Harry woke up early the next morning and made a bee-line to the bathroom. Her plan for avoiding detection by her roommates involved getting up at five-thirty and taking a shower before any of the others rose for breakfast. She tiptoed carefully between her bed and Seamus's on her way to her trunk, which had been placed at the foot of her large four-poster bed. She wished she had an armoire of some sort to hang her robes in so they didn't wrinkle, but figured she could always learn a charm for that. And since the other boys didn't worry about it, she figured she shouldn't make a fuss over the issue, either.

When she emerged from the bathroom, her four roommates were still asleep. Her bed was in between Neville's and Seamus's. Neville's was right next to the door to the landing, as was Dean's. Ron was in between Dean and Seamus, and seemed very pleased with it. If his snoring was anything to judge by, his bed was very comfortable.

But then, she thought as she tucked her pajamas into her trunk and started emptying it of all books and school supplies, mine was comfortable too. More comfortable than the one at home, even. Moving quietly with the smooth motions she had perfected while sneaking around the restricted parts of Potter Manor, Harry navigated between her and Neville's bed and started piling the books on the small shelf that doubled as a nightstand. There was just enough room left over for her supply of parchment and extra ink and quills. With that done, she sat on the edge of her bed and stared out the window at the rising sun, wondering how Alex was faring at Asclepius Academy.

Seamus was the next to wake, and the noise he made when he tripped on his trunk, and subsequent swearing, woke the other three.

"'S'too early Mum," Ron moaned sleepily before turning over and hiding his face in his pillow. Dean and Seamus snickered before leaving for the bathroom. Neville followed them silently a few moments later.

Harry sighed and approached Ron's bed carefully. "Ron," she said loudly, "It's time to get up or you'll be late for breakfast."

"Wha'?" Ron sat up, blinking his sleep-clouded eyes. When he realized who it was, a mixture of irritation and hurt crossed his face. "Oh. It's you." He slumped back onto his pillow.

Harry gritted her teeth and went straight for the heart of the problem, unwilling to face a year of unease between the two of them. "Look, Ron, what's got you so upset? I'm sorry if I did something. I just want to be your friend." It was quite easily one of the most difficult things she'd ever had to do, apologizing to Ron. She rarely had to apologize to anyone - the spats between herself and Alex usually were left purposefully forgotten once their problems had been argued out.

"You want to be my friend," Ron said with a small humorless laugh. "Did Fred and George put you up to it? Don't bother denying it," he snapped when she opened her mouth in confusion. "I saw you with them, laughing at me."

"We weren't - " Harry started, but he talked over her protestation with bull-headed determination.

"You probably think you're so great, getting on with high and mighty third years, so much better than their kid brother."

"That's what this is all about?" Harry asked in shock. "If you really think I'd pick them over you, you've got another thing coming!" She gave a toss of her head that didn't achieve the same result as when she'd had long hair, but compensated for it by putting her hand on her hip and stabbing her finger at the red-haired boy. "The only reason I sat with them is because they made room for me. And they made room for you, too, but you were so busy with your head up your arse that you didn't notice." Ron's mouth opened and closed like a fish, but Harry kept going. "And if you think I'm some sort of - of political social climber, then I wouldn't want to be your friend!" She finished with a loud huff of indignation and stormed from the room, nearly bowling Neville over as he exited the bathroom.

"Sorry," she said, catching his arm as he teetered dangerously on the lip of the landing, her anger fading in an instant.

"It's okay," Neville said nervously. He glanced at her warily before asking, timidly, "What was that about with Ron? I could hear you through the running water."

Harry winced. "Oh. Nothing, really. Just a minor misunderstanding."

Someone whistled on their stairs above them, and Harry turned to see who it was. The Weasley twins and a brown-haired boy who looked vaguely familiar stood in their pajamas, wands sticking from their pockets. "If that was minor," one of the twins started.

"- then you've got a temper - "

" - to rival a Weasley's!" They grinned like it was some sort of compliment.

