"Harry… I know how you're feeling…but try to be logical…"

"Didn't you hear them? They can't be allowed to get away with acting like this!" Harry raged, alarming the surrounding owls trying to sleep.

He hadn't been able to sleep after the fight at dinner, finally deciding to sneak off to the owelery to watch the sunrise and stew in peace.

"Should kill… Punish scum…" Zaccai, who had made his way around Harry's shoulders, hitching a ride along with him, seemed to be thrilled at his master's anger.

"You absolutely should not." Tom warned, quickly.

"I wasn't going to!" Harry was indignant at the suggestion that he'd be so rash. "I just have to get them some other way." He began pondering possible ways he could enact his vague revenge plans, when something in Tom seemed to snap.

"Harry! You need to stop this." Harry went still, shocked into silence. "Harry, I know the temptation of revenge is…strong. You need to move on from this." Indignation began rushing back in, but before Harry could outrage Tom continued.

"This isn't going to work the way that you want it to. You yourself acknowledge they have been raised with these beliefs, your previous plan; to desensitise them with exposure, that was good." The voice paused, as though checking he was still paying attention. "You are letting your emotions cloud your mind. You need to move on from this if you wish to use them in the future."

"But - "

"If you push this issue any more than you have, they will turn away from you. These are not the type of people that accept their mistakes easily – and they already offered an olive branch. It may not be too late to take it. You have to tell them you want to move past it."

"I'm not apologising." Harry spoke through his teeth, betrayed that his mentor was suddenly against him, but understanding where it was coming from. Tom had never steered him wrong before, but it was asking too much to say sorry for this.

"You don't have to… Just say that you regret the arguments, and wish to move on… You don't have to like them…but you know how useful they are…"

It felt far too close to an apology for Harry's liking, but he knew he probably had to bite the bullet this time. They were still wrong, and Harry would merely revert to his previous idea, like Tom said. Harry sighed in defeat.

"Fine. We'll make up."

"Can always kill if no work!" Zaccai smiled up at the disgruntled boy, only hearing Harry's insane mumblings to himself, ignorant of the other half of the conversation.

He gave the serpent a headscratch, looking at the beginnings of the sun rising in the distance.

"Yes." Harry smiled, glancing at the snake before returning to the growing light. "I can."

Harry, no loner fueled by rage, was already regretting his decision to boycott sleep. Sat in the common room, fully dressed and showered, an hour before any of the his roommates would wake. He planned to catch them as they left for the hall, but he was not looking forward to it. If he could just catch one of them on their own, perhaps it would be easier. It would be easier to make up with just one of them than all of them, and the message would spread between them just the same.

He sat in the deceptively comfortable armchair, trying not to doze off. He could nap in History of Magic later, in the meantime coffee might help him if he could make it to breakfast.

He was idly doodling when salvation came in the form of one eternally-suspicious looking first year; Blaise Zabini. The other boy had begun towards the alcove Harry sat in, seemingly not noticing his diminutive form. Thank God, Harry was not looking forward to facing them all at once.

"Zabini." Harry greeted once the other boy was close enough. The taller boy noticed Harry, and paused, seemingly unsure of how to proceed. Harry let the moment sit, before plucking up as much forgiveness as he could muster.

It was an underwhelming amount.

"I wanted say that I strongly regret our altercation last night, and our ongoing disagreement for the past few days. I think things have been said on both sides that are unnecessary and if you are amenable I would like to move past this incident." Harry had pre-written out what he was going to say. He wanted it to sound as little like an apology as possible, and it ended up being more formal than he liked. Oh well, too late now.

Zabini looked him over, those cold, precise eyes roaming Harry's expression. His own face gave nothing away, he could be thinking anything, feeling anything, and Harry wouldn't know. This was something that irked Harry greatly, but he didn't show it, keeping his own face neutral under the inspecting gaze.

And then, as though Zabini had run though an internal monologue, he nodded at Harry, reaching out his hand.

"I agree, things have been unnecessarily aggressive. I'm glad we can all be reasonable." Harry took his hand, shaking it strongly, despite the subtle dig. (Was he implying Harry had been unreasonable? How dare he?!) He shut his feelings down, letting complete numbness flood over him, assisted by his fatigue. He needed to control himself better in future. He had nearly lost valuable influence.

The two boys met each other's gaze, equally piercing sets of eyes meeting for a brief moment. Any onlookers, had there been any, might have looked away with discomfort at the sight.

