Harry was back to wandering around the castle. It was barely morning again—his sleep, this time around, was actually quite poor, but it seemed to be affecting him far less than it would have in his first life.

Of course, that didn't mean that he wouldn't rather stay in his nice, warm bed instead of wandering around a castle the majority of whose residents had never even heard of central heating systems.

And yet here he was.

There was no one around, at least. Every once in a while he checked the map to make sure, but so far he'd noticed neither hide nor hair of anyone, student, teacher, or Filch.

And yet still he wandered.

He needed his rest, damn it! He had a busy day planned. Of course, all days were busy, but that didn't mean this one was any less important!

Harry turned down another long hallway—oh, there was the Charms classroom. At least he wasn't lost.

This wasn't the first, and certainly wouldn't be the last, time that Harry wandered the halls before anyone else had cracked open their eyes. His dormmates had started to notice, but none said anything yet. Likely at some point they would, dying with curiosity over what it was he was doing, and Harry doubted the truth—"Oh, you know, just exploring empty hallways for absolutely no reason"—would be enough.

But what else could he say?

He woke up sometimes, was the thing. He woke up sometimes and thought I have to go to— and then the thought died off. He knew, knew with every fiber of his being that wherever it was he had to go was in Hogwarts.

But he couldn't think of what it could be.

He spent hours racking his memory, trying in vain to recall a memory that simply wasn't there. He'd remembered hours of walking to and from classes, of racing around hallways in search of the Basilisk, of literally fighting for his life in one hall or the other.

None tickled the location, stored as a half-thought in the back of his throat, into its full glory.

Harry turned down another hallway, and glanced out a window as he did so. It was nearly time for breakfast now; he must have been walking for hours. He was already dressed, washed, and brushed, so he felt no strong desire to dash back to his dorm. It was Sunday too, so it wasn't as if books and things were a worry either.

This drive—this need to find a place that didn't exist—was beginning to consume him, and he knew it wasn't healthy.

Up a set of stairs.

He just... didn't know what to do about it.

That was a stupid thing to day—of course he knew what to do about it; ignore it. Leave it aside until he finally found a good book about ordering his memories and could make a dent in the giant pile of hoarded memories he could barely begin to deal with. But that was easier said than done.

Another staircase. He had his orientation again—that was good.

If these morning wanderings would likely continue into the near future, Harry decided, then he may as well get something useful out of this. He'd start his exercises during this time, running down deserted hallways, walking on his hands, and doing push-ups at crossroads to try to give his subconscious time to decide which way to go.

And... the seventh floor.

Again.

Well, at least he could be fairly sure the nonexistent room he was aiming for was high.

...or he was just trying to avoid the dungeons.

Harry turned and found the nearest staircase to go down a floor or two.

What else could he do while wandering?

He could try to meditate. He'd found some books on that, both in the Little Whinging public library and in Hogwarts', and while it hadn't worked yet it did seem to be his current best chance at ordering his thoughts.

He could also meet up with the House Elves. He hadn't yet, not knowing quite what to do with them, but... well, they were everywhere and nowhere. He was sure that meeting with them would give him at least a few new ideas.

But then he'd also have to deal with the House Elves.

He wanted to! Really! Especially, selfishly, before Hermione could figure out what was going on.

But... what was it that he was supposed to do?

That was another trip to the library, but then he already spent three or four hours in there every day and he hadn't found an answer yet.

...and he was at the Ravenclaw tower.

Alright, well, exercise and meditation in the mornings then, at least for now, and he'd bump up bullying in importance on his to-do list.

Because that, of course, would be loads easier than House Elves.

Totally.

.

Malfoy came with breakfast. He had, as promised, written up the next petition, and (after a brief an altogether unavoidable spat between him and Ron) had it approved by both Harry and Hermione.

Harry honestly thought some of the wording was iffy, but none of it was outright problematic so he kept his thoughts to himself.

The rest of breakfast was spent drumming up support (this petition, if anything, was clearly going to get more signatures than the first) and ignoring the varying expressions of the professors.

Lunch was spent with more of the latter and actually putting pen to paper instead of the former.

The time between breakfast and lunch was spent with Hermione, pouring over Hogwarts: A History once more. Harry especially kept an eye out for school rules, but so far the book had been silent about any theoretical end to bullying.

Kind of (really) done with the library, and honestly with Hermione, following the mad rush of petition signing at lunch, so he begged off an afternoon of reading and instead marched straight to one of his most neglected loved ones: Hagrid.

He had really, truly tried to visit the man as often as he had the first time, but it always seemed as if there was something else to do, one more thing to be done. He'd therefore only met up with his first friend (and his actually adult friend, which meant his personality was much the same as Harry remembered) three or four times since the start of the year.

Hagrid had still managed to leak just about as much information as he had when Harry had stopped by about once a week, so there was that.

