Harry awoke with a grunt. He was rather regretting last night's escapades. He looked to his small bedside table scornfully, as though cursing the homework laying on it. At least he'd woken up early, he'd have enough time to get some of it done before the others woke up.

Despite being well-versed in the practical side of magic, Harry still had to learn so much, given that he had no idea what spell he could be using at any given time. He needed names, he needed incantations, he needed understanding. It was even more crucial that he learned to recognise spells merely so that he knew what spells others were using, just in case. There was also magical history, culture and customs, and potions. This all added up to a fair amount, given that Harry was trying to learn an entire culture privately.

He had found both Ron and Draco equal parts useful for this, each knowledgeable in the wizarding world's traditions and norms. Tom knew small bits, but often his knowledge of things was patchy, and while he could help fill in some gaps for Harry he couldn't instruct him alone. That was just fine; as long as he supplied Harry with enough to carry a conversation with a magic-raised pureblood, they would fill in the rest. He was getting a fair idea of just how politically-charged the houses here were. Harry hadn't realised when he had the houses explained to him just how instrumental they were in deciding the future of a wizard.

It was bizarre to think about children being disowned by their parents for their school house. Apparently while not common, this practice wasn't unheard of.

He hauled himself out of bed, and began preparing for the day, hopefully the others wouldn't give him trouble for being out after curfew, he knew they weren't about to snitch anytime soon but he didn't want to hear about it all day either. Slytherins were shockingly whiny when you gave them a chance.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Zabini rubbing his eyes, seemingly also awakening early. It was slightly irritating that Harry wouldn't have the first hour of the morning to himself as usual, but at least it was Zabini, the quietest of the group. Hopefully he would just go up to the common room and do his work silently, as Harry intended to. He wasn't in a very talkative mood, having exhausted his conversational battery the night before. Who knows, maybe the other boy would just go to the loo and return to bed.

As if he would be so lucky.

Harry made a polite gesture at him as if saying good morning, before promptly making his way to the showers.

Harry came out of the shower, realising he had forgotten his school shirt. How frustrating. He usually changed in the stall after his shower, or else behind the curtains of his bed. He valued what little privacy he could get with the constant attention from the other boys. He really would have thought that a wizard as noble as Salazar Slytherin would have at least been snobby enough to give students their own rooms.

Padding back into the room to finish getting dressed he saw that Zabini was still sitting in bed, writing something in a notebook. Upon hearing Harry return however, he stopped. Tucking the notebook back into the drawer of his nightstand, he pulled the covers off himself and started walking to the bathroom. Had he been waiting for Harry to finish? Perhaps he valued his privacy too.

As Zabini passed Harry, his eyes raked Harry's torso, sticking at certain points, inspecting him as meticulously as a mortician. Thankfully the moment passed, but Harry was frankly shocked at the nerve of it. He checked the points that had drawn the most interest from the taller boy, and realised that they were his scars.

Harry had a fair number of scars on his torso, but he had to remind himself of them quite often as they drifted to the back of his head, out of mind but absolutely not out of sight. Most of them were innocuous enough, like the one above his left elbow that he got from trying to jump over the wall. He had caught himself on one of the more cracked bricks, managing to cause a nasty gash.

Others were from more suspicious things that he supposed he would have to find time to lie about, like the slash on his upper arm from when Nathan had stabbed him as hard as he could with that steak knife one particularly cold winter. Harry checked himself over, trying to find the others that had caught the other boy's gaze.

There were the three faint streaks on his right lower abdomen, where he had been thrown backwards by a particularly explosive spell that he had been practicing that day. He was lucky he only scraped his side on the tree.

He had one on his back too, over his right shoulder, from when Peter had lured him into the kitchen. Madam Nelson had insisted that Harry must have been up to trouble in there, it was a prohibited area, and he deserved what he got. She thought he must have somehow injured himself.

Well Harry didn't see how one could hold a searing hot pan on their own back, but that was neither here nor there was it?

That incident had been not too long before they died.

Before Harry killed them.

With a sinister grin forcefully contorting his features, he put on his shirt. He didn't need to dwell in the past, it was pointless. He really had almost forgotten that he had those scars, by now they were just another part of his body. There were some that he couldn't explain himself, having forgotten what caused them, or having been there too long. He didn't have many, perhaps a few small ones that you had to squint to see, but in Harry's opinion that was to be expected for a child that roamed the woods every day.

Once he was dressed, he collected his stuff and strolled up towards the common room, idly taking note that the try-outs were scheduled for the following Saturday as he passed the notice board.

He would remember that Zabini had done this. It wasn't the act itself; he really couldn't care less about whether or not people saw them, it was the audacity of taking the first opportunity that Harry was shirtless to inspect him. It was very Slytherin.

Perhaps Zabini and Harry had more in common than he had first suspected.

Harry took his time walking down to Hagrid's hut, relishing in the fresh air and the solitude.

It seemed that Draco and the others were finally starting to accept that Harry couldn't actually be tailed by someone every second. Since his midnight stint a few days ago they had been suspicious, but evidently were allowing Harry to have his space. How generous.

