Harry listened with satisfaction as the Slytherins all clapped proudly. They had expected no less of a pureblood; how ironic that Slytherin was the only house where his blood hadn't given him the title.

He slid into the seat next to Draco, glancing briefly to check it was alright. This likely confused some of the older students, as he wasn't exactly a good Slytherin, but they silently accepted it.

Harry quickly began eating, making it clear that he'd rather not speak. He was glad to find that Slytherins respected that. Carla had been quickly coddled by a few choice seniors, which Harry made note of, the Carrow twins in particular catching his interest as they watched her back during the entire feast, sending warning glances at some of the more dedicated purebloods. He wondered briefly how he'd not noticed them before; they were obviously purebloods, but they seemed not to share pureblood views.

Afterwards, he got up and quietly followed Draco out of the room, glancing back only once to check on Hermione and Ron. They were still quiet.

He'd have to solve that.

Draco quickly led him down into the dungeon dorms, the rooms being gloomy but cozy. He found himself longing to fall asleep on the couch, which looked extremely luxurious, particularly next to the fireplace, which was burning brightly.

He was pointed at a few times, much to his chagrin, but since Harry's disappearance was still big news he found it easier to hide behind Draco than it would have been if people weren't so distracted. He managed to get to his dorm room without much getting noticed.

The small, odd number of Slytherins meant that he had his dorm to himself, which he quickly found he could get used to. He sorted it out immediately, charming a few of the other beds for safety and arranging the bathroom to his liking. He was nearly done when Draco knocked on the door.

"Come in!" Harry called, slamming the chest at the foot of his bed shut. It was particularly useful, having five compartments storing an incredible amount of tools for what he did, but he'd rather keep it secret while he could. The door creaked open and Draco let out a low whistle.

"You've done it up nicely," he complimented Harry, trotting in. "I'll have to remember that trim, it's particularly nice."

"Thank you," Harry replied quickly, still distracted by the trunk. "I'm still sorting things out, but it should be done for tomorrow afternoon. Feel free to visit whenever you like, Draco," he added.

Draco seemed surprised, but quickly relaxed. "Thank you," he added after a moment, "Ari."

Harry got up and sat down on one of the beds. "I'm going to work on setting up the room for a bit," he admitted, "but you're free to stay, Draco. I'm afraid I won't be able to give you my full attention, unfortunately."

Draco nodded. "That's alright," he allowed, politely taking a step back. "I'll... head back." He seemed reluctant.

"Actually," Harry said quickly, sensing the need to be away from rumours, "you don't happen to know any tracking spells, do you?"

It quickly became a deep conversation, in which Harry shared some decent information with Draco. He had his own little project to attend to; it wouldn't take too long as long as he got it right.

He woke the next morning to his first classes - Potions, apparently - and quickly dashed down the steps and into the potions classroom. It was thankfully nearby, but he didn't want to risk being late on the first day. He was still in Gryffindor mindset, after all.

He reached the room, and thanking the lord it was still empty, he sat down and waited.

The first person through the door after him was Draco Malfoy.

Harry quickly became suspicious. Why was Draco so early? While he was never late for a class, he wasn't exactly known for punctuality. Surely there must be a reason.

Harry watched him sit down silently, so focused he didn't even notice Ari sitting across the way. With a sigh, Harry moved and sat down next to him, letting his books bang on the table to bring Draco back to reality.

"Uh, oh, hi, Ari," he stuttered, cringing through his teeth moments later at the botched hello. Harry snickered and rubbed Draco's shoulder fondly, slowing as he approached to give Draco options.

He accepted it begrudgingly, and Harry celebrated silently. It was bizarre for it to be allowed, in Harry's mind, but otherwise it had been accepted positively.

He watched as students slowly poured into the classroom. Thankfully, the first to arrive assumed Draco had led Ari to the classroom early and left him be; Draco sighed in relief when the last Slytherin sat down at her table. Harry silently noticed that Crabbe and Goyle were in the corner of the room watching them; he was fairly certain they were beyond rescue, but he hoped not to pull Draco away from his friends.

When the last people walked into the classroom on time, Harry watched sharply. Ron and Hermione were never seen apart any more; without Harry to anchor them, they were both disasters. Some had been theorizing that Ron had lost his voice, he was so quiet; Hermione had done the talking for them, deflecting anyone and everyone, simply stating that they had no more answers than the public.

