DISCLAIMER I do not own Harry Potter.

Taking a breath to calm his emotions, Harry Potter raised his hand and chapped three times on the door to the potions classroom to begin his detention.

"Come in." The cold voice of the Professor sounded. Harry lifted the latch and entered, finding Professor Snape sitting at his desk with a stack full of papers and quill in his hand.

Snape regarded him coldly, as usual. "Mr Potter, shut that door."

Harry obliged and closed the door loudly, scuffing his feet as he stepped near the Professor's desk and folded his arms.

"You can start by scrubbing those pots." He said "They've been sitting there since this morning and I want them spotless for tomorrow - do it the muggle way."

"Why can't I use magic?" Harry asked shortly.

Snape raised his head, his tone sharp "Because I said so. Now get a move on."

Harry huffed and made his way over to the piles of disgustingly dirty cauldrons and pots. He took a few in his hands and brought them over to the desks, taking the brush that was left for him at the side. There were far more pots than the last time he'd had detention with Snape, and Harry couldn't help but think the Potions Master had made a handful of these pots dirty just so he would spend longer cleaning them - it certainly seemed like something the slimy git would do.

Sending another vicious glare to the Professor who had his head down again, Harry began to scrub, wishing with every hard stroke of the brush that it was the Professor's face underneath the bristles and not the pot. That would wipe the smirk right off his face.

Severus paid little regard to him, occasionally glancing up and checking that he was doing the right job. He got up once to glide across the room and take a book from one of his cupboards, when he passed and noticed a mark on the Potter boy's face.

He frowned as he passed, quickly looking away when Harry's eyes raised to meet his. Severus sat back on his desk, watching him a little closely and how he wiped some of the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

"What happened to your jaw?" The question surprised himself almost more Harry, and he stopped scrubbing to look up at him questioningly.

"What do you care?" He finally said back.

Snape tightened his lips, shutting his mouth. Then he spoke again, his voice colder than before "Get on with your scrubbing."

Harry huffed through his nose and continued on, scrubbing tirelessly at the pots he had left to clean before he could finally reach his bed. Snape watched him all the while, silently observing the small boy with a raised eyebrow.

He seemed different, not that he cared much for the brat, but something about the Potter boy seemed off. He looked paler, thinner, and a lot more tired. While he tried to continue on with his homework marking, his eyes kept wandering back to Harry every so often. Then, when he heard him stop scrubbing he looked to find Harry's head drooping where he was standing, his eyes closed.

Severus threw a silent spell at him that caused a small gust of wind to blow through his robes and waken him up. Harry stood straighter with a gasp, the cold air from the spell a shock to his sleep deprived body.

"What is that matter with you Potter?" Professor Snape's cold voice sounded "Do you spend all nights sneaking around the castle to make yourself so tired? Putting Slytherin in danger of loosing points?"

"No." Harry grumbled.

"Then what?" He snapped, "I specifically assigned you this detention because you were falling asleep in your lesson. Now you continue it into detention? You've barely got through half of those and you've been here a bloody hour!"

"There's too many!" Harry protested "You've given me too many..."

Snape shot up from his seat with a growl and stormed over. "Move aside," He ordered, standing next to him.

Harry did as he was told, flinching just a little when the Potions Master took out his wand then relaxing slightly when he used it to clean some of the piles of pots he had not even got onto scrubbing yet.

"You are far too slow." He told him "When you clean pots you clean them properly - use a bit of common sense for once in a while."

Harry mumbled something under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Well get a move on then." He snapped.

Harry kept his head down while he continued to scrub the pots and Snape helped...sort of, by cleaning a few with a simple spell. When he had done at least five and there was only a smile pile left he stopped.

"There, you can do the rest yourself." He swept up to his desk. No way was he going to help him anymore, he'd probably given him the most pots to clean out of anyone who had served detention with him, and that was saying something. He child deserved a harsh punishment for giving him backchat in front of all of his students - and then sleeping through his lesson.

But he hadn't expected him to be so damn slow.

Harry pulled a face behind his back and begrudgingly carried on in silence. The clock was ticking right on eight o'clock before he finally finished and dropped his cleaning utensils on the desk.

"I'm done, sir."

