Why? Why did things work this way? He (no no, that doesn't work) just couldn't understand. Was there something he (have to work this out, what's going on) was missing, that she (no that's not right either what's going on) had forgotten, maybe, when all that stuff happened and he (wrong) forgot everything that had ever happened to her (still no), even his (ugh) own name (which she (no!) doesn't like either), everything, and it feels like everything is confusing and he (that one's just uncomfortable) doesn't know if it's to do with memory or if they just don't understand anyway, and never would.

They. It just came to them, like that, and it fit. They. They. It makes sense now and they can breathe again, finally, without agonising over every thought and stray slip.

Sleeping in a room with others was difficult. They had been alone in the room the first time they got there, but not long, and it wasn't nice, no longer being alone in such an unfamiliar place. One scary place after another, nothing was easy. New person after new person, always there, always close, always judging them.

They weren't very nice either. They stared at them a lot all the time, and they said things in front of them and probably when they weren't there too. It's like they thought that they didn't exist. Maybe they didn't in the eyes of the world. Maybe they were just a passing shadow to be mocked.

-;-;-;-

"Hey, look at the weirdo!"
"What's he doing?" They. What are they doing. They're sitting down and doing homework, but it's hard to concentrate so they have to put it down a lot to do something stimulating.

-;-;-;-

"Who's that?" An older student, looking at them weirdly in the corridor as they glance around every few seconds, making sure that they aren't being surrounded.

"I don't know. Do you think he's okay?" They. Do you think they're okay. No. They aren't. They're scared and alone and at the same time not alone and it's terrifying. People keep hurting them and shouting at them.

"That's Paul." The hushed voice they recognised as the female prefect in Ravenclaw for fifth year. "Don't know what's wrong with him, but he's sweet enough. Very weird, hardly speaks. I don't think his classmates like him." Him. They. THEY. There is something wrong with them, everything feels wrong. They don't speak much because they can't think of the words. They think that they may have forgotten the words to say, the response to show.

-;-;-;-

They don't know why but they can't use the bathrooms. It's silly and they don't know why, but they just can't use them. It feels like the little figures on the doors are guarding against people like them, people who don't want to wear the dress or be the trousers. They didn't like the clothing that muggles wore. It felt like they were meant to be fitting into two little boxes and they'd dropped in the middle and got stuck.

The single bathroom by the dormitory was small and had no light or heating. It was miserable. But they had no alternative. They had to come here before breakfast, during lunch, and after school. It was difficult to find time so they had to cut down how much they drank. Then they could go before and after lessons every day, and that was it and that was fine. They had to ignore the bladder cramps on occasion, but they couldn't use the other toilets. They just couldn't. They tried, once or twice, and they almost cried in the middle of the school day when they had to go to lessons, and they didn't know why.

-;-;-;-

"Are you doing well, Paul?" The nurse was from St Mungo's. She'd been there when they had been there before they came to Hogwarts. She had probably been there when they had been so horribly confused. They were still confused and nothing was better.

No. They were not doing well. At all. They were told they would have friends, and they'd be really good in lessons because of all that magic, they'd be happier than they had been (they didn't know how they'd been before, but they were told it was bad), and that Hogwarts would be the best thing to ever happen to them (which really wasn't difficult considering how much memory they had of what had been).

They didn't have friends, they had people who stared at them, people who laughed and talked about them when they were there. Fitz, who had seemed so nice on the train, seemed to have abandoned them. There were people who had even once kicked them in the stomach and run off, laughing. They're pretty sure that they used magic to heal themselves, because that was two days ago and it hadn't hurt since they went to bed the night after it happened.

They didn't do well in lessons because it was hard to concentrate at anything. It was so easy to get distracted. And the magic hardly made a difference at all. Everything was easy, especially in Charms, the teacher was nice, but their arms could never make the right motions unless they practised for ages and ages, and they couldn't concentrate on practise for long.

They weren't happy. Well, they were sort of happy, sometimes, but not all of the time, and when they were sort of happy, someone would interrupt them and they wouldn't be happy anymore.

Hogwarts was the best thing that had happened to them, but that didn't mean they were doing well here. Only that it was better than a hospital.

"...I'm doing really well, thank you."