He was greeted at the door by a frantic, plump looking sort of woman. She didn't even ask what happened, as the rose-red Harry approached her and gave off a loud whistle. She simply took him in, sat him on a bed, and began mixing a potion in front of him. "It's only the first day, and I've already had to deal with a student who has sprouted leaves from the armpits, and two niffler bites! Really! And now you've gotten bitten by a kettle beetle! I mean, really, how you even came across one is a mystery to me! Hoarding them? Playing a prank? Mixing a nasty potion? We really need harsher security on the things you students bring into this school," she complained, and so on, until Harry became disinterested, and waited for her to give him the potion. He was staring dreamily out the window, when he saw a black-cloaked figure cross the grounds below. He followed the person with his eyes, when suddenly it looked up at him, or at least he assumed it did, though he couldn't see the eyes. Harry felt something burn slightly on his forehead, as he watched the person off. It had felt like someone had pressed a needle in his scar, just enough to draw blood. It wasn't exceptionally painfl, just confusing. He felt the scar with his fingers, and examined them to be sure he wasn't bleeding. There was nothing there. He dismissed it as nothing more than a twitching nerve. He was rather nervous, now, after all. He had heard the bell to the next class ring already, and he was eager to get to his next lesson. Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, didn't seem to be in a great hurry to mix the potion either. She was still bustling back and forth between cupboards for various supplies and complaining about how unsafe the school was. When she had at last fed him a potion that felt like an icy syrup as it slipped down his throat, and had applied a pink paste that smelled like salmon under the bandage on his arm, he was off with his pass. He was five minutes late to his next class: Potions.

Harry hurried down into the dungeon, and ran into the classroom. A pale, greasy-haired man with a large, hooked nose stood at the front of the class and stopped in midsentence of what appeared to be his beginning of the year speech. There was a squeaking of chairs as the class turned in their seats to look at Harry, standing by the doorway. He walked in, going red again as the eyes followed him, feeling almost as though the Kettle Beetle bite was acting up again. "Sorry, Professor," he said sincerely. "I had to go to th hospital wing. I have a pass here from Madam Pomfrey to excuse me for being- --"

"Mr. Potter," said the man, so maliciously that it made Harry stop making his way to his seat, and stand straight, looking at him. "It is not up to Madam Pomfrey to decide whether or not your absence is justifiable. Or whether or not you are excused. For it remains that you have missed out on five minutes of my class, and are wasting another five on useless explanations. You ar not excused. You will only get half credit for class today, and you will never be late to my class again. Am I understood?" Harry was taken aback by the teacher's blatant malice towards him. His embarrassed blush grew even hotter, but this time with anger as well. "Oh.." he said, "Um, yes Professor Snape," he said, remembering the warnings he had received about this teacher in particular.

Snape looked hard at him, eye to eye, and Harry found himself looking straight back. 'Why am I doing this?', he thought, still not turning away his stare. Something boiled up inside his chest, and swelled inside him. It was anger, changing also into the pride of facing down Snape. 'Snape,' he thought, shocked at his own malice, 'sounds like snake. A serpent. A greasy, slimy, slithering serpent..' The stare-off lasted not long, but the class, which had had a background murmur of voices before, students taking the brief interruption as a chance for a break, was silent again. The seconds passed like infinity between Harry and his Potions professor, and all eyes were on them. "Potter, you will take your seat now, and I will not tell you again. Or I will deduct points from Slytherin, my house or not. I'm quite sure that your fellow Slytherins would not be too happy with that either."

Harry's eyes' broke away from Snape's for a moment and flickered towards Crabbe and Goyle, and back to Snape, who was smirking knowingly. Harry heaved his backpack, and made to sit at a table next to Ron's cauldron. Ron smiled slightly at him, thankful to have a partner if nothing else it seemed. The Gryffindors all seemed to have already become well acquainted with one another, and had broken off into groups. Harry was slightly envious of them, having not found a person that was acceptable as an acquaintance among his own class. Before he could set his things down, though, Professor Snape put a long-fingered, calloused hand down on his shoulder, and pushed him back. "Potter, that is the Gryffindor side of the classroom, and you are not a Gryffindor. You'd do well to remember that."

