It was after supper that Harry got to unwind and calm down after his first horrific day of classes. Lying in his bed with the curtains drawn to muffle the rising sobs that tore their way through his throat, he cried silently for a few minutes. A skill he had acquired from living in the Dursley household for so long, he tried to calm himself as best he could whenever he heard a slight shift from the beds beside him.

He sighed, recounting the day's events in his head. He had tried to do his best in all of the lessons he had that day, and had managed to do so far until Potions class came, and he had wanted to cry right then and there when Professor Snape scolded him. He was honestly scared that Snape would hurt him, as he knew what came along with scornful words - physical pain. The only thought that went through his head during the entire lesson was how to avoid irritating the professor and avoid future conflicts, which left him super distracted, trying not to attract any attention to himself.

At the end of the day, he was so worn out from having to constantly be on guard and avoid repeating the incident with his other teachers, flinching at the slightest loud noise or sudden movement.

I don't know why he hates me; I guess everyone just does. He thought, not understanding the reason behind why everyone seemed to look at him and decide that they hated him.

I think Aunt Petunia was right to say I'm a freak; everyone seems to know that at first glance. I'll have to apologize to Professor Snape though, I don't want him to get angry with me...He's a powerful wizard and a grown man, so he could easily do it if he wanted to. He sighed.

His sobbing subsided into sniffles, and soon, sleep overtook his exhausted body and mind.

As the slightest hint of light entered the room through the windows, Harry rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stretched in his bed. His mind was still sluggish from sleep as he put on his glasses.

His feet dangled from the bed and touched the cold stone floor, shivering at the contact. He wore the pair of slippers by his bed and went to the shared bathroom of the boys' dorms. He was glad to see no one was up yet, as starting his morning in absolute quiet felt truly wonderful, especially after living with the Dursley's for so long; their mornings were far from peaceful.

Taking a shower was a must for Harry, especially in the mornings; it helped him get in the right mind for the day. Done with showering, he brushed his teeth and dressed in his uniform, ready for another day full of classes. His stomach dropped at the thought of classes; he wasn't mentally ready for anything today. Although he was thankful he didn't have Potions today, the chance of running into Professor Snape were still high, and he was sure the man hated his guts, if not his entire existence, after just one day.

He stepped out of the bathroom and wondered what he should do now that he had some time to kill. Deciding to read the material for today's Transfiguration class, he was soon too focused on it to notice that his dorm mates were already beginning to wake up.

As the noise from the other boys slowly rose, Harry couldn't concentrate anymore and chose to instead head to the Great Hall for breakfast. He managed to reach it almost empty, except for a few students scattered here and there. Harry felt his stomach twist as he stepped through the large gates, growing more nervous as some people turned their heads in his direction but soon returned to whatever they were doing. He almost sighed in relief; his palms were sweaty and his heart was racing. He continued walking until he reached the first seat closest to the door, wanting to sit in a place that would be less conspicuous than sitting in the middle or near the teachers.

Speaking of the teachers, he glanced up and saw that most of them had not arrived yet, but the one person who caught his eye was Professor Snape, who was conversing with Madam Pomfrey, the school's medicin-witch. He looked calm; there was no frown or disdain on his face like he had seen him wearing yesterday. Of course, it's because I'm a freak, thought Harry, looking at the heap of food in front of him with a sigh.

Harry ate a few slices of bread with blueberry jam and cream, choosing something light to have for breakfast. He got up as soon as he finished eating, finding that the hall was starting to become crowded as more students arrived. It was still about half an hour to forty-five minutes before the first class would start, but he thought being early wouldn't hurt.

He walked back to the Gryffindor Common Room and went to retrieve his school bag, adding the books he needed for today's schedule. The walk to his first class was peaceful, as most of the students hadn't arrived yet. His thoughts wandered to his Transfiguration teacher, Professor McGonagall. She was strict but kind, and had a motherly feel to her. The thought of her made him smile; she was truly kind, as she had proven yesterday when she guided them through their first class.

Harry looked forward to it; his steps caught a slight bounce as he hurried to the classroom.