He hadn't actually specified a time with Hagrid, but it was nearing four o'clock now, which should have been long enough for the man to be there when Harry arrived.

Knocking on the door, Harry heard the sounds of rustling inside, as though someone were tidying up.

The door opened, revealing the tree of a man, who gave a rather pleased smile.

"Harry! Good to see ya." He patted Harry's shoulder, in a very familial way. Well, the note said the man had known him when he was quite small, so Harry ignored the friendliness as residual recognition of that.

"Nice to meet you." Harry smiled politely, entering the hut.

The hut had a very cosy interior. Along the wall there were several cabinets and cupboards that formed a small kitchen, and various cages and boxes and knick-knacks were strung above the kitchen, far above Harry. On the opposite wall a comparatively small bed was placed between barrels and crates. In the center of the small room sat a round table, and some very comfortable looking chairs. On the table sat two mugs, a teapot, jug of milk, a sugar bowl, and a plate of rather sad-looking pastries. All of the crockery was mismatching.

Overall the home was very quaint, and while cramped and untidy, was in no way dirty. Everything was surprisingly spotless, potentially thanks to the anticipation of company. Going to sit at the table, he noticed a very large black dog lying under the bed that he had, somehow, missed.

Hagrid had sat down, and when he saw Harry's line of sight, he started to explain.

"Oh, don' mind 'im. Tha's jus' fang. Total wimp, utterly 'armless, aren't you boy?" He directed the last bit at the now simpering dog, who did in fact look rather harmless to Harry.

Harry reached out his arm to the dog, letting it sniff him. After a few cursory sniffs Fang just retreated further.

"Silly boy." Hagrid started pouring himself a cup of tea.

"Tea?" He offered to Harry. After a smile and nod, the teas were poured. Perhaps it was time to get down to business.

"So, Hagrid. I know I said 'it's nice to meet you', but I'm guessing that it would be more appropriate to say 'meet you again'?" Harry inquired, taking a sip of his tea, and finding it rather well-made. Just the right amount of milk.

"Oh yeah, well. The las' time I saw you, you were a baby, so maybe it makes more sense tha' this is the firs' time. You were such a small baby. You fit in my palm!" He held up his hand, as though to illustrate. Harry suspected fitting in Hagrid's palm wasn't exactly a challenge as a baby.

"Wow, so were you and my parents friends then?" Harry asked, genuine curiosity taking over.

"Oh, your parents," He smiled, as though recalling something, "Thumpin' good wizards they were. We knew each other through Dumbledore, actually." Hagrid sipped his tea.

Harry was confused.

"Through Dumbledore? They knew him?"

"They were quite close to 'im during the war. 'e was 'elping 'em out with things you know." Harry was flabbergasted to learn that Dumbledore had been friends with his parents. For a moment he started to question how that could be.

"How horrible…He sent the only child of his dead friends to live with their abusive relatives…" Tom sounded in. And he was right, this only made his crimes graver to Harry. Dumbledore had betrayed his friends. Something dark and twisted curled deep inside Harry, just out of reach.

Harry tried to move on, refusing to lose control of his emotions.

"What were they like?" He asked earnestly.

"Well, yer mum, Lily, she was brilliant. She was fierce, and so smart. She was near top of her classes, and boy did she know it. Gave all those stupid blood purists a run for their money, mind. They were always upset to be beaten by a muggleborn."

A muggleborn? How interesting. That would make Harry a halfblood, wouldn't it? Oblivious to Harry's internal monologue, Hagrid continued.

"The thing about Lily was how kind she was. Lily was always protecting others, probably how she ended up in Gryffindor, as opposed to Ravenclaw. Nicest woman you could've known."

"Yer dad, James was a bit of a jokester. Him and his mates always pulling pranks." Hagrid chortled. "He did just fine for himself in smarts as well, but he put it all into them jokes. Spent every day in detention as far as I remember. You look just like him. But not the eyes, you've got yer mum's eyes." Hagrid now looked to Harry sadly.

As thrilled as Harry was to hear about his parents, the large man looked as though he were actually close to crying now, and instead chose to come back again soon for more information. Harry was also not feeling up to hearing much more himself actually, which he found very confusing.

"So, what's it like being a groundskeeper?" Not such an artful subject change, but at least the watery look was disappearing.

"Eh? Well it's tough work, but good work, mind. Gives yer lots of work t' be getting on with." Hagrid started detailing the many tasks he performed on a daily basis, and Harry wondered if they couldn't give the man a larger bed. His brawn was certainly being put to use.

"He's half giant…" Tom jutted in suddenly, as though he'd just remembered. Fascinating. Harry wondered which side.

Harry's attention was suddenly drawn again when Hagrid mentioned feeding creatures for the Care of Magical Creatures lessons.

"Did you say rats?" Hagrid paused, pulled from the long list of tasks he had been explaining.

"Yeah, the babies are too small for weasel a' the mo."

"Where do you get the rats?"

