Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

...

Severus Snape couldn't help but sneer as the first year students scurried into his classroom. Of those sitting in front he severely doubted more than half a dozen students would be accepted after his fifth year with them. If they couldn't live up to them then they had nobody to blame but themselves and their own incompetence in the subtle art of Potion brewing.

He mildly froze however as a new face entered his classroom, one belonging to somebody that the Headmaster had asked him to pay 'extra attention' to. Harry Potter, the son of the woman he had loved, looked nothing like his mother and took on the form of his father. Provided of course his father had been subjected to every curse he knew of.

It was sickening.

And yet somehow, for some reason, Albus wanted him to subject the child to more unwanted attention and verbally berate him for not knowing things that were beyond the current curriculum. The child looked like he'd never heard a word of encouragement in his life.

Part of him wished to pry through the child's mind and make all of those that made Lily's child suffer pay the price. That was not his right though and he could only hope that whatever torments Harry had suffered over the years he did not seek vengeance for in years to come. If he did however, he wouldn't blame Harry by any means.

Beginning his lesson, Snape went over the instructions for today's practical lesson including how one would find themselves bedridden in the hospital wing were they to incorrectly brew their concoction. He added quite sarcastically that he expected everybody to walk away from this lesson unharmed.

Such a feat hadn't happened within his career.

As he watched the students begin to set up their cauldron and the ingredients, Snape hummed to himself all of the things which could likely go wrong in this class. Two stirs too many when the potion was azure in colour would result in it bubbling and were it to get in contact with flesh would cause boils to appear on the skin. Thirty grams more Flubberworm mucus would cause the potion to turn pink and release a purple smoke which would sting at the eyes over the next few hours if left untreated. So many possibilities…

"Waahh!" screamed one student as his cauldron began to overflow, thick red slime spilling over the sides.

And it would seem that Mister Longbottom had discovered a new way to screw up.

As the crude and vindictive Professor proceeded forward to berate the young child on his negligent behaviour his eyes glanced over the cauldron of Harry to see how the boy was proceeding. Somewhere deep down in the blackness of his heart he hoped that Harry showed the same aptitude for Potions as his mother had all those years ago. At least that way he would know that there was something of her still alive.

What he saw however surprised him to find that he hadn't even begun his potion but rather was hard at work preparing his ingredients, measuring out exact quantities to the gram. For those few ingredients which had needed to be cut up they had been done so with professionalism rivalled by Muggle chefs. Mandrake leaves had been finely sliced and the root had been cut into the centimetre pieces that the recipe called for.

Continuing on his way to berate Mister Longbottom, Severus Snape couldn't help but wonder if there were a way in which he could bolster Mister Potter's potential without revealing anything to Albus. The Headmaster wished for him to hinder Harry at any possible outlet. He wished to do the opposite.

Come the end of the class, everybody brought forward a vial of their concoction and it was easy to see that nobody had been able to produce the results required. Other than one student it would seem and young Draco seemed to hold no disdain for the Muggle born student who was already proving herself to be quite an exceptional witch in regards to Potions Crafting. Not that he would ever state so, it would ruin his reputation.

Harry was the last one to bring his vial forward, the rest of the students avoiding him like the plague and giving him a wide berth. Snape could see the isolation behind the boy's eyes but forced himself not to react as Harry provided his pale pink potion. If Snape were to hazard a guess, only sixty seconds left boiling would have produced a result that would even rival his. If all that Harry currently lacked was speed then that was something he could mould in his own time.

"Is everything alright sir?" asked Harry seeing that Professor Snape was inspecting his vial closely as the rest of the students packed up their belongings.

"For your first attempt at Potion Brewing I am quite impressed that you managed to get to this point," said Snape, his voice showing none of the joy he seemingly felt. "If you wish to continue in this room without injuring yourself or your peers you will need to not only keep up this quality of work but do so whilst retaining an optimal level of speed. Am I understood?"

"Yes sir," said Harry meekly, lowering his head leaving Snape to wonder whether his words had actually hurt or hindered Harry's potential. He would have to wait and see.

Snape took a seat at his desk as he looked at the vials in front of him, mentally able to calculate where each and every student took a misstep to create the concoction in front of them. The loyalty to his own house would force him to pass the brews crafted by some of the first year students, he'd rather not receive Howlers from Pureblood families ranting about how it was impossible for their child to be terrible at potions. As tempting as it was he simply couldn't send a return letter stating how incompetent they were and be done with it.

He was snapped out of his thoughts as he heard screams outside of the Potions Lab. In a heartbeat he was on his feet striding directly towards the door. Slamming it open revealed Draco Malfoy on his backside, Hermione Granger on the ground with a red mark glowing on her cheek and Harry Potter standing upright with his wand pointed at Draco. "Inside...now," he scowled through gritted teeth.

...

Detention.

