Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: Hello there, and thanks for the reviews! I'm really glad you liked the way I portrayed Draco. He's a pretty nasty jerk right now, but I hope you like what I do with him throughout the story. I really like both writing and reading canon divergence stories.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

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As soon as Draco had stormed out of the room, Snape collapsed into his chair, taking some deep breaths in order to calm down. That boy is incorigible, he thought, and bitterness swarmed through him as he thought of Lucius and Narcissa and the way they had raised him. He was a spoiled, entitled, rich brat who got every material possession he asked for, but was completely ignorant about the things that mattered most. Sometimes it took every ounce of patience Snape had just to look at Draco, because he saw his younger self in him. It wasn't that Severus had received a lot of material possessions; after all, his father spent the little money they had on drink, and his mother was always in a sorry state, completely submissive to his father. The fact of the matter was that he had grown up with hatred and revenge on his mind, and had wanted to fit in so badly that he had gotten mixed up with the wrong crowd in Slytherin, seeking power and glory. And Lucius was teaching Draco the same thing - to go after power, and trample on whoever stood in his way. Crabbe and Goyle were huge, hulking brutes, just like Mulciber and Avery.

He realized that it was taking him a lot longer to calm down today than usual. Anger and disgust pounded through him; the events of the past day had really gotten to him. Moody's unexpected visit and the smug way in which he spoke of what he did had snapped something inside of him, and he had barely slept the night before. When he did finally doze off, his dreams were filled with Lily. Those green eyes blazed at him in the same way Harry's had in Moody's memory. Snape was thoroughly shaken by the fact that he had seen Lily in Harry. Ever since the boy had arrived at Hogwarts, all Snape had seen was James, James, James.

He'd been taken to task by Dumbledore numerous times, and the Headmaster had implored him to let go of the grudge he held towards James Potter. Snape snorted to himself - the fool talked like that was an easy feat to accomplish. Those blue eyes had held a warning when they looked at Snape, and he'd felt shudders course down his spine when he remembered the words, "You disgust me," that had come out of his mouth all those years ago. Shame and anger had roiled through his gut as those blue eyes seemed to judge him, disect him, probe him. He never liked to make eye contact with Dumbledore, if he could help it.

And now, the worst had happened. The boy had gone and done something James Potter never would have. He had stuck up for someone he disliked with every fiber of his being, and Snape didn't know how to deal with it. It was easier to think of Harry as a replica of James than to relive memories of Lily. It was already hard enough whenever he saw the boy's eyes across the classroom, or read his handwriting when he turned in essays. His script was too much like hers for comfort.

Snape was also livid at the way Draco had oh-so-casually flung the word "Mudblood" around while talking about Miss Granger; it filled Snape with rage. Unfortunately, the word was common amongst the children of Death Eaters, and it was bandied around so often that Snape should be used to it by now. But every time he heard the vile word, he felt his heart seize. And one of the worst offenders was Draco, who thought himself big and macho whenever he used it. Just like him, he thought angrily. Being part of Mulciber and Avery's group had made him feel big and strong, untouchable. He discovered way too late that the power he'd achieved meant nothing.

Sighing, Snape called a house-elf for some breakfast. He had taken to avoiding the Great Hall as much as possible. Dumbledore didn't like it, but he honestly didn't care. The laughter and chatter of the students set his teeth on edge; he truly despised those carefree sounds. The rich, sumptuous foods which were always on the tables made him feel physically ill, and he hated how some of the teachers pitied him while others looked at him with an expression that clearly said, "I'm sick and tired of your attitude."

Snape knew for sure that this morning was definitely not one where he should present himself in the Great Hall. He needed to regain control of his volatile emotions before his classes today. And of course, he just had to have the fourth-year Gryffindors and Slytherins this afternoon. Could fate bestow anything worse upon him? he thought bitterly as an elf brought a bland breakfast for him to eat.

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Harry wandered down to the Great Hall with Neville by his side. Ron had gone without him, and as hard as Harry tried, he couldn't not be bothered by this. As much as Harry hadn't wanted to hang around him last night, he now missed his presence. Ron was his oldest friend, and what had happened yesterday couldn't possibly have caused this much of a rift between them, could it? Just because Harry didn't laugh at the torment Malfoy was put through?

He vowed that after classes today, he would attempt to talk to him. Ron had always been a good friend, and they had been through so much together. He'd never forget how the other boy had sacrificed himself at the end of first year, allowing Harry and Hermione to advance to the next stage of the rescue of the Philosopher's Stone. Last year, he had stood between Harry and who was thought to be a mass murderer, his broken leg causing him immense agony, and proclaimed that if Sirius wanted to kill Harry, he'd have to kill him, too. The loyalty displayed in that action had truly been astounding.

Harry knew that the reason Ron was upset with him was because he felt Harry hadn't been on his side when Malfoy had insulted his family. That had been made clear to him last night, and even though Harry had tried to explain that he in no way agreed with those insults, Ron didn't seem to understand. Harry didn't suddenly think Malfoy was a shining paragon of virtue. As a matter of fact, he still thought the Slytherin was nothing but a selfish, stuck-up little git. He just didn't deserve to be brutalized by a professor.