Snape raised his head from the desk with surprise, he'd almost forgotten the boy was there. Observing the cleaned pots with a blank expression he murmured something under his breath and nodded to the door. "Very well...leave."

Harry didn't need to be told twice, and gathered his things quietly. Severus was almost disappointed the boy wasn't going to put up a fight, he'd expected that of him. Brushing it off he watched as Harry shuffled out the door his head down, he noticed that the boy seemed to move a little more stiffly, and his eyes were heavy throughout the whole detention. He was clearly tired, and standing up for that long had probably only worsened his fatigue.

Severus sat back in his chair with a frown, a little feeling of something small tightening on his chest. Was it guilt? Certainly not! He cared little to nothing for the boy, all he wanted was to keep him in line so Slytherin wasn't at risk of loosing any house points, after all - they were in the lead.

He rested his chin upon his hand in thought. It was probably nothing. He'd keep an eye on him, after all Dumbledore had asked him to watch him closely - he didn't know why, Dumbledore knew his feelings towards the boy were pure and simply loathsome, yet he still chose him to be the one to do it.

He turned back to his papers, not giving the boy any more thought.

~•0•~

Harry walked the corridors back to his common room, his legs growing heavier by the second. He wanted to collapse and sleep right there on the floor, but he doubted filch would have anything pleasant to say about that.

Turning the first corner, Harry was shocked out of his sleep deprived state to find himself almost crashing into the form of the headmaster.

"Harry," He sounded, almost as surprised as himself. He pushed his half moon spectacles further up the bridge of his nose, surveying Harry curiously. "What are you doing about this time? It's eight O'clock, dinner is over - shouldn't you be ready for bed?"

"I er...was just coming back from a detention, Sir." He said, "I didn't think I would stay for so long." He coughed a little, rubbing his eyes and sniffing.

Dumbledore cocked his head at him "You look weary, Harry."

"I'm fine thanks, professor. I'm just a little tired." He said softly.

Dumbledore considered him then. His pale, delirious features, his thin lanky arms and legs. Something was denifently different about the boy - and it wasn't for the better.

"Why don't you come along to my office, Harry?" He asked him kindly "I have a few treats I'm sure that will satisy much more than a dinner prepared by our cooks."

Harry managed a small smile then. "I'd like that Professor."

"Good," Dumbledore smiled also, beginning to turn away with his hands clasped behind his back "Come along with me then - bring your bag with you."

Harry complied and threw his satchel back over his shoulder, walking at the elder wizards side. They made their way up a few flights of stairs and to a part of the school harry didn't recognise. Moving up a few more moving stair cases they at last came to a corridor where at the end a great stone Gargoyle awaited their presense.

Dumbledore stopped just in front of it, and Harry wondered why he had brought him here. Swiftly pulling out his wand, Dumbledore pointed it at the Gargoyle.

"Lemon drop." He said smoothly.

At once, the great sounds of stone rumbling made Harry take a step back, and soon the gargoyle was moving upwards to reveal a stone staircase that spiralled up into a higer room. Dumbledore stepped on one of the first steps, beckoning Harry with his hand.

"Quickly now Harry, before it closes."

Harry dashed forwards and stood a few steps lower than the headmaster, almost crashing into him. Dumbledore however didn't seem to mind much, only smiled at him again.

They made their way up into one of the largest and cosiest rooms Harry had seen. The room was circular and held a warm, friendly glow from the roaring fire. On the wall were various portraits and paintings of what Harry could only have assumed were previous headmasters and some teachers. He stepped inside and stood still while Dumbledore made his way over to a huge claw-footed desk at the back of the room.

Harry ran his fingers over the oak of one of the small tables that held many different silver and gold instruments that Harry had never seen before. On one bookshelf in the far left corner beside the fire sat the sorting hat, it's material withering and looking dirtier then ever as it sat still amongst the books.

Harry turned his eyes back to Dumbledore who pulled out a high backed chair to his desk and sat down, moving his hand to caress a creature that sat perched on a small golden stand on the desk. Harry gazed in awe at the creature. It was some kind of magnificent bird, with dark red and orange feathers and a great long tail that drooped at it's side.

"Beautiful, isn't he?" said Dumbledore, almost if he could read his thoughts.

Harry shuffled forwards, and the bird watched him closely with dark, stony eyes. "Wha-what's his name, sir?"

