"It's just a language!" Harry yelled in frustration. The redhead's fiery temper was cool now and distant, Ron looked at him wearily from the other side of their otherwise empty dorm room. He was close to the door with his arms crossed against his chest. His stubborn pose was familiar. His cold regard was not.

"A dark language." Ron countered. Harry felt ready to pull his own hair out-and maybe Rons too.

"Ugggh, look Ron. I'm still just Harry. I won't even speak it anymore."

"You won't be able to help yourself," Harry felt sickened by the look of pity on Ron's face. He felt like a lost cause, like a dying man but he knew that nothing had changed within him and to be fair nothing had changed with Ron even though this conversation felt sudden. Their friendship started slow but had ended the moment Harry stopped that snake from attacking Goldstein.

"Listen-" Harry started. Ron's famous temper flared up.

"No you listen," Ron took a step forward threateningly," Magic changes people. Dark Magic changes people for the worse. You might seem normal now but you'll change. And I won't be here to be hurt by you," Harry interrupted.

"I wouldn't hurt you!" Harry cried.

"I won't let you hurt me. Or my family. So stay away," After a hesitant moment," Potter." He spat.

Potter. It was nonsensical how much that hurt him. It was his name, nothing more. He spent most of his life without even having a name but to be demoted to Potter while he had always been Harry to Ron since the beginning, hurt. It felt like a lock clicking shut on the door of their friendship. A heavy lock hung there in the air between the two former friends.

"Ron," Harry said weakly.

Ron sneered at him. There wasn't hate in his eyes but Harry thought there should've been. It would've been easier if Ron hated him if Ron was irrational and angry but his friend just looked sad. Ron shouldered his things- the Weasleys were going home early to recover from their sister's near loss- and looked at him from the door. He hesitated.

"Don't write." Then he left.

Just like that. Only two years of friendship but Harry thought it would last longer. He thought that the experiences that they shared would bind them. Harry never imaged he was so easy to cut loose. Harry rolled his shoulder as cold wind sliced through his thin hand me downs making the wide opal colored scar where the Basilisks tooth had ripped through the flesh and broken the bone. It was cold on top of the Astronomy Tower.

Which was where Harry was now, lying at an angle blowing visible clouds of air up into the atmosphere. Hermione too had gone home with her parents after her traumatic experience, she would take her exams during the summer- with only the sky for company. The sloping roof was hard under him, the shingles dug into his legs even through his trousers and pants. Cassiopeia winked from her mantle in the Aegean blue sky. Harry closed his eyes and lifted his head only to make it thump back onto the roof. His legs swung over the edge.

"What the fuck are you doing, Potter?"

Harrys eyes shot open. He hopped up and rolled down into a crouch in one fluid motion. He looked down over the side to see a dark-haired white-faced kid around the same age as him. He couldn't place him then his eyes caught the grin trim. Slytherin. Huh. No wonder he couldn't remember him. Harry tried his best to avoid Slytherin like a plague, especially after the last year.

"Potter?"

The last year had been hell. The taunts, the curses in the halls, and the goddamn teachers turning their cheeks to it all. Gryffindor had been bad of curse, their ugly righteous rage was nothing to be scoffed at but Hufflepuff had been worst. Their loyalty to their own was a dangerous thing and Harry had been on the receiving end of their hatred since Holloween. He had bruises and burns from curses and potion 'accidents'. Harry couldn't even think about the crude snake carving above his belly button. He refused to. He was never seen but this year it had been bad. He had become just a shape something for them to hurl their frightened abuse at. Except for the Slytherins. They didn't stop it but they never joined in. They watched and when they left books on simple healing spells on the hidden desk in the library he liked to use, they never said anything about it. When they'd catch his eye it meant there was an attack coming. When they nudged him aside in the halls it meant that no one was looking. And if Harry retaliated with boil curses and bad breath hexes no one could tell where they came from. This confused him. So like Harry so often did, he annoyed it.

"Hi."

