One of the things Harry had always liked about his scar was the way it made people look away. Ever since he could remember, people would look at him, glancing to the disfigurement, and briskly turn away, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. It had became a rather prominent issue when he was about 7, when his scar had started to slowly fracture further down his forehead, like a live-action lightning strike. He didn't know why it did that, but he assumed it was something to do with magic. It wasn't noticeable if you saw it every day, but after long enough it was visibly larger than before.

It was always the same, with other children, teachers, anyone that Harry encountered would go through the same tedious cycle; eyes, scar, shock, avoid. He had found that it caused some people to downright despise looking at his face, once a substitute maths teacher had even sent him outside the classroom the remainder of the lesson. The man had seemed incredibly disturbed by it, actually. This utterly thrilled Harry. The less he had to deal with people, the better. It had given him an edge in the orphanage, rumour after rumour eventually reaching him about the origins of his scar. Unsurprisingly for an orphanage, the majority of ideas usually had something to do with his parents, which was technically correct, though he wouldn't be awarding any prizes any time soon.

An additional side effect was the soft looks he sometimes received from those 'good' types. The looks from people that feel pity for him, and no doubt imagine all the horrible things that Harry must have endured to look like that. These reactions were equal parts annoying and useful for Harry. He often remembered the kind librarians at the local public library Harry would sneak off to occasionally on weekends. They would always check up on him, to the point Harry was almost concerned one of them might try to adopt him at one point, but fortunately for him they didn't. It came close with that one volunteer they had one summer, but luckily Madam Nelson had likely dissuaded any efforts made by anyone asking after him. Either way, his scar had always awarded him with peace and quiet.

Harry was finding that, unfortunately, this was very different in the wizarding world. For the past few weeks, people had spent far too long staring at him, especially his scar. They were completely obsessed with it! He couldn't understand for the life of him why they stared for so long, it wasn't likely to change that fast.

Perhaps the stares would have been easier to deal with if it weren't for the whispers that accompanied them. The students that would look to him, then turn back to one another and whisper in such serious tones that Harry couldn't fathom what they were discussing. Harry had of course encountered this before back at the orphanage, what with his reputation, but not on anything like this scale of several hundred people at once. He didn't think there was really that much to whisper about anyway, he had been lying quite low since he'd arrived here; well, as low as one could lie given the circumstances.

Harry had had to fight the urge to start covering his scar with what little fringe he had, he was not going to be controlled by something as pathetic as peer pressure. So every day he had come up to meals with the other slytherins, ignoring the glances and vacant expressions of what the wizarding world considered legal adults, which was just so disappointing wasn't it? These students, some of them, were old enough to be considered adults, and here they were; staring at a child.

His scar had always been a weapon for him, he knew what people were like, they all looked away from things they didn't like, and they pretended not to see things they didn't want to. They would never bring something that sensitive up, this was Britain for god's sake. In the wizarding world, this wouldn't work for a few reasons, but mainly the implications behind the scar. For muggles, it was some horrid story, something one wouldn't want to bring up or talk about, some sort of sob story about an abusive father with a belt buckle that strayed too far. Something like that. For wizards, it was a symbol, it represented the end of a war, and the feelings of hope and light that came with this shift. He could only imagine how many people had drawn similar scars onto their own foreheads for Halloween costumes, pretending to be him, because that's really what Harry was here: a symbol. He wasn't real to these kids, he was some celebrity their parents had told them bedtime stories about, or some name from a history textbook.

While many would dream of achieving such recognition, it just just pissed Harry off. He was more than just a name, a figure, a symbol. He was so much more. That's why he was met with such rudeness here in the castle, where he was just some spectacle to be observed, he wasn't real to them. He would have to change that.

"You alright Harry? You look even more grim than usual." Theo asked him, swallowing a spoonful of cornflakes rather violently.

Pulled form his musings Harry looked around, seeing that a few others in the group were watching him with slight concern. The kind of concern one gives a dog with a muzzle.

