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Sorry this chapter took so long. FFN wouldn't let me upload it for the past week and a half. :S

Some notes about this chapter:
-The dates are right, I do believe... using a perpetual calendar to get the days of the week for 1997. The goodness of technology. Sorta.
-I know nothing about caffeine headaches and, anyway, they were exaggerated (I think... lol) for the purpose of the magical world. And we can assume magical caffeine is made at Hogwarts. (Is coffee even that common a drink in Scotland?) Magical caffeine, come one, come all - still addictive but cures caffeine headaches immediately...?
-I'll work the light in the dark into the plot later, I promise [read: hope].
-Yes, we don't know anything about Blaise Zabini except that he's a Slytherin in Harry's year - so I'm free to embellish! For the purposes of this story he's a he, in case you didn't notice or something.
-Haha, I'm writing this and thinking, "Wait, that's out of character!" but you don't KNOW what's out of character since you don't know who the OOC peeps are until later chapters! Muahaha! *Coughs* *Scratches head*

The characters we know of are (body - person IN body):
Blaise Zabini - Harry Potter
Crabbe - Padma Patil
Goyle - Dumbledore
Neville - McGonagall (or I've at least tried to imply so... freebie I guess?)
Ron Weasley - Blaise Zabini
Draco - Lavender
I think that's everyone.

Thank you to my wonderful reviewers!....

Ayelet, excessivelyperky, penny, BURN THE R.U.M, Ellavira (...O.o...), Enahma, Mystic Moon6, elseedy (thanks! And... gah, bad mental image there, lol... and I was thinking about adding that to the plot, but if they changed the passwords to the common rooms, I dunno if they'd be able to get back in there.), Severus Snape (Thanks. I do tend to speed things up a bit too much when writing. --"" I'll try and keep it more naturally-paced.), LeeLeePotter, Cally, falling-alone, Kyra Invictus Black (thanks for suggesting listing the characters, otherwise I might be the only one making sense of this, lol... gah, I guess putting Neville in his body is a bit too obvious, isn't it? I had plans in mind to write a little sidefic describing Neville's thoughts about it.), pixyfairy120, Hayley, Arili (heh, yeah - tried looking up the name Blaise and it came up as both a guy and girl name. Oh well. And you'll find out where Hermione and Draco 'landed' sooner or later, I'm hoping to work a lot of characters into this mess. *evil laugh*), Ronandchicken (yay I'm on a favorites list! Woot, mon! Anywho, the killing thing didn't work because... er... Voldemort's henchmen are stupid? ^^" In my prewrite of this it was skewered by the wards set up around the castle, but I kinda cut that part out, except for a teeny mention of it by Dumbledore.)

Onward!

.~*~.

Chapter 3

The common room was mainly empty, housing only an odd mix of first, third, fourth, and sixth years playing a game of exploding snap and talking amongst each other, Crabbe with his head in a book (something Harry never expected to see once they got changed back), and a brooding Millicent Bullstrode who stared into the tiny unlit fireplace. He walked straight past them all and returned to his room to go over his schedule and brood until lunch.
Harry plucked his schedule from beside the four-poster which he then fell into, rolling over and holding the schedule close to his eyes. The small writing was rather hard to read... and the handwriting looked familiar, now that he thought about it. Hmm.
He strained to think of the date. Today was... Tuesday. October seventh. He looked at Wednesday's classes.
Divination was the first one recorded. I switch bodies and still can't escape her class, Harry grumbled. After that was Charms, lunch, Care of Magical Creatures with Gryffindor, and History of Magic.
Funny, he had never really noticed Blaise in his Care of Magical Creatures classes. He wasn't much more than wallpaper, when he thought about it. There, but not really.

He was getting a headache. Dropping the schedule in his trunk, he returned to the common room, which was pretty lifeless. Crabbe was still reading, Bullstrode was still glaring at the flames in the hearth as they licked at the firewood, and Parkinson was drinking coffee and reading the Daily Prophet.
Coffee looked good. Very good. Harry sat down with Crabbe, who looked up.
"What'd Weasley want?" he asked him, and Harry shrugged.
"Tried to figure out who I was. I figure he might be one of the real Zabini's friends or something."
"Ah." Crabbe returned to his book.
There was a pause, during which Harry stared at Parkinson's coffee longingly. He hadn't known that Zabini needed caffeine in the morning. He wondered absently why he hadn't needed some previously.
"Where did she get the coffee from?"
"Why are you asking me?"
"Mmm."
Harry crossed the room and stopped in front of Parkinson, who looked up at him irritably. "Get out of the light."
Stepping sideways, Harry asked her about her coffee, and she shrugged it off. "Go ask the house elves for coffee. They'll be more than happy to give it to you."