Snape strode into the classroom with his cape billowing behind him. Harry instantly recognized the presence that made so many Gryffindors weak at the knees; he reminded himself that he was a Slytherin now and calmed himself, keeping an extra-close eye on the man and the pair now seated behind him.

"This year," he said primly, pulling his wand out and beginning to write on the board, "we will study some new potions, few as they are in number they are great in importance, and you will furthermore be taught how to handle some of the more delicate and dangerous ingredients, among them the Billywig sting, which we will study today." He tapped the board again, and the substance showed up on it swiftly, along with a quick description.

The class took notes, and Harry glanced briefly around to catch sight of Ron writing notes, or at least copying Hermione's. It was undoubtedly strange; hopefully they were alright.

The class continued uneventfully, other than intercepting a few thrown ingredients before they could land in the brews of other students. Really, the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry was absolutely petty. He even caught Draco about to try, but stopped him.

"I'm disappointed," he admitted, slowly teasing the fairy wings out of Draco's hand without him noticing. "I figured you'd be above bullying and sabotage. Apparently I was wrong, but no matter." He did, however, retain his harsh gaze.

Care of Magical creatures was enjoyable. He walked confidently up to the first Hippogriff - Buckbeak was his name - and passed with flying colours, even getting the chance to ride Buckbeak. He'd stood by Malfoy and stopped him swearing twice, apologizing for his behaviour after class. He didn't want to think what would have happened; he agreed that the hippogriffs were a bit advanced, but they were alright for a first-class hook. It would bring in the interest of the students who hadn't been totally convinced. He just hoped Draco would turn it around; he'd managed to get him to behave, mostly, after all. He wasn't sure why Draco was letting him, but hopefully he'd be able to give Draco reason to later.

After that had been Transfigurations. McGonagall had tested him a few minutes before class, smiling when he recognized her in her animagus form. A few quick transfigurations, and she was off to the front again, happy to see he would be able to keep up. By this time, he noticed that Draco was a bit subdued; perhaps he'd realized that bullying wouldn't get a blind eye with Ari, but Harry hoped it was because he was thinking over his choices.

Professor Flitwick had found him to be positively charming (ha ha), and he'd quickly come to be one of the best students in the class. His charmwork had always been alright; his summer training had made it into one of his best subjects. He helped Draco turn his cat into a drawer and back before moving on to experiment himself. By this point, he saw how pointedly Draco hesitated whenever he was about to say something rude; Harry reminded himself that some legilimency was in order to work out his emotions and beliefs later.

It was during Herbology that he noticed the low tension between the Slytherins and the Ravenclaws; it seemed they worked together, mostly. He worked alongside a Ravenclaw boy who seemed to know what he was doing - a lot of the others had Hermione symptoms and believed that all spells could be done with books and knowledge. They were lucky they got placed with the Slytherins, most of whom were excellent at potions. Harry mentioned this subtly; he smiled when the Ravenclaw caught on immediately and chuckled as well. It was nice to have people as smart as you to talk to; Ron didn't see the point nine times out of ten, and while Hermione was better, she wasn't particularly open to new theories when it came to subjects she'd read. She figured that books were the gospel truth, but Harry knew better.

He had taken three electives, having said in his correspondence to Hogwarts about his attending that he wished to do as such. He had chosen Care of Magical Creatures, of course, but furthermore had chosen Ancient Runes and Divination with the Gryffindors. He was glad he got in, although he really didn't care for Divination; he needed to keep an eye on Ron and Hermione.

He raced up the steps the next morning to be there for divination early. He'd quickly realized that Slytherins did not hold much in the subject either; few outside of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff took it because they wanted to. Harry slowed at the trapdoor and caught his breath, climbing the ladder into the class and glancing around.

He caught sight of a seat at the table that was otherwise filled with Hermione and Ron. He walked over, dropping a bit of his pureblood act, and stopped at the chair, getting their attention.

"Excuse me," he said politely, gesturing to the chair, "is this seat taken?"