He sat quietly at the Gryffindor table, and Neville sat next to him. Ron was a few seats down, and Harry made eye contact with him. Ron gave him a curt nod back; this was progress, at least. By this evening, he hoped to have their friendship back on solid ground.

At that moment, Hermione came into the hall, and walked over to the table. She sat on Harry's other side, and smiled at him and Neville. "Good morning," she said. "Is Ron still being ridiculous?"

"Don't worry about it, Hermione," Harry said, not wanting to hear the two start rowing again. "I'll talk to him after classes today. Please don't argue again, okay?"

"Fine," Hermione huffed, not looking pleased. She sighed, and thankfully seemed to let the subject go.

xxx

Classes that morning went fairly well, except for the fact that Harry caught little snatches of conversation about the ferret incident interspersed with other small talk. The people who hadn't been there had been informed of what had happened, and Harry heard the laughter that the image ensued. He began to get angry again, but then realized that just being told about it wouldn't give people the full picture. If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he probably would have laughed, too. What had truly raised his hackles had been the look on Moody's face, and the sick pleasure gleaming in his eyes, both normal and magical, as he threw the ferret around, with no regard whatsoever for the injuries he was causing.

As well as being eerily reminded of his own treatment at the hands of the Dursleys, he also remembered, with crystal clarity, the events of the Quidditch World Cup. Those Death Eaters had dangled that family of Muggles in the air, scaring them beyond imagination. There was a viciousness to it that made him feel fear such as he had never known. He thought it must be a blessing for them to not remember the incident, and he was so relieved that nothing worse had happened to them. The whole thing had been horrifying, and those images were always going to stick with Harry. He had no doubts that Lucius Malfoy had been one of those wizards. Had Draco known about it beforehand? Harry honestly didn't know, but dreaded the answer.

After lunch, Harry had the class he most dreaded: Potions with Snape. The dour man liked nothing better than to humiliate him at every opportunity, and was so biased against the Gryffindors it was unbelievable. As they walked down to the dungeons, Neville looked particularly frightened. Snape had always been vicious to him, and it only made it harder for him to complete his potions successfully. Harry wasn't much better, but didn't feel scared of Snape. Rather, he was livid at the man for being so despicable and foul.

"It'll be okay, Neville. I'll sit with you this time," Harry promised. As the day had progressed and Harry had sat with him throughout their classes, he was reminded again of how he'd neglected getting to know the other boy better. His circle had really consisted of only Ron and Hermione for all these years, and since Harry and Ron were currently at odds, it was only now that he realized that Neville didn't deserve the reputation he had gained. He might be clumsy and quiet, but there was a thoughtfulness to him that Harry hadn't noticed before. He was also very lacking in confidence, and often talked about himself in a negative way. Harry had told him in their first year that he was worth twelve of Malfoy, but now he knew it more than ever.

"Thanks, Harry," Neville said, his cheeks reddening. He seemed very grateful to have Harry around, which made him feel even guiltier. Why hadn't he noticed that Neville did most things on his own, avoiding contact with other people? The wariness and cautiousness in him reminded Harry clearly of his younger self, of how he used to go around primary school. He was scared to even try and befriend anyone; his early efforts had ended up with Dudley's gang beating them to a pulp. Harry realized it was better to socially isolate himself on purpose rather than to be rejected.

They entered the classroom, and Harry, true to his word, sat with Neville instead of with Ron. Hermione and Lavender shared a desk next to them, and she whispered to Harry, "Don't let Snape bait you, all right?"

"Yes, Hermione," Harry said with a sigh. She was always telling him this, and he was becoming sick of it. She meant well, of course, but it was hard not to react to the spiteful comments Snape always made. Since the first day of Potions class, Snape's bullying had been relentless. Last year, he had learned that Snape and James Potter had been enemies during their own school years, but why should that mean that Harry was blamed for whatever his father had done? It was so unfair.

At that moment, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle sauntered into the room. Malfoy looked over at Harry, and sent him a glare. He noticed that the expression was more vicious than usual - did this still have to do with last night? he thought. What's his problem? Why is he angry with me for defending him?

Malfoy then decided to follow up his glare with words, since Snape had not entered the room yet. "So, Potter," he said snidely. "Not sitting with the weasel today? Is Longbottom your new charity project?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Ron snarled. "You're a pathetic piece of slime, Ferret Face."

Seamus, who was sitting beside him, snickered. Some of the other Gryffindors laughed too, and Harry bristled. He should have known Ron would say that.

Malfoy flushed with both embarrassment and fury, his fists clenching. "Careful, Weasel Bee," he taunted, his nostrils flaring.

"Or what?" Ron spat back. "You were a much better ferret than a person. Much more fun to hang around with, don't you know?"

Malfoy jumped to his feet, as did Crabbe and Goyle. All three advanced on Ron, and Harry hurried over to put himself between them. "Malfoy, Ron, would both of you stop being gits?" he shouted at them.

"Oh, what's the matter, Potter?" Malfoy sneered. "Suddenly the peacemaker, are you? Did you have a nice chat with the Mudblood and decide to become a teacher's pet just like her?"