"Fawkes," He said, stroking a finger underneath his chin and the creature purred. "I came across him as a young man through my travels. The little fellow had fallen from his nest as a baby and broken his wing, so I decided I'd take him with me. Fascinating creatures they are Harry...truly remarkable..."

Harry raised a hand tentatively, but the bird thrust out it's head and squawked loudly, making him recoil instantly.

"Ah, ah." Dumbledore said lightly "He's a little nervous around humans he hasn't met Harry. It took years but he finally earned my trust. Hard things to domesticate, phoenix's. But nonetheless he's been a great companion - and a loyal pet."

Harry bit his lip, slipping his hands in his pockets and watching as the bird visiby relaxed under Dumbledore's touch. "Sorry sir,"

"No bother Harry. Fawkes may be a little temperamental, but he's very protective of me." He said, stroking his faithful bird with a smile, Fawkes leaned into his touch, purring like a happy kitten.

"Now," Dumbledore said, removing his hand and placing it on the desk in front of him. "Tell me Harry, how was your Christmas?"

"It was...good, Sir." He mumbled.

Dumbledore knew that he was lying, but he didn't press the matter and continued speaking. "Did you like your cloak?"

Harry's head snapped up and his eyes widened as he stared at the man. Dumbledore gave him a knowing smile.

"That- that was you?" He gasped "You sent me the cloak?"

"Indeed."

Harry closed his gaping mouth and looked at the man with gratitude. "Thank you."

"Your very welcome Harry, your father would have wanted you to have it, he was quite the adventurer himself. That cloak probably got him out of many detentions for sneaking out on Hogwarts grounds at night."

Harry bit back a chuckle, he could imagine his father doing that.

"I hope I can trust you to use it well, Harry." said Dumbledore, making Harry look at him again.

"Yes sir, you can." He nodded fervently.

"Good. Now, let's see what treats I've got shall we?" He mumbled, leaning down behind the desk to tug at some draws on the side. "Ah, here we are."

Harry's eyebrows raised when he pulled out a bowl holding half a dozen different sweets and chocolates, muggle and wizarding.

"There. Take your pick Harry, I cannot finish these by myself. I find the lemons drops to be quite refreshing." He said, pulling off the wrapping of one sweet.

Harry reached over and took one in his hand, It was white with black swirls and Harry was pretty sure it was a humbug. Not that he cared, he just wished the sweet wasn't so hard that he could shew and swallow it down in one go.

The two stayed like that for a while, talking while eating sweets in the warmth of the fire. Harry began to relax more and more into the chair, and he almost forgot about the pain in his body. Dumbledore was treating him with the most kindness he had received in days, and he enjoyed listening to the man ramble on about different stories of pupils he'd taught and his own personal experiences when he was at school.

Harry had listened in awe, feeling himself laughing and talking happily for the first time in days.

"Well then Harry, enough about me. Why don't you tell me how your Christmas was?"

Harry stopped chewing, shuffling awkwardly in his seat.

"Er...with the Malfoy's?" He asked.

Dumbledore swallowed his goblet a little too quickly, his voice hardening somewhat. "The Malfoy's?"

"Y-yeah, I stayed with them this Christmas. Draco invited Blaise and I there."

"Did he now?" Dumbledore asked, placing down his goblet and clasping his hands in front of him "And how did that go?"

Harry stared into the fire, his face stony "Great."

Dumbledore noticed the sarcasm in the boy's voice, and feigning concern he leaned forwards "Did something happen Harry?"

Harry breathed out heavily through his nose, his face gloomy "You could say that..."

"I hope they treated you well." Dumbledore said after a while "Because if they didn't I would want you to tell me."

"No, no," Harry said quickly "They did. They were nice. It was just..." He cut himself off with a sigh "It's complicated."

"I see." He said, trying to sound as understanding as possible. He was curious as to what the boy was referring to, but not enough to care. If he'd had his way the boy would never have been in Slytherin, let alone going near the Malfoy home. This greatly complicated matters. Harry Potter was not meant to be friends with the son of Lucius Malfoy. He'd gotten far more close to him than Dumbledore had anticipated, and this only brought a danger to his plans.

