TRIGGER WARNINGS!

This one has some trigger warnings! The details are at the bottom of the page for anyone who wants to check them.

If I put them here they'll contain spoilers for everyone.

Happy Reading

Oh and a few people have been asking when I update, I update every saturday morning, Australian time (GMT+10)

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The last week of term passed slowly. The weather got colder, the snow continued to fall, covering the ground in white, and the lake started to freeze around the edges. Harry wondered if it would freeze enough that year for them to skate on. Hermione certainly had made it sound like fun, and from what he'd read, his mother had enjoyed it too. Hermione had promised to teach him if the it froze enough.

The tension in between the Gryffindors and Hermione, Fred, George and Neville, however was only building. Fred and George relentlessly pranked the whole house and anyone who had a go at them, thereby keeping themselves safe from being hexed into submission. And Neville seemed good at not being noticed. Hermione, however, was no so lucky.

Hermione was now getting hexed and teased by the Gryffindors just as much as Harry was. It was just as well the two of them had been practising duelling and other (muggle) methods of defence, as it came rather in handy during the rest of the term. The Gryffindors were very good at getting them while out of sight of the teachers.

Hermione and Harry had taken to using as many secret passageways, and the cloke to get to class as often as possible. When not in class or in the Room of Requirement, they were in the library sitting close to Madame Pince's desk where no-one would dare try and hex them. It was exhausting. But Hermione was determined to right the wrong her house had done Harry. Or at least teach them the error of their ways. And while Harry didn't like it, he accepted his friends choice and was warmed by her determination on his behalf.

Harry was very relieved to have the snake passages to avoid everyone with. Something that Hermione had been fascinated with and had then insisted he try to teach her Parseltongue. So far, it with little success. But between still being hexed in the corridors and the usual staring, and whispering, Harry much preferred the dark narrow stone passageways that were hiden behind the snakes. Hermione, however fascinated she was, did not enjoy the small dark spaces as much as Harry did.

When he wasn't in the library with Hermione, or out in the forest, he spent most of the time in the lower dungeons, in his cupboard or his trunk, generally huddled over a hot cauldron or around his bluebell flames with a book and his notes.

He spent as little time as possible in the main school, or at least away from the people of the main school. The castle was getting increasingly boisterous, and seemed to have been overcome with the hype of the Yule Ball. The Hogwarts staff seemed intent on continuing to make a good impression on their visitors. And Harry wondered bitterly if it was partly due to his 'embarrassingly poor performance' at the first task.

The suits of armour had all been re-polished until they shone and were bewitched to sing carols when anyone passed. It was a bit disconcerting to hear "0 Come, All Ye Faithful" and "god rest ye merry Hippogriff," sung by an empty helmet that only knew half the words. Though it was very funny when Peeves managed to get himself inside them and replaced the lyrics with rude reinventions of his own.

Harry thought bitterly that if only the staff put as much effort into actually making Hogwarts safe, as they did with making her look good! Then maybe Harry wouldn't have to put so much effort into staying out of sight, just to keep himself safe.

But they seemed determined to show the castle at her best for Christmas. The decorations that went up were the most stunning Harry had ever seen. There were everlasting icicles on the banisters, huge Christmas trees in the Hall ladened with everything from luminous holly berries to real, hooting, golden owls, and real fairy's flitting amongst the candles. There were holly and mistletoe decking the halls and walls, and more floating candles than Harry had ever seen in his entire life.

There was also a mouthwateringly spicy Christmas scent in the air all the time now. When not hidden away like the introverted hermit he was, Harry had taken to sitting at the end of one of the longhouse tables in the kitchens. It felt homey down there, especially when he was surrounded by elves bake up a storm filling the school with that yummy scent. That and Dobby kept sneaking him bits of Christmas cookie dough and the cookies that turned out slightly less than perfect! Tippy was even kind enough to 'not notice.'

The Hogwarts elves also seemed to delight in Dobby and Winkey being 'Harry's' elves. It seemed the perfect excuse to ignore Dumbledore's hash order in regards to starving Harry whenever they could. They seemed to delight in being able to follow their orders to a T and still aggressively spoil and look after Harry through Dobby and Winky.

Harry was now never without a full stomach and was constantly finding snacks in his bags and extra blankets on his bed. It was a nice change, Dobby and Winkey were excellent, but it was nice to know the Castle elves now has enough wriggle room to sneakily have his back too. Harry could tell that the castle was happy with the change to the status quo as well.

But while the castle was looking nice, Yule Ball fever seemed to have taken over the student population. Harry wasn't sure if he was pleased that they finally had something else to talk about that wasn't him, or irritated by it. He certainly felt he was the only person in the whole castle that was dreading it. He was not at all looking forward to it and had taken to desperately checking the mail each day for word from Rodgrip.

Rumours were flying about the Yule Ball, and Harry was pretty sure at least half of them were false. For instance, Dumbledore had bought eight hundred barrels of mulled mead from Madam Rosmerta. While the man was negligent to the point of criminal, Harry didn't think he'd let his students get drunk, as much as some of them seemed keen on the idea. It did seem to be taken as fact though, that he had booked the Weird Sisters. Harry didn't know who they were, never having had access to a wizard's wireless, but he worked out that they were a very famous musical group.