He didn't let go of Harry's shoulder, but led him over to the Slytherin side of the room, his fingers now digging into his shoulder, and with such a force that Snape's push solely propelled the reluctant Harry across the room, his heels sliding across the stone floor. Embarrassed about being treated like such a child, Harry stepped away from Snape and shook his hand off, walking over a taking a seat on his own. He put his stuff up purposefully noisily, and took as long as possible to adjust his things, looking as innocent as possible while doing so, not once daring to look up at Snape, who stood behind his desk at the front of the classroom, watching Harry struggle to get seated. Harry hadn't even noticed where he had taken his seat. He had turned out to sit next to a skeletal girl, with startlingly uncommon features. She had white-blonde hair that fell in curls around a round face, and had small, narrow eyes that had the color of a wolf's. Her eyelashes and eyebrows where snow white and blended in perfectly with her complexion. Harry was shocked to realize he hadn't noticed her before, despite the startling contrast she made against her black robes. He smiled at her in greeting, and the girl looked back at him in horror, as though only finally realizing that he meant to sit next to her. She made an attempt at a smile back to him, but she quickly turned her head away, and said in a whisper that cut through the silence of the room, "Dirty halfblood." The room tensed, and Harry looked around and noticed that the Gryffindors had stiffened in their seats, and were glancing over at him as though waiting to see what he would do. Many Slytherins, on the other hand, had turned in their seats and were smiling at him, amused. Harry felt his anger that had been building up in him since the day began at last break through the dam he had built to keep it back. He visibly relaxed and let out a quiet laugh that stopped class once again. (Snape had continued teaching through the girl's comment, but had now put down his wand, which was guiding a piece of chalk lazily across the board, and turned to watch what happened.)

Harry smirked at the Slytherins, and smiled all around the room, before turning to the girl. "Yep," he said with what seemed to be sincere happiness, every one of his teeth showing as he spoke out of mirth. "That was my mum's fault. She was a Muggle-born, all right! I mean, who cares about her having been a witch," his eyes flashed menacingly, and the girl, who had thus far been listening to him approvingly with a knowing smile, leaned away from him in her chair, and her smile faded into a look of fear, covered by stoic determination to not show her fear. "I, mean being a witch all your life and even attending Hogwarts and graduating and such, why that counts for nothing, seeing as how all her family hasn't done it," his voice remained steady as he spoke, with the same tone of sincerity, which his grave look had since disproved. "So, I guess that makes me a filthy halfblood. Professor!" he said, waving his hand in the air. Snape merely glared at him, not answering him. "Professor, this side of the room my be my fellow Slytherins, but I'm scumming up their half of the air by sitting over here. I don't want to make any of the feel dirty, so I believe that I should move over with Gryffindors. I don't think they'll mind having a 'dirty halfblood' like me with them, what do you say?"

Snape continued to look at him, and snarled, "No, I wouldn't want you to distract the Slytherins, now would I? But..tsk tsk tsk..I think that since you're from another house, it might cause some distraction among the Gryffindors, too. So here," he waved his wand in the air and made a stiff wooden chair appear, with a single person desk as well. It was right in front of Snape's seat. "Why don't you join me? I promise that you shall not deter me from my work.again. Come on. Now, Potter," he added with a smile at Harry's reluctance.

Harry noticed it as well, but didn't want anyone to think he cared. He bravely walked to the front of the room, set his things down, and looked expectantly up at Snape with a self-assuredness that he did not know himself to possess. He thought that it had been stamped out after the years of torture at the Dursley's house. But with this fresh batch of bullies and humiliation, Harry found himself with a power to do something about, given to him by the clarity of retrospect, knowing that he did not want Hogwarts to become like Privet Drive. 'Here,' he promised himself, 'I will not be afraid.'