So that's where Harry was found to be, five minutes later. The house elves didn't really notice him when he entered, though. He felt like he was stuck under an invisibility cloak. It wasn't enjoyable.
The cloak. The map.
Whoever was in his body had probably discovered them by now. He would have to take a midnight stroll to the Gryffindor tower to get them back, he told himself.
"Dobby!" He called over the elf who was wearing a maroon sweater and happily fixing food for lunch. The elf looked up and blinked, smile erased.
"What does master Zabini seek?" he asked, putting a large, fake grin on his face.
Harry wanted to tell the elf that he wasn't Zabini, that he was the elf's idol, but decided against it. Dobby might babble it off to someone else.
"Could I please have some coffee?"
The elf looked unnerved, and took a minute to fix it before bringing it back. Usually all the elves brought food over immediately, but they didn't seem very fond of his current body.
"Thank you."
The elf was silent, standing there, waiting for more instruction. Harry gulped down the warm liquid despite the fact that it burnt his throat, and felt the headache subside somewhat.
"Thanks, Dobby," he said, handing the coffee cup that he had emptied in record time to the elf. He left without further word, walking pretty aimlessly down corridors and peering out the occasional window. He saw a large number of students outside in the almost-chilly autumn weather, hopping in piles of leaves and circling the lake. Hermione was out there, and so were others who weren't really themselves. Padma Patil. Luna Lovegood.
He felt a twinge of regret that he felt he couldn't tell anyone who he was. He wanted to find Ron and Hermione. It looked kind of hopeless.

During lunch, he sat out at the lake, leaning against a boulder while chewing toast. It was a little cold, but very peaceful, and almost made him feel like things were normal.
Ha. That was a strange thought. When are things ever normal at Hogwarts?
"May I join you?"
He turned and looked over his shoulder, and saw that Parkinson had felt the lake was perfect for lunch as well.
"Er... sure," Harry answered.
Pansy seated herself on the somewhat-sandy bank of the lake, about a meter away. She looked out over the calm surface of the lake as she sipped her coffee.
"Nice out here," she said simply. Harry noticed that she was rubbing her arms. Maybe it was a little colder than he thought.
"Sorta cold."
"Uh huh."
This is awkward.
"I'm guessing you're new to Slytherin," Pansy said after a while. "Most Slytherins despise Zabini, but they know who he is."
Huh? "Yeah... that's right," he answered, tossing the remainder of his toast out to the squid. It was amusing to watch a great tentacle come out and grab it. "I'm not going to tell you who I am though, if that's what you want to know."
"Gryffindork." Harry looked over to see Pansy's smirk.
"Slytherin."
"What's insulting about that?" she asked with a small hint of indignance.
"Everything," Harry replied, grinning. He put his hands behind his head and looked up at the cloudy autumn sky.
They were silent for a few more moments. Neither really wanted to be the first to say anything.
"Days without classes are boring without my friends," Harry noted idly.
"Then find them."
"It's appealing, but I think I'll find them eventually. What about you?"
"Slytherins don't need friends."
"That's kind of sad," Harry replied, an eyebrow raised.
"It's what makes people who have them weak."
"Not always."
"How would you know?"
Harry thought carefully about an answer to that question. "They've only helped me so far." Pansy tried to skip a rock across the lake, but it fell in after the first skip. She sat back, shivering.
"I'm going in," Harry told her, and she nodded and walked beside him. When they reached the common room, Harry sat with Crabbe, who seemed considerably farther in his novel.

"Lunch with Parkinson?" he questioned, bookmarking his place and looking up at Harry in amusement.
"Yeah," he answered. Crabbe had an expression which said, 'I know something you haven't realized.' "What about it?"
"Oh, nothing in particular. Just be careful while we're different people. Don't set up anything negative for when we switch back. Karma and all."
Harry blinked.
"Okay...."
"Yep." Crabbe reopened his book and kept reading.