Despite this, Harry did not feel at all like he was missing out by avoiding the whole thing. In fact, the more he heard about the ball, and the more people that got excited about it, the more he longed to be away from it all. The ball was all anyone could talk about. Thankfully it seemed that Harry wasn't the only one sick of hearing people go about it.

The teacher's too were affected. Some like little Professor Flitwick, gave up trying to teach them much at all, when it was clear they would (almost) all rather be talking about the ball. He allowed them to practice Christmas related charms and various cosmetic charms in his lesson on Wednesday. Harry was very pleased that he managed to sit up the back under a discrete notice-me-not charm, and actually get some work done instead.

Other teachers were not so generous. Nothing would ever deflect Professor Binns, from drowning on about goblin rebellions. Harry figured that if the ghost didn't let a little thing like being dead stop him, he wasn't going to be stopped by something as frivolous as a ball. It was amazing how he could make even bloody and vicious goblin riots sound as boring as Percy's cauldron-bottom report. And really! The whole topic was infuriating! Wizards had treated everyone else so appallingly, throughout history, that it was no wonder the goblins kept rioting. Harry sighed, pulling out one of his mother's history text's instead. Her snarky notes in the margins on various riots were far more interesting.

Professors McGonagall and Moody too, kept them working until the very last second of their classes. Professor Snape, of course, was about as uninterested in the coming holidays as Harry was. Instead, he made them study for a poison & antidotes test during the last lesson of the term. A test Harry had been studying hard for, but knowing Snape's hatred, was worried he'd fail. It was too important a subject to fail though. Not when so many people would be out to get him. He really should make a ring or something he could wear that would detect poisons...

Harry had finished the purging potions and spent a night sleeping on the roof under the moon while the potions cured, too paranoid to leave them up there alone. It was cold but wonderful. Though, being in such an open space to sleep took a bit of getting used to.

Unfortunately, while the potion was the right colour, it was ever so slightly too thick. Harry, despite knowing he had followed the direction to the T, worried it would not work. He had no idea what he'd done wrong. But he could only hope that his inability to feel his own magic, and therefore regulate how it interacted with his potion ingredients and brewing, had not screwed it up too badly.

He looked for a time-turner in the Room of Requirement but had no luck. Not only could the room not manipulate time, but the only time-turner he did find was broken. It was stuck in an endless, and creepy, cycle of breaking and mending itself. It was frankly rather disturbing. Especially when he'd pocked it with a twig he'd filched from an old falling apart broom. The twig got caught up in the leaking time loop and started blooming and withering.

Harry had hastily drawn a very strong containment ward around it, that Bill had shown him, before using an equally strong banishment charm on the whole thing. As Bill had warned, the spell had made a loud crack like a gun, and an impressive scorch mark on the floor, but thankfully the thing was gone.

He'd also been working though his mother's books. She'd had a copy of "Powers You Never Knew You Had & What To Do With Them Now You've Wised Up." It was the same book Tonks had recommended to him. Unfortunately he'd started it and was disappointed to find that Tonks was right. It had little in the way of metamorph-magic and overall was more interesting in title than in content. Judging from the snarky annotations from his mother and the sarcastic ones from Sev, they'd agreed with him.

Harry had also taken to typing up his homework essays on his mother's typewriter. It was surprisingly easy to use. Especially when Harry realised it also did take dictation, corrected spelling and grammar and allowed him to add or remove portions of typed text with ease. It was much easier on his hands too, which still cramped, and locked up during long periods of writing. It was also still far more legible than his own handwriting. Despite lots of care and practice, it was still pretty bad.

Harry got the impression the Professor Flitwick may have recognised the typeface, which his mother had charmed to look like handwriting and worried that Professor Snape would too. He didn't want it getting out that he had access to his mother's things. Especially when Dumbledore had worked so hard to keep him stupid. He didn't need to give that man any more reasons to scrutinise him any more than he already was in the wake of the Quibbler article. Luckily Professor Flitwick just commented on how much more legible it was and left it at that.

As for Snape; Harry was still avoiding him like the plague. He had even gone as afar to beg Hagrid not to mention to Snape that the potion ingredient they regularly collected, were picked by Harry as well. Harry was too terrified that the man would throw them out or take his hatred of Harry out on Hagrid. They'd worked hard for some of those ingredients.

Snape, noticed both those things but said nothing. He recognised the unique print of his friend's typewriter of course, but was more relieved at having readable essays for a change. He also recognised that the ingredients had been collected another person as well. He was a potion master, of course, he would recognise the slight lingering magic of the gather. But ingredients were ingredients. He didn't care who picked them for him as long as they were competent it it.

Hermione kept teaching Harry to dance. It was awkward and uncomfortable, and he hated it. He hated being touched, hated being so close, and he hated having to touch her. Each lesson ended up being an exercise in controlling and suppressing his panic. The more he forced himself to learn, and be okay with the close contact, the worse it was. He ended up feeling intensely guilty that sometimes he could touch her, and sometimes he just couldn't stand it. Why was he fine with hugging Charlie and Bill all the time, but Hermione sometimes and everyone else not at all? Why were they the exceptions? It didn't make any sense! Shouldn't he hate all touch?