"It's really, really unfair that you can't do magic, Hagrid." Harry said as he helped the man feed the school's drove of pigs. "Why did they even snap your wand? I can't imagine you did anything wrong."

"Oh, oh it was... well, I don't really want to talk about it. But you're right! I didn't hurt anyone, or nothing."

"Then why did they snap your wand?"

"They said I could have hurt someone, with what I had and everything. Wanted to kick me out of the world entirely, but Dumbledore pulled some strings and got me this job. Got me into a good muggle school, too, so I finished out my education like that first."

"That's nice of him." Harry said. "But I still think it's unfair that you can't get your wand back."

Hagrid sighed. "It's just not done, Harry. The last time it happened was decades ago, and it's got to be a majority of the Wizengamot, and...

Dumbledore tried, Harry. Well, he's still trying really—brings it up every year even though I told him he didn't have to. Still does it though." Hagrid shook himself, glancing out toward the chicken coops. "That's enough of that, I think. Much too heavy for a young man such as yourself. How are you enjoying your classes?"

Harry willingly switched topics, talking instead about his difficulty with potting in Herbology, and receiving a few tips in return.

What Hagrid had already said was informative enough, and now it was up to Harry to figure out how to use it.

After Hagrid, and actually doing the homework he hadn't bothered with all weekend, Harry and the rest of the school trooped to dinner.

As with his other two meals, the third one of the day brought Malfoy.

Of course, it was a different one, but Harry still thought it was a very disturbing trend.

"Ah, may I welcome the Board of Governors to the school on this illustrious day!" Dumbledore said. He didn't seem all that surprised at their sudden intrusion. "I believe I had set the meeting for eight, but I must have sent off the wrong time, so I do hope all of you wonderful children welcome them heartily—they are, after all, as key as me in running this school." Ah.

"I... thank you, for your kind words." Malfoy the senior said. "I thought it prudent that we arrive early to talk with the students directly, as they were the ones that contacted us."

"What a marvelous idea!" Dumbledore beamed. "Please feel free to ask around, but I do ask that you not interfere too much in their meals—they have classes tomorrow, after all, and I have the sneaking suspicion that at least a few haven't quite finished their homework."

"I can assure you we will be as efficient as possible." Behind him the other members of the Board, most of whom Harry could never begin to guess the identities of, split off: three went straight for the 'puffs, three to his table, three to the 'claws, and the final two to the snakes. After a second Malfoy the senior joined the last, heading towards the section of the table populated by younger years.

For each table, it looked like, the governors had split once more so that they could cover as many ages as possible.

Of course, the one that had likely been assigned to the Gryffindor first, second, and third years had ignored everyone else and made a beeline straight for Harry.

"So, Mr. Potter, it is my understanding that you were one of the ones at the head of this effort. Do you mind giving me your experience?"

"I really think you should talk to some of the kids who got sick, like Neville." Harry said. "Given that they're the reason this whole inquisition is necessary." The man blinked owlishly at him. "Also, what's your name?"

"Edwin Leroy," he said at last, "Former Gryffindor, class of '52."

"Pleased to meet you." Harry said. "I'm Harry Potter, current Gryffindor first year." He gestured to his benchmate Joshua, who introduced himself next, followed by Ron then Hermione then Dean then Neville then everyone else.

This took some time, of course, and it was clearly something that neither of the other board members who were hovering at the Gryffindor table were bothering with (and equally clearly something that even Edwin Leroy did not want to do), but Harry found it to be simply polite, and therefore didn't care.

"Now, if we could get to the issue of the petition—" Edwin Leroy said, again addressing Harry.

"Sure." Harry said. "Neville, do you mind telling Governor Leroy about your experience?"

"Um, sure." Neville said, looking very much like he did mind. Nonetheless he suffered through his anxiety, dutifully (if tersely) explaining what had happened to him and many others in the room. He had barely finished when Lavender, who had been one of the last to get sick and who many still privately thought had been faking it, butted in . She'd only just begun to regale Edwin Leroy with her own account when a third year who had fainted—his name was John, Harry thought—decided he might as well give his own impression of the situation.

Soon the first, second, and third years were all speaking over each other, butting in and jabbing elbows as each tried to make their voice heard.

Edwin Leroy, who still clearly wished only to speak to Harry, had no choice but to sit and listen to them all.

And then dinner was over, and they were all off to their common room and the rest of the board was gathering before the teacher's table.

Harry grinned as he brushed his teeth. He wondered what the board would think about the newest petition—he'd seen Draco handing it over while Ron was describing the interaction between the headmaster and Madam Pomphrey.

Tomorrow was Monday. He had Potions, Herbology, and Defense Mondays, which gave the start of the week very few redeemable qualities, but he had plans, ones he'd been planning since getting to the base of Ravenclaw tower that morning.

Finally, finally, months into the school year, years after he'd been forced into the games, and decades since the first bit of his burden was revealed to him, he felt...

He felt like he could actually succeed.