Harry longed for Quidditch talks, games of exploding snap, and other things that Ron would do with him. He also found himself wanting to hear Hermione nag him about homework. However, he was currently isolated. Unless he wanted to read. The only book he had that wasn't a schoolbook was Fighting the Dark Arts. He wrinkled his nose.
Somewhere a clock chimed. He pulled on a thread on one of the pillows. He imagined pulling that thread until the entire pillow shriveled very suddenly and goose feathers poofed over everyone else in the common room, but the thread came out and ended up only being a few centimeters long.
He stood and exited. Not really sure where to go, he headed in the general direction of the owlery. Maybe Hedwig would recognize him.
The windows of the owlery were boarded up. Instructions were scrawled on a paper in a navy blue ink... something about bringing owl and letter both to one of the teachers listed. He looked for Hedwig, but found that he couldn't recognize her among the other snowy owls.
Maybe I'm losing my mind.
"Hedwig?" he tried. Several owls looked over, but only one hooted. Yes, there she was–but she didn't know that he was himself.
"Hedwig? It's me."
The owl hooted again and flew to his arm. She nipped his ear. She recognized him.
"Just wanted to visit you," Harry said awkwardly. "How are the owl pellets?" He laughed nervously.
Hedwig seemed to settle down on his shoulder, leaning against his head. Harry patted her, then let her get back in the rafters and left, unsure of what to do before dinner. He slowed his wandering pace too look out a window. It was beginning to rain. He followed a narrow crack in the window with a finger, then walked to another window. The darkness reflected his face–not Zabini's, his.
This surprised him. Why had no one cracked this window like the rest? Had they forgotten it?
He knew it was right for him to crack it–but he wanted to be himself again. He stared at his reflection longingly, before he saw the light outside.
No one should be out when it is this dark, right? He wondered if it was after five. The wand tip stopped and seemed to hold still a minute before it kept walking. Walking away from the castle... towards what? He couldn't tell what direction this window faced. He wondered suddenly if people on the outside of the window could see him–Harry's reflection–through it. He sighed and cast a small charm which cracked the window just like the other ones. Harry faded away and Blaise Zabini swam into view.
Five bells chimed. Now it was too late to be outside–but the wand tip, lit up like a star in the darkness caused by the storm, kept moving. Floating away.
Harry shook his head and decided it didn't concern him. He wandered around for about an hour and finally reached the Great Hall and settled for scanning to see who wasn't there.

The Gryffindor table, which he was familiar with, seemed fine. No one was missing from it. He scanned his own table–no, the Slytherin table–and couldn't remember who was supposed to be there.
He sipped from his goblet, expecting pumpkin juice, but choking when he tasted coffee. It was scalding hot, and burned his throat which had been expecting chilled juice. But when he tasted it, he realized his head was throbbing and drank more. He hoped that his body wouldn't get addicted to caffeine.
Another glance at the Gryffindor table and he saw that Ron's eyes were again on him, and he glared back. Not again. He ate his dinner slowly. His eyes were again drawn to Ron's, who pointed upwards. Harry looked up.
And choked. Apparently, the Great Hall's ceiling was one of the reflective surfaces Goyle had mentioned.
"What's wrong, Blaise?" Crabbe looked upwards as well. "Oh."
"Tell Dumbledore," he muttered in his ear, and Crabbe nodded and the message was passed down the table to Goyle, and all the students in between had looked up and either been panicked or unphased.
Goyle looked upwards as well, and seemed tired. Then he stood and told everyone to take their dinner to their common room, even as cramped as it would be, and then Harry was in his–no, Slytherin's–common room squished between some first years miserably trying to eat.

The night was fitful. He rolled around in his cold four-poster in the cold dormitory in the dungeons under the school. He stole Goyle's quilt that night, burrowing underneath and trying to make it warmer by breathing out warm air, but even his breath was cold.
He gave up before dawn, tramping down to the common room. He had expected to find himself alone and maybe a little warmer, but was wrong in both aspects.
"What're you doing down here?"
Harry jumped and turned to see Pansy reading in a corner, head leaving on an elbow. She looked tired from the candlelight next to her book. Harry stumbled over to her, his feet asleep from the chilliness of the dungeons; he wondered how Slytherins could stand it.
Brrr.
"Do you ever stop reading?" Was asked groggily. He squinted at the text in the book but it swam in front of his eyes.
"Looking for ways to change back to our normal bodies," she muttered, turning a page. Mussed blonde ringlets touched the page as she leaned in several centimeters from the script before her, reading something carefully. Then she grunted and pushed the book away, slamming it shut. "Go away, Zabini."
"Why?" Harry was too tired to form longer sentences.
"Because I said so."
"Slytherin."
"Hrmph."
Harry shuddered. "How do you stand how cold it is?"
"Wear layers, idiot."
Pansy was standing up, dusting off her wrinkled clothing, and stretching. She cracked her neck, causing Harry to raise an eyebrow, and then she flung herself back down on the couch.
"I hate having curly hair," was all she said, before sighing and closing her eyes. Harry blinked, now pretty much awake. His stomach growled.
"Personally, I think Zabini's hair is an improvement for me." The clock chimed four times.
Pansy didn't reply, just breathed in deeply. Harry absently studied Zabini's hands. They weren't worn from Quidditch, nor did the nails have any dirt under them. His wrists were uncomfortably bony.
He felt something fall against his left side, and when he looked over he got hair in his mouth. Shaking his head, he realized that Parkinson had fallen asleep against him. She was now snoring lightly. Harry shrunk into the couch, unsure whether he should just get up and let her sleep on the sofa, or if he should keep sitting there. Her hair was tickling his neck. He found it all rather uncomfortable.
Huh.
He stood slowly, aware of the sudden coldness on his left side that had been absent for the past few minutes. The moment Pansy's head hit the cushion she stirred, but didn't wake up; Harry hurried to his room, freezing. Again.

.~*~.

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