Harry didn't know what to say, and stood in awkward silence. From the doorway behind her came a small cough. Ron stepped onto the landing, a bit sheepishly. "Er. Yeah, he does. Sorry for being a bloody prat, Harry. It was stupid, really."

Harry smiled at him, relieved that her apology, stunted though it was, had worked. "My mum had red hair. Maybe that's where I get it." The three Weasley's, Neville, and the other boy all burst out laughing.

Dean came out of the bathroom in only his boxers. "What'd I miss?" he asked. Harry forced herself not to blush and looked away. Alex, at least, had always worn pajama pants in her presence.

"Nothing," she said. "Just a little misunderstanding." The twins' laughter doubled and they clung to each other in an attempt not to fall down.

"Here now," the older boy said, grabbing at them as they started leaning too far forward. "Don't go injuring yourself before the start of the season!"

With a jolt of panic, Harry recognized the other boy. That was the one who'd accidentally knocked into her in Quality Quidditch Supplies. "Well, got to go!" she said quickly.

"See you later," Neville said as she all but flew down the staircase into the common room, desperate to escape the three people who might recognize her.

Harry didn't make it to breakfast until it was nearly over. She stepped into the Great Hall, panting slightly the fast pace she had kept up in her desperation to get to breakfast on time.

"There you are, Mr. Potter." Professor McGonagall stalked towards him, face stern, a piece of parchment clutched in one hand. "It was foolish of you to leave before the Prefects led you down."

"Um. Sorry?" Harry offered, unsure as to what to say. "It won't happen again."

"Very well. See that it doesn't. Your schedule." Professor McGonagall passed her the parchment and left the hall, the hem of her robes knocking gently against Harry's shins as she passed.

Harry read her schedule as she walked to the Gryffindor table and sat. She was scheduled for Charms, then Transfiguration, a break for lunch, History of Magic, and a double-period of Herbology.

"Here." Harry jumped when a scoop of eggs appeared on her plate, followed by a piece of toast, a sliced orange, and two rashers of bacon. She had somehow seated herself next to Hermione, the bossy girl from the day before. "You need a balanced breakfast if you're going to do well in class."

"Thanks," Harry said shortly. The girl really was too interfering for her own good. Even Triss allowed her to serve her own food. Hermione had assumed too much - for one, Harry hated eggs.

Harry had only eaten a few bites of toast when Seamus called to her from further down the table. "Hey, Harry, come sit with us!" Harry waved and stood, telling herself to ignore the hurt look on Hermione's face as she did so. Seamus, Ron, Dean, and Neville all welcomed her with various degrees of enthusiasm. Ron seemed both pleased and irritated that Dean and Seamus wanted to know all about her and her brother, who they desperately wanted to meet and couldn't understand why he wasn't at Hogwarts. Partly to appease Ron and partly to reduce her own discomfort, she changed the subject.

"What are you looking forward to most here?" she asked the four boys.

Neville answered first, a rather beatific smile on his face as he talked. "Herbology. Gran says it's a waste of time, but I just love how I can get a seed or a cutting and have it grow into - "

"Wow, mate, into poetry much?" Dean asked as Ron gave Neville a look of incredulity. "I can't wait for Transfiguration - I mean, come on, it's like the quintessential wizarding skill. All the books I read growing up had wizards changing people into frogs and that sort of thing."

Ron snickered. "What kind of books were you reading?"

"Just regular fairy-tales," Dean said, shrugging. Ron's face contorted into a confused frown, but someone else spoke before he could get a word out.

"Yeah, well, I can't wait for Charms and Potions," Seamus butted in, a slightly maniacal smile crossing his face and a glazed look in his eyes. "I just want to learn how to make things blow up. Fire's amazing, really."

Harry eyed him carefully, wondering what had happened in Seamus's life that had made him so fanatical about fire. "Just keep it out of the dorm," she said after an awkward pause where they all stared at Seamus uncertainly. Even Neville laughed, although Harry thought it was part in relief. "What about you, Ron?" she asked.

"Eh. I don't really know. I've just heard so many stories from the twins and Bill and Charlie and Percy that don't match up that I can't decide. Definitely not Potions, though. Snape's a terror. Even Percy says he's strict."