"Nice little place down in Hogsmeade. Sells all sorts for animals." Hagrid looked slightly confused. "Why do ya ask?"

"Oh well, my snake, he's so fussy, and the packaged rats I buy him never satisfy him." Harry explained, reminding himself not to mention that he can talk to Zaccai. He didn't think that would go down well in front of Hagrid.

"If yer want Harry, I can mail some t' ya when I go next. I know first years ain't allowed to Hogsmeade, but I'll grab em for ya." Hagrid smiled. "But you'll have to let me meet the little fella. Sounds delightful."

"That would be so helpful. If you just let me know how much they are I can – " Harry was waved off.

"I can get ther rats for yer 'arry. 's the least I could do. Merlin knows I owe ya a few birthday presents." He dismissed immediately. "Anyway, that's enough about me, how're you doin? I admit I was surprised to see ya sorted int' Slytherin. Both yer parents were as Gryffindor as ya could get."

"Ah well, I guess it didn't pass on. School's going quite well actually…" The topic divulged into various school topics, all very-surface level things. Then a thought occurred to Harry, perhaps Hagrid would know about the cerberus, after all, he seemed to be a bit of a creature enthusiast, rambling on nearly endlessly about the creatures he had to feed and look after in great detail.

"Harry, he clearly loves creatures… Try to appeal to his love for them. He may have even had something to do with it himself…"

Tom raised an interesting point; what with all the other tasks he was responsible for, it seemed perfectly reasonable that he would assume caretaking responsibilities for the creature. Actually, given the size, it was probably likely that Hagrid, with his size and brawn, was the only member of staff that could take care of the thing safely.

What would be the best path here? Harry appraised the man once again, and decided that going gryffindor might be more expected, and soothe any reluctance to answer his questions.

"Hagrid, you like magical creatures right?" Harry asked, double checking for clarity.

"Oh, love 'em I do. More often 'an not you'll find the poor things're just misunderstood." Hagrid shook his head. Harry pounced on this.

"Yes! Well, there's this dog thing I found, and I was trying to figure out how to calm it down, because it seemed really jumpy when I found it, but I can tell it isn't like that normally." Harry was playing it very risky here, and going off a great number of assumptions and guesswork. He only prayed that this paid off.

Hagrid knocked over his tea."How do you know about fluffy?"

"Well, I was trying to find the transfiguration classroom in the first week, but all the moving staircases were getting me so lost and confused, and I walked through the wrong door, and well… There it was." Harry sounded as sincere as he could, and stamped down the seeds of hope at nearing that Hagrid named the monster 'fluffy'. "You know about it?"

"Well," Hagrid started wiping at the spilled tea with his ginormous sleeve, not looking Harry in the eye. "Yer right there, fluffy's just a sweetie really. He's mine, bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year. I lent him to Dumbledore to guard th' – " Hagrid cut himself off when he realised what he had been about to say, face reddening.

Harry considered pressing that particular matter, but realised it would just make the half-giant clam up, and possibly even sour their future relationship. He already knew the dog was guarding something, and it would be very suspicious for him to start asking questions. Harry could pretend to focus on the dog for now, since that was what he expressed interest in initially.

Harry pretended to not have heard or care about the last bit. "What species is it? It looked like a Cerberus from greek mythology." Hagrid had a look that told Harry this was the right thing to say.

"Well, the muggles had to get It from somewhere eh? Yeh, Fluffy's a Cerberus, lovely things, and so sweet. Play 'em a song and they'll pop right off t' sleep."

"See I knew it wasn't as aggressive as it acted." Harry tried to play dumb again. It was working, and now he knew how to get past the creature, maybe he could go and take a peak at what was down there himself.

Harry spent a rather long time at Hagrid's hut before he left to change before dinner. He was rather charming in a very rustic way. His company was pleasant enough, though Harry was much more invested in the usefulness of the man.

What Harry noticed was Hagrid's seemingly blind devotion to Dumbledore. He wouldn't stop talking about how great the old wizard was. Hagrid just oozed 'manipulated fanboy'. Harry started to suspect that Dumbledore had already made Hagrid his pawn long ago, possibly also seeing his inherent value for what it was.

Dumbledore was more Slytherin than he was letting on.

Harry strolled up to breakfast with the others, mind wandering. The try outs weren't for another hour and a half, but he was trying to contain his anticipation. He was as quiet as he usually was while they ate, talking about school subjects. Then the topic changed. They were talking about Hermione again. Lately they just wouldn't shut up about her.

"Yeah, it makes much more sense that she's a mudblood. She stands out far too much." Daphne agreed to something that Theo had said.

"What's wrong with her being a muggleborn?" Harry asked in an icy tone. As the group turned to him, it was with surprise. Perhaps he shouldn't have let them talk about blood purity this way for so long. He was changing up his behaviour, and unsettling them.

Good.

"She doesn't belong here. She's never going to be as powerful as a pureblood." Draco explained with a hint of venom, as though explaining how 2 + 2 equals 4 to someone who insisted it equaled 5. The others looked at Harry with expressions varying from confusion to annoyance to surprise.

