Part II. Hogwarts

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Friday evening, October

Hogwarts

The Hufflepuff common room was warm and welcoming, decorated in soft ochre tones with flowers and various magical plants haphazardly placed all over the room. There were several alcoves available for studying or socialising, and a large rug occupied the space in front of the large fireplace. Two young witches were lying on the carpet when Hermione entered, working on a Herbology essay by the looks of it. There were round windows near the ceiling, and a warm light from magical candles and lamps set in sconces along the walls.

As soon as Hermione entered with the entourage that had followed her from the Great Hall, more cheering ensued. She felt a bit unsettled by it, quite certain that if someone new had arrived to Gryffindor Tower they'd have a completely different welcome. She plastered on a smile and did her best to remember everyone's names, still feeling unsettled by ending up in Hufflepuff.

"You'll like it here," a dark-haired girl who looked to be about second-year said. "It's the best house, promise."

"Thanks," Hermione managed. She still half expected Professor McGonagall to appear and whisk her up to the tower, any second now.

Professor Sprout entered the room and immediately sought Hermione out. "Welcome, welcome to Hufflepuff! I am, as you heard, Pomona Sprout and Head of Hufflepuff House. If you have any questions or concerns, please don't ever hesitate to seek me out or the prefects who will be happy to help you find your way. Did the Headmaster give you your schedule yet?"

"No, I was told I have to do some placement tests first, Professor."

Professor Sprout frowned and patted her pockets before pulling out a sealed and slightly dirty scroll from one of them. "Ah, yes, here it is. Your schedule for the weekend. Do you have everything you need for now? Toiletries, clothes, books? I'll ask Hestia or one of the others to show you around and take you to the various classrooms tomorrow, this is a large castle. I'm so happy to have you here, anyway, both Minerva and Filius were certain you'd be one of theirs. Do you like Quidditch? If you play we probably have room on the team. Oh, and I usually meet with my badgers regularly so let's aim to meet next week some time and then take it from there. Welcome, again!"

Hermione could only nod and smile weakly at the onslaught but the general care and affection from the now considerably younger Herbology professor still warmed her, somehow. She was less lined, her hair a dark brown this time around rather than streaked with grey.

The Fat Friar floated into the room as well, his whole round body bobbing up and down when he nodded at her. "Welcome to the Sett, Miss Granger. You made a good choice, coming here. Yes, very good."

She nodded at him too, not sure what to say. It wasn't as if she'd had any input to the Hat's decision.

The dorm room was round, as well, with round windows high up beneath the ceiling to let the light in, and a deep ochre rug in the centre. Each student had a wardrobe on one side of the bed and a bookshelf on the other, jutting out from the wall to create a little bit of private space. The bed was set in an alcove with a rounded opening and with heavy draperies in a deep ochre colour hanging in front of it, a large bed and a small side table next to it for a book or wand. Hermione easily spotted the empty bed, nearest to the door, and found her trunk already placed by the bookshelf and her clothes hanging in the wardrobe.

"I'm over there," Hestia said and gestured to the bed across the room. "Next to you is Fidelma Fawley and then Evangeline Shacklebolt." The two witches, one pale and red-haired and one almost as dark as Kingsley, waved at her. "On this side there's Rhea Macmillan and Juniper Brown who really prefers to be called June." Rhea was tall with dark brown, curly hair and light eyes, and June looked a bit similar to Lavender although her hair was a shade darker blonde.

Hermione nodded weakly. After another round of introductions she brought out her toiletries and went to ask Hestia where the dorm showers were located, claiming to be tired after a long day. It was even true, she mused, reeling from the abrupt changes that had led her on yet another path as she showered and dried herself.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

She pulled out her portrait of Headmaster Black once she was sure she was alone in her bed alcove, overwhelmed by the company of so many others after nearly a year on the run and then the weeks spent mainly alone at Spinner's End. The grumpy old Pure-blood Headmaster appeared in the frame, grumbling something she couldn't hear.

"Professor Black!" she hissed urgently. "I'm at Hogwarts now but… I ended up in Hufflepuff!"

"Think, girl!" the Headmaster muttered. "In this time and age, what do you actually need to succeed? It was Dilys who insisted the Hat place you in that House, you know. If you have a grudge, take it up with her."