"Yeah, just tired. I was writing that essay for Flitwick until rather late last night." Harry easily lied. Although he had sacrificed a few bedtimes in the past weeks of schooling, he would never stoop to lose that much sleep.

With the anxieties of an enraged Harry blowing off the handle suddenly and violently, the slytherins returned to their food, not disengaging totally, but no longer regarding him with apprehension. It was almost frustrating how well his intimidation tactics in the first few days had worked.

"That's a shame, maybe you can nap during Binns' class, you'll need your wits about you for our first flying lesson." Theo remarked, still shoveling cornflakes into his mouth at a rate a normal person would deem polite, but to the elite snobs of the green house was practically savage.

Ah yes, definitely something to look forward to at least. Harry couldn't wait to see what flying was like, practically every muggle child had the deep desire to fly at some point in their life. Harry was no exception.

He had often stared out the window of his small room, wishing he could just jump out and fly around the treetops at the end of the garden. Even the feeling of the jumps on and off of the imposing garden wall had sometimes entertained him for much longer than he would have liked to to admit, sneaking out after dark to jump like some sort of demented squirrel.

Tom had told him that he remembered there was a way to fly without a broomstick, which only filled Harry filled joy. He had never been on a broomstick, and he had nothing to compare to, but flight without the aid of a breakable piece of wood sounded much more enjoyable to him.

His thoughts were once again interrupted, this time by the arrival of the post. Harry was surprised to see that he had post. Him! He had no idea who wad trying to write to him, but he saw not one, but two envelopes. As Hedwig landed neatly on his shoulder, having dropped his letters on his lap, she began affectionately pecking his hair, as though trying to straighten feathers. While cute, this was surprisingly painful, and he gave her some ham from the platter in front of him to distract her. This entertained her for long enough to cease assaulting him and to have breakfast.

He looked at each letter, which were both much closer to being notes than actual letters, each one a scrawled paragraph or so. The first was signed from Ron, and it read :

Hey Harry,

I was just wondering if you could sneak away from the others tonight and we could go hang out together? I know we see each other plenty but it feels like we never get to talk properly. If not, that's fine, but just nod or shake your head when you get this and I'll know. If yes, meet me in the trophy room after dinner.

See you soon, hopefully.

Harry glanced across the hall, and after a moment, managed to catch Ron's eye. He quickly nodded, and turned away before anyone could see him, but not before redhead could shoot a grin his way. Harry hadn't managed to get much one-on-one time with Ron in the past few weeks of school, Draco always seemed to be trailing after him, or if not him, Theo, or one of the others. Harry might have considered it friendly, had it not been obvious that these children had been well-briefed by their parents on how to treat him. They just wanted to use him. Ah well, at least he could spend some time with Ron later. Ron was just so easy.

Harry turned to the other letter at long last.

Dear Harry,

My name is Rubeus Hagrid, Groundskeeper of Hogwarts. I know that we haven't actually met, but I was good friends with your parents and I did know you when you were little, and I was wondering if you wanted to come for a cup of tea Friday afternoon? I understand if you don't, but I would be nice to catch up. My Hut's down near the forest edge.

Yours,

Hagrid

The message was written in a barely legible scrawl, but Harry managed to make it out. He quickly scribbled a message back.

Dear Hagrid,

Yes, that would be lovely. I will be along after classes, if that's ok? It's nice of you to write to me.

See you soon,

Harry

Attaching the note to Hedwig, she finished eating the various scraps Harry had been handing her absentmindedly, and flew off. When he checked, the groundskeeper was nowhere in sight, which meant he was likely at his hut.

There were several reasons Harry had accepted his invitation, in fact Harry could scarcely believe that he had been so lucky that Hagrid had reached out to him, since Harry had been planning on it regardless. It was an added bonus that this man knew Harry's parents. With any luck he'd be able to get Harry some more rats, as Zaccai claimed the ones Harry gave him had been dead too long. He put some stasis charm on them but apparently they weren't up to scratch for the fussy serpent. Harry needed a solution fast.