--

After the second lesson, Harry found himself wandering into the Astronomy Tower, lost in thought. The cold breeze caressed his face, making him shiver slightly. He walked to the edge, leaning on the railing and watching the cloudy skies. His mind cleared as he breathed in deeply through his nose. The sound of hurried footsteps caught his attention, and he turned around to see a brown-haired boy, seemingly looking around frantically for something.

Noticing Harry, he paused. "Um, hi," he said.

"Hello," Harry replied.

The boy asked, "Would you happen to have seen a bag floating around nearby?" His feet moved in place as he caught his breath. Harry frowned; he wasn't quite sure if he had seen anything of the sort. "I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head.

The boy groaned and hurried down the stairs before Harry could offer his help. Someone must have been playing a prank on the boy, Harry thought. He brushed it off and went back to gazing upon the school grounds. He could see the beginning of the Forbidden Forest, a few trees illuminated by the sunlight, while the rest was covered in a thick layer of fog. He briefly wondered about what creatures might be there, how they lived, and if they could use magic like humans.

His stomach rumbled in hunger, causing him to sigh as he dug through his bag for the soft rolls he had taken from the kitchen earlier. The rolls were soft and still warm; the elves in the kitchen kept them under a warming spell until they were eaten. Finishing his quick lunch, he sat back and relaxed for a while. The wind gently ruffled his hair.

He would soon have to go to his next class; he had thirty minutes at best, and he had already planned how to use them. He would write an apology to Professor Snape and hope for the best from then on. And so, he sat with his back to the railing and pulled out a piece of parchment and his quill. He wanted to convey that he truly meant no disrespect to the teacher and would always try his best in his classes.

The thirty minutes had passed quickly, and Harry sealed his letter and signed it before placing it between the pages of a book to protect it. He headed to his History of Magic class a few minutes before Professor Binns arrived. The lesson passed normally enough, except for the ruckus the boy from the Astronomy Tower caused by being late.

"Dont repeat it next time, Mr. Longbottom." said Professor Binns as he continued his lesson. Longbottom apologized and sat next to Harry, seeing as it was the only empty seat left. He smiled awkwardly as he fumbled with his bag, taking a deep breath as he finally took his book out. He fixed the gold and red tie around his neck, signalling he was a Gryffindor, he sagged in his seat as he opened his book.

"What page is it?" he asked Harry, who pointed to the bottom of the page in his own book. The boy thanked him in a whisper. Harry's interest was piqued, so he wrote on a torn piece of parchment and passed it over to the boy next to him.

"What's your name? I'm Harry."

The boy looked surprised for a second but then replied nonetheless.

"Hi, I'm Neville. Nice to meet you."

Harry wrote once again, "Where did you find your bag?" He also asked, "Who took it?"

Neville sighed silently. He began writing, "It was stuck on one of the statues near the Great Hall. Just a bunch of kids, thought it funny to have me late for class""

Frowning, Harry read his response. 'Let's talk after class, and I can walk with you to your next class if you want?'

Neville nodded, deciding to finally pay attention to the droning professor.

As promised, they went together to their last class of the day, Defence Against the Dark Arts. He got a few looks when he passed by a group of kids who looked disdainfully at Neville; the boy kept his head down to avoid any conflict. Harry thought about the letter in his bag, wondering if sending it via an owl would be best, if the professor didn't want to see him or was in a bad mood.

--

"Thank you, Harry," Neville said as they reached the classroom, still a bit early for the other students to have arrived yet. They put their belongings down and sat.

"No problem, Neville. I saw how they looked at you," replied Harry. He was slowly becoming friends with Nevile, and the sweet boy did nothing to deserve all this bullying. "Maybe you can tell Professor McGonagall? I know it kind of feels like a bother, but trust me, she's a good person." He offered, knowing the teacher would not let this pass easily.

He sighed, sounding exasperated. Harry's descriptions of people still seemed weird to him. "I'll try."

They chatted for a couple of minutes before the students began to pour in, soon followed by Professor Quirrell.

It was their first class with Professor Quirrell, and he was acting...quite suspicious and creepy. He would stare at Harry through widened eyes for a period of time without blinking, and was always somehow in Harry's line of sight. Harry brushed it off at first, but it soon grew to be uncomfortable. Neville noticed his discomfort, and asked him if he was alright.