The concept wasn't foreign to Harry, far from it. During his early schooling he had found himself staying behind class much more than the rest of the children. As soon as a finger was pointed in his direction he effectively no longer had a foot to stand on and would just accept the punishment, whether he deserved it or not.

The punishment he would receive from his uncle for being late was always far worse.

Harry had no real idea what to expect from a detention held within a magical school. Undoubtedly it would be better than the lines he had written in the past on why his actions were improper behaviour. He also wondered who this Mister Filch character was that he was to be serving detention with. Having gone over his schedule it showed that he didn't teach anything in his current level so perhaps he taught something more advanced and part of Harry wondered whether he could pry some information out of the adult.

The soft meow of a cat caught Harry's attention. The boy shifted his gaze to see the feline in question looking at him. Slowly dropping to his knees, Harry beckoned the cat closer, clicking his fingers enticingly. Seconds ticked by before the cat slowly started strolling forward, yellow eyes fixated on Harry as it moved closer and closer. When it was close enough the cat sniffed at the outstretched appendage before edging close enough for Harry to scratch at it behind the ear.

"Miss Norris don't usually like students," said a gruff voice that sounded as if it had been gargling gravel. The person had startled Harry, the young boy pulling his hand away from the cat as if it had just burst into flames. In response, the newly acquainted Miss Norris meowed in dissatisfaction. "She's a stray ya see," explained who Harry could only assume was Mister Filch. "Found her when she was just a young'un', mother had abandoned her I reckon. Been with her since."

"That's very kind of you," said Harry with a weak smile. "I played with the stray dogs back home since I wasn't allowed my own pet, perhaps she smells that on me."

"Most kids here use her as target practice then squeal like pigs when she sinks her claws into them, some snot nosed brat even had the gall to try and petition for her to be put down. Can still hear the brat wailing."

"So what do you do here?" asked Harry as Miss Norris rubbed against his leg, begging for attention which he was more than happy to give.

"Clean and punish, punish and clean, ain't a pretty lifestyle but it's gotta be done," said Mister Filch as he took a seat next to Harry, a sigh of relief escaping him as he got off his feet.

"I thought it'd be easy to clean with magic," said Harry inquisitively.

"If I could actually use it that'd make my job that much better," stated Filch. "For generations the cleaner of this place had to simply wave a wand and all their problems were over. I got the job cause my folks pulled some strings because they wanted me to have a 'proper' position. Thing is though if I'm holed up here my whole life I can't embarrass them out there!"

Harry swallowed nervously at the raise in tone but paid attention to the information that Filch was leaking to him. From what he was saying it looked like it was a bad and/or embarrassing thing for the family if their kid didn't possess magic. This also told Harry that magic was hereditary but there were exceptions. Filch came from a magical background but had no magic and Hermione was the opposite in that she possessed magic but came from a non magical heritage. If the family was upset and effectively banished Filch from society by having him work as a janitor because of how society would view him, would magical society also frown upon Hermione because she didn't have a family name?

This also raised another question; did his family name amount to anything?

"Alright then, 'nough talking bout that rubbish," said Filch as he got to his feet, holding at his lower back for support. "Gonna have you wash these cabinets spotless."

"With what sir?" asked Harry as he stood up alongside the older man.

"With the…with the umm…damn it all, I left the water back at the office!" cursed Filch. "Tell ya what, scare the rest of your classmates how horrible my detention was and we'll call it square, savvy?"

"Savvy," replied Harry, not quite sure what the word meant but figuring it suited the situation.

"Good, now off with ya," said Filch with a flick of his wrist, sending Harry on his way. As he walked away, Harry looked over his shoulder at the man as he bent over to scratch Miss Norris. For someone who clearly had a vendetta against many people he was a good person deep down, it was just a shame though that such a happy lifestyle had been squeezed out of the man.

But then again, such was life.

...

Hermione chewed at her thumb as she waited for Harry to return from his detention, the boy having been punished for defending her. Arguably she hadn't had anything like that done for her by her peers both here and in her previous school. Only when a teacher would walk past would her classmates cease their taunting just to avoid getting into any sort of trouble.

Even before when Malfoy had clearly overstepped his boundaries, none of the other Gryffindor students had stood up for her. By all means they didn't approve of what Malfoy had done, the other girls actually having helped her to her feet when Harry and Draco had been summoned inside Snape's office. That just begged the question, why hadn't they helped? Unfortunately she felt she already knew the answer; they were afraid of Malfoy. However it couldn't be that simple, that was taking the essay question and putting down only your final conclusion with no proof of how you got to that point.

Like she did with many difficult questions, Hermione began to break it down.

Was he physically imposing? No, that wasn't the correct question considering they were in a magical school, playground fights weren't dealt with pushing and shoving. They were done with magic, thus Hermione reformed her question. Was he magically imposing? To her, she had to say that he was. Recalling Madam Pomfrey's quick lesson, Malfoy already had an advantage over her just from having been brought up in a magical community. While the rule of underage wizardry may have prevented him from actually performing magic that didn't mean that he didn't know how to perform a number of spells and curses that she wasn't even aware of.