Either way, Hermione was patient with him, understanding and did not take it personally the few times he leapt away from her in panic or bolted across the room out of reach. She was also rather good at dancing. Which was just as well, because Harry was rather shocking at it. He was so agitated by such intimate positioning that he had to spend most of his time holding off panic. He was sure that without her patience, persistence and talent, he would make a fool of them both, for sure, at the ball.

Fred and George started teaching him to swim in a pool the room of requirement provided. They kindly did not question him about his scars, or stair at them. He wasn't as ashamed of them anymore, Rodgrip had been right, they were proof of his strength and his ability to survive. They were proof that he was still here. But he still hated being stared at and appreciated their lack of staring. He figured they were used to scars from all of Charlie's burns.

He also still felt uncomfortably vulnerable around others with no shirt on. But Fred and George were good teachers. They somehow made the swimming lessons fun, playing lots of tricks on each other and goofing around, to distract Harry from just how nervous being in the water made him.

He had started going for a swim in the morning instead of a run. It was freezing, and there was ice on the top of the water, but it was unfortunately good practice. At least he got good at warming, melting and heating charms.

All in all, swimming eventually became rather enjoyable and almost relaxing (when he wasn't freezing his bits off). It was also not nearly as uncomfortable for Harry as dancing anyway. At least when swimming, he didn't have to get up close and personal with anyone. It was silly he scolded himself. It wasn't like he had to kiss or get naked with anyone while ballroom dancing, but it still felt horribly intimate and he hated it, hated it, hated it.

He also still hadn't found a replacement dress robe yet. He'd found a few old fashioned ones in the Room of Requirement, but he really didn't want to go at all. He was having trouble mustering up the enthusiasm to find a pair that did not look like a neon children's dress. Especially since he needed a set that would not clash with Hermione's dress and make her look like a fool.

End of term testing started that same week, and Harry insisted that he participate despite being exempt from exams because of his 'champion status.'

"I need to know what my progress is," he'd told Professor Sprout when she'd asked what he was doing, "how else will I know what I need to work on for next term?"

The tests were all surprisingly simple. With all the studying Harry had done, he felt a little disappointed by the lack of a challenge they'd presented. Though he was pleased and a little proud at his vast improvement.

He met with the four Slytherins on Wednesday night. After practising the Patronus charm, (they had all produced silver mist by that point) he broached the subject of the dance.

"The ball," he said with great reluctance, making Zabini groan and Parkinson look at him sharply.

"I was wondering if Wizarding dances are different from muggle dances. Hermione has been teaching me, but my Head of House says I have to open the ball. I do not wish to make a fool of myself."

"Ooh," Parkinson squealed clapping her hands, "yes, and more deportment too! You're coming along really well in etiquette, but there is a whole other side to it we haven't really touched yet! And presentation!" She clapped her hands again, looking more excited and passionate than Harry had ever seen her.

"You're in for it now," Nott muttered in a 'better you than me,' sort of voice.

Harry watched as Parkinson yanked Greengrass closer to her side and started muttering furiously, glancing at him and pointing every so often. Harry had to force himself not to squirm.

"I need all the help I can get," Harry said glumly, dread building in his gut.

"You do," said Zabini, "but she's right. You're picking this up remarkably fast. You don't seam so green anymore. Though, you do need help with presentation. Your hair's atrocious! But your new glasses are a vast improvement" he said with a critical eye. "You should take the Etiquette & Culture OWL."

"Most Purebloods take it the summer before fifth as an easy and early OWL, often taking Politics and Estate Management as well. It's normally something we're raised with so it's easy. But if you work at it, you might manage an okay pass grade this summer." Nott added in.

"I'm working on Politics, and Estate Management already," Harry said, "I have the WEA syllabus, but it's harder on my own."

"You have the syllabus? Brilliant, any other subjects?" Nott asked

"All of them,"

"Right that's it," Nott said rather business-like, "I have heard about your first and second-year study group. We're setting one up too. We can work on it together. We don't have tutors here, we owl work to them at home. We'll add your work to ours if you like. It will be easier with the lot of us."

"What's in it for you?" Harry asked cautiously, "you'd need to catch me up to where you're at."

Nott actually grinned at him, "now you're learning to think like a proper snake! We get access to the syllabus, which isn't often given out. You get access to tutoring you really need. We do better by working together. Each gets something from the other. Win-win. Oh, and I guess you can bring Granger too. I hear she's wicked smart."

Harry refrained from pointing out they could probably have just owled for their own copy but wondered if it was because of his name that they'd given him one. But then he decided he didn't care. He needed all the help he could get and besides, he was honestly getting the better end of the deal.

Privately, he'd surmised that maybe they liked having someone to tutor and boss around and shape into a good little Pureblood snake. Harry was happy to let them. For the moment. It was useful. He was learning loads that he really needed to, and they were surprisingly good company.

"Okay, but my study group isn't just Hermione at the moment. Hermione is great at Transfiguration. Neville is a Herbology wiz and is also good at the Pureblood stuff. He's also going for a few early OWLs if he can persuade his Gran. There's also Fred and George, who are more brilliant than they let on," Harry said in a matter of fact voice.

Nott looked at him slightly wearily for a moment but said, "as long as their civil, we'll be civil."

"Besides, it's far more effective to teach you lot defence when there are more people to practice with," Harry said with a sly smile, making Zabini smirk.

