His first day passed in silence. Literally, no one talked to him. His teachers introduced him but didn't call on him – that was about it. He didn't find the subjects as interesting as even Divination; they were really useless – well, useless for someone who wanted to be an Auror. But if he kept it up here, he really had no chance for that at all.

In the middle of Literature, Harry found himself contemplating his new career path, but then settled for dying young and not having to worry about it. Honestly, by the time he was walking to therapy he was about ready to end his life himself. He knocked on the open door that had the number he was looking for written in silver letters, M. Rosenburge Ph.D.

"Harry Potter!" She said happily. "Welcome. I'm Martha Rosenburge, but you can call me Marty."

"Hi Marty," Harry said without even a tenth of the warmth she had.

"I think we'll be seeing too much of each other to be on a last name basis, so I'll call you Harry. How about that?"

Harry nodded and took a seat on the couch she indicated, and she sat down in the chair near to it.

"Just so you know," she said, "these sessions aren't timed; you can leave whenever you wish, but you must stop in every evening to at least say hello and tell me you're too busy to talk. If you don't show up I'll have to go looking for you, and trust me, after walking around in these heels I won't be in the best mood."

Harry looked at her blue high heels and agreed they didn't look like the best shoes for walking.

"Okay."

"And, you should know, I have read your file from Stonewall High, you're previous school. We can talk about what's in there whenever you want – it doesn't have to be today, or even this week – but I'll bring it up from time to time. Is that okay with you?"

"Yes, sure." Harry found the floor by the open door very interesting for the moment, because he was suddenly feeling quite hot and bothered.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Do you want to conclude today's meeting?"

"Yes!" He stood up fast and met her eyes for the first time since sitting down.

"Well, it was great meeting you. I really only wanted to get that over and done with, as I'm sure you did. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

He nodded and hurried to the door, looking back once to see her smiling fondly at his retreating back. He gave her a small smile – his first in days – and then made his way back to his dorm.

He found Kenny in bed listening to music and reading – didn't even look up at him – and suddenly thought a longer session wasn't such a bad idea suddenly. Harry sat down heavily on his bed and pulled out his math homework, which was going to take some serious studying because he didn't have a Hogwarts class that taught anything close to this sort of subject. He buried himself in the numbers, trying to forget about the silent students, the unhappy teachers, Kenny, and Marty and his therapy sessions. He forgot about so much that evening, he even forgot to learn any math, and just fell asleep on his text book.

The rest of his week went in a blur of notes and confusion…and some pretty memorable moments thanks to Dudley. Nobody talked to him in the halls, but they whispered about him. He had a feeling Kenny was the cause for this, because most the people Kenny walked by held out their hands and got a friendly slap by him. It was the Smeltings way to haze the new kid, but no one was brave enough to really try it with Harry, thanks to Dudley. The first incident happened in a class Harry shared with him – Modern Marvels. From somewhere in the back a letter was passed up to him. Harry opened it discretely and saw a stick figure with a lightning bolt-shaped scar on its head, on his knees with a big cock stuffed in his mouth of another laughing stick figure.

A sudden memory flashed through his mind, of pseudo-Ron's mouth coming down on him and sucking him in deep, and just the memory of that blinding pleasure brought sparks to Harry's eyes. Then suddenly that feeling was overshadowed with the idea that they knew he had had sex with a guy, and fear tainted the memory. His hand crushed the drawing into a fist-sized ball, and then a big hand clasped him on the shoulder. Harry jumped and jerked around, but it was Dudley, who had gotten up from his desk two rows back to see what the note was.

He took it from Harry's hand and he opened it up, and his pudgy face turned instantly red.

"WHO DREW THIS?!" He bellowed in the room. The teacher had been talking and writing notes on the board and had missed the whole thing, but when Dudley yelled he broke his chalk in half and turned around in shock. "WHO DREW THIS?! WAS IT YOU, QUIMBURG?"

Quimburg was a skinny, prissy boy sitting near the back of the room. He'd frequently jabbed Harry in the halls, and Harry was glad now to have a name for his aggressor. Quimburg's eyes had opened to the size of watermelons and he furiously shook his head.

"Sit down, Dursley!" The teacher – who Harry had forgotten the name of – said, and though Dudley went to his desk he told the class in his angriest Big-D voice, "Any of you give Harry notes like this again –" he held the crumpled drawing up in the air in his fist "– and I'll break BOTH your arms!"

Harry had never before been so pleased to have Dudley as his cousin.

There was a few elbow jabs in the halls, and a few good knocks while he took his tray of food to a table, but Harry was such a good Quidditch player that he dodged any severe mishaps. On top of this, if Dudley caught sight of any of the fowl behavior he'd storm over and give the kid a good kicking that would leave the kid nearly peeing his pants in pain and fear. Harry had no idea Dudley could be so ferocious, but it was clear now why he was the leader of his big group of wrestling friends.

And the best thing about all of this: Harry had something to talk to Marty about that didn't go anywhere close to his ordeal at his last school.