The boy snorted," Yeah, hi," He sighed irritably looking over the railing and down towards the silver-lit Quiddich pitch. Harry noticed the boy had a drawn face, not sad, just aloof. Not present here or anywhere and always. Looking. Down. Pensive? Considering?

"Don't do it." Harry hissed, not in Parseltongue. He felt like cursing. Why didn't he notice it before? Who came to the Astronomy Tower to study? Why did people like them come to the highest point they could reach the lowest points in their lives?

"Do what?" He retorted with a sardonic snarl. Tendrils of hair curled around his face. Harry had a brief vision of his pale form laying broken his dark hair stuck to his face with blood. His face would be turned to the side towards the rising sun's blush pink rays. It would add color to his ice-cold face, life to his fully dead corpse. Harry saw this with such sick accuracy and he was sure it was true. He could see this boy wabbling on the railing and standing tall with his arms stretched out to his side. He would cry as he fell with his robes falling and fluttering around him like the wings of a raven. He would smile at the end before gravity smashed his body into the earth. Soft and sweet and so painfully genuine like nothing Harry had ever seen before with bone-crushing relief before his bones were crushed.

"Don't jump," Harry whispered," What's your name?" He blurted out. His mouth felt so dry. His tongue felt so heavy. His knuckles were clenched around the edge, white, as he held himself back from jumping down and tackling the boy to the floor. "Theo," The boy- Theo- didn't acknowledge his other statement. Again Harry saw Theos still form but this time Harry was there next to him head twisted at an awkward angle and twitching. His throat was thick with blood and he suffered from the feeling of his lungs collapsing. He would suffer next to the body. Someone would find him, probably Filch, and yell for help. They would carry his body away, cry, weep, say all the good and none of the bad. Theo's body would be left for the crows until someone remembered the Slytherin boy over their foggy grief for the Boy- Who- Lived.

"Theo, don't jump," Harry begged quietly, wryly he smirked a small sad quirk of his lips," It is after all a rather Gryffindor way to die," He added and was award a choaked chortle of laughter. Theo shook his head and tucked his hair behind his ear.

"Gryffindor huh? I don't seem the type?" His smirk was no happier than Harrys but he did find it genuinely amusing. Harry shook his head his smile wobbling gruesome images of Ginny and Theo burned behind his eyes.

"More the sleeping pills type," Harry rasped, Theo furrowed his brows," Poison. Draught of Living Death," Harry clarified. Theo nodded slowly looking up and his wet face with that same aloof expression.

"And you? Are you the jumping type?" He asked cautiously. Harry snorted and gave Theo a look.' I see what your doing you sly bastard' was what it said.

"I'm the try it all at least once type," Harry told him, hopping down into the space next to Theo," Slytherins though, don't like to inconvenience themself. And don't like to ruin their pretty faces," Harry nudged the Slytherin and he made room for the Gryffindor by the ledge.

"And have you? Tried this?" Theos eyes were blue. A pale blue that looked silver then. And they were intense especially when they were glaring into the side of your face asking if you had ever tried to kill yourself by jumping off the Astronomy Tower. Especially when the answer was yes.

"I float," Was what Harry said. The boy next to him let out a shaky breath.

"Oh," He breathed.

"Hmmm," Harry hummed," And you?" Harry challenged.

"What?" Theo snapped out of his stupor. Harry raised a brow and jerked his head towards the ledge.

"Ever tried?" He asked again. He watched the words make shapes in the air and looked straight into Theos piercing glare. The pale-faced boy was swallowing hard.

"No," He lied. Harry knew he was lying. And he would keep lying if Harry told anyone about this. Lie until he was blue in the face figuratively and literally. Not that Harry was going to tell anyone.

"Uh-huh," Was what Harry said to that," Not tonight," He said. Theo snorted and Harry thought he saw his lip twitch.

"Not tonight? Not 'not ever'?" He asked wiping at his eyes and slapping his hand down onto the railing. Harry covered it with his own hand and looked at the boy seriously.

"Not ever but especially not tonight," He told him," We still have exams and you're not getting out of them so easily," He teased. He wondered if this was the right thing to do and decided that it was not. He was doing it anyway.