Hermione sighed and thanked the portrait before putting it away again. She sank back against the pillows and tried to think. Hufflepuff… They were generally considered hard-working, unassuming, and without ambition. The other Houses looked down on them a bit but then again, no one held a grudge against them the way they did to Slytherin or Gryffindor. But wouldn't Ravenclaw have been better? Intelligent and sharp, respected, good study habits. Still, when she thought of Ravenclaws she had known, she couldn't get past the memory of Luna Lovegood. The young, strange witch had been bullied for years, her things stolen and scattered around the huge Castle, leaving her without shoes in the cold Scottish weather. Would this time's Ravenclaws have treated Hermione the same, if she'd joined them as an outsider, competing for grades with them? She obviously couldn't be placed in Slytherin due to her heritage, and it would have been difficult to connect with the Order if she had been, but why not Gryffindor? Seeing Professor McGonagall at the table had been difficult, Hermione had always looked up to the stern witch but now she didn't know who Hermione was and with her being a Hufflepuff they wouldn't have a lot to do with each other.

With a sigh she pulled up her beaded bag to fetch her notebook with the latest to-do lists. She crossed off Get to Hogwarts and added Send Owl to Severus, Regulus and Try to talk to Dilys before dousing the lights and settling back into bed.

To her surprise, sleep came quickly. The bed was comfortable and something about it being set in an alcove, separate yet surrounded by others, made her feel safe.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

The next morning she was accompanied by Hestia and June to the Great Hall for breakfast. They had yawned and muttered about rising early on a Saturday, but still chatted good-naturedly about various students, homework, classes and their families while they all set down to eat. Hermione tried to say as little as possible, painfully aware of her poor acting skills, and hoped they'd assume she was merely adjusting to life at Hogwarts rather than trying to hide something. The Hall was just as she remembered from her first few years at Hogwarts, bright and airy with clouds under a blue sky on the enchanted ceiling, lit by hundreds of floating candles. The Hogwarts elves had prepared a lavish breakfast, something she used to take for granted as a student, but now after her year-long camping trip the sight of so much food on the table made her slightly nauseous.

Just as she'd finished eating, Professor Sprout walked over to the table. Some snares from a vine had snagged in her brown hat, and she had dirt on her sleeves already.

"Good morning, Miss Granger! I hope you slept well? You're testing in Charms and Potions this morning, aren't you? I'll see you after lunch in Greenhouse Seven. Hestia, June or Martinus will make sure you get to the right place in time."

Hermione smiled at the older witch. "Thank you, Professor Sprout."

Hestia escorted her up to the Charms corridor, and Hermione had to work hard on looking lost and not walking ahead of the slightly shorter girl. Professor Flitwick greeted her when she entered the familiar classroom. He, too, looked almost the same as the last time she'd seen him, but younger and vibrantly alive.

"Ah, Miss Granger! Come in, come in! I hear you want to take Charms? A most excellent choice, I must say!" The diminutive Professor's voice almost broke into a squeak as it always did when he was excited.

His enthusiasm had never failed to cheer her up. "Thank you, Professor."

"I'll meet you again after," Hestia called before leaving the room.

"Now let's see what I should ask you," Professor Flitwick muttered to himself. "Ah! This is a favourite of mine." He flicked his wand and a flock of birds came out, circling his head. Yellow canaries, if she was to judge.

Hermione smiled and flicked her own wand. A flock of colourful birds erupted from her wand and began to sing in harmony. The diminutive professor squealed and clapped his hands in delight. He swished his wand at his conjured birds who soon morphed to a complementary colour scheme and began singing in counterpoint to Hermione's.

Once the birdsong had ended, Professor Flitwick conjured a goblet of vinegar and asked her to turn it into wine, which Hermione had already done in her sixth year. They continued to go through the NEWT level curriculum, starting from sixth year, and in the end Professor Flitwick said he was delighted to accept her into class, only asking her to write a short essay on Transcending Charms for next Friday to catch up with the others.