Running his tongue over the backs of his teeth, Dumbledore drew in a breath before speaking. "Harry, you remember our conversation when I first took you to Diagon Alley?"

Harry raised his eyes from the fire "Yes."

"And you remember, I assume, what I told you about Slytherin House, correct?"

Harry nodded again, feeling his stomach tense. "I didn't expect to get sorted into Slytherin, sir."

"Neither did I." Dumbledore admitted, leaning back in his seat slightly. "But the reason I ask, is because as of late, I've noticed you haven't been taking my words into account."

"Sir?" Harry frowned.

"Hagrid tells me there has been a feud between yourself and mister Weasley going on for quite some time now. Particularly when you are around Mr Malfoy and his friends." He said "I hope that's not true."

"Weasley's a rat." Harry said harshly.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Well then, you certainly haven't been getting along now have you?"

Harry was sure he could detect a flicker of amusement in the Headmaster's voice, but he didn't comment on it.

"Weasley could have been my friend." He told him "But he's got the personality of a disease. And he picks on Draco all the time, calling us snakes...talking about his family...insulting his father..."

"Well there is a reason for that now Harry, " said Dumbledore, taking him by surprise. "You see, Mr Weasley and his family have been long at war with the Malfoy's for years. Rivalries between their children was inevitable."

Harry muttered something under his breath, no way was he ever going to consider still being friends with Weasley. He knew how much Dumbledore seemed to like Gryffindor, and it appeared he had a favourite first year student from the house too.

"In all honesty Harry," said Dumbledore "I was a little surprised to hear you had become friends with the Malfoy boy myself."

Harry peered at him "Why?"

"Well...forgive me for sounding harsh, but did his attitude not curb your desire to be friends with him? " He said as if it was obvious "Especially given your friendship with Miss Granger?"

"Attitude?" Harry was confused now "I'm sorry sir, I'm not sure what you mean."

"The Malfoy Family have always been prejudiced against muggles, Harry. They believe that those who study magic should only be what they deem 'pure' - and have no muggle blood. It is why Draco's father was a devote follower of Voldemort - he held the same views as himself." said Dumbledore.

Harry's mouth fell open. "D-Draco's father was a follower of Voldemort?"

"Not only that, second in command - a right hand man." Dumbledore said gravely "But when the war was over Mr Malfoy claimed to be under the acts of a curse that made him do what Voldemort ordered. Many believed this to be false, as Lucius Malfoy had always displayed a form of discrimination against muggles even in his youth. But, charges were dropped and he's still about of course. Most likely paid a few members of the court in order to get him off."

Harry swallowed, processing this information slowly "Did you believe him?"

Dumbledore 'humphed' mirthlessly "We all have our own opinions." He said "Some of us like to believe everything we see and hear. But no, I did not believe him Harry, and that is something I will tell you honestly."

Harry listened but kept his head low, unable to come up with a response. His inability to look at the headmaster made it seem as if he didn't care. But that couldn't have been further from the truth, he just didn't want to show the Headmaster the hurt and anguish in his eyes.

How had Draco not told him this? Failed to mention this tiny detail?

Then it began to make sense all of a sudden.

Weasley's comments to him about Draco on the train, how that his family wasn't to be trusted, and that they're family was one of the first to come to their side after Voldemort disappeared. He also remembered the way Weasley had started trouble with Draco one day in the Great Hall, by asking if Harry if Draco told him what his family had done.

It couldn't be true...could it?

Harry had brushed it off at the time, thinking it was Weasley just being Weasley and causing trouble. But what if it was more than that? Had he been trying to warn him about who he was getting involved in?

Dumbledore frowned at him "You did not know of this?"

"I thought that...he never..." Harry shook his head, his words trailing off.

"I see I have revealed something you did not expect." said Dumbledore "It is why I was so confused you were so willingly mixing with his tightly-knitted group. Surely you were told by others that the family was not trustworthy?"

"Well yeah, but...but I..." He stumbled "Draco never cared about any of that. And neither did I." Harry met his eyes with the Headmaster finally "Who was I to judge someone on other peoples opinions? He was nothing but nice to me, he made me laugh. The first person who ever wanted to be my friend." He admitted.