"Not tonight," Theo agreed absently looking at where their hands met. He was quiet, they both were before Theo took his hand away and took a step back. Harry reeled. Steps were good. Steps were great. Why couldn't Harry take steps?

The Slytherin boy met his eyes then nodded before pivoting and walking away.

Like everyone else.

When Harry walked into the dorms almost all the other boys were asleep, their curtains drawn closed. All except one. It took physical effort to turn away from Ron's empty bed and pad towards his own bed. It was dark in the dorms, the moon shone through the wide window illuminating a pudgy blond boy getting ready for bed.

Neville.

"Harry? What were you doing out so late?" Neville asked his voice colored with concern. He then paled, "Oh, you don't have to tell me, Harry, I won't tell Mcgonnagal." Neville assured him. Harry took off his shoes and waved the nervous boy off.

"No, it's alright. I was on the Astronomy Tower," Harry told him absently. Neville rushed him grabbing onto Harrys shoulders and turning him towards Neville whose face was drawn and horrified.

"I know that school sucks but you don't have to do that. I can- I can send a letter to Gran and no one will ever mess with you- EVER! You cant- You don't-" Neville rambled.

"Neville. Neville, calm down. I didn't go to jump. I just wanted to look at the stars, that's all. Believe me," Harry pleaded. Neville didn't believe him, that was obvious from his expression, but he let go of Harrys shoulders once he saw it was making Harry uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry, mate- I mean Harry, I was just-" Neville's words made little sense but Harry got the gist. He sighed and ran a paperwhite skin through his raven black hair.

"Worried, yeah, I know. I'm sorry. I use to do it a lot back- back where I come from. It's just a habit," Harry explained. He couldn't stomach calling the disgusting place that was Privet Drive home. Neville nodded slowly.

"What is your family like?"

"Are they like Samatha's dad?" Harry heard the memory play loud and clear behind his eyes. He could feel the soft petals of a daisy being pressed into his palm.

'I'll never tell'

"They're- muggle. Boring," Harry said curtly," Your Gran is kinda intimidating, huh?" Harry grinned. Neville smiled softly and shrugged, his brown eyes shrewd.

"Your father was a pureblood you know," Neville said nervously picking soil from under grubby hands. Neville always tasted like earth to Harry, it clung to Harrys sensitive tongue like nectar.

"Yeah, like Malfoy," Harry chimed retreating into his bed to change into ragged pajamas. He felt more than saw Neville's nod.

"Yeah, like me," He countered. Harry smiled and nodded. Harry liked when Neville was confident. He tasted green when he was like that, sure of where he stood and Harry could clearly see that man Neville would someday be. Someone loyal and brave and much better than them all.

"My father and your father grew up around each other. They were in the same circles," Meaning Light families and politics," So my Gran might've known him," He explained. Harry nodded.

"Do you," Harry hesitated, stepping out from his bed," Do you think she would be willing to write me about him?" Harry asked. Neville nodded his head encouragingly.

"Absolutely!" Neville assured him," She's a bit strict and you have to be polite but she loves talking about my dad. Besides you were supposed to live with us anyways," Neville's cheeks strained with his grin.

"That sounds- good. Yeah, that sounds good," Harry said grinning back. They didn't talk long after that but Harry thought maybe the rest of his years at Hogwarts wouldn't be as lonely as he thought. Maybe he would get better.

Eventually.

"Mr. Potter," Professor Flitwick called," A moment please?" He asked in his warm high pitched voice. He waved Neville's concerned looks off with an affectionate smile. Professor Flitwick wasn't like Snape who taunted him or Mcgonnagal who looked at him as if she didn't recognize who he was. Professor Flitwick was always the same bright and bubbly professor that he always was and always had been.

Flitwick bustled, and rather well for such a small man, down his ladder and over to his desk where he waved his wand and a tea set poured two sittings. The small man waved Harry over and Harry took a seat in the chair in front of the desk. He gingerly sipped at his tea while he waited for Flitwick to be seated and then to wait for the odd man to speak.