"And yet she tops you in every class." Harry shut down, looking at his toast while he spread marmalade on it.

"Mudbloods are basically muggles, filthy, stupid, and gross." Draco sounded annoyed now, like Harry was failing to understand something very simple.

"My mother was a muggleborn." Harry said, making eye contact with him. This made Draco's eyebrows shoot up, and Harry could see the cogs turning in his mind, desperately considering how to proceed.

"My apologies, perhaps you don't want to sit with a filthy half-blood." Harry stood up, taking his toast with him, voice still neutral. He looked around the table and saw the bewildered eyes of his friends fixed on him. "I'll take my disgusting blood somewhere else." With that, he left the hall, walking normally. He didn't want to appear as though he were running away. The exchange had fortunately felt like less of a fight and more of a scolding.

Maybe that would be more effective than trying to educate them. He had to force them to pretend to be okay with muggleborns and half-bloods, and then work on them until they actually believed it. In the meantime, they would have to play nice with Ron and possibly Hermione if he managed to end their ceaseless teasing of her.

Harry still had a while before tryouts, and decided to go to the owlery to see Hedwig. While there he could also order some more everyday robes, as he couldn't very well continue wearing the only two he had. While he could wear his normal clothes, which he also packed, it would receive strange looks from his associates, and they were rather scruffy and ill-fitting to begin with.

He could also do with some more style and colour variety; the ones he was currently wearing were a deep gray with black trim, and the others were a navy colour with a silver pattern. He could do with some paler ones for when summer came around once more.

Perching in the owlery window as he watched Hedwig take off, he took in the view. This must have been the second highest reaching tower in the whole school.

"The astronomy tower is the tallest…"

"We'll have to go there sometime soon, I bet flying from there would be extraordinary…" Harry thought back.

"Excuse me, but get down from there right now." An alarmed but firm voice reprimanded from behind him. Harry acquiesced, jumping back to the floor safely. Looking up he saw the bespectacled Weasley. Ron said his name was Percy, didn't he?

"Sorry, I was just saying goodbye to my owl."

"Well you shouldn't sit so near the ledge, you could have fallen." The older boy admonished, sounding angrier than he probably should have. There was also the tiniest hint of satisfaction in his voice, which was far too emotionally involved for telling a student to get down from somewhere in Harry's opinion. He was clearly enjoying the power that prefect provided him with, perhaps a bit too much. He suddenly seemed to recognise Harry.

"Oh hello Harry. Sending a letter?" The shift in attitude, tone, expression - It was jarring, even for Harry. He had never even spoken to this boy before.

"Uh, yes." Harry didn't feel the need to share the details of his post with him, and didn't fully see why someone would expect that of someone they had never met. "You're Ron's older brother Percy right?" Harry asked, trying to figure out the very strange specimen before him.

"Yes, Ron's my younger brother, and he told me that you two have been getting on well. It's very good to hear, there's a lot of inter-house tension at Hogwarts, so it's nice to hear that not everyone is held up on tie colours." He nodded approvingly, as he spoke in his rather clear voice. How sensible. That was odd.

If there was one thing Harry was quickly learning about wizards, on the whole they were not very sensible.

Wizards liked to conjure cobwebs for atmosphere and guard things using monsters instead of protective magic. Wizards liked to provide a deadly weapon to 11 year olds and disown their children for being too smart or brave. Wizards liked to ban people from sitting too high in a tower, but encouraged them to fly holding nothing more than a piece of wood.

This boy was very unsettling, purely for the reason that he was sensible, and that was a difficult thing for Harry to rationalise.

Harry took a second to evaluate him.

Percy had two older brothers, both of whom were supposedly high achievers. Both apparently left the home a few years ago, which would leave Percy as the acting eldest child. It was also likely that the eldest brothers separated from the younger siblings during childhood as well, if they needed to study for school and attend Hogwarts while the others remained at home. This means that, for all intents and purposes, Percy had been the eldest child in the Weasley home for a long time.

Harry could imagine what responsibilities may have come with that role, such as caring for the other kids while their parents were focused on one of them. If what Ron said about them wanting a girl was anything to go from, it was possible that they had placed more attention on the youngest Weasley growing up. This could have left Percy with the twins and Ron. The twins who apparently spent their time playing jokes. Harry could only imagine that they were a handful. Perhaps this meant that they had been difficult to control? If so, maybe that had a lasting effect on the boy.

The answer may have been yes, if the evident satisfaction of his command being followed was anything to go on. So, he was also a control freak, which was probably ideal for a prefect. Remembering what Ron said about him having earned a few trophies, it was likely that this need for control carried into his studies. Perhaps he strived to achieve so highly because it had started to be expected of him?

If anything Harry said was correct then this boy had been molded into the role of a politician from an early age. He was used to looking after others, taking their needs into account and providing for them over his own wants or needs. He was accustomed to being put to the side, and expected to step up. He likely was more comfortable with responsibility than without it, if he hadn't experienced a responsibility-free life.