"And why do you think that is?" asked Dumbledore carefully "You think he needed any more friends than he already had? He wanted you to himself Harry. You are the most popular boy in the year, perhaps even the school, anyone who's anyone wanted to have you as their friend."

Harry stared at him then, his eyes watering and his head lowered to look at his lap. He was almost ready to snap at the man, to tell him Draco would never be like that, but the words died in his throat.

"I tell you this not to upset you Harry." said Dumbledore kindly "Merely to protect you. I warned you of the trouble concerning Slytherin House, and that it's members often held the same views as Voldemort. But you seemed pretty intent on making friends with them despite my previous warnings."

"Your wrong." Harry insisted "They're not trouble. They're a little...sly maybe... but that's what makes them so unique. The only ones who've been giving me trouble are the Gryffindor's - not Slytherin House."

Dumbledore resisted a growl. Well that would certainly have to change. "I see."

Harry rubbed his eyes with the back of his sleeve and resisted the urge to yawn, not wanting to appear rude in front of the headmaster. He however did notice and chuckled softly.

"You'd best be off to bed now Harry, I can see you look worn out. And Merlin's beard no wonder!" He exclaimed after taking out a pocket watch from his robes. "It's well past lights out - you'd better hurry unless you want a run in with Filch."

"Yes sir," Harry stood and gathered his things, pushing the chair into the desk and walking back over to the entrance of the room with the Professor.

"Why don't you pop in sometime tomorrow afternoon?" He said, stopping "I feel bad having not spoken to you in so long, I certainly owe it to you. We can continue our little chat..."

"Yes, sir." said Harry, stepping down onto the first step.

"Oh and Harry," Dumbledore called, making him turn. "You never heard the password to my office, understand?"

"What password?" Harry asked innocently.

Dumbledore chortled "Good lad. Goodnight Harry."

"Goodnight Professor." Harry left the office and descended the stairs back to his common room.

Dumbledore closed the door behind him, a feeling of satisfaction becoming him.

Maybe it wasn't too late after all. The boy was as gullible and niave as ever. He almost looked up to him like family member, a guardian. He supposed this was given considering he had taken him away from his home, where his family treated him badly. Now he had his undying gratitude.

That was exactly what he wanted, the boy wrapped around his finger.

All he needed now was some time for his plan to go underway. Harry was defenceless, that was certain. And his relationship with the Malfoy boy was vulnerable at the present moment, a perfect opportunity to sever it completely if he could just get the boy to turn against him and preferably his fellow housemates.

Ever since the sorting, Dumbledore had been well aware he would need a new master plan. He had been furious when the sorting hat had not placed him in Gryffindor, and even more so when he was put into Slytherin after so much effort to keep him away from such a House. It just wouldn't do.

But he was a patient man, he could wait. Such matters of these took time, soon enough the boy would be under his control.

And then the real fun would begin.

~•0•~

Harry walked the halls of a darkened, moonlit home. He was floating, drifting, almost like a ghost...seeing things from far away...

The home was lavish, with polished wooden floors and a large glass window at the end which allowed the only source of light from the moon to sweep across the floor.

The hall was narrow, and the walls held various different portraits and paintings that Harry barely maganged to register from moving so swiftly past them all.

He could hear distant noises. Muffled yelling and thunderous bangs that sounded so far yet so near.

He wondered where he was going. Where he was taking himself and where on earth he was.

He turned another corridor. Floating so quick and fast, he was sure he was going to crash into one of the doors that stood at the end of the corridor, a silver little knocker set in the center.

Somewhere came the sound of a door slamming, and then a sudden explosion of sound sent him tumbling into darkness with a gasp.

The scene had changed.

The room was lighter, and he felt something hard against his back. He glanced up, only to see a tall, menacing dark figure towering over him.

"No!" A woman cried.

The image melted away, replaced once again with a different location, the figure was gone and the sound of the woman fading away into nothing.

There was an explosion of green stars that almost blinded him. Someone screamed.

Then a man was laughing.

The scene faded once again, and this time Harry knew exactly where he was.

He saw the carpeted hallway by the stairs leading into the kitchen, the different pictures holding a plump, blonde haired boy with an even larger man and a dark haired woman.

This was Privet Drive.

Harry stood stock still as the figure of Vernon Dursley appeared behind the kitchen door, staring straight at him with a cruel smile.

