it was forced to by magic, or if it knew what was coming and liked getting baths. He had to stop; he couldn't go on unless he knew.

"Professor Grubbly-Plank?" Harry called, and she came over. "Is this rabbit alright?"

"What do you mean by that? They're very healthy rabbits."

Harry looked down on it. Its whiskers were twitching.

"I mean…it's…"

"I have to get back to my class, Mr. Potter. If you have any questions about your rabbit you can ask me later. We haven't got much time left."

She went back to the larger group, leaving Harry back by the work station where the rabbits were, feeling stupid and yet still a little worried that his rabbit wouldn't like getting a bath.

Harry sat for the rest of the class without cleaning the creature. The little thing hopped about on the table and came up to him for petting, and he caressed it as gently as he could. He sat there mostly wondering about his level of trust in others at this school. Things were as normal as ever for the people here, so should he let them go back to normal for himself? Dean had only caught him off guard; brought up something he needed to work through. He wished he didn't have to do this alone.

By the end of the day, word got out that Harry's magic had gone down the drain, and Hermione was scared to death that it was true.

"I'm not going to practice a Levitation spell, Hermione!" Harry declared and threw down his fork. They were at dinner, and she was hounding him to start with the basics.

"Just try it, Harry! You just need to warm up again!"

Harry began to ignore her, and Ron changed the subject to something lighter – Ginny's new date, actually. As it turns out, she'd been going with him for a month now, and yet Ron still wasn't the happiest camper in the troop about it. Harry was content just to listen as he raged, and put in his two cents to keep the conversation going.

Ginny didn't know about what happened to him. Ron thought that was best, considering her crush on him. In his own way, Ron didn't want to destroy Harry's image any more than it already had been. If she knew the boy she thought the world of – the boy she's had a crush on since she was a baby listening to those stories of him – well, that would have been heartbreak. So, Ginny thought Voldemort had gotten into Harry's head again and messed him up, so he had to go to get him out of there. She'd already said hi and…expressed her sympathy with her eyes. It was something Harry didn't want to think about.

Just after dinner, a first year came up to Harry with a note from Dumbledore, asking him to meet him in his office. Harry walked up with Ron and Hermione, and they said they'd wait for him in the library so they could go up to the Common Room together. Dumbledore called him in and Harry took a seat in the large chair.

Seeing Dumbledore again was a relief in its own way. He was like a pillar of strength and knowledge; Harry always felt like anything was possible with him around. Dumbledore looked kindly at him from across his desk, stroking his long white beard as he did.

He asked, "How was your first day back?"

Harry shrugged, "It was fine. It's good to be back. It's a lot different than Smeltings, though."

"Do you miss that school?"

Harry shrugged again, a little unsure if he did or didn't. He missed how safe he felt there.

"Harry…I was told by all your teachers today that you're having a problem with your spell work. Have you successfully performed any spells since arriving back at Hogwarts?"

"I haven't really tried…" Harry didn't altogether want to talk about this; it was like having a school full of Marty's around: always a subject to be avoided.

"So, would you say you're just a little too challenged with the work the other students are doing? Or is it something else?"

Harry didn't want to say one way or another. He just wasn't that interested in trying. He had thought Kenny was wrong – that he did care about some things – but maybe that list of things he thought he cared about was shorter than he thought. Dumbledore was becoming a little bothered by Harry's lack of communication.

"Harry, what you went through was a big ordeal, and to come back after just a few months has taken some real bravery on your part. But if you still need help – maybe in other areas – maybe someone to talk to – all you need to do is ask for it."

"Who would I talk to?" Harry wondered.

"Me, of course. Or Professor McGonagall. Or someone else trustworthy."

Trust. That word again.

Harry nodded," Thanks, thanks a lot, sir. But I think I just need some time to get used to this again. Tomorrow, I promise."

"That's great news, Harry. Now, is there was anything while you're here?"

Harry thought about it. He wanted just to get out of here, but then he did have something he needed to know. "You can tell me who you think was using the Polyjuice Potion."

If Harry knew where Dumbledore stood in this matter, it might make it easier to live with. If he did know, and still left Draco here at his school, that wasn't going to be good news; it meant he was protecting Draco or using Draco as a piece in the war against Voldemort. But if he didn't know, then there was still a secret to be kept; that meant some privacy was still to be had.

Dumbledore let out a big sigh and shook his head sadly. "Alas, we still don't know. We've checked every student short of administering Veritaserum, but nothing has shown up. All the teachers are still keeping an eye and an ear out, and as soon as we hear something, you'll be the first to know."

This was a strengthening feeling, but he couldn't show Dumbledore this.

"Until then, the person is just here at the school, free as a Golden Snitch?" Harry asked.

"Harry –"

"It doesn't matter," Harry said suddenly, standing up and brushing his shirt flat. "I guess I'm just going to go. Really, it doesn't matter."

"It does matter, my boy. I know it matters a lot, and I will not let this go so easily."

Harry pursed his lips tightly and held his bag tightly to his side. "Thank you, Headmaster. I'm going to go."

Dumbledore nodded sagely. "I can see you are determined to find out who your attacker was. I know that much about you would not have changed. But do you not think that –"

"No," Harry said firmly. "I don't think I should forget."

Dumbledore consented. "Very well, Harry. Neither will I."

Harry left his office feeling upset and letdown, but now determined to talk with Draco – because if there was anyone who could have trumped a tried and true system, it was Draco Malfoy. So, he had a secret as private as Harry's. There – something in common.