They spent all that night dancing. It was even harder to contain his panic and desire to run, while dancing with them, than it was with Hermione. It was a disaster. Harry had come to like the Slytherins, but that wasn't enough to stop the panic. It made his skin crawl and his breathing shallow. He managed to clamp down on it for a good 15 minutes as Greengrass walked him through the moves, but he was starting to sweat and shake uncontrollably. He hated it. He hated the dancing, and he hated his weakness, for letting it show.

In the end, Parkinson frowned, before she vanished and reappeared, dragging a confused Hermione behind her. The Slytherin's ended up instructing them both instead of practising with Harry. That helped. It wasn't pleasant, but it was easier to control the panic when it was Hermione.

They kept practising, working at every spare moment. They were also joined by Hermione, Neville and Luna along with the Weasley twins (when they weren't up to no good.) Then again, to Harry's surprise, by Millicent Bulstrode and Tracy Davis. Both were surprisingly pleasant.

It didn't go badly. Once the Slytherins got over being frosty and distrustful to the Gryffindors, and vice versa, the lot of them got on relatively well. The girls seemed to rather enjoy the dancing, and Harry had to admit he was getting better. He really did need all the help he could get. But it was a good opportunity to practice his Occlumency and control. It was exhausting though.

The following evening, they danced for a good hour or so before the Slytherin girls pounced on him.

"You really need to do something about that hair of yours," Greengrass said, as Parkinson and David herded them into one of the empty bathrooms deep in the dungeons along with Hermione and Luna. They were followed by an amused looking Bulstrode and Zabini who just sat on one of the benches and smirked at Harry's pleading look.

The girls used four bottles of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion on Harry's hair. It made no difference, to the girls utter annoyance. Bulstrode just cackled in delight at their failure and frustration, and Zabini seemed offended on the potion's behalf. Really, it was rather funny Harry mused when washing all the gunk off his hair in the sink.

"I don't think they've ever been beaten by someone's hair before!" Bulstrode crowed with delight, which was almost as good as a grin from the dour girl.

"It's a travesty," drawled Zabini, "that potion normally works miracles. Pity, it didn't work." Zabini continued, though not in an unkind way. Harry was used to his hair defying all odds, and their horror was rather amusing.

Instead, they ended up using the potions on Hermione. It worked brilliantly. They'd first managed to tame it straight, and wrestle it into submission. But then they had tried again and ended up finding just the right combination of potion and spells to make her hair cooperate with her. It was now curly, not just the frizzy chaotic mess it normally was. She was rather pleased with it. Especially when she managed to put it back into a neat ponytail of pretty curls for the first time in her life, without it looking like a giant ball of fluff.

They were all much more pleased by that achievement and gave Harry's appearance up as a lost cause. He did learn several dressing and appearance charms that were actually quite useful, however.

His small tutoring group with the three first year Slytherins somehow grew to include the whole first year Slytherins, as well as second years and a very shy third year. Harry was a bit stumped by it, honestly. They seemed to actually like him. He didn't understand it at all but wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. They were a bit less hostile than the older ones. Still, they thought in such an intrinsically Slytherin way. It was refreshingly relatable after spending all his time around Gryffindors.

Really though, with all the Slytherins he'd been around lately, it was almost as if they liked him, or were trying to sneakily adopt him. And really why on earth would they want to do that? His own house didn't even want him! His own relatives didn't even want him. He did not understand them at all! What on earth was wrong with them?

Professor McGonagall cornered him before History on Friday morning.

"Potter!" She called as he was about to slip into a secret passageway and out of sight.

He sighed and turned back to face her. She looked frazzled but no less intimidating.

"Walk with me, Mr Potter," she said clearly in a rush.

Moving briskly down the corridor, she left him with no other option than to go with her, unless he wanted to be rude and risk a detention.

"Why have you not signed your name up to stay over break like the rest of your house?" She demanded.

"The sheet is in the Common Room. I expect you to have your name on it by the end of classes if you don't want more point losses."

Harry, feeling rather mutinous, ignored her and slipped into a secret passage. A snake passage, in case she tried to follow him and appeared in the back of his history class. He wanted more than anything to stand up to her and point blank refuse to do what she said. But as angry as he was, he knew it wasn't the intelligent choice. It was just the hot-headed Gryffindor one.

He didn't know yet if he was contractually obliged to go, and drawing attention before he knew that, would just be foolish. Better to play along and sneak out when no-one was watching for it. He really hoped that Rodgrip would get back to him soon. The train would be leaving the following day, and Harry really wanted to be on it.

Harry, as usual, had little idea what Binns was actually talking about while he handed back their exams. Instead, Harry was huddled with Neville and the four Slytherins pouring over the actual history assessments from the WEA. Harry jumped when he felt something vibrate in his bag against his thigh. He quickly glanced up, then opened the bag and eagerly pulled out his Gringotts box. He had to stop himself, biting his lip with apprehension. He kept his face blank, ignoring the others curious looks.

Harry was very relieved to see Rodgrip's note.

"Warrior,

The ball is mentioned in the rules as traditional but nowhere does it specifically say in your contract that you must participate in it. Only the tasks and the wand weighing. From both the tournament rules and your contract, they cannot make you go.