"Now you didn't think I was finished with you now, did you boy?" He asked, his voice sickly sweet.

Harry froze at the sound of metal sliding against wood. Then the red hot fire poker was in Vernon's hand, glowing hotter than hell.

He backed away, hearing his own voice responding.

"No. Please Uncle Vernon!"

"Shut up boy! You're pleading is pathetic!" He approached him, the poker raised and sizzling against the air, hungry for his flesh. "Hold him Petunia."

"Please! Please don't Uncle! ARRGH!" Harry's agonized scream tore through the air.

Harry shot up with a gasp, his heart hammering in his chest and his body drenched in sweat. His eyes searched the room rapidly, looking for that searing poker and the man that held it in a tight grip. But Uncle Vernon was gone, and Harry was back in his Slytherin dorm.

He was away from Privet Drive, but he didn't feel any safer.

Harry threw the covers off his body, thanking his lucky stars that he hadn't woken anyone up. He passed the window, noting that the sky was a light blue tinged with pink. He ran for the bathroom down the dormitory steps and locked himself in.

He sat on the toilet seat and buried his face in his hands, trying to stifle the sobs that pulled from his throat. The dream had been do real, so vivid. He could almost sense the heat coming from that horrible thing, see the smirk on Vernon's face, feel the red hot metal kissing his skin.

He stood up, wiping his face with his hands and splashing it in the sink. He looked up at his reflection in the mirror. A boy with baggy eyes and hunched shoulders was staring back at him.

Standing straighter, and willing himself to calm down, Harry managed to slow the rapid beating of his heart. He peeked outside to the empty common room, looking to the clock on the wall. It was half past five, no point in going back to sleep now. He didn't want to fall back into the horrid place of his dreams...or rather his nightmares.

He closed the bathroom door again, running his fingers through his hair.

Reaching to take the bottom of his pyjama top, he began to raise it up, flinching at the pain it caused his ribs. He looked back to his reflection in bathroom the mirror.

Underneath the shirt revealed horrid yellowing bruises on his ribs. Then, turning around he examined the damage of his back. All over his skin littered small, angry red welts and searing burns. All in the shape of the poker that had laid within the fire at Privet Drive.

He was covered in them. Most were still a shade of puce and already beginning to scar. Others had turned purple or had swollen so much that that blood and puss occasionally dribbled out - he worried this was because they were infected, or at least were becoming infected.

He lowered his top with shaking hands, then gently pressed a hand to his ribs and hissed. They were still badly bruised, possibly even the bone, who knew how long they were going to take to heal. Vernon's boot had made light work of them, and Harry had struggled to breath ever since. But they were getting better, he was sure of it, he could walk and sit without managing to cringe in agony, which was good news for him.

His main concern however was his burns. They had certainly not improved.

He would need to take action if he didn't want anyone seeing the damage. How he was to do this he didn't know.

He had been thinking about sneaking off to the library and finding a book on healing spells, or a potion that could heal his burns quicker. After all, this was the wizarding world, you could do anything...

He rubbed his eyes. Was there any point in going back to sleep? The residents of the dormitories would surely be starting to rise in an hour or two, he might as well make do with his time alone while he could.

Flicking the bathroom light off he walked back up to his dorm and moved to his bed. Everyone else was sleeping, even the blonde boy snoozing loudly in the bed next to him.

Harry moved closer, observing Draco with a detached look in his eyes.

It had been almost three days since they had properly spoken, and Harry suddenly felt rather cold towards him. Perhaps it was due to the talk he'd had with the headmaster. Not that he usually would let the telling's of someone influence his views on another person, but Dumbledore's words had been playing on his mind.

He had always been bad at accepting the truth. Perhaps Dumbledore could even sense this.

Harry sighed and grabbed his robes and trousers, shoving the books he'd need into his satchel then making his way out the dormitory to change in the bathrooms.

Perhaps he'd go to the library this morning and have a search through all the healing books, he was bound to find something to help his injuries there - it couldn't be that hard. Then he'd see Professor Dumbledore later. There were still a few questions he had been wanting to ask him, more so about Voldemort than Lucius Malfoy - that was if he was willing to tell him.

As for his friends, they'd have to wait. He had more important things to tend to.

A/N: Reviews greatly appreciated...