"That's a shame. My Mum was really good at Potions," Harry said. Neville, Seamus, and Dean looked at her, questioning expressions on their faces. "She's dead," she explained, poking at the now-cold eggs that Hermione had put on her plate.

"I'm sorry," Neville said softly, eyes full of pity and empathy. The others nodded.

"Thanks. It's not so bad, really. I've still got Dad, and Alex."

After a few moments of silence, Seamus piped up. "Well, what about you?" he asked. "What are you looking forward to?"

Harry grinned. "Quidditch," she answered smugly. And with that, the conversation flowed until the bell rang, dismissing breakfast.

In both Transfiguration and Charms, Harry sat with Neville. Dean and Ron sat next to each other, with Seamus in the seat behind them. Harry enjoyed Transfiguration more than she expected - Professor McGonagall had started the class by Transfiguring her desk into a pig and back. Harry couldn't wait to get started, but her enthusiasm was tamped down quite a bit when they were told inanimate-to-animate transfigurations of that caliber wouldn't be covered until their seventh year. They started out by turning matchsticks into needles, but by the end of the class the most successful student was Hermione Granger, who'd managed to transmute her entire match to silver, except for the head, which remained a bright sulfuric red. Harry got a respectable nod from the teacher, as hers was the only match to go slightly pointy at one end and it had streaks of silver through the grain of the wood, the head transfigured into a mostly wooden eye. She'd spent most of her time helping Neville, who hadn't been able to get his match to do anything except flop despondently once or twice. Seamus' desk had to be repaired when his match lit of its own accord and nearly burnt a hole through the top.

Charms was a practical lesson, but Harry didn't enjoy it much. The tiny professor sent a sympathetic glance her way when taking attendance, and proceeded to tell the entire class that her mother had been one of his favorite and most talented students. After that, most of the students, especially the Ravenclaws they shared the class with, watched her for any burgeoning Charms skills, even though they were only going over basic every-day charms such as the Mending Charm and a nifty all-purpose scrubbing charm, which everyone could perform faultlessly by the end of the class.

As the week progressed, Harry relaxed into her schedule. Every morning, she would wake up at half-past five to take a shower and use the restroom before the boys got up. From six to seven fifteen, she worked on homework or read in the common room. After the first day, the fire was always lit before she arrived, doubtlessly by the house-elves she knew must be employed in the kitchens. Neville was the first of her roommates to rise, so when he came down, she would go with him to the Great Hall and eat breakfast with him. By the time they finished their first pieces of toast, Ron, Seamus, and Dean would join them. The five of them would talk, mainly about Quidditch or homework, until class.

The classes themselves were fascinating. Harry had read a lot about magic during the long years at Potter Manor, but actually practicing what she read was radically different than simply reading about it in a book. The only classes that didn't excite her were History of Magic and, much to her disappointment, Defense Against the Dark Arts. It took all of her willpower to simply stay awake and take notes in History of Magic, even though she'd already read the entire book. Most of the rest of the class, including the Ravenclaws they shared it with, slept. In fact, the only other student who took notes was Hermione Granger. Defense Against the Dark Arts, one of the classes she had been most looking forward to, was a joke. The purple-turbaned professor stuttered through explanations that made no sense and ended up confusing her until she read through the chapter after class. Even Hermione had an unsure expression on her face by the end of class, and the Hufflepuffs appeared absolutely lost.

By Thursday, Harry had realized that Hermione was the only other Gryffindor first-year she had to compete with. Neville, while inordinately talented at Herbology, could barely repair a shattered teacup in Charms, and his matchstick remained stubbornly a matchstick. Ron and Dean were too caught up in their jokes and exploring to study, and Seamus seemed to cause explosions wherever he went. Parvati, Sophie, and Lavender were moderately good at Charms, and knew more Astronomy than all four boys put together, but too often spent more time fussing about their hair or outfits to really excel at either subject.

On Friday morning, Harry received her first letter. A brown owl swooped down to her plate and left a note on her hash browns.

"'Oo's it 'rom," Ron asked through a mouthful of sausage.