Harry may have been reading into everything far too much, but he had been thrown off by the introduction of a confusing, unknown element. It was like a puzzle he couldn't quite finish. Either way he wanted to leave so that he could reflect further in private.

"Yes, it's all rather silly, really." Harry responded finally, aware of the few seconds that had passed while Harry was contemplating. "I'd better be going to the quidditch tryouts now." He smiled awkwardly and tried to edge past Percy, who moved to the side to allow Harry to escape.

"Good luck!" Percy called after him, seemingly unphased by the sudden departure.

Whatever was going on with that boy, Harry suspected it would be useful.

Harry stood on the sunny but chilly pitch. The ground was firm and dry, which Harry supposed was ideal for kicking off from. Harry looked down at the school's borrowed broom he clutched in his left hand apprehensively. It had better not play up while he was on it.

Montague had split the students on the pitch into groups; each corresponding with the role they were trying out for, announcing the order that they would go in, in case students wanted to try for multiple roles. First the Chasers would go, which was the largest group, and then the keepers. They would then try out seekers, and finally once everyone had left and there was less risk of smashing people, the beaters.

The seeker group was the smallest. The other two people trying out towered over Harry, their age given them the advantage of size. Harry had a feeling that this wouldn't help them in the air.

To his right stood an angry looking blonde boy, possibly in his fourth or fifth year, who stood with his arms crossed, looking irate. To Harry's left a girl stood, looking slightly green. She was twirling a dreadlock between her fingers anxiously.

They all sat in the stands, watching the other auditions carry out as supposedly standard. In the end, the students that got the position were announced, and the others trailed off disappointed. While the others were trying out, Harry noticed that students would look at him and snicker. They probably realised he was a first year and thought he would be told he couldn't try out, or maybe they thought he was a second year, about to get turned down.

The blonde boy in his group kept glaring daggers at Harry. When they were finally called, he leant over to the other two and hissed at them.

"You'd better not mess this up for me. I'm not getting kicked off the team after a three year run for this!" Harry just gave him a dead look, but the girl nearly started crying.

"Right, So what I'm going to do is release about twenty snitches into the air." As he said this, he handed each of them a small bag. "The winner is the one that collects the most."

"Adam, you realise he's a first year?" The blonde boy pointed to Harry. Harry scowled.

"He's got special permission." Montague answered.

"Ugh, bullshit! Why?" He hissed.

"Don't know, but Snape told me. He's not happy about it either. As long as he's good it's fine." Montague seemed to shut down the conversation, and the three mounted their brooms. He opened a box, and the snitches flooded out, thrilled to be free. He watched them for a second, letting them fly out further from the group. Then he turned back to them.

"3…2…1… Go!" He blew a whistle. All three of them shot up.

For a second, Harry allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of ascending, before focusing on the task at hand. He flew immediately over to one snitch hanging rather close, and grabbed it before he had time to think about it. Shoving it in his bag, he pushed on.

He flew around fast, speeding himself up a bit with his magic. He noticed that at one point the girl had started crying.

He took a mental tally of how many he's caught. He was on 4. He may have been quietly pulling a few of the winged balls into his hand with magic, but overall he was relying on instinct. He couldn't pull his little trick if he was far away, his hand had to be inches away anyway so it just ensured he didn't miss any. It was still cheating though, so Harry tried not to over-do it.

He surveyed the surroundings carefully, not seeing any. From the looks of it, the others couldn't find any more either. Disappointment settled in his stomach, 4 was nowhere near enough. However, a glance over to Flint told him that they weren't done, and as he looked, he finally spotted it!

It was low to the ground, a small flicker of gold. It was closest to the girl, who hadn't seen it yet. Harry took his chance, and started diving.

Seeing his descent, the blonde boy raced after, matching Harry's pace. After not too long, it was neck and neck, and the boy must have seen just how close to the ground the snitch was hovering. Harry's broom shook, its age showing.

At the last moment, the boy pulled up, deciding the risk wasn't worth it, Harry however pulled forward, hand outstretched –

As soon as the cold sensation of metal registered on his fingers he straightened up, clutching the writhing device in his palm. His broom shook violently, and it took everything in Harry's power to not crash to the floor. The sound of a whistle being blown was heard, and the players returned to the pitch floor, Harry tucking his last snitch into his bag.

Harry returned disheartened, knowing that 5 wasn't enough. Both his competitors landed beside him, they had both outdone Harry. He tried not to let his disappointment linger, it wouldn't do to throw a tantrum. He had known that there was a slim chance from the beginning.

They lined up, holding out their bags for evaluation, blondie giving Harry a death glare.

The boy counting the scores up walked over to Montague, and Harry noticed a close familial resemblance. The boy looked barely much older than Harry, and just had to have been a second year. They muttered in hushed tones, before looking at Harry.

"Oi, Potter." Montague suddenly called out. "How long you been flying?"

"Um, that was my second time." Harry answered honestly. Everyone in the surrounding area gave him a look. The boys went back to talking in hushed tones, and blondie appeared to have lost most of his colour.