"I'm sorry Mr. Potter," He started and Harry opened his mouth," No, no don't say anything." Harry's mouth clicked shut. Flitwick sighed and drank his tea with a morose regretful expression on his wrinkly face.

"This year has been an awful year and to my shame, you have been overlooked as one of the casualties of the events that have taken place," said Flitwick," I have watched you be cast away by your peers and attacked-" he continued.

"But-" Harry tried.

"I did nothing and as someone who knows better than anyone what it feels like to be poked and prodded because of differences out of my control, I should have. There is no excuse. There was no time but I should have made time. There was nothing and I should have done something. Anyone with a working mind could see you had nothing to do with the tragic events that took place this year but fear is not logical and neither is guilt. I'm sorry Mr. Potter." He said sincerely.

"It's okay Professor," Harry said quietly. Flitwick shook his head.

"It's not." He assured him. They drank their tea in silence. Flitwick wore nostalgia on his weathered features.

"I used to have tea with your mother, Mr. Potter, when she was a girl. A brilliant witch, she made no less than a dozen charms within these very walls." He remembered fondly," A brilliant witch…" He rattled off.

"Will- Will you tell me about her?" Harry asked hesitantly. Flitwick looked at him with bright black eyes and nodded, placing his tea down with folding his hands.

"Lily Evans was… radiant. She had a miniature sun following her around. And she was cunning. As much as I wanted for her to be in Ravenclaw I was surprised the girl hadn't been placed in Slytherin. She was close to two Slytherin boys during her time here-" Flitwick told him.

"She was?" Harry was shocked. Flitwick smiled and nodded.

"One was Regulus Black. A quiet boy, smart. The other was a genius in potions. The only person to ever keep up with him was your mother. Severus and your mother were friends before Hogwarts even started I suspect-" Flitwick said.

"Snape!" Harry exclaimed. Flitwick smiled and laughed. He nodded.

"The very same! Sadly their friendship broke off for good around their fifth year. Lily was quite heartbroken about it," Flitwick remembered sadly.

"Why did they split?" Harry asked.

"Different interests." said Flitwick vaguely," Your mother was a confident young woman. She wore sleeves of jewelry that she charmed herself and wore her nails every color of the rainbow." Flitwick chuckled fondly.

"Did she like Runes, sir?" Harry asked shyly. He wanted his mother to have the same interest as him. He wanted to be like her. The ball in his chest, his miniature sun grew brighter just thinking of the vibrant woman. She sounded nothing like Aunt Petunia.

"Oh yes, she wasn't as skilled as runes as she was at charms but she was a prodigy child nonetheless. And you, Mr. Potter?" He asked encouragingly. It was odd, Harry thought, that anyone but one of his friends would want to know anything about him.

"I've made a few rune sequences. I borrowed some books from the library," Harry volunteered. Flitwick's eyes brightened.

"Would you mind sharing a few?" He asked. They spent the rest of the afternoon going over and revising his various rune sequences and having his Charms Professor push him into creating more difficult and intricate wards.

Professor Flitwick told Harry more about his mother. About how she once charmed his tea set to fly and how she had loved the taste of toothpaste and carried an assortment of mint-flavored candies. He was told how she was vindictive and kind, petty and sweet. And slowly a place in his heart labeled vaguely 'Mother' became Lily Evans sized and full of orange roses and small mint candies, the smell of parchment and cinnamon. It had seventy-three freckles and a wine stain birthmark in the shape of a four-leaf clover. And it ached to be filled so sweetly even as it overflowed with second-hand love and nostalgia. When Harry left Flitwick's office it was nearly curfew and he was crying. He had missed dinner and the taste of mint tea would be difficult to wash out for a while.

While he sat in the cushy chair in front of his Charms Professor, the sweet taste of parchment and old scent of books heavy on his tongue, he made a promise to his mother where she was that he would be better. Not just a better person but a better student. He wanted to be someone his parents could be proud of. He left the Charms classroom late with these new ambitions and a satchel full of books to read.

It was, without doubt, the loveliest evening he had ever had.