Glad that his grueling task was over he gestured for Zabini to join him at his table, which the boy did. They sat silently for the next half an hour, reading and not paying much attention to each other before the tall boy picked up his books and left towards the rooms, a polite nod towards Harry as he went.

Hopefully he would inform the currently waking boys of Harry's change of heart.

"Don't turn up to breakfast…They need time to organize between themselves…"

Harry knew that it made sense but he mourned the chance to grab some coffee to keep him going.

"You could go after they leave…if you're fast…" Tom sounded regretful. They both knew Harry wasn't getting that coffee.

Tiredly, Harry picked up his bag and made his way to the library, which would be opening any minute now. He could hide in there until class, where he could hopefully assimilate seamlessly into the group once more. They had potions first, which fortunately meant Harry would get Malfoy on his own. If he could get Malfoy to fall in line, the others would fall too.

Hopefully he could soon stop thinking about all this social interaction.

Harry was the first at the potions classroom, and the door was open for once. Peering in, he realised Snape was there early.

"Great." Harry thought, now having to sit in the room alone with the greasy man until others turned up. He couldn't very well leave now he'd been spotted. Steeling himself he walked into the room and sat at his desk, avoiding looking at the teacher as much as possible.

As he got his things out he could feel the black eyes trained on him, watching him move.

"Congratulations on your placement in the Quidditch team, Potter." A cold, mocking tone drew Harry to look up at last. Despite the phrasing of a compliment, the disgusted tone revealed that it was anything but.

"Thank you sir." Harry prayed that other students would join them soon.

"It is not commonly permitted for first years to join the Quidditch teams, but I suppose fame has its perks." God he grated Harry's nerves.

"I'll have to get used to it then I suppose." Harry grit his teeth. He wasn't in the mood for yet another reminder of this constant annoyance.

Snape's eyes narrowed for a second, but Harry didn't want to entertain the conversation for much longer. Hoping his previous trick would work again, he averted his gaze towards the Professor's face, making eye contact. Just as before, Snape turned away sharply, standing to write on the board.

"You will address me as sir or professor when speaking to me." He admonished coldly, back still turned to Harry.

"Yes, sir." He gave him his little power trip, far too tired to care about the bat-like potions-master's antics.

Finally hearing Harry's prayers, the other students started filing in from breakfast, taking their seats quietly.

When Malfoy sat sown beside Harry, he sported a wide smirk, (wider than his usual one at least), clearly pleased at the outcome of their disagreement. Malfoy gave Harry a condescending look, as though Harry had been a silly little boy, only now realising that he'd been wrong the entire time. It almost made Harry angry, but he pushed down the initial creeping fury deep down. He would not be ruled by his emotions. Let Malfoy think what he liked, the important thing was that the end of this ordeal seemed to be in sight.

Although they weren't able to speak, Malfoy's nod at Harry while everyone got settled in seemed to indicate his approval of Harry's message. Glancing around, the other first year Slytherins gave him polite nods or small smiles. Looks like Zabini was a good messenger.

As Snape began to call the register, Harry reminded himself that it wasn't really over. He still had to change their minds. Just…better. Tom was right, conflict wasn't the right way. This would be easier in the long run.

Just as long as they didn't do anything else to piss him off. No one could fault him for what could happen then.

As the next few weeks went by, Harry was gifted the difficult task of balancing three different sets of people that all hated each other. He had gotten back in with the Slytherins, which, while infuriating, was ultimately a relief. They had already seemingly forgotten the whole issue in the first place, but they had at least ceased their incessant jokes about blood purity. He had heard the odd quip, but a cold look from him shut them up quick.

They had now taken to making fun of Hermione for different reasons, no longer able to pin their dislike on her parentage, they now resorted to jokes about Know-it-alls. Harry didn't really stop them. He didn't want to rock the boat so soon after their last fight, and as long as they were the only ones to hear it it did no harm. Theo at least had stopped making any jokes at all, and no longer took part in the mocking, instead going quiet and looking awkwardly at Harry.

Harry also still met with Ron every few days, slinking away from the green-robed first-years to sit on the seventh-floor corridor floor with Ron in their quiet corner. It was rarely-visited, making it an ideal meeting spot. They had started playing chess and Harry had to admit Ron was a genius strategist. Harry had only won one game against him so far. Harry enjoyed these meetings; they were relaxed and he had to listen to far fewer snide remarks and gripes. He didn't have to really read Ron, because he was an open book, and it saved Harry so much energy.