Harry enjoyed his first ever post from real people, the only other time was his Hogwarts letter. It felt nice. He was going to have to sneak away a few times though, until he could convince his friends to get over their beliefs of blood purity. Saying he was going to the library didn't work, every time he used that excuse the others followed him and he ended up studying instead. Ah well, he'd think of something.

He sat, only half-focused through that day's lessons, not that this would severely affect his grades, he could catch up from the textbooks later. All he could think about all day was the chance to fly. Really fly. When it finally rang 3:30, Harry practically raced to the grounds, losing slight decorum in his speed. The other slytherins at least seemed to share his enthusiasm, most missing the ability to fly free reign in the sanctity of their own homes. Draco hadn't shut up all day about his extensive skill when it came to flying, which had only slowed down time in Harry's long wait. He desperately wished he hadn't mentioned he'd never flown before, but it was a direct question he hadn't expected them to have the perception to ask.

While most of the group seemed pleasantly excited to get back onto a broom, there were a few that seemed less keen, Theo for one seemed very apprehensive, and Zabini showed outright disdain for the whole ordeal.

They had been scheduled to have the lesson with the gryffindors, just like seemingly every other lesson. While this gave Harry a chance to see Ron again, it meant that the class was uneven. Their whole year group was absolutely minuscule; likely a result of the war which had been worsening every year until the death of Voldemort, as Harry had discovered through vigorous research in the library far from prying eyes. Their year group had barely 50 students, the majority of whom were in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, with Gryffindor as the smallest house since the opening of the school, according to 'Hogwarts: A History'.

The result of this was that when they lined up opposite one another in their respective houses, Madam Hooch had tusked rather annoyed.

"Oh no, this won't do. The lines are far too uneven. You!" She barked at Harry, who was at the front of the queue of slytherins. "Move over there!" She directed him next Neville, who stood pathetically at the front of the gryffindors. This was met with sneers from the snake house at the thought of one of their own being separated from them, and reciprocated frowns from the gryffindors at the unwarranted aggression. The slytherins still had an extra person, but there wasn't much more she could do.

"Right, now hold your hand above your brooms and say 'Up'." Hooch commanded once she seemed pleased with the arrangement of students.

Harry did so, and his broom shot into his hand at once. His was one of the only few to do so. He looked around at the other students, most of whom were struggling to grab their broom, bouncing barely a foot from the ground. Some students, like Hermione, Neville, and Theo, were morosely looking at their dormant floor-bound brooms. The only students that had managed to grab their brooms on the first go were Harry, Ron, Draco, and Tracy.

"Broomsticks are much like horses…They can sense fear in potential riders, which tends to put them off…" How fascinating, Harry mused. Perhaps his enthusiasm would serve him in controlling the broom as well; supposedly they were difficult to control given their age. Although then again, he wouldn't be surprised if this was yet another snobbery on the part of the rich slytherin children. After a few minutes, when everyone had either roused their brooms up, (or shamefully picked it up when they thought no one was looking) Madam Hooch again turned to address the class.

"Right, swing one leg over, and mount the broom." The students followed her instructions quickly and she moved on. "Yes, good, now grasp the handle firmly, unless you want to fall off. Excellent. Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forwards slightly." She looked around and readied her whistle. As she began counting down, the stress of the situation must have panicked Neville who jumped early, ascending quickly.

"Mr Longbottom come down at ONCE!" Hooch screeched at Neville, who had gone completely puce, and began ominously drifting to the side, not knowing how to control the broom. Harry, who didn't want his first flying lesson to be cut short because the idiot was going to crash and kill himself, quickly jumped off too. It didn't help that his panic responses tended to be rather, well, shit. Despite Hooch's secondary screech towards Harry, he couldn't turn back now, he had committed himself now. Hopefully he could grab Neville and pull him down before he went too far and anything major happened. Of course that was when Neville, seeing Harry coming towards him, leaned away, and went speeding off towards the castle wall. Internally sighing, Harry followed, matching his violent speed.

