Author's Note: Thanks a lot for the reviews, this is my first fic so I really appreciate getting them!

Chapter 4

Robes

'I'll give you a potion that makes your hair less greasy,' Hermione told Harry at breakfast the next day. 'My hair goes greasy, too, you know, only it doesn't show so well since it's so curly.'

'I really hope it'll help, because I only just washed my hair and now it's turning greasy even before it's dried completely!' Harry said exasperatedly.

'What do we have now?' Ron asked, stuffing some more bacon into his mouth.

'Defence Against the Dark Arts,' Hermione said, looking at Harry who was still holding out a long strand of hair, examining it anxiously. 'Nobody seems to have any objections against Lupin teaching here again,' she added.

'I think a lot of people have wisened up a bit since last year,' Ron said thoughtfully. 'Dad says it's different at the Ministry now, too.'

'Yes, I suppose it's made a big difference that Madam Bones has become Minister for Magic.'

'Yes, Dad says she's really good.'

'Well, hurry up, you two, or we'll be late for class,' Hermione said, picking up her books.

On the way to the classroom Harry caught himself wondering why Professor Lupin always wore such shabby old robes – even if he did turn into a werewolf every month, surely he could change into some better-looking robes in between? He'd noticed that Lupin's robes had been even shabbier than usual when he met him at Kingsley's place. But surely Dumbledore paid him well enough to get some new robes? Yet Harry had seen Lupin wear his usual old robes at the feast last night, too.

They sat down right at the front of the classroom. Lupin came in, looked at them, and smiled. He looked around at all the faces, so familiar to him. Was it Harry's imagination, or did Lupin's smile stiffen slightly when he looked at him? Nobody else had seemed to notice how Lupin's expression froze, so perhaps it was just himself being paranoid, Harry thought...

It had to be his greasy hair, Harry guessed, once again running his hand through it, feeling the grease. He decided that he had to block all thoughts about greasy hair from his mind completely – it would be a good exercise in Occlumency, make Snape happy... and Dumbledore...

The Lesson was good, even better than the lessons Lupin had had with them in Harry's third year. They were going to work a lot with counter-curses this year, Lupin told them, and Harry was looking forward to this very much. At the end of the class, Lupin told the three of them to stay on a little. He asked them how they had spent the summer, then turned to Harry.

'How are you feeling, Harry?' he asked, looking at him scrutinisingly.

'Fine.' Harry said, looking at Lupin defiantly. Was he going to start commenting his appearance too, now?

'You haven't... felt any pain you couldn't explain lately?'

'No! Why, is something going on with...' he looked at the door, and seeing it was closed, went on, '...Voldemort?'

'No, no, Harry, nothing like that,' Lupin said reassuringly. 'I was just wondering... But if you're feeling well, there's nothing to worry about.' He smiled at them, said a cheerful Good-Bye, and left.

Harry hoped that it wouldn't be like this all day; they had Transfiguration next and he just wished that Professor McGonagall wouldn't mention his looks at all. But he was hoping in vain, because as soon as she had put them to work on transfiguring rabbits into rats (which was, in fact, much harder than transfiguring hedgehogs into pincushions since it was a mammal-to-mammal-transfiguration) she came over to Harry, asking him if he was feeling all right since he was so extremely pale.

Lunch was as usual, and, thankfully, no-one commented on Harry's looks. After that they had Potions, and Harry thought that at least he wouldn't be asked about his looks in this class, although he might receive a snide comment. Harry and Neville tried to avoid complaining about Potions since Ron was looking rather depressed. He went off, instead, to have History of Magic with Professor Binns, muttering something about wishing he'd failed that one too.

Harry wasn't exactly looking forward to meeting Snape again. He still felt really resentful towards him, and he knew Snape was going to treat him in the same sarcastic, humiliating way as always. He hated Snape, there was no other word for it. Harry had talked to Kingsley about it when he'd been staying there, and Kingsley had tried to convince Harry that Snape wasn't to blame for anything that had happened in the spring, but deep inside, Harry still blamed him – for everything.

They were sitting in their seats as Snape swept into the room. He began speaking in his usual, quiet voice, almost a whisper.

'You are here because you received – incredible though it may seem in some cases' He looked at Neville, his cold, black eyes glittering malevolently ' – an Outstanding OWL in the Art of Making Potions. I shall, therefore, expect you to achieve accordingly in every single class. Is that clear?' He looked around, once again giving Neville a look that made him shiver, but didn't actually glare at Harry. He then told the class to start working on the Caput Mortuum-Potion, which made your body simulate death for 24 hours.

Harry was surprised at the lack of sarcastic remarks from Snape during the Potions class. Once, he had thought that Snape was about to say something, but he had only looked at him coldly, scrutinisingly, yet without his usual expression of malice. Then he had noticed that Harry returned his gaze, and quickly averted his eyes. Nobody else had noticed, though, not even when Snape had said: 'That will do.' without any further comments, about the sample Harry handed in at the end of the class.

'That wasn't too bad,' Harry said when they were on their way upstairs to have dinner.

'No, Snape wasn't his usual bad-tempered self, was he?' said Hermione, who hadn't been harassed more than maybe once or twice this lesson. 'He left you completely alone, didn't he, Harry?'

'Yes...' said Harry thoughtfully. Then he felt a sudden, sharp pain in his temple; he had tripped on the hem of his robes, so badly that he had fallen. Books, quills and parchment were lying in a heap on the floor together with Harry himself, who was feeling slightly dizzy.

'Harry – how did that happen?' Hermione gasped.

'I – I've no idea...' Harry touched his temple and saw that his fingers had become full of blood.

'You've got to go to the Hospital Wing, Harry, you're bleeding pretty badly.'

'But how? How could I trip like that? Those robes are new, they're from Madam Malkin's... they're not too long...'

'Go on , we have to get to the Hospital Wing – can you try to get up?' Harry rose with some difficulty, his head throbbing with the pain. Neville collected his books while Hermione went with him to see Madam Pomfrey.

'You tripped on your robes, you say, but they're not too long for you?' Madam Pomfrey said while dressing the wound. She looked at him, taking in his appearance. 'Tell me, Potter, when did your hair change?'

'What do you mean, change?' Harry said, upset that she was mentioning his abnormally greasy hair.

'It's different, you know that. When did it change?'

'Oh... During the summer, I suppose... around my birthday or so, at the end of July.'

'I see... and now your robes are too long ... and your face...'

'My face? What about my face? And my robes are new, I told you they can't be too long!'

'You must have noticed your face has changed.'

Harry said nothing.

'So, tell me, Potter, have you been taking Polyjuice Potion lately, like you did a few years ago?'¨

Harry looked at her, stunned. But then he realised that she probably knew because of Hermione, who had accidentally put a cat's hair in her Polyjuice Potion and had to spend weeks in the Hospital Wing afterwards.

'No,' he said vehemently, 'I haven't!'

'Hmmm. Well, Potter, if you experience any more changes, or pains you can't explain, come and tell me immediately. It might be important.'

Harry looked at her angrily, upset about the accusation, then swept out of the Hospital Wing, his too long robes billowing behind him.