Harry carefully opened the note and read it. "Your brothers," she said, slightly confused. Except for the run-in on the staircase Monday morning, she had seen neither hide nor hair of the twins, except once when she'd caught a glimpse of them whispering together in a dark corner of the common room.

"What do they want?" Ron eyed the note warily. "They're not up to something, are they?"

"I don't know," Harry replied. "They just want to meet me by the lake after class today."

"Yep, they're up to something," Ron said. He paused before saying, "Just, be careful. I don't know half the things they get up to but Mum got at least one letter a week last year just about them."

Harry nodded. "Thanks for the warning. I'll keep it in mind." She turned to Neville. "Want to come with me?"

"Me?" Neville asked, surprised.

"Yeah. You're my friend." Harry had decided that Neville was very much her friend, even if she didn't exactly know what friendship was. They sat together in every class, she helped him with Transfiguration and Charms, and he talked with her about Herbology. If that wasn't friendship, she didn't know what was. She certainly did similar things with her brother, and he was definitely her friend.

"I am?" He blushed. "I mean, thanks. But I can't. Professor Sprout said I could help her in Greenhouse Two! That's where she keeps the Unicorn Trees and the Lilac Azegernias - the only ones in all Britain!"

"Oh. Congratulations," Harry said with a supportive smile. She was happy for Neville, but kind of wished he could have come with her. She enjoyed his company - he was like a calmer, less intelligent Alex. Harry was really starting to miss her brother - they hadn't been apart like this for their entire lives.

"Thanks. She said that if I come for three extra hours each week, she'll let me into Greenhouse Three in a few months."

"That's really exciting," Harry said as she tucked the note into her bag and glanced up and down Gryffindor table, searching for Fred and George. They weren't there. She saw the first year girls sitting together, although Hermione was reading the Potions textbook, most likely in preparation for their lesson after breakfast. She turned to Ron. "What do you know about the Potions professor?" she asked. Ron was the only one of her roommates with older siblings, and therefore prior knowledge of what the professors were like.

He broke off from dithering over which was the best scone and turned, skin paling. "Oh no," he groaned. "I forgot we have Potions today!"

"That bad?" Dean asked.

"Worse," Ron replied. "You'll see." He gave up on picking through the scones and turned to Harry. "Will you partner with me? Please?"

"Why? I've never made a potion before in my life. I've never even seen one being made. You probably have more experience than I do."

"But you're so good at everything else." The other four boys nodded in agreement.

"No I'm not," Harry replied. "Hermione's way better at Charms, and Neville's amazing at Herbology. And Lavender and Parvati have the entire night sky memorized!"

"And you know nearly as much as they do about it!" Seamus put in. "I would never have found Lyra if you hadn't pointed it out."

"And you Transfigured your match into a needle faster than Hermione last lesson!" Ron added. "Not to mention you actually manage to stay awake during History of Magic!"

"And can explain whatever Quirrell stutters on about in Defense better than he can!" Dean put in. "I wouldn't have understood that thing about poltergeists versus ghosts versus spirits if you hadn't broken it down like you did."

"Are you sure you're not a Ravenclaw?" Seamus chimed in, a serious expression on his face. "You've got enough books to be one." The other boys laughed in agreement.

"The Sorting Hat considered it," Harry admitted, fishing her Potions text out of her bag. "But I managed to get it to put me here instead." Before the boys could ask why, the dismissal bell rang and they stopped laughing.

"Potions," Ron said in a low voice. "Kill me now."

"It can't be that bad," Harry said, although from her few glimpses of the professor, she wasn't at all sure of herself.

"It is that bad," Ron said as they left the Great Hall in a group. "You'll see."

And he was right. Everything about Potions, from the professor to the classroom, was bad. The lesson took place in the dungeons, where they all shivered in the cold, dark atmosphere. Professor Snape had singled Harry out right away, glaring at her with a hatred she'd never seen before in her life. He'd asked her questions that she wouldn't have known the answers to if she hadn't read her mother's potions books, and then had taken a point away for cheating. Then, when she brewed a perfect Cure for Boils Draught, he had sneered at her that it was too thin, even though it was the best one in the class. By the end of the class, she was barely holding in her tears of frustration. She had wanted to be good at Potions, as a way to connect herself to her mother.