The only surprising times Ron decided to be unpleasant was in relation to Hermione. He almost sounded like the Slytherins when he talked about her. While he had no issue with her being a muggleborn, he had a very apparent problem with her being smart. Apparently she was also almost tyrannical in the Gryffindor common room when it came to study space, but Harry wasn't overly convinced – She was almost always in the library, he had no idea when she could have time to act like that; but according to Ron she was a nightmare.

Harry didn't call Ron out when he said these things; it didn't seem to present much of an issue. He was sure he could convince them to get along much easier than with the Slytherins, since the issue wasn't so deeply ingrained. Harry would bet all the gold in his briefcase that Ron would roll over at her feet if she did his homework for him. But for now he didn't need to take any immediate action. It actually benefited Harry if no one liked the bookworm, no one except Harry of course.

So of course, regardless of the many adversaries the poor girl had gathered in her short time at the castle, Harry, of course continued his frequent meetings with her. Whenever he wanted some peace and quiet he would retreat to the library, sitting in the corner with Hermione and studying or reading peacefully beside her. They didn't talk very much, but it wasn't uncomfortable, and Hermione seemed to have really warmed up to him. She really was in there constantly, Harry had no idea how no one else could see her value. At the very least as someone to leech Homework from.

Either way, listening to the Slytherins complain about Gryffindors, and Ron complain about the Slytherins and Hermione was getting old fast. He need to shut them up soon.

He just needed to wait for the right opportunity.

As Harry awoke on Halloween morning, he felt weird. Ever since he had learned that Halloween was the day his parents were killed, he viewed the day with a dirtied lens. A holiday he'd previously enjoyed greatly, if only for the ability to roam the streets without the supervision of Madam Nelson, had been tainted with a macabre energy. He didn't dwell on this feeling for very long. He'd need to get used to it eventually, he couldn't mope around every year – it just wasn't productive.

While he shrugged it off, he couldn't help but notice that his attitude didn't seem to be shared by his roommates – who shot him glances every time they referenced the day, seemingly worried about incurring his ire. Good; they might be less annoying if they were afraid of pissing him off.

He also noticed people were staring at his scar more than usual, which really annoyed him. He had thought that the novelty of him being The Boy Who Lived would have worn off by now, but apparently it was here to stay, and given that new students joined every year, it could last for all seven years Harry was here.

What a horrid thought.

In Charms they were finally doing practical magic, they had spent long enough talking about theory that they could finally do actual spells now. Today they were practicing the levitation charm; one that Harry had mastered wandlessly before he was ten. Regardless, he now knew the spell name and wand movement. He watched the other students cast the spell before him, not wanting to cast the spell. It was stupid, but he really didn't want to use his wand. It felt so restricted, and tight.

He was pulled from his sulk by the sight of Hermione's feather rising a row in front of him, Ron glaring next to her. He could only imagine the redhead had been purposefully upstaged.

"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it!"

Not wanting to be shown up himself, Harry cast the spell, making his feather float effortlessly, (despite the tight feeling of his magic). Flitwick squealed with delight at another successful student and Harry helped the Slytherins get the spell correct before sitting back and watching Ron seethe at Hermione for the duration of the lesson. He wanted to see what happened next.

When they were walking out of the lesson, Harry heard Ron speaking loudly to one of the other Gryffindors, Seamus Finnigan.

"It's no wonder no one can stand her." He remarked. "She's a nightmare, honestly."

The girl in question pushed past him, clearly starting to cry. Harry considered following her, but decided against it. Now wasn't the time. He glanced to Malfoy, who gave a surprisingly approving face at the redhead's outburst. Ron at least had the decency to look ashamed that she'd heard him.

Harry sighed. It looked as though he just couldn't escape drama these days.

Harry honestly didn't want to go to the feast and fortunately the others understood. They had been tiptoeing around the holiday all day, and had been surprisingly nice to Harry. It was rather genuine of them actually. Theo had even offered to stay behind with Harry and miss the feast with him, but Harry could tell he had been hoping Harry would say no. He couldn't blame him, he was sure the Halloween feast was not something to be missed, and he didn't want to have to entertain Theo, so he had refused the offer of company, but told him to bring back plenty of sweets. (Harry could still enjoy the benefits of the day after all.)

Instead, he was spending his time a bit more constructively. He remembered the scornful remarks about Hermione taking refuge in the girls' toilets all day, and luckily for him, she was probably the only other student not at dinner tonight. His chance was now, she was at her most vulnerable, and he couldn't leave it too late, or she would simply retreat inwards again, right now she was exposed.