It became apparent that Neville was in no hurry to stop anytime soon, and Harry would absolutely have to intervene before the boy became a stain on the stone castle wall. Without moving his hand too much, he secretly sped himself up with his magic, so he was directly behind Neville, before pulling out his wand just in case anyone could see him, even from this height. He pointed it at Neville but ignored it entirely as he lightened Neville's body weight himself. With his other hand he grabbed the back of the other boy's robes, seconds before he smashed into the solid stone, ripping him from his broom and pulling the two of them up at the very last second as the other broom shattered under Neville. Harry, now turned around with a very light Neville hanging by his robes at Harry's left side and his other arm dangling wand in hand, began to fly back, shoving his wand in his pocket and once again grasping the broom tight.

When he landed it was to the many utterly astounded faces of the class. The gryffindors started cheering raucously as Harry dropped the now crying boy back to the floor, while the slytherins stared at Harry with shock and awe, and equal parts disgust and reverence. Disgust likely at making breaking the rules for the sake of a gryffindor and reverence at, well, his success maybe? He'd have to investigate later, but for now he unmounted his broom, and turned to the pale face of Madam Hooch. Her face looked entirely emotionless. The students continued to cheer in ignorance of her building wrath, when suddenly she seemed to come back to life.

"Longbottom. Are you alright?" She asked, or rather screeched as she walked over to him and began assessing him, or rather letting him cry at her while he struggled to speak. It seemed as though she was dealing with the important part now, and saving Harry for later, which Harry was not as thankful for as he might've been. He was now internally cursing his nightmarish panic responses, and wishing he'd just let Neville break a few bones so they could continue the lesson.

"This has won you favour with the gryffindors…Although it was horribly reckless…very gryffindor…" Tom chastised.

"Yeah, I know ok, it was a bad decision." Harry thought back, regretting everything.

"I would be more concerned with where you currently are… That was right outside McGonagall's office window." Harry paled, realising now just what an awful mistake he had just made, and desperately wishing he could slink back into the shadows and disappear. As though reading his mind, which was entirely possible at this point, McGonagall came into view striding towards the class at an alarming speed. She must have practically run from her office.

Harry unsubtley tried to blend back into the group of green-robed of students as she began to talk in hushed tones with Madam Hooch, the majority of whom were still shooting incredulous looks at him. Malfoy, who was next to him had the most shocked expression by far.

"What in Merlin's name was that?" He hissed at Harry, quietly so no one could overhear.

"I didn't want him to get hurt and ruin the lesson." Harry responded honestly. It would be easier to the truth in this situation. Malfoy seemed to calm down slightly, hearing that Harry wasn't about to run to the other house. Or Harry suspected that was it. Malfoy was about to say something, but was cut off by McGonagall calling over to Harry.

"Mr Potter." That was all she needed to say, and Harry followed her quietly, enraged at himself for making enemies with such an influential teacher. She took him back towards the castle in total silence. Harry wasn't going to be the one to break it, he could tell he was already in enough trouble as it was, and he wasn't going to start anything else. He had been impulsive enough for today. She lead him back to her office, where they sat down, again, in silence. She looked over her desk at him. Her eyes immediately found his scar, but then she stared deep into his eyes, which really put Harry off, worried about another mind reader, but she quickly moved on, staring out the window.

As much as Harry didn't want to be the first to speak, he could tell that nothing was going to happen if no one spoke, and honestly he wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

"Professor, I'm really sorry, but I saw Longbottom start flying up early, and he looked stuck so I just wanted to quickly grab him, but then he started flying so quickly and – " She silenced him with a hand gesture, cutting him off.

"Mr Potter please calm yourself. You are not in trouble." She turned back from the window to look at his eyes again, this time with something akin to sadness in her gaze. He must have shown some of his puzzlement on his face because she continued quickly.