Furthermore, because Dumbledore basically said you were an adult in agreeing to let you participate, he cannot place any new rules upon you as your guardian. Therefore, he cannot stop you leaving the castle for the break (especially if your muggle guardian agrees) as such a situation has not happened before. While you are not emancipated and can't override his previous decisions regarding you, he cannot make new ones either until he is reinstated by the morons at your Ministry.

You will be at Gringotts over your Yule break.

Let us know if we need to send Cursebreaker Weasley to get you.

May your blade bite,

Rodgrip"

Harry could not restrain a grin and carefully tucked the letter and the box back in his bag.

The Slytherin's didn't ask, being too polite and not quite familiar enough to do so without it being impertinent. Neville, however, had no such qualms.

"What is it?" He asked, eagerly, "this is the happiest I've seen you all week." When the Slytherin's looked at him, Neville shrugged and said unrepentantly, "I'm a Gryffindor. I can be boldly familiar with Harry. Beside's we shared a room for four years."

Harry winced at the sharp looks they gave Neville and him at that, wondering what they may have incorrectly surmised from that comment. It was true though, after nearly four years of rooming together, they were quite used to knowing each others business.

He changed the subject, "I got an answer to whether I am contractually obliged to attend and open the dance against my will. I do not, therefore, need to go to the Ball. I can continue my holiday plans."

"You're pleased by this," Greengrass stated, fishing.

"You loathed dancing," Parkinson put in, "you hid it well, but you were stiff as a board and very pale. Even for you," she added as an afterthought.

"Exceptionally pleased," Harry said, smiling but not actually answering their probes, "I don't like it much."

"That's not going to go down well," Neville said with a nervous grin.

"Not my circus, not my monkey. There are no rules forcing me, either in the school charter or in the torment rules or contract."

Zabini smiled with cool approval, "very Slytherin, Potter."

"Thank you," he said, feeling smug.

"Don't think this gets you out of lessons," Parkinson and Greengrass said.

Harry just smiled slyly. They'd just agreed to keep tutoring him in an extra field for free.

He told Hermione in a whisper on the way to charms, too excited to not tell her. To his relief, she was thrilled and pleased he didn't need to go.

"Oh, good." She said bluntly, "I was happy to go with you and help you out, but I was asked this morning in the library to go as someone's date," she said flushing slightly.

"Oh?" He asked, "congrats. Do you want to?"

"I think I'd rather like to. I said I'd get back to him as I had an obligation to a friend that was complicated." She smiled then, and Harry could tell she was really pleased.

"You should say yes, then!" Harry said, "who is it?"

She didn't tell him who it was, and when he didn't push the matter, admitted that they got on surprisingly well. He was very polite and treated her nicely.

"Brilliant, I'm so pleased for you," Harry said. "You'll have a good time, I'm sure, by the sounds of it. You deserve it."

Professor Flitwick was calling the roll in Charms when he stopped at Harry's name, "Mr Potter, I'd like to speak to you after class please."

Filius carefully watched the boys face. But the boy didn't seem to react at all other than saying, "yes, sir."

Filius frowned, the boy had gotten much much better at hiding his emotions, he thought. He always had been, but lately, he had improved sharply. He was much more like Severus, and some of the Slytherins... hiding their vulnerable bits behind a cool, hard, flawlessly polite outer shell. He worried.

Harry, however, had a hard time focusing on his work that lesson. He was far more interested in planing where he was going to sleep over the break, instead of his revision and study for those new subjects. Which was what he should have been doing if he wasn't going to pay attention to the Professor's lecture of holiday charms.

His plans for the break were starting to look up now. He had a trunk he could stay in. That would take care of finding a place to stay for the break. Having a trunk to stay in would be much better than sleeping behind dustbins, or in empty doorways or dry storm drains. He'd just need to put a repelling charm on it, and a notice-me-not charm... and a mile stinging hex on it to deter anyone from picking it up while he was in it. He could stash it somewhere out of the way and stay in the trunk for the break. Or maybe stow it on the roof of a building in Knockturn. He'd have to scout out Knockturn properly and get a proper feel for the place first though. To see where the haunts were and the forgotten corners...

"That was a rather good notice-me-not charm, Mr Potter! 10 points," Filius said after class had been let out, he'd dismissed them and a nervously hovering Ms Granger.

The boy froze at the mention of the charm, then winced at the points.

Filius frowned, looking at the boy sharply, what was going on?

"Are you quite alright, Mr Potter?"

"Of course sir," Harry said in a flawlessly polite voice.

"I have not seen you in the Hall or in the corridors all week, Mr Potter. You and Ms Granger, and Mr Longbottom too. Are you sure you're well?" Filius pressed, come to think of it, he hadn't seen the boy at all! Not since he'd talked to him last. The Gryffindors were unusually closed-mouthed about it too. Normally they always had an opinion on the boy.

"Yes sir, I'm fine," Harry said calmly, and Filius wondered how much of it was real.

"Do drop in for tea when your back won't you, Mr Potter?" He said instead, "I've missed our lunchtime chats of books and academics. You've been avoiding me. We noticed."

Harry looked at him sharply, frozen, then his eyes narrowing fractionally. What did he know? Who noticed what? And what would they do about it?

But Professor Flitwick just smiled and said, "don't be so worried child. We're worried about you, you're mother's friend and I."

