Severus Snape was a very confused man, and there was only one reason for it: Harry James Potter, the spawn of his boyhood nemesis. He wished he hated the child. Hatred was easy. He could deal with hatred, but his feelings regarding the boy were more complicated. He had tried for eleven years to hate the child of James Potter, but was unable to hate the child of Lily Evans, the only person to ever befriend him and the woman he still loved.

Though no one else realized it, save perhaps Dumbledore, Shape was incredibly nervous when the first years were ushered inside the castle for the Sorting. He had never seen the boy, and feared what would happen when they met. When he saw him walk into the Great Hall for the first time, his childhood resentment welled up in his chest. The dratted boy was an exact replica of his father.

Except for his eyes. He had the beautiful, emerald green eyes of Lily Evans. And that was his dilemma. He could not love the image of James Potter any more than he could hate the eyes of Lily Evans. Severus Snape was only alive because of his ability to mask his emotions and think quickly, but he could not, for the life of him, decide how to handle Harry Potter.

The boy being sorted into Ravenclaw only served to further complicate the matter. James Potter was a Gryffindor to the core, while Lily would have thrived in any of the Houses. The length of time it took the hat to Sort Potter suggested that he could have fit in more than one House as well. It would have been far easier to hate a to-the-core Gryffindor Golden Boy.

In the end, he decided that he could not bear to see the eyes of Lily Evans look up at him with malice. He would give the boy a chance, but he still had to prove himself.

His conflicting emotions crossed his face before he quickly replaced his mask when Harry Potter walked into his classroom for his first Potions lesson. Snape attempted to maintain his usual neutrality when dealing with the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. While he polarized the Gryffindors and Slytherins, the other houses generally provided a middle ground that he neither hated nor favored.

He forced himself to resist the urge to insult Potter when he checked attendance, but he still had to test the boy. He gave his usual speech glorifying the art of Potions brewing, and began the questioning. "Mr. Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"Draught of Living Death, sir."

"Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"The stomach of a goat, sir."

"What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"There is no difference, professor."

Perhaps, he thought,he is more like Lily than his father. "You are… correct, Mr. Potter." It was then that Severus Snape decided to ignore his striking resemblance to James Potter and treat him as the son of Lily Evans.

Things had fallen into a routine for Harry. He knew his way around the castle, and enjoyed most of his classes, aside from Defense Against the Dark Arts. He had expected Defense to be exciting, but it was terribly dull. His History of Magic class was not something he considered particularly exhilarating, but at least it was educational. Something was odd about Quirrell; he just was not sure what. The man appeared to be scared of his own shadow, but Harry could not help but be skeptical. His stutter seemed to be forced. Harry decided to keep a very close eye on the Defense professor.

He had trouble reading Snape. By all accounts, the man was a talented Potions Master, one of the best in the world, but the way he looked at Harry was a bit disconcerting. He was a competent teacher, Harry supposed, but he made him feel ill at ease. Why did Snape single him out on the first day of class? Harry initially believed that Snape was trying to set him up to fail, but the man had looked oddly pleased after Harry answered his questions.

Snape confused him, but his real worry was with Quirrell.

Professor Sprout was a pleasant woman, but Harry had did not care for Herbology. He did well in the class because his pride would not allow him to struggle, but he never took pleasure from his time in the greenhouses.

The always jovial Professor Flitwick was thrilled to have Harry in his house and took every opportunity to dote on him. He was quickly becoming the Charms Master's favorite student. Flitwick told Harry that his knack for Charms rivaled that of his mother, and Lily was one of the best students Flitwick had ever taught. Harry genuinely enjoyed the subject and professor.

Professor McGonagall had initially seemed to be bitter about Harry's Sorting, but had gotten over it when Harry had displayed his talent for Transfiguration. He and Hermione Granger always competed to complete their assignments first, and the Deputy Headmistress was thrilled to have two students excelling at her subject. While Harry preferred Charms, Transfiguration was one of his favorites.