After what seemed like an eternity, Montague turned back to face them.

"Welcome aboard, Potter." He reached out his hand, and Harry took it immediately, confused and surprised, but moreover; thrilled. He had managed to join the team.

"Well done Harry…" Tom said with the smile-voice.

The girl next to sighed with what may have actually been relief, and left, practically running for the exit. Blondie however, was irate.

"What the fuck Adam?" He yelled. "Seriously? You're not actually gonna try to give me that bullshit are you?" He raged.

"Pierce, you had a good run. Try out next year, maybe you'll get in again, or try for beater. Don't throw a tantrum, you weren't up to scratch." This only angered the boy further.

"I got 8! How the fuck did he get 9, huh?" He gestured at Harry, who had suddenly become confused. He what? He only got 5. What was going on?

"Pierce, don't make this ugly mate. Or you'll be banned from trying out again." Blondie, now dubbed Pierce, snarled at the stone-faced captain. He looked as though he was about to say something else, but instead stormed off, shooting one last withering glare at Harry as he did. They were alone.

"Right. You're on the team now, so I hope you're committed. We practice every Wednesday afternoon, no exceptions. Exact times will be posted on the board on Monday." He saw Harry's suspicious look.

"Look, you may not have gotten the most snitches, but that isn't actually all I was watching." Harry tensed. Had he seen Harry cheating?

"You saw that poor girl? That's Elise. She tries out every year, not that she wants to, and she always gets rejected, and she's all the happier for it. Pierce, well. He's a prick. Utter nightmare to deal with. Not only that, but catching any snitches at all on your second time flying is impressive. I can tell you weren't lying about that, you don't have any of the technique, but we can train that into you." He looked at Harry appraisingly now.

"So, yeah, you got the least snitches, but the things you lack we can train you for, and the things you got, you can't train." Harry nodded at the explanation.

"So you can go now. Like I say, practices will be on the board." Not about to look the gift-horse in the mouth, Harry made to leave, but Montague called out one last thing.

"Oh, and Potter. Buy a broom." Montague shot a disgusted look at the school broom. Harry nodded again, and left for the changing rooms.

Harry was currently sitting on the floor of the seventh floor corridor, in the utmost corner of the castle, chatting with Ron. He had found him after tryouts, and had spent the rest of the morning with him. Ron was just as jubilant at Harry's success, and said he hadn't even known Harry was so inexperienced on a broom, and all sorts of nice things. Then Harry had mentioned his interaction with Percy.

"Oh yeah, Perce fancies himself Minister of Magic." Ron had rolled his eyes, and Harry had filed that away. Someone older than them, who had an interest in politics would be exactly the type of person Harry wanted to build connections with. He knew Ron would have useful links somewhere along the line.

After Harry had arrived at lunch, he sat down where he usually sat, near the doors to the hall. Surprisingly the other first year slytherins sat down around him. He was waiting for some sort of apology, or an argument perhaps, but they just sat in silence, not talking to him.

"Ah, so that's what we're doing is it?" Harry asked. When he didn't receive an answer, he picked up a few slices of bread and a few pieces of ham and left. He assembled his sandwich while he walked to the library. Harry wasn't going to waste time listening to them trying to just assimilate him back into everyday life. Acting like nothing had happened wouldn't do him any favours. He could catch up on his schoolwork instead, which was much more productive.

Settling down in a quiet corner of the library, he snacked as quietly as he could without Madam Pince noticing him. Once he finished, he got down to business.

Studying was much easier when he was on his own, as opposed to when he was with the others. They always needed help with something or other, and he had to put down whatever he was doing to ask them about their question, which they would then answer themselves. It was incredibly frustrating.

Harry poured through book after book, for hours, until he dotted the last full stop. Looking at the completed stack of schoolwork, he found himself feeling incredibly satisfied. Looking outside, he realised the sky was dark; he had spent the whole afternoon in the library. Checking his watch, he realised it was nearly time for dinner.

He decided he wouldn't go. Not tonight. He was used to skipping meals, so missing dinner wouldn't be too much of a problem, and he wasn't going to be the one to go back to them. They would come grovelling back to him. If they didn't… well. Harry would make sharing a room with him for the next seven years a nightmare. He knew plenty about how to make people's lives miserable.

So with that, Harry pulled out several tomes on Purebloods. He could get a bit more insight into the children he was avoiding.

After several more hours of studying and chatting idly with Tom in this small, safe corner where couldn't be overheard, Madam Pince finally asked him to leave, right before curfew.

Although Harry was once again tempted to stay out longer and not return to his dorm until his roommates were asleep, he didn't want to actually look as though he was avoiding them.

When he did return, it was once again to awkward looks, this time at least they seemed sheepish.

He had stepped into the room, only for its inhabitants to fall silent, all staring at him. One by one he met their eyes, face neutral and letting his eyes speak. Every time, they would avert their gaze, embarrassed to be caught staring so openly.

He went about his evening routine as usual, and Harry wished they could just tell him what they were thinking. It was so frustrating that no one was speaking, and he couldn't read them!