"Madam Hooch and I discussed it, and we were both impressed by your actions greatly." She reached into her desk and pulled out a tin, which she opened and thrust at him, revealing biscuits. "Have a biscuit." It sounded much more like an order than an offer, and Harry delicately picked out a gingernut, taking a small bite. He could tell he probably looked completely bewildered, but made no effort to conceal this.

"She's the head of Gryffindor…Is it really a surprise?" Came the sarcastic tone of Tom.

"Thank you." He politely smiled, thanking her for the biscuit. She seemed deep in thought.

They sat in silence for another minute or so, which Harry was quite comfortable with, if he wasn't in trouble he was going to wait and find out what she wanted with him. She was looking at him rather uncomfortably though, with a hint of sadness, and a thinly-veiled anger, though not directed at Harry, which was even more puzzling. She was a rather mysterious woman he supposed. He still didn't understand her rage at the discovery that he had been raised in an orphanage.

"Was today your first time on a broom, Mr Potter?" She cut into the silence abruptly. What an astute question, he hadn't though he'd been too bad, actually. Although he hadn't had much time to enjoy it, he had certainly felt exhilarated in the air, flying around. Hopefully he wouldn't be excluded from future lessons.

"Uh, yes Professor." He again answered honestly. Her expression didn't shift, but her lips thinned every so slightly.

"And the spell you cast on Longbottom, a weight reducing spell?" She didn't sound as though she was really asking.

"Um yes." He didn't bother trying to explain his choices to her, she seemed to already have made up her mind, and simply wanted to hear things from his own mouth. Perhaps to incriminate him? Well she had enough witnesses, including herself, who must have gotten a fairly good view if she was standing near the window. But she would have had to have been watching the lesson anyway to actually see anything, based on the way the window was placed. It wasn't an accident that she saw. Well, it wasn't that strange that the head of Gryffindor wanted to watch her first years' first flying lesson, especially when it was right outside her office.

"How did you and Longbottom come to be friends?" She asked. This surprised him a bit, and he briefly considered coming up with a lie, but couldn't see a reason to just yet.

"Well, we aren't really. We haven't spoken that much at all actually. I don't really know him that well." He looked a bit sheepish, not wanting to give off the impression that he actively disliked Neville. She seemed to take this in, nodding slightly, but no real response.

Harry finished the biscuit he had been nibbling on, and McGonagall immediately thrust the tin at him once more, as though she had been itching to give him another for a while. Perhaps he had eaten it too slowly. Politely he plucked another and took a slightly larger bite than before. Is this what people meant when they talked about 'uncomfortable silences'? Because Harry was starting to crack under the piercing gaze of the professor with far too confusing emotions that Harry couldn't understand. They must have been sitting there for at least ten minutes now.

Finally, he heard the door open, only to see Madam Hooch, who gave McGonagall a thumbs up, before once again disappearing. At this, McGonagall seemed to come alive again, finally.

"Mr Potter. I mentioned that both I and Madam Hooch were impressed with your actions. You saved a distressed student from potentially extensive harm, and displayed impressive flying skills while doing so. You also executed a very impressive display of magic, as well as logic skills. That spell, if I'm not mistaken, isn't taught until third year, and isn't used on objects much bigger than a book until sixth year. I assume you've been reading up in the library?" She paused, expecting an answer. Harry hadn't even considered the difficulty of the spell.

"Reckless…"

"Uh, yeah, I wanted to make sure I knew everything for class, so I read a bit ahead." This response was met with an approving nod from the teacher.

"And I imagine you've been practicing these spells as well? I don't suppose Longbottom was your first attempt?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I've been practicing on my school supplies actually, because I wanted to carry all my books, just in case, but they were too heavy all at once." He blushed, the lie quickly forming in his mind. He would happily play the role of overexcited prodigy if that was what would save him from this nightmare. He needed to be careful in future, there was talented, and then there was suspicious. He may have already pushed that line.