Potions was next, and so they headed down to the dungeons. It felt odd to see Professor Slughorn again, now pre-retirement, his hair and moustache bushier and darker than she last recalled, but she found his tests to be easy and straightforward especially when compared to what Professor Snape would have asked. He did quiz her on both Polyjuice and Amortentia, but didn't ask her to do any practical brewing. Instead he merely waved her off and said he'd see her in class, and she slipped out after managing to steal back Severus' copy of Advanced Potion-Making. She'd made a deal with herself to try to study and learn from his many additional comments and alterations, not to use them blindly but rather to go back and try to understand how he managed to arrive at a different conclusion from the book. He'd written in all his textbooks but Potions probably had the most thorough changes. She thought back to her sixth year with a tinge of bitterness, she was no longer that naïve schoolgirl who thought everything written was law and that rules were made to be followed. She'd even made a vow to herself to not raise her hand all the time, not wanting to be too open about her swottiness. It wouldn't go over well in Hufflepuff, she suspected.

After lunch she made it through Herbology, where Professor Sprout kept derailing her own questions with comments on her House-mates and the projects the other seventh-years were doing, and then she was ushered up to the Arithmancy classroom where Professor Vector waited. She was tall and slender, her black hair completely straight and reaching all the way down to her waist. A dark blue pointed hat, matching her strict robes, made her seem even taller.

Stern and strict just as when Hermione had last seen her, Professor Vector grilled her thoroughly on theory and abstract visualisation. It didn't take long for the Professor to lighten up, however, when Hermione answered all questions quickly and had some comments of her own about probabilistic futurology.

"Of course you're welcome in my class, Miss Granger," Professor Vector said just as they were interrupted by Hestia who had knocked on the door to ask if they were coming to dinner. "The seventh-years have already set up an individual project to work on for the rest of term or maybe even the full year if they're ambitious, which I suspect you may be. Take this week to think about it."

Hermione nodded and smiled weakly, she already had a pretty good idea of what she wanted to study, but wasn't sure it would be a good idea to set it up in class. She knew she was taking a risk but she'd done the calculations beforehand, after all, and thought — hoped — that Septima Vector could be trusted to help out with what Hermione needed to do.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Sheer exhaustion made it easy to sleep that night, after dinner and another shower. Hestia had led her down to the Great Hall again for dinner, offering a running commentary on who was who and where each staircase and corridor led as they walked down the familiar corridors of Hogwarts. She'd almost blown her cover when she skipped the treacherous fifth step of the third-floor staircase when she shouldn't have known to avoid it, but Hestia had just exclaimed that Hermione was lucky to have tripped over that step and didn't seem to think of it further.

After waking up early she went to breakfast with June and Evangeline, while the other girls in the dorm took the opportunity to sleep in. The Great Hall was half empty as it was still early for a Sunday breakfast, but quite a few Ravenclaws were up and the Gryffindors appeared to be gearing up for Quidditch practice.

To her surprise, when the owls arrived with the post there was one for her. She'd sent off an owl to Severus the evening before, to let him know about her first day at Hogwarts, and now one had returned. She smiled when she opened the note to see Severus' spiky scrawl, very similar to his style in the Half-Blood Prince's book. Hufflepuff, really? Best laugh of the day, at least you're not in Gryffindor. Be careful with owls, I don't want Hogwarts owls at the workshop and doubt I'll be at the house much. — SS.

Ancient Runes was the first subject for the day with Professor Darius Scrimgeour, a grey-haired wizard with a closely cropped beard who walked with a cane. He grilled her on Norse runes, Ancient Greek, Sumerian Cuneiform Curses and where each may be used, and asked her to put up Runic wards and to deconstruct and counter Rune enchantments on a book. She'd always liked Runes and had found the Runic wards to be quite useful while on the run.

Hermione took a deep breath again as she approached the Transfiguration classroom, guided by Evie this time. Professor McGonagall looked a lot younger, her hair was a deep brown instead of almost completely grey, but she was as stern as ever. Hermione was asked to Transfigure an owl into opera glasses, to reverse a Transfiguration on a pincushion that should have been a porcupine, and to switch two objects. She was also tasked with some of the things they'd gone through in sixth year, and then to Transfigure a piece of parchment into a table, the size difference making it much more difficult.

By the end, Professor McGonagall was almost smiling. "You seem to know your Transfigurations, Miss Granger. I wonder who taught you? Your style is rather familiar."

Hermione bit down the "You did, Professor," that seemed to rise unbidden in her chest. "I had good teachers, Professor."