Finally, Theo broke the silence.

"Um, Harry? Can I just speak to you for a sec?" He beckoned Harry outside, and Harry followed. As much as he wanted to address them all at once, it would be easier to pressure them if it was one-on-one. Entering the situation as one against five would do him no favours.

"Hey." Theo greeted him again, rather annoyingly.

"Hey." Harry returned, voice flat.

"So, um, I just wanted to say that I was sorry for the comments I made about mu- muggleborns." He paused, eyes widening at his almost slip-up. "We all spoke about it, and we understand that for you, they're probably quite rude. We agreed that we would stop making them around you." Theo finished up.

Oh, and he had been so close. Harry could have accepted that yesterday, or last week, but not now. He had been planning to go for the long-con to eventually socialise them with others, but things had changed hadn't they? Knowing now what he did about his own parentage.

"Theo, it isn't just me you shouldn't be saying them around. I know that you've been raised to think that pureblooded is better than muggleborn, but the fact of the matter is that it isn't true." Harry pulled out one of the books he had taken from the library.

"This book looks at a variety of studies, and it concluded that while purebloods often create equally powerful offspring, due to the measures necessary to maintain 'purity'," Harry didn't say incest, but he knew that it was well implied, "offspring are showing decreasing levels of power in recent generations. Here;" Harry opened the book to the page he bookmarked, ignoring Theo's pleadingly uncomfortable look, "these studies suggest that actually the ideal pairing for power would be a pureblood and a muggleborn. It mixes the old magics that run through the family and the new magics that muggleborns have."

"Saying these things and waving them off as opinions is harmful and short-sighted, not just for muggleborns, but for purebloods too." Harry was toeing the line on manners with that one, but he pulled it back again.

Theo started rubbing the back of his head, playing with his short, mousy coloured hair. He looked very distressed, as though Harry was ruining everything by not accepting their half-assed apology.

"They will need time…" Tom reminded him. "Leave the book with them…Let them read it for themselves… they are more likely to believe the texts than you…" Tom advised. After a moment, Harry chose to listen.

"Look. You don't have to speak to me. Please, just tell me that you'll read this? After that I'll never bring it up again." Harry softened his expression. "I just want you to understand my perspective, and then we can move past it." At the mention of moving past the issue Theo brightened up, though still looked unsure. Harry passed him the book.

"Please?" Harry asked him, but in no way begging.

"Okay, fine. I will." Theo agreed, taking the tome and checking it over, as though expecting it to bite him.

"Thank you. I hope we can resolve this and return to normal soon enough." Harry smiled. Theo smiled back.

Harry was glad they sent the weak one.

The next morning, Harry had decided to brighten up his wardrobe a bit, and ventured to wear his polo top underneath his outer robe. Both were navy, which Tom informed him was tacky, so he waved his hand over the shirt, turning it a pale lavender. He could always change it back. He also lightened the shade of blue to create a matching plae colour. Under this were his dark jeans and his converse and overall, he didn't look entirely mad, which was often as much as you could hope for.

At breakfast that morning Harry had once again sat at the edge of the hall, and this time the other first years sat next to him, but were sending passive aggressive glares his way. He ignored them, venturing for chocolate spread on his toast today as a reward for finishing his schoolwork.

Glancing up, he saw the post was arriving, and hopefully Hedwig would be among them. He couldn't send her for a new broom until she returned.

What Harry did not expect to see, was the long, thin package being carried by no less than six owls. It was coming towards him.

The package was dumped on Harry's lap, and a final owl flew overhead, dropping a letter upon it. Hearing a more familiar hoot, he saw Hedwig swoop to his shoulder, a letter tied tightly to her leg. He fed her some ham, and untied the letter.

Looking around the hall, he saw hundreds of eyes looking at him, whispering and conjecturing. He also saw the nosy gazes of the first year slytherins, who were clearly sorely tempted to ask Harry what it was, despite their silent treatment. Draco looked as though he was fuming, frustrated that they had decided on the only method of social punishment that meant they couldn't satisfy their curiosities.

Harry looked down to the letter that had arrived with the mystery parcel.

DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.

It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Congratulations Mr Potter, your parents would be proud.

Professor M. McGonagall

Harry couldn't prevent the smile that overtook his face. He looked towards the teacher in question, glee showing freely. She smiled at him, and faintly raised her goblet. If she knew his parents, that would explain a lot, and Harry was pleased that he had filled a gap in his knowledge. This was nothing compared to how pleased he felt holding his very own broomstick.

Grabbing the letters, the package, his toast, and some ham, he made his way back down to the dungeons to open the package, Hedwig coming along for the ride.

"Impressive…" Tom appraised, as Harry lifted the lid of the box. Harry could only agree, despite his limited knowledge of brooms. It was sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, and a long tail of neat, straight twigs. Harry noticed the golden lettering "Nimbus Two Thousand" glittering from the top of the handle. It was perfect, and Harry couldn't believe it.

It was the perfect gift.