As soon as the bell rang, Harry bolted from the classroom, nearly running over Neville, who had dropped his bag on the ground and spilled his belongings all over the floor. She dodged the blonde boy, Malfoy, and his two large goons to be the first one out the door. She walked until no one was in sight, then ran up the stairs and through the Entrance Hall. She nearly flew past the group of third year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs coming back from Care of Magical Creatures. She only stopped running when she arrived at the rocky shores of the Black Lake. After dumping her bag at the foot of a tall beech tree, she took off her shoes and socks. Without bothering to roll up her pant legs, she waded into the lake.

The icy water bit at her toes, and the tears that had threatened to spill over her cheeks dried up as she gasped at the frigid temperature. She simply stood and stared out over the wind-blown surface of the lake, going over the day's Potions lesson. She couldn't understand why Professor Snape didn't like her - the man was obviously biased towards his own house, but that didn't explain his behavior towards her. If she didn't know better, she would say that the man loathed her. Not even Ron, younger brother of the twin terrors, had received so much negative attention as she had.

Her feet had gone totally numb when she heard two sets of feet approaching.

"Oy, Potter, are you barking?" Harry stumbled a bit as she turned around, her feet too frozen for her to feel well enough to balance on the slippery rocks of the lake. Fred and George had arrived. She had totally forgotten about their note at breakfast in the aftermath of the potions lesson.

"N - no," she shivered. When had it gotten so cold? And when had the sun gotten so low in the sky? She tottered towards the shore, her soaked pants dragging heavily with every step. Each of the twins took a hand and helped her out. "Th - thanks," she stuttered, teeth chattering.

"You know, Fred," one of them said. Harry assumed it was George, although she couldn't be sure. "I'm sure we were never so mad as firsties."

"I agree," the other proclaimed grandly, pulling his wand out of his pocket and directing it at Harry, who flinched back a little, earning a reprimanding tweak of the ear from the first. She relaxed the one she thought was Fred muttered, "Siccuvesta." Her clothes began to steam as the water evaporated. He pocketed his wand. "He's only slightly mad. We were much worse."

Harry smiled. "Aha!" George exclaimed. "He smiles!" They dragged her over to the beech tree and sat her down. She busied herself with putting her shoes back on while they talked.

"So, Harry - " Fred started.

"We were wondering - "

"Just idly, of course, nothing too strenuous."

"- how stupid you thought we were."

Harry looked up from tying her shoes. "Wh -what?" The bottom of her stomach seemed to fill with lead as she looked from one freckled face to the other. Neither of them were smiling, and their identical blue eyes were completely serious. "What are you talking about."

They sighed dramatically. "Now, really," Fred said. "And here we were thinking you were intelligent."

They leaned forward so they formed a sort of cage around her, with the tree trunk at her back. "We know you're a girl," they whispered together.

Harry swallowed quickly, shoving her fear aside. "What are you talking about?" she laughed nervously. "You're cracked! I'm a boy! My name is Harry Remus Potter, and my twin is Alexander James Potter!"

The twins exchanged an amused glance and seated themselves on either side of her, their arms pressing into hers. "Really," George said with a small grin on his face.

"If you're planning on getting away with this - "

" - and you should - "

"- you need to learn to lie better."

"W - what?" Harry stuttered. Of all things, this was the one thing she hadn't expected. She had thought that, if anyone did find out her secret, they would merely report it and she would be punished by both Professor Dumbledore and her father. It seemed that the twins were offering - advice?

Their grins widened to smirks. "I knew it," Fred said quietly, almost whispering in her ear. "Ever since the train I knew I had seen you before. It finally came to me on Monday morning, when we saw you on the stairs."

"It was the way you blushed," George added. "For future reference, you've got to get used to male bodies if you're going to pull it off." Harry was too gob smacked to say anything.