The older witch nodded slowly, not taking her eyes off Hermione. "Certainly. Well, you are obviously welcome to my class and I daresay you'll end up at the top of it. Funny you should end up in Hufflepuff, then, I would have pinned you as a Ravenclaw. Not that I would have minded you in Gryffindor either, of course."

Hermione shrugged. "The Hat said Hufflepuff would be the most useful for me, Professor. I have no idea what it meant."

"Hmm," was all Professor McGonagall said before letting her out of the classroom.

After lunch Hestia took her up to the DADA classroom. Hermione had dreaded the DADA test as she'd become a bit too draw-happy during her time on the run. She knew she was twitchy, acting as if a Death Eater could jump out from around the corner at any possible moment.

"Professor Dearborn is good," Hestia was saying. "We've had different teachers each year for DADA, they say the position is cursed."

Hermione was not quite listening. "Dearborn?" That name was familiar for some reason but she couldn't place it.

"Yes, I think he used to be an Auror, he's been our Professor this year," Hestia continued. "Oh, look, what's that on the door?"

They'd reached the classroom door. It was shut, and there were two pieces of parchment pinned to it. One of them was a sealed scroll. To Hermione's surprise, her name was written on it. Cautiously she took out her wand to scan it for traps. Meanwhile, Hestia was reading the other note out loud.

"Classes are cancelled for the week, all students to read these chapters in their books and write an essay to be handed in during the next lesson. Oh, then you won't be able to do the test, Hermione?"

Hermione had finished examining the note and snatched it off the door. "I don't know…" Cautiously she opened the scroll and read it quickly. "It says I'm to write another essay instead of a test and that he usually accepts anyone who is interested into his class." Relief flowed through her, overtaking the anxiety that had been present the whole day. She would be accepted into the class, and she could deal with the rest later.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Lessons started the following Monday, and Hermione was immediately up to her ears in homework assignments and lessons. The year on the run, and the subsequent fall through time, had changed her outlook, however. She was no longer the first to put her hand up, even if she knew the answer, and she kept her essays shorter. There were, after all, more important things to worry about.

The Hufflepuffs were generally kind and helpful, much more than Gryffindor had ever been. They organised regular study evenings and looked out for each other, with each First-Year being assigned a Prefect who kept tabs on them. She'd met with Professor Sprout in private too, for a cup of tea and a brief chat about her settling in. It was strange to have roommates again, someone who asked if she was ready to go down for breakfast or if she was headed to Herbology. She got along well with Hestia, whom she remembered from a few Order meetings at Grimmauld Place, and with Evangeline Shacklebolt who turned out to be Kingsley's sister and insisted on being called Evie. Fidelma and Rhea seemed to have that special best-friends bond that Lavender and Parvati had shared, while June was invited to join them occasionally but otherwise mainly kept to herself, which Hermione found somewhat ironic as the dark blonde Miss Brown must have been related to Lavender somehow. Fidelma and Rhea were polite to her but once they'd figured out that Hermione wasn't interested in make-up and hair styling they quickly lost interest. Rhea seemed a bit annoyed with her, and Hermione couldn't work out if it was simply due to the fact that she had arrived unexpectedly into the group or if it was more personal.

Still, she couldn't help but to feel isolated. No one in the Castle knew her, while the others had grown up together for seven years. She felt old too, older than her years sometimes and certainly much older than the other students who cared more about who was snogging whom in the hallways than about the war, Voldemort or survival. It was strange to meet the Professors she used to have. They were younger, so much younger than before, and untouched by war and other hardships. She guessed it wasn't them who were out of line, though, but rather herself. After all, she'd been launched back to a time where the war — the first war — hadn't even begun properly, and so people just didn't know what he was capable of.

Another difficulty was hiding her scars. They still hadn't quite healed, and she occasionally woke up with blood on her pillow or bedsheets from her neck or the slur on her arm. She kept them Glamoured but that didn't do much for when they opened again.

Her mental scars was another issue. It was hard, to almost see Padma or Parvati coming down the stairs, or Ron walking behind her on the way to Charms. Meals in the Great Hall were difficult, too, the imagery of the final battle being projected over the happy, smiling faces of students and teachers.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Hermione was glad to have the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black on her side. The Headmaster was still prickly and abrasive, but he was also a true link to her own time, her own history. She was just getting ready to go to bed the first Thursday night as a Hufflepuff when she heard him calling for her from the corner she'd put the portrait in, hidden away behind strong Notice-Me-Not charms.