"Well, Mr Potter, in recognition of your quick-thinking, in addition to your impressive abilities, we have a proposal for you." Before Harry could ask who 'We' was she pressed on.

"Although it is a rule at Hogwarts that first Years may not have their own broom, we are willing to make an exception for you, if you would like to try out for the Quidditch team." Harry gasped slightly. This was a slight overreaction wasn't it? He flew once, and all of a sudden he was allowed to play quidditch? Not that he was complaining.

"Madam Hooch and Professor Snape, your Head of House, have agreed, and Headmaster Dumbledore has permitted it. Well done Mr Potter." For the first time that Harry had ever seen her, she let a smile smile grace her features.

"Thank you professor!" Harry grinned back. For some reason, this made her smile widen slightly and her eyes saddened again. This woman was an enigma.

"I am informed the try-outs will be posted on the Slytherin common room notice board, so watch for it. The team captain will be informed of your circumstances, and will allow you to try out along with you upper-classmen. As much as I am loathe to see my own house lose yet another year, I wish you the best of luck." That raised another question, why would she be the one advocating for him? He was just some slytherin student to her, one who could apparently fly, but that was all. If anyone, Snape should be the one that wanted him on the team, but then again Snape would probably rather never see Harry again. He seemed to really dislike him.

"Thank you, Mr Potter, that will be all." McGonagall smiled at him, and Harry took his cue to leave, smiling as he did.

"Thanks again professor!" He shut the door behind him, and his smile instantly vanished. He made his way back down to the slytherin common room. Now he had to face his classmates, and reassure them he wasn't about to run away into the sunset with Neville. Despite his thrill at being able to join the quidditch team, he couldn't help but feel, not for the first time, he had made the absolute wrong choice in saving the gryffindor.

"Really ? You're allowed to try out for the team this young?" Draco asked, eyes wide. He perched on the edge his bed, next to Harry's, leaning forward in surprise. The two boys were alone, after Harry had explained the situation to his eagerly awaiting classmates and having received their praise he went towards their room to dump his bag and wash his hands, followed closely by the blonde boy.

"Yeah, I couldn't believe it either. She said I was really good, so Snape allowed it. But I won't get my hopes up, I'll be really out-skilled by all the older years trying out." Harry reminded him.

"But still, Snape agreed! That's huge, I know him, he'd my godfather, and it's so unlike him to agree." The blonde babbled on. Well if that wasn't useful information to have.

"Well I imagine that he probably just said I could try out to get rid of Madam Hooch. I don't think he actually thinks I'll make the team."

"What position do you want to go for?" Draco seemed really interested in the answer.

Harry desperately tried to recall all the positions Ron had described to him on the train.

"Probably a beater, or maybe the seeker." Harry wanted the chance to be able to do his own thing, which ruled out chaser, a position so heavily defined by teamwork. This was similar to the beater role, but one other person would be manageable.

"I would've had you pegged as a keeper to be honest."

"Oh, no, I would prefer to able to actually fly around, keepers are rather confined to their area. It's not the role for me." The role of seeker suited Harry's desire for solitude and his desire for action, which made it ideal, but he also knew how much focus was on the seeker in the game. The whole game could be won by a particularly good seeker.

"Well, as far as I know, the team has everyone re-try every year just to make sure they're up to scratch. Well except the captain. Theoretically you could go for any position you want. Montague's a chaser so you won't have to worry about not getting his place, especially if you don't like that role." Draco prattled on. Harry could only imagine how wide this boy's social network was, he knew who everyone was and how everything worked. Harry had been severely set back. Well, he'd just have to catch up, and this was the fastest way.

The two boys continued talking as they made their way to dinner with their group of friends, everyone thoroughly impressed with Harry's skill on the broom, and singing his praises repeatedly. Harry just politely soaked it up, not responding to most of it.