Harry was disturbed by the news of a break-in at Gringotts, as he believed it had something to do with the school. Hagrid had emptied a vault on his birthday, the same day that an empty vault had been plundered by thieves. Harry had been curious about what Hagrid removed from the vault at the time, and felt his curiosity grow. He recalled Dumbledore's speech at the beginning of the year, when he had forbidden the students to enter the third floor corridor. It had seemed odd at the time, but Harry had not given it much thought. He decided to wait for another unusual occurrence.

His first flying lesson had been one of the best experiences of his life. The broom had responded to his every command, as if it were an extension of his being. The feeling of the air caressing his face as he flew through the sky was one of the best things he had ever experienced. Madam Hooch had commented that he was a natural on a broom, and had told him that he should try out for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team next year. Harry told her that he would consider it, but doubted he would try out. He loved flying, but did not want to waste time he could use for his studies.

Before Harry knew it, the first two months of the year had elapsed. He was the happiest he had ever been, and felt at home for the first time in his life. He and Hermione were competitive, but they were also best friends who spent nearly all their time together.

On the night of the Halloween Feast, Harry and Hermione were congratulating each other on their mutual success in charms class. They had both successfully cast the levitation charm on their first attempt

The students were enjoying the feast when Quirrell sprinted into the Great Hall, shouting about a troll in the dungeons before he fainted. Harry took a skeptical glance at the still form of Quirrell before turning to Hermione. "I'm not buying it. How about you, Hermione?'

"I'm afraid not. But it looks like Snape is keeping an eye on him." Harry looked at the Head Table and noticed that Snape was, indeed, hanging back with his eyes cast on Quirrell, while the other professors were rushing forward and ordering the students to return to their dormitories. Harry and Hermione stepped in line behind their Prefects and headed back to the Ravenclaw tower.

Daphne was not enjoying Hogwarts. She had discovered that none of the teachers were as capable as her grandmother, and she was near the top in all her classes. She had continued to read ahead in all of her subjects, as she saw no reason to move as slowly as the other students. There were only two students in here year who moved as quickly through the material as her.

Her biggest problem was Draco Malfoy. The boy was insufferable. He had, on more occasions than she cared to remember, attempted to befriend her and seemed reluctant to take "Bugger off," for an answer. She had made it quite clear that she was not interested in his companionship, but he persisted. He had only stopped after finding himself on the business end of her wand.

Malfoy had attempted to win over the House, but had only succeeded in earning two witless thugs in Crabbe and Goyle and a love struck puppy in Pansy Parkinson. His father's money carried some sway with most of the House, but the boy was a bit dim.

She realized that Malfoy had only stopped accosting her because she was better than him with a wand, so she put even more attention into her studies because she knew that it was advantageous to be more capable than him.

Part of the reason she was so disenchanted with Hogwarts was the loneliness. She had accepted long ago that she was destined to be alone, and had become a better person for it, but that did not make it any less painful. She was cold and distant with everyone, wearing a mask to keep others from seeing her emotions. Even her relationship with her sister had deteriorated. Because of her personality, or the personality she revealed to the school, nearly everyone in her House hated her. She could accept being hated by others, but she was afraid that she might hate herself.

The months blurred past, and the Christmas Holidays had arrived. Harry was extremely disappointed to see Hermione leave, but ordered her to have fun with her parents. Before she left for the train, she had handed Harry a gift and told him not to open it until Christmas morning. Harry had hugged her tightly before handing her a box wrapped in green and red paper.

Harry had been alone for a decade, but loneliness was more difficult to cope with now that he knew how it felt to have a friend. Harry went through the motions on the days leading up to Christmas, continuing to study, but all his actions were mechanical.

On Christmas morning, he awoke early to open his gift from Hermione. He removed the paper carefully, almost reverently. It was his first Christmas present; Hell, it was his first ever present. He assumed that his parents had given him gifts, but he did not remember any of them. It was a copy ofAchievements in Alchemy, an advanced book on the subject which he had not been able to find in the Hogwarts library.