"No," Hermione said quietly, and Harry flashed her a bright smile before sitting down. It was then that Professor Trelawney marched in - well, more like drifted absent-mindedly, but it felt like marching to Harry, even if it was the worst attempt at marching he'd ever seen. She glimmered a bit, almost as if she'd been sprinkled in microscopic glitter, and her wiry frame was adorned with excessive bangles and a fancy shawl.

"Welcome to Divination, one of the most difficult subjects any of you will ever learn," she began, in a lazy drawl that could frustrate any student. "in which I will teach you to learn of the future. Not all of you will be able to understand it; as it seems, one of our number will leave us before the end of October." Harry snorted; she was already planting seeds of doubt in the student's minds. It was terrible, really, but she was making her predictions more likely by voicing them. It was a complicated trick, but it worked more often than not.

"Books will only take you so far," she continued, much to the shock of Hermione. Harry smiled; this was the old Hermione, and while it wasn't the part of Hermione he wanted to see, it was still something of her that wasn't clouded by Harry's disappearance. She walked over to Neville and he caught a glimmer in her eye.

"Boy, how is your grandmother?" She inquired seriously.

Neville frowned. "She was doing well, last I checked," he said slowly, the teacher's roaming eye doing nothing for the boy's nerves.

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you," she said simply, and the stricken expression caused Harry enough pain to put in his two cents.

"Oh, for goodness' sake, professor, Madame Longbottom is one of the healthiest people I know." He huffed his disapproval. "Honestly, stop telling people these things. What's the point?" A few people stopped in shocked awe at that. They'd never heard of someone so obviously taking jabs at a teacher's subject.

"The point," She said sharply, her panic-stricken tone making Harry smile, "is that it will warn you of danger." She said no more, obviously shaken, until a devilish aura tingled on Harry's back.

"Why, Mister Durst," she paused to rearrange her face into neutrality, "it also tells me that when you go to give everyone their teacups for our lesson, you will break two of them. Please pick blue ones to replace them if you don't want a repeat offense." She let him take the implications in quietly.

"How many teacups?" he asked shortly, ignoring the looks others gave him.

"Twenty-five," she replied.

He nodded. "Right, twenty-three it is then." He got up and snapped.

People's jaws dropped as twenty-three teacups flew to the tables and nestled themselves in the saucers already placed on the tables in the musty room. Trelawney's face was positively furious. In their shock, most of those in the room hadn't stopped to think how much power it would take to achieve such a feat.

"Divination isn't a precise magic." he said simply, sitting back down. "visions of the future are not certainties but recommendations. Miss Trelawney, what page are we using?"

She finally snapped out of her stupor and replied airily, "Pages five and six."

"Seven and eight it is, then," he replied smartly, turning to the set of images with a smirk as the lightest of smiles began to play across people's faces.

This year would be fun.

Draco, much to Harry's surprise and later guilt at the thought, had taken Ancient Runes. Harry had arrived earlier, so he was pleasantly surprised when Draco sat with him voluntarily.

"I was certain you would take Arithmancy as your third," he commented, shuffling into the seat. "I'm surprised."

"I have my reasons," Harry replied, and he did. Arithmancy was pointless if you learned any maths, and Harry was a mathematic master. He figured he could take the NEWTS and pass with flying colours.

There was a brief silence; the room was empty, at the moment. Most students were still eating, after all; it was the class right after lunch. Draco was twisting in his seat; Harry finally gave up guessing and asked outright.

"Why're you squirming like that, Draco?" He asked bluntly. "Am I making you nervous?"

"Why are you being so nice to me?" He shot back, plainly confused. "Nobody is nice to the Malfoys except the other dark houses, and the Dursts are notoriously neutral."

"We are," Harry confirmed, "but as for me, I make my own decisions. I don't hold with the separation of magic over common use."

"Say what?"

"I don't believe that there is such a thing as dark or light magic." Harry said irritably. "The thing that makes any magic dark or light is the intention of the caster. If the intent is to kill, it is dark, and if you were smart about it you could do that with Wingardium Leviosa." He shrugged. "Magic is magic. It does things depending on what we want. Our intentions are the only deciding factor in what is good and what is bad."

Draco didn't answer for a long time, staring at the wood in front of him. Finally, he whispered, "I never thought of it like that."

Harry nodded understandingly. "It's alright. You grew up knowing the separation; I wasn't taught that way. My family mostly refrained from telling me much about magic until I started showing it more prominently, and by then I was smart enough to make my own decisions over it."