By the time dinner was nearly over, Harry was itching to leave. The whispers had been so much worse tonight thanks to his classroom antics. Harry had dared to glance at Snape at one point, only to be greeted by the coal-coloured glare of the potions master. Yes, something told Harry he had hit the nail on the head about the appeasement of Madam Hooch playing a large role in his newly-gifted privileges.

"If you don't mind, I am just going to go for a small walk. Get some evening air and all that. You understand I'm sure?" He politely excused himself from the table, and left the hall.

He quietly stole away to the trophy room; where a certain gangly, freckled, redhead stood beaming.

"Harry!" Ron grinned at him. Harry found himself grinning back.

They had spent hours sitting there, in the admittedly less than comfortable room, lounging around glass cabinets and glittering awards. By the time Harry had conjured up a light to check his watch they had broken curfew by nearly an hour. He was shocked he'd let himself slip up like this, he could only imagine what a nightmare his roommates would be the next day.

Before Harry could point out the dilemma to his companion, Ron had evidently seen something behind Harry in the cabinet he was pressed against.

"Hey, that's my brother!" Ron crawled forward, from where he'd been sitting across from Harry, pointing over Harry's shoulder.

Harry turned to look, seeing a fairly fresh trophy sitting on the shelf. It was made out to a 'Charlie Weasley' and it was awarded for 'Exceptional skill in Care of Magical Creatures', dated a few years ago.

"Hey I bet we could find a trophy for each of my brothers, I know Bill had loads, and Percy's got a few." Ron looked around. Although Harry wanted to mention the time to Ron, he had a more pressing question.

"How many brothers do you have? I've seen those twins around, and the one with the glasses from platform 9 ¾. And you have a sister too right?" Ron seemed to almost blush for a moment.

"How come you remember so much about my family at the station?"

"Dunno, you were the only gingers around, maybe that's why." Ron cracked a smile at Harry's friendly ribbing.

"Yeah, well, no. Ok, so, from youngest up, there's my sister Ginny, who you saw, and then there's me." Ron placed a hand on his chest, and then began ticking names off with his fingers. "Then the twins, Fred and George, who're in their third year now. Then there's Percy, the one with glasses, then my oldest brothers are Charlie, he works with dragons, and Bill, who's a cursebreaker." Ron seemed to reach the end of his long list.

"Oh is that all? Harry asked nonchalantly. Ron laughed probably much louder than he should have, given the hour. After he quieted down, Harry asked another question.

"So you're the youngest boy?"

"Yeah. I think they were trying for a girl, and just got unlucky every time." He mused, looking slightly put out. Harry remembered the pathetic looking sandwiches from the train.

"It must be crowded at home." He noted.

"Oh Merlin, you don't know the half of it! It's a nightmare. Sometimes I wish it was just quiet." Ron didn't look as though he had meant to say the last part aloud. "The twins are a riot though, when it's not me they're going after."

"Going after?"

"Yeah, they're always pulling pranks and stuff. Sometimes the jokes are funny, but sometimes it goes a bit too far, you know?" Ron looked uncomfortable now. Maybe it was time for a shift in tone.

"I'd always wondered what it would have been like to have siblings."

"Trust me mate, you're lucky." Ron didn't really grasp the implications of just why Harry was an only child, but he let it pass. Ron wasn't trying to be malicious.

"Yeah, I can tell." Harry smiled, trying to lighten the tone slightly. It worked, as Ron gave a small chuckle.

"Well, we had better be heading back now, it's way over curfew." Harry mentioned, and Ron's smile dimmed slightly.

"Oh, so soon?" He seemed sad.

"Look, I've been working on Malfoy okay? I've been trying to make him more bearable to be around so we won't have to pretend much more." Harry explained. Ron just shot him a mildly grossed out look.

"I don't exactly want to be friends with him. I know you sort of have to just to survive in that place." Harry internally smiled, what did this boy think went on in the slytherin common room? "But can't you tell him to piss off a little bit more? He follows you around like a weird albino puppy." They started walking back together, speaking in hushed tones. Harry had to stop himself from laughing at that one.