Question number one, complete.

Next question, was the fear justified? Here Hermione knew that she was missing some information, none that she would likely be able to find in a library. One point for the fear being justified she could tell straight off the bat was the fact that Draco seemed to never travel alone, having a small crowd surrounding him at all times. Numbers advantage therefore was clear, nobody wanted to be caught up in a situation where it was three or more on one. Though the question then begged why did Draco have his posse with him at all times? Were they afraid of him just like she was, opting to be with him as opposed to against him, or was there something bigger at play going on?

Question number two, requires further investigation.

As a result of this, she found herself getting up from her chair in the common room and walking over to where Neville was slowly working his way through his Charms essay. She was moderately surprised by his handwriting; his work not looking like that of an eleven year old but rather of someone who was writing out a business deal. Shaking her head from side to side, Hermione focused on the reason why she had come over in the first place. "Neville, can I have a word?" she asked politely.

"Of course," said Neville as he gestured to the seat opposite him.

"You know what happened today right," stated Hermione, knowing full well that Neville had been there during the confrontation. "I need to know, why was Malfoy able to get away with that? I mean I'm sure he got punished by the teachers but nobody other than Harry retaliated, and he even came into the situation late."

Hermione braced herself for the answer, silently praying that Neville didn't say that she wasn't liked by her peers. "Malfoy," said Neville slowly as he put down his quill, "He is…powerful. Not like in he's the second coming of Merlin or anything but he has power."

"Power can mean many things Neville," said Hermione. "Is it just because he is strong?"

"Not that kind of power," said Neville as he scratched at the side of his head. "People are scared of what may happen if they stand up to him."

"And what may happen?"

"He'll…likely tell his father."

Hermione blinked once, twice and a third time before responding. "People are scared of Malfoy because they're afraid he's going to go running off to his father?"

"Yea."

"…That's the stupidest thing I've heard."

"Hermione, you don't understand," said Neville slowly.

"What don't I understand?"

"Malfoy's father…used to support You-Know-Who," said Neville in little more than a whisper. Hermione felt the words she was about to say catch in her throat before Neville continued in his hushed voice. "According to my Gran, Malfoy's father wasn't just a backer but was a part of his inner circle, killing people and all that. The only reason he escaped prison though was because he bribed and threatened his way to freedom."

"That's ridiculous," said Hermione in partial shock.

"That's not all," said Neville. "At the moment Malfoy's father works in the Ministry of Magic, apparently a really high up job there as well though I'm not sure what it is. What I do know though that he is powerful, very powerful. People are afraid of Draco because they're afraid of what his father could do to their family. Even if he isn't murdering or something like that, he still has a lot of money. A lot of money given to the wrong kind of people can make terrible, 'accidents' occur."

"So that gives him the right to bully anyone who gets in his way?"

"It doesn't," said Harry, startling both Hermione and Neville, neither of them having expected the young boy to have returned from his punishment so soon. Ignoring their momentary confusion, Harry continued. "Bullies only do what they do when they know they'll get away with it, installing fear into their victims to prevent them from ratting them out. Hermione, had I not come out and attacked Malfoy, what would you have done?"

As much as it pained Hermione, the ginger haired witch was unable to answer the question having no real clue what she would have done. Reporting him to the teacher was the only feasible answer she could think of but what would that have accomplished? He would have gotten a gentle slap on the wrist before being let out to traumatize the next student.

"So what do you propose?" asked Neville.

"We get strong," said Harry, his eyes sharpening behind his glasses.

"How?"

"The library," answered Harry, his voice deadly serious. "Hermione, the other day you saw just how many books there are; how many of them do you think actually have anything to do with what we may study here?"

Indeed Hermione had been floored by the sheer content available in the library, rows upon rows of ancient tombs far outweighing the library she had visited often with her parents. It also wasn't like there many restrictions on what you could look at (other than the restricted section of course) but a first year student had no difficulty grabbing a book far more advanced than what their current curriculum desired.

"You're rather passionate about this, aren't ya?" said Neville having noticed the distinct difference in Harry's personality from the other times they had interacted.

"Bullies just…bring out the worst in me," said Harry, his features lightening as he became visibly less tense. He did however flinch as Neville got up from his chair and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"It's alright," said the young Longbottom. "I don't like fighting any more than you do but I think it's better to know how to defend ourselves in case the need arises."

Having been struck earlier in the day, Hermione could only agree with what was being said as she got up from her chair and rested her hand on Harry's shoulder. "Thank you," he said softly.

"Just so long as this doesn't interfere with our studies," said Hermione, her statement causing both Harry and Neville to chuckle lightly before they took their seats and started planning.