"Don't you think the professor's acting quite odd?" he replied in a whisper. As soon as he finished his sentence, Quirrell sprinted to their shared desk and looked into Harry's eyes. "Do you have a question, Mr. Potter?" he asked in his weirdly high-pitched tone, not stuttering once in his sentence. Harry leaned back in his seat; the man was just too close for comfort.

"No, Professor. I don't...have a question." He gulped.

Professor Quirrell backed up and continued his lesson as if nothing had happened; his glaring eyes never left Harry for the rest of the class.

Harry and Neville almost ran out of the classroom when the bell rang. Heaving a sigh, Harry slung his bag over his shoulder as they walked back towards the Gryffindor dorms. 'That was...an extraordinary lesson to say the least.' Neville laughed at Harry's bewildered state, agreeing with him. I'll have to watch out; it makes me shudder just thinking about him... thought Harry.

"Oh Neville," he said, "I almost forgot." He paused as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, muttering the password. Neville hummed.

"What is it, Harry?"

"I''m going to send a letter; I'll see you in a bit, yeah?"

"Alright," nodded Neville. He said his goodbyes and entered, leaving Harry on the staircase. Harry watched him enter before hurrying off to the Owlery. He wore his cape and hurried his steps as the sun began to set, the air taking a crisp chilliness that bit his cheeks as he moved towards the West Tower. He sighed as he climbed the stairs, noticing another presence as he ascended. He froze as he saw the unmistakable back of the subject of his little adventure standing with an owl perched on his left forearm.

He seemed to have noticed Harry's presence, but decided not to address him. Harry cleared his throat, and started looking for his owl. It was perched on the edge of the tower, grooming its feathers. He smiled softly upon seeing Hedwig; he petted her head affectionately. His heartbeat quickened as he heard the man approach the edge with measured steps. Quickly, he fumbled with his bag and pulled out the book containing the letter. He thought he might just give it to the man instead of having it delivered to him at breakfast, which he was sure would annoy the man in his peaceful morning.

"Uhm, good evening, Professor Snape." he squeaked as he turned around, head bowed and palms sweaty.

"Out with it, Potter." He drawled, his voice devoid of any emotion.

Harry extended both hands and held the letter up to the man. oh no, is he mad? he's angry, he's angry, is he going hurt me?

"And what, exactly, is this Potter? Some kind of joke, I assume?" He asked unkindly, holding the envelope between two fingers, as if disgusted by it.

"No, sir. It's an apology for my behavior in your class, sir." Don't raise your voice, stay calm; if he wanted to hurt you, he would have already done so. His tone sounded shaky, and sweat beaded his forehead.

"Very well, Mr. Potter. It seems you are aware of what you did." The professor mused, not having expected the boy to actually write an apology, even though he was not at fault.

His breath quickened along with his heartbeat, he chose to leave instead of face the wrath he was sure to come. Gulping, he said, "Have a good rest of the day, sir." I need to go, I need to go, I need to..

When he said nothing, Harry went down the stairs as fast as he could and ran all the way back to the castle. Once inside the relatively warm castle, he slowed down his pace, catching his breath for a few moments. As he walked through the corridors, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. That was...so scary!!

--

Snape opened the letter, and was met with the readable scrawl the boy wrote.

Professor Snape,

I sincerely apologize for my behaviour in your class yesterday. I had not known i came off as disrespectful and arrogant, I only thought to write what you said because I thought it important. I never wanted to have the first lesson of Potions to go badly. If you do not wish to see me so often, I can sit at the back from now on. Please don't take points from the house, if you wish to punish, punish me alone sir.

Sincerely,

Harry Potter

To say he was surprised would be an understatement. He read it once more and felt his heart clench. He knew what was going on with Harry; he knew he lived with his relatives and, having never seen his father, could never be like James in any sense. Regret began clawing at his throat; he had been unreasonable in bickering with an eleven-year-old child, and an orphan at that, by telling him all those horrible things.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was going to cause some trouble for both of them.