"As I was saying," Fred started, "I remembered seeing a girl with black hair - " he ran a hand through her hair, mussing it up, " - and green eyes and glasses." Fred left his arm draped over her shoulder. She ignored it. "In a Quidditch store, no less. And she smirked at us."

"First person daring enough to do so, actually," George said. He too shifted so his arm was over her shoulder.

"So then, we put our heads together and thought it out - "

" - and came to the conclusion that the Quidditch girl and young Harry Potter are one-the-same."

"With the help of some old Daily Prophet's, of course," Fred added. "We destroyed them afterwards." George snickered.

"I don't think we'll be allowed back in the library for a year at least. I've never seen Madam Pince so mad. Thought she was going to have a stroke."

"Which means," Fred said seriously, looking down at Harry, who was still too shocked that her secret had been discovered to do anything more than stare back. "That you'll be getting any books we need for us."

"Too right," George said. "We'd never survive without the library," he deadpanned.

"All that homework reference material," Fred sighed dramatically. "Whatever will we do?"

Harry giggled, clamped her mouth shut when she remembered boys didn't giggle, then realized she could giggle all she wanted with the twins. "But you don't do any homework," she said. It was true. She'd never once seen the twins working on anything in the common room, much less homework - though that wasn't saying much, since she'd only seen them in the common room once that week.

"Of course we do," George said in mock outrage. "We work our arse - "

"Language," Fred interrupted pompously. "We've a lady present." Harry smacked his arm, but he didn't even flinch. Instead, he just grinned at her.

"Ah, of course. We work our derrières off. Pardon my French." Harry laughed outright.

"You won't tell, then?" she asked, her laughter dying away.

"Tell?" they chorused in unison.

"Why, we applaud your deviousness!" George said, beaming.

"You're pranking the entire school, not to mention the Ministry and your father!" Fred looked inordinately proud.

"Now you only need to learn to keep your real identity under wraps," George said. Fred nodded his agreement.

"We'll be in contact," he said as they stood up, leaving Harry feeling oddly bereft as their arms unwound from her shoulders. Never before had she felt so cared for, and never before had she wanted older siblings like she did now. Plus, she was still cold from the lake, and the twins were warm.

"And good luck getting onto the Quidditch team," George added as the two of them turned and walked back towards the school, leaving Harry gaping after them as they slowly grew smaller and smaller, wondering how they knew that the only reason she had come to Hogwarts was to earn a spot on the house Quidditch team.

Harry stared after the twins until long after they vanished into the castle. She likely would have continued doing so, had not a large shadow woken her from her trance.

"'Lo." Harry looked up, squinting against the setting sun. It was Hagrid, the gigantic groundskeeper. He still had on the old, patched mole-skin coat that seemed more pocket than anything else.

"Hi," she said. "Just admiring the lake."

Hagrid beamed. "Yer dad did tha' too. Him and Lily would come down 'ere an' sit under this very same beech. Handsome tree. Were just a saplin' when I was here." A dark scowl crossed his face and Harry had the feeling that as kind as Hagrid seemed, he could be very dangerous in a rage.

"You knew my mother?" she asked, eager for any information he might have. Her father had never said a word to either her or Alex, and had forbidden the elves to speak Lily's name.

"O' course!" Hagrid boomed. His beetle black eyes crinkled with laughter. "I was the one who caught 'em out here after James proposed! Could hardly tell it were two at first." Harry felt slightly queasy - no one needed to know that about their parents. Although she had never found out how, or even when, her father had proposed to her mother. Now she knew it had happened while they were still in school.

"Do you know how Father proposed?" she asked.

Hagrid looked down in surprise. "'e never told yeh?"

"No," Harry said, almost defiantly. "He's too busy working." A flash of sympathy crossed Hagrid's face, and Harry flushed. She knew she shouldn't have said anything - Hagrid had no business knowing about her father's obsession with work. "And he doesn't like talking about Mum," Harry added. Hagrid nodded once.

"Yeh should get ter the Hall," he said.

"Okay." She stood, gathering up her bag, and started towards the castle, leaving Hagrid staring out at the lake behind her.