"Miss Granger? Miss Granger!" He sounded annoyed, as usual. "The Headmaster is out of the Castle and you should meet with Dilys and Heliotrope."

She hastily pulled out Harry's cloak from her trusty bag. "Where, Headmaster Black?"

The Headmaster huffed and glowered at her. "Kindly refrain from making me your errand lad in the future, young miss. East wing, third floor, in an alcove next to the painting with the troll shepherd and the mountain goats."

"Thank you, Headmaster!" She beamed a smile at him which caused him to mutter something and stalk out of the frame, almost looking embarrassed.

Feeling rather pleased with herself she snuck out of the dorms with the help of the Marauder's Map and the cloak, evading the others. Hestia was doing patrols, June was studying with the sixth-years in a corner of the Common Room and the rest of them were somewhere else.

It didn't take her long to locate the alcove where a small portrait hung on the wall, depicting a pastoral scene with a picnic on a meadow in front of a tree. Hastily putting up some wards she pulled off her cloak. "Dilys? Headmistress Wilkins?"

"There you are, child," Dilys said warmly. She seemed to be sitting on a blanket, a goblet of wine in front of her, while Headmistress Wilkins was standing stiffly behind her.

"Call me Heliotrope, would you, child? About time," the older Headmistress huffed.

"Thank you," Hermione said, resisting the urge to curtsy. "Would you please call me Hermione, then?"

Heliotrope nodded briskly but Hermione could see she looked pleased.

"I see you've started to settle in," Dilys commented.

"Why Hufflepuff?" Hermione had to ask.

The old Healer smiled. "Didn't Phineas explain it to you? It is just what you need now. Friends and anonymity. No one will object to you for being Hufflepuff."

Well, at least that much was true, Hermione conceded. Hufflepuffs were anonymous in a way none of the other Houses were. She'd never be able to ally with anyone from Slytherin as a Gryffindor, and at least Regulus Black was on her list of people she needed on her side. Cedric Diggory had been Hufflepuff, she suddenly recalled, feeling a stab of guilt for not having thought much of him after his death. And Tonks as well… no one disregarded her skills as an Auror even if she managed to stumble over her own shadow all the time. Another errant thought flew by, causing her to feel both elation and panic simultaneously. Would she be able to save them, this time around?

The other Headmistress nodded impatiently. "You cannot do this alone, you know. Do you have allies yet?"

Hermione shrugged. "Not really. Well, Amelia Bones at the Ministry. Maybe Severus Snape and Regulus Black but they're not quite there yet."

Dilys frowned and appeared to be thinking about something.

"You need to set up an alliance," Heliotrope said. "You need some place to meet and for people to start working together. Start planning for it."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "I'll start thinking about it. Do you have any good candidates?"

"We'll keep our eyes out and let you know through Phineas," Heliotrope said.

"Oh and Hermione… Try to make friends and enjoy yourself, don't study all the time, dear," Dilys said before they all said their good-byes.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Saturday, late October

Belfast

Severus pulled down his hood further to obscure his face with the exception of his unfortunate nose. They were sent on a raid again, this time to Belfast. A Portkey had deposited them in the outskirts of the city after first meeting up in a small copse overlooking a Muggle village. They were given their orders by Rookwood who led the raid. Severus and a few others were tasked with blowing up a few cars in the town centre while some of the others went to seek out a Muggle-lover in town and a third group went to create chaos somewhere else.

Severus nodded at Rookwood and went to join Thorfinn Rowle, carefully pushing all independent thoughts down behind his new Occlumency shields. He couldn't question the orders, wouldn't question them: all he needed to know was that this would somehow benefit the Dark Lord's vision for the future.

His older self had given him much to think of. The research notes were, obviously, brilliant, and they were what had finally convinced him to believe her completely ludicrous story. He knew his own mind, after all, and those notes slotted into his thought processes perfectly. Some of the notes expanded on ideas he'd already had, things he wanted to look at when he had the opportunity, but some of the ideas were completely new such as the insomnia potion and the almost finished Dragon Pox vaccine.