"I know, but he's just doing what his parents told him to. They want him to be friends with me because I'm famous. He's not as much of a git once you get past the stuff his parents tell him." Harry tried to sway Ron slightly, it would make life a lot easier on him if they got on, or at least pretended to. Ron opened his mouth, likely to slag off the slytherin more, but stopped dead in his tracks, eyes looking ahead.

"Ron, what is it?" Harry hissed, also stilling.

"That's Mrs Norris." Ron said. Looking ahead, Harry could just about make out the small form of a cat, one with piercing red eyes. He wasn't sure what he was missing here. Possibly seeing his confused look, Ron turned to him.

"That's Filch's cat, and if she's here, he's not far behind, we have to go now!" Ron hissed slightly louder this time, grabbing Harry's hand and turning to run. Harry wasn't about to argue anytime soon, and began to run as well.

"Well, Mrs Norris what is it?" A deep croaky voice was heard at the end of the corridor from where they had just fled.

The two boys ran, both surprisingly fast, as far as they could, putting as much distance between them and demon cat and caretaker. Somehow, they could still hear him in the distance. Of course he would know the school better than the two of them.

"Quickly!" Ron whispered, pulling open a door, and they both ran inside it, and quickly closing it again, checking through the keyhole to see if Filch was gone yet.

"No! Harry! This is the third floor corridor!" Tom screamed, momentarily deafening Harry.

Before Harry could voice this to Ron, he heard the sound on heavy breathing behind him. He turned around. He froze.

"Well I think – " Harry cut Ron off by slamming his hand over the other boy's mouth. As the redhead turned to ask why he had just been hit, he saw it.

Before them was a huge, slobbering beast. It had three, dog-shaped heads, each with huge slobbering maws, crammed full of razor sharp teeth. At first glance Harry had thought there were three creatures, but realized upon closer inspection the the three heads were connected to one large, monstrous, fur-covered torso. The monster bore a violent resemblance to Cerberus, the guard of the underworld from Greek mythology. As Harry's eyes looked up and down the monster, he saw the humongous paws, deadly claws flexed in each. What's more, he saw something under the paw. Was that a handle?

He was wrenched from his observations by the creature itself, who let out a furious roar at being disturbed. Harry and Ron took that cue to hastily leave, deciding that of the two options, they would rather face Filch.

Sprinting from the third floor entirely, the two boys ran, Harry following Ron, who had the advantage of longer legs to carry him. When they came to a stop, they panted, totally out of breath. When they had recovered, the situation had a chance to set in.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Ron asked incredulously.

"I don't know, it looked like Cerberus, though."

"What's that?" Ron shot Harry a confused look.

"Oh he's like this guard of the afterlife in a muggle religion." Harry briefly explained. "The Cerberus is described as a three-headed dog."

"Well it certainly had three heads, I didn't notice the one body part."

"Did you see the trapdoor?" Harry asked.

"The what?" Ron asked incredulously. "No, I was more focused on its teeth!" He laughed slightly.

"It was guarding something." Harry concluded aloud.

"Whatever it was, it wasn't worth it!" Ron paused. "Well, at least we know Dumbledore wasn't joking about that painful death!" Ron grinned. Harry did his best to not react to the name.

"Yeah, well, after that, I'd better get back to the dungeons, we're a long way up." Harry looked off the balcony at the moving staircases below.

"Sorry, my first thought was to go back to Gryffindor tower." He gestured at the painting, who was sound asleep. Huh, so this was Gryffindor tower.

"Well I'll see you soon okay? And remember I'm trying to get Malfoy to stop being stupid, and then we can hang out together normally."

"Yeah, yeah, okay. Good night Harry." Ron gave Harry one more blinding smile before turning to wake the portrait. Harry slunk off before the painting could recognise him and possibly get him in trouble.

Whatever that dog was guarding, Harry was going to find out.