Although Harry had no more school work, that didn't mean that he had no more work to do at all. He still wanted to look more into magical history.

Strolling towards the history aisle, he saw that he wasn't the only one in the library. That was strange given it was a surprisingly sunny day, the last of Summer being pushed out, and that it was an early Sunday morning.

When he saw who it was, he realised that it made sense. It was Hermione Granger.

He had been perfectly polite to her in the past weeks of school, and she him. They were amicable, but Harry could tell she had been trying to get a bit closer to him. Perhaps while he was fighting with the purebloods, it was best not to rock the boat, but on the other hand that might just be exactly what was needed.

He could tell they were waiting for him to come back, to realise they were right, or at least to accept that they were all he had, and he had to accept them; racism and all. If Harry was friendly with others, perhaps he could show them that they were about to lose him as an ally, particularly if he started publically associating with gryffindors.

"It's risky…but it may benefit you to use the favour you gained with the gryffindors now while it is fresh…It could also scare the others, as you hope." Tom approved, but didn't sound totally convinced. Well, Harry had to make a move at some point.

Making his decision, Harry stode over to the girl. "Hi, sorry, but were you going to read that one right now?" He pointed to the stack of books to her left.

Hermione, who seemed surprised to be joined by anyone, took a second to respond. "That one was next." She eyed the half of her book that remained cautiously.

"Could I just read it quickly until you finish that one? I'll sit here so you know I'm not going to run off with it." Harry could tell she had latched onto the offer of company rather than the promise of returning the book.

"Well okay then." She smiled awkwardly, appearing to not understand how to act. She had probably never had anyone join her before.

While they read in silence together, Harry noticed over the next hour that the brunet slowly relaxed around him. At the start she had repeatedly glanced at him, as though expecting him to leave at any second, but had slowly stopped when she must have realised he was staying.

Her shoulders started to droop, her jaw unclenched, and a small smile graced her lips. He managed to get about half way through his own book before she finished hers. He offered her the book back.

"Uh, actually it's okay, I'll just read this one next." She blushed at him. She obviously didn't want him to leave again. He smiled, and they both sat in silence again, reading.

They sat together, reading, for the whole day. Harry would finish a book, and put it on the top of the pile, selecting the one below to read next. Hermione would then finish her book, and read the one Harry had just put down. They were all magical history based, and he suspected Hermione was also trying to learn as much as she could about magical culture and history. This suited him just fine, as they were all books Harry had wanted to read.

By the time the sky darkened, they must have read four or five books each, both having missed lunch without noticing. It had been a very peaceful day. When they finally left the library for dinner, they walked to the great hall together, still in silence. Hermione walked cautiously next to Harry, looking as though she was trying desperately not to break some kind of spell. It was as though she suspected this was too good to be real, and Harry would tell her to leave him alone after the moment ended. How vulnerable.

They entered the great hall together, and smiled at each other as they seperated to go to their separate tables.

Harry could feel the surprised eyes of the purebloods on him as he sat down to eat. He supposed he would find out if his 'rocking the boat' idea had any hope. If they got unbearable he could always just leave.

"Didn't realise you and Granger were friends." Draco remarked coldly. He sounded almost hurt.

"Well, there you go." Harry didn't look at them, focusing on soaking his roast potatoes in gravy.

"Any other friends you didn't mention?" The blonde asked in an accusatory tone.

"Maybe if you didn't talk about how awful you find mudbloods, I'd have told you about my other friends." Harry still ignored them, eating no faster than usual.

This must have stumped the other boy, who went quiet. Unfortunately, Pansy took the chance to jump in.

"I just don't get it, you're a halfblood anyway, that's close enough. Why do you even want to talk to Granger? We apologised, didn't we? Why can't you just let this go?" She seemed genuinely confused. Harry turned around now, to answer the question.

"Pansy. Look around, how many muggleborns can you see? Not just in our year but the school in general? There aren't many. Do you know why that is?" He paused, but she didn't answer. "It's because when they were babies, the war was at its peak, and muggleborn children were found and slaughtered. Babies and toddlers were murdered for being born with magic." Harry had actually almost growled when he read that earlier that day.

"I was born to a pureblood and a muggleborn. My mother was murdered for being a muggleborn, and my father had to go with her. If everything had gone to plan, I would have been murdered as well." He stared into her eyes as he said this. "I had to grow up without my parents because someone decided that my mother didn't fit into their worldview." The purebloods started to pale as they perhaps realised the gravity of his reaction. Harry was struggling to contain actual rage now, and he could tell that he was failing. Icy fury leaked into his voice. "How dare you try to convince me to just 'let go' of this?"

"Harry… calm down…it won't help to explode here, save it for later…" Tom soothed, Harry taking a deep breath to do as Tom instructed. His face became neutral again, which clearly scared the children more than his rage. Tom was right, It wouldn't help anyone if Harry accidentally smashed a few plates right now. Harry looked at his plate now, still mostly full. He couldn't stomach it. Making a disgusted face at it, he got up and left.

Harry was in bed with drawn curtains long before anyone came down to bed.