That was how Harry came to find himself cautiously opening the girls' bathroom door, checking for signs of any other girls that may be in there. When he saw that only one stall was in use he entered, and Hermione must have noticed she wasn't alone.

"Hermione?" He asked, voice laced with faux concern.

"Go away!" She was definitely still crying.

"I just wanted to check that you were okay."

"Well I'm just fine!" came the very not fine voice.

"Look, " Harry paused for a moment, "I wanted to say sorry for what Ron said, it was really prattish of him."

From the sound of the scoff, Hermione agreed.

"But it was true though, wasn't it? I'm just an annoying little know-it-all." She sounded more angry at herself than Ron.

"Hermione, being smart isn't a bad thing. You're brilliant." He sounded as sincere as he could, which wasn't difficult. Hermione had shown in every class so far just how extraordinary she was.

"What's the point if no one likes me?" She said, lapsing back into misery.

"I like you."

She sniffled behind the door.

"And I can see what you're going through. You're trying to prove yourself in a new familiar world, one that you don't know much about, but want to be a part of. You want to learn, you want to understand, and you want to belong." This was met with silence.

"I know that growing up you probably always felt like you didn't fit in, like you knew something was wrong, but you didn't know what. And then you find out you're a witch, and you finally thought everything made sense, but now you feel just as lost as before, and everything is exactly the same!" He began edging towards the stall door, continuing in his speech.

"Hermione, I understand. I also grew up with muggles, and I had no idea that magic was even real until I got my letter." A lie, but an easily maintained one. "I feel the same way you do, and I know how hard it is, but I know better than anyone just how strong that makes you. I hadn't realised how much you were struggling until now, and I'm sorry for that, okay? I just want you know that I'll be there for you when you need me, okay?" He held his hand up to the door, knowing that Hermione would hear the contact. Now, if she came out he would know that he had succeeded in swaying her. If not, well, he could stand here as long as it took.

The door creaked open, revealing a tear-streaked Hermione, hair even bushier than normal. She was smiling.

"You really mean that?" She asked, and she looked so raw, so vulnerable. It would have made anyone's heart melt. Harry's did not.

"Of course I do." He smiled back.

She embraced him in a tight hug, drenching his shoulder in tears and snot. After a few minutes of still hugging, Harry decided to try and cheer her up a bit.

"Hermione, why don't we go grab a few lollipops and head to the library? We can have our own Halloween celebration." She smiled at him and opened her mouth to, probably, agree, but was stopped short.

"Can you smell that?" She asked, wrinkling her nose.

Then the smell hit Harry too. The putrid stench of old sweat and unclean public toilets assaulted his nose.

"Maybe a pipe burst?" He pondered aloud.

"No, it can't be. In Hogwarts, A History it says that the pipes are magically reinforced." She looked around at the pipes as she said this, as though checking for herself.

"Let's go, whatever it is it can't be good." Harry took her hand, and they began to make their way out of the toilet.

That was when they saw it.

A huge, hulking figure loomed in the doorway, twelve foot tall at least. An almost comically small head sat upon a mishapen body with the grey skin of a corpse, and pale yellow eyes the colour of bile directed towards the two. With ginormous feet, it slowly started lumbering towards them.

"That's a Troll!" Tom yelled. Harry pushed Hermone behind him, hopefully she wouldn't see any magic he might perform wandlessly. Before he could raise his hand, Tom piped up again.

"They have thick, magic resistant hides! Magic is unlikely to work."

"Well what am I supposed to do then?!" Harry bellowed internally, him and Hermione backing up, away from the creature.

"Blunt force trauma would work…" Tom sounded considerably more panicked than Harry felt. Looking back at the troll, he saw that the creature held a splintered but thick club, and a plan quickly formed. He even knew the spell to use, to make it believable if need be!

"Hermione get under the sinks." Harry warned her, as Troll started moving faster.

"What about you?" She asked, rather incredulously. It swung around the air wildly with the club, and smashed the closest stalls near to it. There were completely destroyed.

"Just do it." He yelled, with an air of finality. Seeing the destruction, she did as he told her, and scrambled underneath the sinks.

Focusing on the increasingly present threat of being clubbed to death was easier now that he didn't have to worry about Hermione doing something stupid and getting them both killed. He would have to actually use his wand for this, as much as he could easily do it by hand. He needed it to look as real as possible, especially with the wide, watching eyes of the girl under the sinks.