Harry didn't flinch at the mention of Professor Snape, but it was a very near thing. He felt the colour drain from his face. He'd managed to put Professor Snape out of his mind until then. He'd be in for it now. Just what he needed more detention before the break, keeping him at school.

His thoughts were interrupted by, "stay safe, won't you child, over break?"

Harry looked at the Professor sharply again, what did he know?

"But sir..." He trailed not sure where to go with that reply without actually lying.

Professor Flitwick batted a hand dismissively, "we all know you haven't put your name down to stay. I don't blame you, and if Minerva has not forced the issue, then it's probably good to get out of the castle for a bit. They'll manage without you, as they planned on it that way originally anyhow." he said, miss-interpreting Harry's expression.

"Just stay safe, child. You'd better hurry off to lunch, so you don't end up late for potions. Professor Snape has a test planed for you, I think..."

The half-goblin trailed off, frowning slightly at Harry's robes.

But Harry was not looking at him and just said, "yes sir."

Biting back the panic he gave a sharp goblin bow and all but fled the room. Leaving the professor staring at the empty doorway with a worrying frown on his face.

He had lunch in the back corner of the kitchens. It was busy, and the elves had prepared beef and Yorkshire pudding. Having never been aloud it before, Dobby made sure he had plenty. It was just as tasty as it had always smelt, and he imagined that this one tasted better as he had not been forced to make it.

Luna joined him as he was finishing. It was an odd conversation as it always was with her.

He said, in the way of greeting "I have some stories for you."

"Oh, goody, I had thought so," Luna said dreamily.

And with a sly smile, he gave her some interesting things for the Yule edition of the Quibbler.

Harry was not late to potions, but again was the last one in and sat at the back corner, where no-one could sneak up on him. Hermione looked very pleased to see him and had saved him his usual seat. It was harder for them to be hex there, and he could see everything at once.

Professor Snape gave them a particularly nasty test on antidotes that had Neville whimpering. It was still not his best subject, but Harry found it thankfully much easier than he had feared. His mother's potion books had helped enormously, and somethings were finally starting to make sense. Potions were getting much easier now he had the big book to explain everything and all the why's. In fact, he was almost disappointed with the tests lack of challenge. He had expected that at the very least, Professor Snape's would have been difficult.

Again Harry managed to ignore Snape completely, without being rude, and after finishing his test a little early, was able to slip out unnoticed with a few of the other early finishers.

Unfortunately, his bad luck struck again. Being let out early, Harry and Hermione had not entered the snake corridors, thinking that the normal ones would have been safe enough. Unfortunately, he was proven wrong when he ran into Professor McGonagall.

"What are you doing out of class, Mr Potter, Ms Granger?" She asked

"We had a test ma'am," Hermione said.

"We finished early," Harry added carefully, "we were on our way to the Library."

"We'll you'll have no trouble going up to the common room and putting your name up to stay then Potter." She said matter of factly.

Harry didn't let his eyes narrow into the glare he wanted to give. He didn't need extra trouble. Instead, he said, "I'm sorry ma'am, but I can't do that."

Professor McGonagall's lips narrowed into a thin line, and her face seemed more severe than ever.

"And why is that, Mr Potter?" She said her voice clipped.

Harry, scowled at her.

"His family have asked him home this year Professor," Hermione said earnestly, hoping her favourite processor would be reasonable this time. She was, again, disappointed.

"You have certainly never left for Christmas before, why on earth start now? You have a duty, Mr Potter. You are a champion. You will be opening the ball." She said sternly.

"I may not have left before this year, but this year I am needed elsewhere. And respectfully ma'am, I'm not a champion," he said levelly. "I was entered against my will and lacked the ability or an adult willing to stand against it for me and remove me, as I should have been. I am not a champion. I am someone being dragged along for the ride. Someone else made me do this. I did not willingly enter or take up this duty. I owe the tournament nothing.

I will compete in the tasks, as I have no choice. But I do not need to open the ball. Nor does it say anywhere in the rules that I must stay for the break." Harry said cooly.

Her lips narrowed, and he thought her eyebrows were going to disappear into her hairline.

"Follow me," she said shortly, turning on her heal, "we shall see what the headmaster has to say. Ms Granger, you can go."

Harry's heart sank, "I'll see you later then," he murmured to Hermione, who looked worried but disappeared into another secret corridor out of sight. Harry followed McGonagall and hurriedly tried to clear his mind and push everything down into the little box in his gut. He couldn't let the headmaster finding anything in his mind to read. All too soon it seemed, the gargoyle came into sight and moved to let them in. Harry reluctantly followed her up the stairs and could have sworn the Gargoyle winked at him. Harry patted its knee as he went past and hoped, futilely, that Dumbledore was out.

To his surprise, Professor Snape was there. He wondered how the professor had gotten up there so fast. Class would have just finished. Then he spotted the open fire. He must have flooed up. Why was he there?

"Ah Minerva, I'm so glad you bought Harry up," Dumbledore said genially, "I was just about to discuss Christmas with Severus here."

Harry hid a flinch at the name. How had he never realised that Sev was Severus Snape before? Really! He should have seen it earlier. He should not have been surprised, that he was his mother's friend, Sev.

Harry mentally shook himself and pushed the stray thought from his mind, focusing instead on the weave of the blue carpet.