Harry and Ron's faces blanched in anger. "Don't call her that!" Ron roared, trying to get past Crabbe and Goyle so he could launch himself at Malfoy.

"What is going on here?" a deep voice snarled from the doorway. Snape had arrived, and the look on his face made everyone stop in their tracks. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for your behavior, Weasley," he said in a low, furious voice. "And twenty more for yours, Potter."

Harry glowered at Snape, furious. "But Malfoy insulted ..." Ron started.

"Twenty more points from Gryffindor for speaking out of turn, Weasley," Snape hissed. "Now sit down before I take twenty more."

With rage practically glowing from their eyes, Harry, Ron, Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy sat down in their seats. Harry looked at Neville, and found that he was shaking. Whether it was in anger, fear, or both, he didn't know.

"Now," said Snape as he sneered around the room, "you will be making a calming potion today. The instructions are on the board, and there will be no interruptions. Do I make myself clear?" He came to stand in front of Harry and Neville, and venom dripped from his tone as he added, "Ah, Potter, I see you are willing to receive an even worse grade in Potions. I did not think that even you would be so blindingly foolish as to work with Longbottom."

Harry stayed defiantly silent, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes. Beside him, Neville shrank into his chair, the blood draining from his face.

"Do you not have anything to say for yourself, Potter?" Snape taunted. His black eyes were merciless, and his tone was so full of hate that it floored Harry. Was it his imagination, or was Snape acting even worse than usual? What could Harry possibly have done to earn such a scathing diatribe, and why was he always picking on Neville?

Harry couldn't help but lose control of his temper as his green eyes met Snape's malevolent black ones. "Yeah, I have something to say," he snarled, his heart racing. It was then that he completely lost control, years' worth of words spilling out of him before he had a chance to think. He would later come to realize that this particular Potions class had been a true turning point for him.

"You are an awful teacher, sir." He injected as much disrespect as he could into Snape's title, not caring what the consequences would be. "No wonder Neville always has trouble in Potions, because you're always being horrible to him. You even threatened to poison his toad last year! I don't know what your problem is, and I honestly don't care. You think it's just fine that your precious Slytherins go around calling people like Hermione that disgusting word all the time, and you're always taking points from Gryffindor for no reason at all! And whatever problems you had with my dad, HE's DEAD, AND I'm NOT HIM!"

Snape's face turned white with rage. He looked unhinged, as though he wanted nothing more than to send Harry straight into oblivion. Most Gryffindors were staring at Harry with both awe and horror, and Ron was looking very impressed. Hermione, however, only had horror on her face. Her expression said plainly, you're in for it now.

But Harry didn't give a hoot. He'd felt thoroughly shaken up since last night; he was truly tired of teachers thinking they could get away with this kind of garbage. Harry had always respected Dumbledore, but why did he hire such rubbish teachers? Quirrell, Lockhart, Binns, Trelawney, Snape ... and now Moody was added to the mix. Harry hadn't even had a class with him yet, but he couldn't trust him as far as he could throw him.

Deep down, Harry knew it was wrong to scream at Snape the way he just had. No matter how harshly he was treated, yelling back at him would do him no favors. He could be suspended or expelled; he knew Snape wanted nothing more than to kick him out of Hogwarts for good. But right now, the acid pounding through his veins would not allow him to feel any dread or guilt. All he felt was fury, having been let down by yet another teacher, and Snape had now pushed him too far. Harry Potter had truly had enough.

"Potter," Snape hissed, his voice so low and deadly that it sent a shiver down Harry's spine. His black eyes were smouldering with rage as he stared Harry down. "Get out of my sight. You will be at my office at eight o'clock tonight. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," Harry spat, getting out of his chair so fast it toppled over.

"And fifty points from Gryffindor for your appalling conduct towards a teacher," Snape growled as Harry grabbed his bag and left the classroom as quickly as he could, casting one last blazing look at the vile, ugly man who was his so-called teacher.

As soon as the classroom was out of sight, Harry began to run. He felt like a man possessed; his blood was boiling, and he suddenly had so much energy he didn't know what to do with. All he could do was run, a million thoughts racing through his mind.

Finally, he reached the castle courtyard, and he collapsed onto a bench, panting. The courtyard was silent - everyone else was in classes. Harry tried to catch his breath, the enormity of what he'd just done finally beginning to hit him.

Oh Merlin, poor Neville. He'd left him in Snape's classroom to fend for himself - what kind of awful friend was he? He'd completely ignored Hermione and let Snape get to him. He'd thought all these things about Snape for years, but to say them out loud in front of the whole class? What was wrong with him? Would Snape tell him tonight that today had been his last day at Hogwarts?

His body filled with dread when he remembered how the Gryffindors had behaved when he, Neville, and Hermione had lost so many points three years ago because they were out after curfew. How would they take the events of today? Just like Malfoy's ferret incident, Harry screaming at Snape would spread around Hogwarts like wildfire. What would be the chain reaction to this?

Harry sat there for a long time, unwilling to move. He'd really done it this time, and who knew what would happen now?