Chapter Four

Harry wasn't surprised when he saw his roommates. Of course the sadistic Professor Trix had stuck him with three members of Slytherin.

Then when they turned on his arrival his eyebrows went up slightly. Who knew? They were the three members of Slytherin he had run into outside.

He took the only spare bed and slammed his trunk down on it. He was not giving these jokers the time of day.

They let him unpack, straighten his covers, and even use the bathroom. Then when he came out of it the burly one took him by the collar and slammed him against the wall. 'Alright Four-Eyes' – like Harry hadn't heard that one before – 'here's the deal. You respect us and we don't ruin that pretty-boy face of yours.'

Harry could have lived with that but he didn't want to. He had murdered Voldermort; he didn't have to put up with this shit. He drew his wand and shoved it under the boy's throat. 'No. This is the deal. You respect me.'

The boy swallowed, his Adams apple knocking hard against the wand. 'Or what?'

Harry pressed harder, where he knew the boy's jugular was. 'Sure you want to find out?'

Silence.

Harry nodded and turned away.

A scuffle to his right and he realized someone was running at him. Immediately he whirled around and bellowed 'Crucio!'

Bellatrix Lestrange had once told him that you had to mean Unforgiveable Curses for them to work. In that one word was all the anger he felt at being away from Ginny, his strange attraction to Hermione, Ron's idiocy, his friends' deaths and the never-recovered wound left by his mother's last scream.

The Slytherin's scream was surprisingly similar. So much so in fact that Harry stopped. Then he walked towards the boy unhesitatingly and reached out a hand. 'Are we clear?'

The boy stared at him. Then he took it and Harry heaved him to his feet. 'We're clear.'

And thus Harry won the first bit of respect in this new place.

The next day was exactly as he'd guessed. Reveration and contempt in equal measure from professors and students alike. Interestingly, the Slytherins, who he'd expected to give him Hell must have been tipped the wink by his roomies because they left well enough alone and let the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs gawp at him and wonder whether it really was true. Meanwhile Gryffindor grinned their heads off because they were the house that had Harry Potter.

Harry wasn't with his friends for many classes, although he bumped into Neville, Seamus and the twins every now and then. But the others were kept away from him and after a few weeks he began to really miss Ron and Hermione.

But every time he started making his way to dormitory eight his studies stopped him: he couldn't believe that even after a year of surviving in the face of the darkest magic in the world he was barely above bottom in most classes – even Defence Against the Dark Arts.

But the teacher was terrible. A gangly, cross-eyed guy called Yip, he droned on like Dolores Umbridge about things that had little if anything to do with…well anything.

At one point Harry raised his hand. 'How will this help us if another Dark Wizard comes out of the ashes?'

A stifled scream swept the room as if they suddenly thought Harry was a Seer like his clueless old Divination teacher Trelawney.

Harry groaned to himself. He couldn't even say something simple anymore. 'Well?'

Yip narrowed his eyes. 'Well. What did you do Mr. Potter?'

The entire room held their breath. They had all heard what had fast become the legend of Harry 'coming back to life' after Voldermort, for the second and last time in his life, had fired the Avada Kedavra curse at Harry's head.

'I went with my gut,' Harry answered defiantly. 'I worked like Hell and I didn't give up.'

'Right. Well I think you might have got lucky. So if you will, you'll stop trying to teach this class and let me advise them on how best to deal with Dark Wizards.'

'But –'

'Keep your mouth shut Mr. Potter if you do not want to be kicked out of my classroom.'

Harry did shut his mouth – but he quickly decided that he wasn't going along with this. Didn't he have the best knowledge in this room about defence against the dark arts? Hadn't he, Harry, saved all of these people's lives? What right did they have to tell him to shut up? What right did they have to keep him here?

Harry stood, gathering his books.

'What is it Mr. Potter?'

He couldn't resist. 'My scar hurts. I just need to go somewhere quiet and see if Voldermort has any plans of coming back to life.'

The Slytherins were the only ones who didn't take him seriously and it was a strange sense of pride that he heard their sniggers and knew that for once, they were with him not at him, as he'd come to know.