"What seems to be the problem, Harry, my boy?" Dumbledore said continuing in that same grandfatherly voice that Harry now realised actually sounded rather demeaning and patronising.

Harry frowned at the wording but wondered idly why it had taken him so long to question it. And now he did, it made his insides roll. He'd had enough lurid and vile propositions in his time on the streets of London as a child, that he disliked the implication. Maybe he was jumping to conclusions, maybe he was overly sensitive, but he did not like what the name, 'my boy' implied.

He was no one's possession or toy. He'd had to outrun or fight off enough perverts on the streets as a child. He would not stand for the treatment at school, whether imagined or not. He had a strong dislike of the name 'my boy', and he was starting to lose patience with the old man.

"Well met Professor's," he said, remembering formalities and his manners, "but it's Mr Potter, please sir," Harry added carefully, forcing his tone to be friendly and polite.

"Harry, my boy, what...?" The man started but trailed off, looking disappointed. Harry dismissed the guilt it kindled in him.

"Now that I know about proper wizarding manners and standards of behaviours, I prefer to respect them, Headmaster, sir," he said simply, pointedly.

"Really, Harry, I don't think that's necessary," he said again, sounding disappointed and dismayed. As if Harry had let him down.

"It's just that you insist on calling me by a shortened version of my first name," Harry explained, with a calm he did not feel. "That very much implies a close familiarity. I was not aware we had such a familiarity, sir. You are my school's headmaster. I don't know you and have asked you on numerous occasions to not only not shorten my first name, but to not use the familiarity of my first name at all."

Professor McGonagall gaped at him, as did the Headmaster. Professor Snape, however, just watched worryingly closely, in Harry's opinion.

"It is rather inappropriate to call me by anything except my surname the way you do with the other students, sir, and now you go calling me 'your boy' too?" Harry continued, his voice still perfectly polite, a mildly confused expression on his face, hiding the simmering anger.

If he could keep his tone even and perfectly reasonable, they should have no reason to punish him or deny him. Of course, adults were rarely fair, but, it was worth a try all the same.

"But Harry, my boy..." tried Dumbledore one more time, and this time Harry wondered if he saw Professor Snape frown at the man.

"It implies something else entirely sir," Harry said, trying not to lose his temper at the old fart, "something incredibly illegal and inappropriate, sir. So I will say it again, I am not your boy. We are not mates, or buddies, or besties, or any kind of friends really. I did not give you leave to bastardise my first name, let alone use it at all."

McGonagall was frowning at him, "well I never! The gall, Mr Potter!"

"Harry, my boy," Dumbledore said again, "what gave you that idea?"

Harry clenched his jaw as he tried not to think about all the other lecherous creeps that had used it to try and entice him. He shivered. They'd talked to him like that when they wanted things. Things he would not give. Those propositions he'd run from or had fought off when he'd needed to, with a knife sometimes. He'd had to as a child who spent a lot of time on the streets.

He wanted a shower.

"I am no one's boy, and I am certainly not yours!" Harry bit out, forcing back anger, revulsion and irritation, "I will not fuck you. So don't call me your boy," he snapped crudely, loosing his temper a little at the very idea, "sir," he amended quickly.

Snape snorted, and Harry darted a look at the man, who seemed to be trying hard to suppress amusement. Harry didn't gape, but it was a near thing.

"My boy, I never! Where did you get the idea Harry," Dumbledore said mildly.

"Sir, you're not listening to me. Please stop calling me that, and using such inappropriate familiarity" Harry said with forced calm, "I am very uncomfortable with it. Please stop. I am not your fuck toy. I'm not your boy or anyones. I will not fuck you." Harry said, letting his revulsion bleed into his tone. He was very aware of Snape's cold shrewd eyes on him, and McGonagall's shocked ones.

"Harry now! Really! I'm your Magical Guardian. I have the right to be fami-"

"my what?" Harry asked butting in. Bringing up the point again. He conjured up the confusion he had felt earlier in the year when he'd first found out, "you never addressed that properly when you first mentioned it, sir. As far as I am aware. I only have a muggle guardian."

"I'm your Magical Guardian Harry. We are familiar and more than a mere student and teacher, which makes my use of your first name, entirely appropriate, my boy."

"I respectfully disagree, sir," he bit out, "I'm very uncomfortable with it. I didn't even know you existed until my first year. I had never heard of a Magical Guardian before you mentioned it at the first task and then avoided my question. I have a guardian, as you said back in first year. My muggle aunt is my only guardian. That's why I have to stay at her house."

"Now Harry. It is your home. She loves you dearly." Dumbledore sweet-talked.

Harry snorted, "No. She doesn't. But that's not the point. And I must insist, sir. I do not know you. Please do not use my first name or that bastardised version of it, and I am. Not. Your. Boy."

"Now Harry you're being ridiculous..." Dumbledore started again.

"Unfortunately Potter has a point," Professor Snape cut in, to Harry's utter shock, and releif. Professor Snape had an expression of great distaste and loathing, but something felt odd, Harry thought.

"Now Severus," Dumbledore said, disappointment colouring his tone and there was something in the twinkle in his eyes that Harry didn't like. Interesting. What was going on there? Professor Snape clearly saw it too, as he closed his mouth and said nothing more.