There was a sudden click, and a boy walked in and promptly fell on the floor, his face and knees swollen and red. Harry first noticed Draco about to get up, but he hesitated.

"Come on, Draco, he needs help," Harry urged, getting up himself and reaching out to the boy. Much to Harry's surprise, the newcomer shook his head violently, though his lips were too swollen to part and say anything.

Harry pulled out his wand, about to cast a healing spell or two and take him to the infirmary when the door clicked. The Slytherin walked in, directly on top of the boy, and sneering continued on relentlessly.

"Oi, you!" Harry seethed, "What do you think you're doing!? He's hurt!" The boy turned, huffing.

"Not my business, he's just a halfblood," The boy reasoned. "Practically as bad as a mudblood, what with-"

Harry's eyes flashed, and the boy found himself under a bodybind jinx faster than you could say 'hogwarts'. Right after that was when Harry got an evil glint to his eye and the boy found his legs convulsing violently, in a humiliating way.

"No one talks like that with me around," Harry informed him firmly, casting the boy on the floor a sympathetic look. "I don't give a shit about your pureblood intricacies." He held out a hand to the boy. "Don't give it a second thought. I'm going to help you whether you like it or not."

The boy sighed in resignation and took Harry's hand, letting himself be helped up and leaning on Harry's shoulder for support. After a brief glance at the boy still under the bodybind, Draco slowly approached.

"Finite Incantatem," He said first, and the boy visibly relaxed as the stinging hexes stopped, though the current damage probably still hurt like hell. To remedy that, Harry tapped his wand gently on the swelling areas, recalling his latin and muttering 'relevare dolor' a few times under his breath. Soon the swelling had nearly disappeared, and the boy licked his lips and cleared his throat.

"Thank you," he said quietly, standing there in a stupor. "I... you know, people will be upset-"

"I don't give a shit about them," Harry informed him bluntly. "If they attack you, you tell me." He let an evil smile reach his face. "If they try to fight back, they'll regret it."

The boy slowly allowed himself to smile. "I... thanks," he said finally, picking up the books he'd dropped. Draco was even helping by placing them on the table he'd taken with Harry by the time they'd been taken. The two slid back into the benches, and the boy sat down slowly next to them, eying up Draco like he was some sort of predator.

Draco now seemed heavily conflicted. It had only been two days, and already Harry was seeing massive changes, which he was terribly happy about. He could only hope it would last.

"What's your name?" Harry inquired, hoping to remember the student for later.

"Callum," he replied, smiling. "Thanks again... I didn't think they'd throw stinging hexes at me just for voicing my opinion."

Harry nodded solemnly. "It's kill or be killed around here. I don't like it one bit, but at the moment there's very little I can do if nobody wants the change." He brightened. "My name is Ari. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Same," Callum agreed, making it obvious he wasn't from a pureblood family. Harry winced inwardly; had he said that to any of the supremacists, he'd be shunned immediately. Manners was one of the things that helped them keep up an image of difference from the muggleborns, after all, and while Harry thought Callum was very polite, he could see how others thought him less so.

Other students trickled in, a few showing shock at seeing the pureblood under bodybind and tarantallegra and others peering suspiciously at Callum. It all remained quiet, however, and the teacher strolled in, not noticing a thing, and only when the pureblood's few allies walked in did he escape the magic.

Bathesda Babbling was undoubtedly one of the most normal witches you could find. Her robes were a green colour, but it was plain; not quite grass, but not shiny like emerald, and not the dark green one found in the forest, either, but it was undoubtedly green. Her hair was a dark brown colour, reaching down to just below her elbows, and her clothes were a comfortable leather dress and dark shoes which clicked loudly on the stone floor. Harry only had a moment to notice Hermione in the corner of the classroom before she brought attention to the front.

"The introduction to Ancient Runes is on the third page," she said, her words stringing together in a constant tumble. "Please read it, once you have done that, close your books - when everyone is done we will begin by identifying a few numbers." She turned around and began waving her wand in intricate patterns, noting down some simple runes that Harry had seen in the goblin textbooks.

He had learned to read runes already, since the goblins used it frequently as a written language to communicate with other species who did not know either English or Gobbledegook. Rolling his eyes, he went to the book anyway, although he paid half his attention to the other students.