Raising his wand, he practically screamed.

"Wingardium leviosa!" He pointed his wand at the club, and felt his magic being directed towards it. He had plenty of practice with this spell, before he knew its name, so the spell itself worked perfectly, and the club slipped from the stumpy and rough fingers of the troll, floating in the air. Harry directed it just above the troll's head, and with a flick, ended the spell.

The club hit the troll's head with a sickening crunch, and it began to sway. Harry was tempted to lift the club again and smash its head in for good measure, but stopped when he realised he didn't want that kind of attention. He stepped back as the troll crashed to the floor, smashing the floor tiles in its wake. It looked dead. He knew it wasn't.

He turned around to see Hermione emerging from the sinks, staring at him in awe. He smiled at her.

"Come, on, I have a feeling we don't want to be caught here right now." He took her hand, and they began, once again, to leave the bathroom, but yet again, they were stopped in their tracks.

This time, however, it was by a force of nature much worse than a troll. The staff of Hogwarts gathered in the doorway of the girls' bathroom, all staring at them.

"They must have heard it fall over…"

As Snape joined the huddle of teachers, Harry noticed he was limping, and upon inspection, he saw a large wound on Snape's leg. It was still bloody.

Filing that away for later, he let go of Hermione's hand, and thanked all the deities he knew of that he had prepared for this. He saw McGonagall's face, lips a thin line, exuding rage. Snape had an unreadable expression, and Quirrel was giving Harry a strange look. The other teachers piling into the room had various looks of confusion, fear, and shock.

"Mr Potter, would you care to explain what is going on?" Snape asked, in a cold tone. "And would you also care to enlighten us on why you and Ms Granger are not in your dormitories?"

Confusion flooded Hermione's face.

"Dormitories? I thought everyone was at the feast?" She asked, rather bravely.

"Do you mean to say that neither of you were at the feast?" McGonagall asked her, surprised.

"Uh, no. Me and Harry were…" She almost trailed off, looking torn over how much she wanted to expose. She must have found her small meltdown embarrassing. Harry stepped in.

"Sorry, Professor, Hermione's trying to spare my feelings. I didn't want to go to the feast tonight," He tried to say this in an implicative tone, hoping they would pick up on why, " and Hermione said she wanted to keep me company, so we were just taking a walk when we smelled the troll, and we ran in here, but it must have seen us and followed us." Harry explained carefully. Hermione latched on to the lie instantly, nodding along. The teachers seemed to be buying it, if the pitying expression on their faces when Harry mentioned the feast was anything to go by.

"And how, pray tell, did two first years manage to take out a fully-grown Mountain troll?" Snape asked, voice icy.

"Well, Professor," Hermione piped up again, "Harry did it. He used the levitation charm to levitate the troll's club over its own head, and then dropped it." Hermione explained, admiration leaking into her voice ever so slightly.

"Oh, an excellent piece of magic!" Flitwick clapped slightly, seemingly thrilled.

"You two were very lucky," McGonagall reminded them, "not many first years could've taken on a full-grown mountain troll and lived to tell the tale. That was very quick thinking Mr Potter." He did his best to look abashed. "I would like to award five points to Slytherin for your application of charms and quick-thinking."

"Dumbledore will be informed of this incident. For now the both of you should return to your dormitories, where students are currently finishing the feast." She turned around and the teachers started herding themselves out, likely to deal with the aftermath of the attack. Harry and Hermione took the chance to slink away.

Once they reached the end of the corridor they stopped, looking at each other, and immediately broke out into slightly manic laughter, or, at least, Hermione did, and Harry couldn't stop himself from joining her.

"Oh my god, I can't believe that just happened." Hermione got out, glee clearing up as she slowly sobered up.

Harry shrugged his shoulders as if to say 'Who knows' and just grinned at her. "Magic I guess?"

After another moment, they both turned to go to their respective dormitories, before Harry heard Hermione turn around once more.

"Harry?" She looked very vulnerable again. "I just wanted to say thank you for everything back there. For what you said, and for saving me, and for covering for me as well." She smiled at him.

"Of course." He met her smile with his own.

"What are friends for?"

At this she smiled, and turned, running back to the Gryffindor common room, hiding the flush that had started spreading across her face.

Harry turned back and also made his way back to his room, his own smile turning far more sinister in solitude.

It was the smile of a spider, as it wrapped yet another stray insect into its thick, inescapable web.