"This argument is clearly going nowhere," Professor McGonagall snapped, "can we get to the point? I have a lot still to do before the break properly starts."

Dumbledore looked at her inquiringly.

"Potter won't sign-up to stay over the break." She said shortly, "Albus. He needs to open the ball with the other champions if we do not want Hogwarts looking like a fool."

Professor Snape looked at Harry sharply. His black eyes then narrowed far too intelligently, and Harry had to force himself not to shrink back under its weight.

Harry frowned slightly. Was Professor Snape looking at his robes? Why? Come to think of it he'd thought Professor Flitwick had too, he realised suddenly. Had Harry gotten ink on them? Harry subtly glanced down at himself but couldn't see anything out of place. He looked up in time to see Professor Snape glancing at McGonagall, looking incredulous. Harry wondered what that was about!

Harry sighed, he'd never understand adults!

Instead, he said, "I have family matters to attend to, and my Aunt has given me permission to leave Hogwarts for the break. Nothing is saying I must stay for the break. I am not a proper champion, and do not really have a place in it."

"The Ball!" Minerva cut in furiously.

"If the boy wants no part in something he has no place in, let him go," Professor Snape sneered over the top of her protesting.

"I checked the charter, sir." Harry said, "there is no rule saying students must stay for the break. I am not a true champion. I never was. It was never intended for there to be four champions anyway, so why on earth would you need the fake to open the ball?" Harry asked, derisively.

"Like most of the school body says, support Cedric Diggory, the real Hogwarts champion, ma'am. That's the popular opinion you know," he went on casually. Though he thought he may have felt a hint of amusement from Professor Snape's corner but could find no trace of it on his face.

"It would be much better to continue the ball as originally planned, would it not? With the three proper champions. You don't need me screwing it up. I'm a terrible dancer."

"Stop this at once, Harry my boy. This isn't like you," Dumbledore said kindly, but his words made Harry freeze. There was something hard about the feel of his magic now, something biting.

Fear burnt at Harry's insides. He knew. Or Dumbledore would, if Harry didn't back down and get the hell out of Dodge.

"You will be at the ball Harry, my boy," Dumbledore said firmly, and Harry could feel his magic pulsing around him, pulling at him. It was soft and deceptively gentle, but it was cloying and smothering too. And underneath all of it...

It felt like it had sharp teeth that would eat Harry alive, leaving nothing but a shrivelled mindless shell behind and Dumbledore would smile while he did it.

Harry shoved everything back, he needed to get out. There was no point arguing. He knew that tone. That tone meant, 'my word is final,' and 'you will do as I say or else.'

So he did as he always had done back at the Dursley's. He agreed. He apologised. He plicated. He conjured the shame he felt whenever his aunt yelled at him for existing. In his best and most cowed voice, he said, "if you think it best, sir." careful not to agree to anything but making it sound like he was listening.

"Good boy," Dumbledore said, his magic settling with that falsely reassuring smile of his. It made Harry's insides squirm. However, Harry just shoved it all back and continued to just nod and plicate, agreeing that he'd been wrong, as Dumbledore repeated himself on how important it was for Harry to basically do as he was told. Harry emptily, woodenly, apologised over and over, until he was dismissed; just as he had done many times before.

As soon as he was free, Harry went mindlessly back down to the deeper dungeons. He took a very long hot shower deep in the dungeons under as strong a wards as he could manage. Before retreating to his cupboard, too numb to even take out his jar of bluebell flames. He was unfortunately used to have this personal rights violated. That didn't lessen the shock or the horror however, and he stared at the wall for hours unseeing. He hadn't expected it to happen this often at Hogwarts however, when he'd first looked forward to going.

Eventually he slipped into a fitful sleep full of old familiar nightmares. When he woke the following morning, he felt as if he'd had not slept at all, like so many times before.

Severus Snape followed the boy out of the office sometime later. The boy was long gone, and Severus knew that if it was Potter who had been taking refuge in the lower dungeon, that he'd never catch him. The boy seemed to know the dungeons as well, if not better, than he did!

He sighed and he un-warded his office door, and slipped down into his quarters. He and Filius had wondered just what was going on with the boy. They'd assumed it was a combination of learning about his mother, the tournament, the loss of Weasley and the hash that Severus had made of the boy's apology.

He cursed himself now for not recognising the signs. The boy had been un-housed. And the whole of Gryffindor, the loudest and most rambunctious house had kept it quiet. Not only that, but his Head of House was totally oblivious! The whole thing was appalling! And of course the boy had not told anyone.

Snape had thought he was just withdrawing, being antisocial. But to be un-housed... How had no-one noticed!? The boy wasn't just studying with his Slytherins, he was taking refuge in their dungeons too. He wondered if his snakes knew the boy was living in the dungeons too and had helped keep it from him?

No. They did not know. They never succeeded in keeping anything from him for long. But where was the boy sleeping?

0o0o0o0o

OTHER NOTE

Part of the game keeper duties (or maybe something Hagrid started) was collecting potions ingredients when he sees them. Harry gets good at it and helps.

Snape appreciates the ingredients, but harry is a scared, paranoid and abused kid. He fears the worst in everyone. Snape triggers this especially

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TRIGGER WARNINGS!

Mentions of Pedophilia

Mentions of life on the Streets