He'd already taken up running, first thing in the morning. The first week he'd felt completely ridiculous when Transfiguring his shabby clothes to something no respectable Muggle would wear and heading off outside on his own, and he'd almost thrown up before stumbling back to the workshop. After a few times it got easier, though, and he was almost starting to look forward to it. He found that he could think better while his legs took him wherever they wanted to go. He'd also started dosing himself with Veritaserum, starting with one drop just before his runs to make sure he wouldn't blurt out his secrets to the first person who asked, and he was thinking of upping the stakes by taking the drop just before going down to the workshop instead. Master Pyrites had taken most of the potion to the Dark Lord, however, presenting it to him in private without giving Severus a chance to shine. He should have known to expect it. The wily old wizard never played fair if he could avoid it.

"Come on, we're off," Rowle said sharply, and Severus tagged along to the corner of the street where Rodolphus and Barty Crouch had set fire to a couple of cars. Reg was there too in another team set to harass some locals at a pub, but Severus had lost track of him shortly after arriving. He hadn't looked too pleased at being there, and Severus wasn't sure if it was about the raid or something else.

His thoughts kept returning to Reg even as he kept pace with Rowle. Reg… and Hermione. Had it been a mistake to put the two of them together? Reg was still a Pure-blood, raised in the poshest circles of Pure-blood Britain with all that entailed in terms of prejudice and world views. They'd had long discussions at Hogwarts about Muggles, Pure-blood culture, visions for the future, everything that was wrong with British Wizarding society. Although neither Severus nor Hermione had talked about her background it must have been obvious to Reg that she wasn't a Pure-blood, at least. Hopefully she'd be able to pass as Half-blood.

She'd sent a couple more letters after that first note about her ending up in Hufflepuff. Severus had laughed out loud when reading about that, despite being alone in his miserable childhood home at the time. She'd written about classes, asking about a potion they were about to brew, and about some of the students she thought he might know. He'd felt both embarrassed and oddly proud over receiving an owl when eating a quick breakfast at the workshop with Warrington and Vulchanov, but had obviously not divulged any details about the sender.

It was with increased detachment that he watched his fellow Death Eaters rampage through town. Was this really it? The revels, the raids, feeding into both the baser instincts of the participants and into the shared guilt of being there, being as deep in it as everyone else, just as guilty. There was no way out, only death or Azkaban.

Still, it was the first time he'd ever felt as if he belonged somewhere, with his fellow Death Eaters. And the Dark Arts… he had to admit they were a passion of his. He wanted to learn, to understand, to master them. The rush of power after casting Dark curses was sensual, almost erotic in its intensity. It was just… seeing up close what could be done with the curses and hexes made him ill sometimes, when the Dark Lord had brought Muggles as target practice to their gatherings. And he also got to see what happened if one lost control of the Darkness, when the caster became hooked on it and turned away from everything else. He suspected Bellatrix Black Lestrange was close to the edge, and some of the older Death Eaters were definitely past it, such as Justus' father Crispus Mulciber. He'd seen them at the more debauched celebrations hosted by the Dark Lord, especially during initiation nights for new recruits, when blood and lust and pain mixed to push the participants to ever higher levels of depravity. Or lower, as it were.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

They regrouped at a seedy pub in Knockturn Alley called The White Wyvern, and soon they were all seated with a pint of beer each. Gereon Avery, Justus Mulciber and Rabastan were laughing and discussing the raid. Mulciber and Avery had been tasked with creating havoc in the town centre, and had burned down a few market stalls and beaten up a few of the local drunks, while Rabastan and Reg had been in the group dispatched to harass the Muggle-lover, a wizard who had married a Muggle and had a half-blood daughter. Severus didn't know more about the man, nor did he care.

Severus drained his pint and pulled back slowly, inching to the edges of the room. The setting made him uneasy. Avery and Mulciber had been his friends since school, true, but their friendship had always been mostly transactional. Severus helped them with their homework, and in return he got to sit with them for meals and walk with them to classes, which helped curb the worst of the bullying from the Marauders. He was always on his own in class, though, as the two others paired up whenever they needed to practice together. It seemed as if the role he'd had at Hogwarts continued even with the Death Eaters, to some extent. He was tolerated, accepted to some degree for his mind, his skills and his dedication, but never quite fitting in when they started talking about business or social events, and he wasn't exactly on their list of people to invite whenever someone threw a party.