Hermione seemed incredibly out of place in the room, being surrounded by a large throng of Ravenclaws and a decent group of Slytherins. She drifted away from her page occasionally to glance around fearfully, before returning to her reading with a firm determination that settled Harry's twisting stomach. Her clear headstrong attitude, while subdued, eased his fears over her being affected terribly by Harry's vanishing act. She would be alright.

He glanced occasionally at Callum and Draco, although it was less so. Callum seemed nervous, jittery, almost like an orb of energy ready to burst out violently but just about keeping itself in check; Draco was nervous, too, but showed it in his own way, glancing furtively at other people in the room and fidgeting minutely, repeatedly tapping his page or wringing his wrists, squeezing his quill and wasting the ink.

Halfway through the lesson, Harry finally had enough. "Oi, Draco, why're you so tense?"

"M'not tense," He replied immediately, taking a deep breath. "Just a little bored."

"Bored?" Harry repeated. "Then why're you squeezing the life out of your quill? You'll need a new one not a week from today." Draco started to protest, but the evidence was strong; his quill was nearly bent from the sheer force placed on it.

Draco silently reached into his bag for another quill, an embarrassed blush reaching his cheeks. Glancing once to check Babbling wasn't paying attention to them, he continued, "To be honest, I usually have someone to distract me."

Harry's eyebrow raised, and he found himself smirking in amusement. "Really?"

Draco's eyes went wide and he coughed. "Erm. A rival. Not a girl."

Harry's smile just grew. "A rival, you say?"

"Okay, okay, maybe I am a bit obsessed, but it's... not what it looks like," Draco protested. "You'll know him from the papers. Harry Potter? We hate each other."

Harry nodded in what he hoped was a wise manner. "Ah, yes, the joys of a healthy rivalry between two teenaged boys... what a beautiful relationship." He barely withheld his giggles as Draco blushed furiously.

"No, no, that's not it!" He protested. "I swear! I just..." he frowned. "I just don't know what to do with myself. Harry's always distracted me from... well, the train wreck of a life most purebloods live." He sighed deeply, scratching a few words into the parchment as he thought of what to say next. "Harry's so lucky."

"Lucky, you say." Harry stayed carefully neutral. "Why?"

Draco snorted. "He's an entitled prat. Everyone treats him like a king, and in all his Gryffindor modesty, all he does is stumble around, not even bothering to take advantage of it. He goes about treating the Slytherins like evil little snakes, not that there aren't evil little snakes in Slytherin, but still - and he just spends all his time playing hero, never questioning anybody and letting himself be led around like a dog on a leash. He never listens, not when I tell him those friends of him are bad for him, not when I explain how things work to him, not even when I'm showing him why he should have hid being a parselmouth. He's ignorant and gullible and-"

"We've heard this a million times," Callum commented. "Thanks for getting him started. Don't do it again."

Harry chuckled. "Right," he nodded, "I'll take that advice to heart."

"-and then he- hey, are you listening?" Draco frowned. "You're not listening."

"I was," Harry replied defensively. "But it sounds to me like you're projecting yourself onto him. Think about this; what if he genuinely likes and enjoys being with his friends, regardless of who they are or what benefits they offer?" Pausing for effect, he continued, "What if he fully agrees with the notions and decisions of those around him? Why would he try to change that?"

Draco didn't answer for a while. Then, he said, "Um. I guess. That's something." He shook himself. "But why would he? They're all controlling him, and he hates being controlled. Why does he let them?"

"I'm sure the moment they step out of line, he deals with it," Harry replied calmly, as if to quell Draco's protests. "and anyway, I'm sure he believes the same of you."

Draco had a strange look between affronted and confused. "Me? But I'm the picture of manipulated! I'm treated like a name more than a person! I-"

"If you're the picture, Draco dear," Harry replied sarcastically, "Harry is the definition of it. Now kindly remind me what creature the number six uses in its rune."

Draco was too shocked by the backtalk to protest.

A/N: I was going to make this longer, but honestly, if I'd continued we'd have over 10K words on our hands, so we'll leave it here for now.

Reviews and suggestions welcome, feel free to ask me about anything. Next time, we'll be revisiting some old friends.