He stayed tucked in his bed with the curtains closed around him reading his book until it was time for breakfast. As he got out of bed, he noticed another gift lying on the floor. Who else would have gotten him a present? He looked at the note on top of the package and discovered that it had belonged to his father. The note was not signed. He examined the present, and saw that it was a cloak. He threw it over his pajamas and disappeared. Harry gaped as he realized that someone had sent him an invisibility cloak.

The rest of the day was agonizing for Harry. He had a plan for the night, and time was passing at an amazingly slow pace. After dinner, he returned to his dormitory and waited until he was sure everyone was asleep before throwing on his invisibility cloak and heading to the third floor.

He moved as cautiously and soundlessly as he could manage, ensuring he made it to the forbidden corridor without being heard. He had only one close encounter when he had spotted the caretaker Filch and his cat Mrs. Norris. He had stopped moving and waited for them to pass, but felt his heart beat quicken and sweat trickle down his brow when the old man had stopped moving. He had a sixth sense for detecting rule breaking. Harry had remained silent and still for what felt like hours until Filch decided to continue his rounds.

Harry made it to the corridor with no other interruptions. He eventually came to a locked door. The lock was simple enough to overcome, being no more complex than the charm Daphne had placed on her compartment door on the Express.

Harry stared at the floor, his pulse racing as he pushed the door open. Slowly, he raised his head taking in the details of the room. The first thing he noticed was a trap door covered by a massive paw. His head jerked up, and he caught the eye of a monstrous three-headed dog. Harry's heart caught in his throat as he slammed the door shut and began running. He had no idea where he was going, his only objective being to put as much distance as possible between himself and thatbeast.

He sprinted through room after room, up and down stairs, and through seemingly endless corridors, not coming to a stop until his lungs screamed for air. After he caught his breath, he examined his surroundings. It appeared to be an unused classroom, coated with years of dust. In one corner sat an ornately decorated, golden-framed mirror. There were words on the mirror written in a language he did not understand.

Exhausted from his run, he sat down in front of the mirror, discarding his invisibility cloak on the floor beside him. He peered into the mirror and saw his reflection, but he was not alone. He was surrounded by other people, but he only recognized two of them. His Uncle Vernon was patting him on the shoulder, a look of pride in his eyes, while his Aunt Petunia was gazing at him lovingly. Two others, a man who looked like an older version of Harry and a woman with dark red hair and emerald green eyes were staring at him longingly. His parents.

Harry had never felt as wanted or loved as he did when he looked at himself in the mirror. The hours flew by, and he could not even remember how long he had been sitting before the image of his family. He could have spent the rest of his life there, with people who loved him.

The sound of footsteps from behind caught his attention. He craned his neck and saw Daphne Greengrass enter the room, her usual sneer missing. "What do you see in the mirror, Potter?" she asked softly. Her eyes were looking past Harry into the mirror, and he could easily see a look of hunger on her face. It was the same look he knew currently graced his own face.

But it was something he had never expected to see on Daphne's face. He had not spoken to her since that day in Madam Malkin's, but he continued to be intrigued by her. He had known there was much more to her than she ever showed the rest of the school, and the look on her face confirmed it.

"I see… myself and people who love me. What about you, Greengrass?"

She chuckled mirthlessly and whispered, "We're not so different, Potter." Daphne walked out of the room fighting back the tears which threatened to escape her. She had been visiting her grandmother for the past month, and knew now that she could not go back. She had seen the look on Potter's face and realized the mirror was consuming him as she now knew it was consuming her. She had, of course, known that her obsession was unhealthy, but had not realized the potential damage until she saw the manic longing on Harry's face; a look she knew was mirrored on her own face.

A few minutes after her departure, Harry stood and threw his invisibility cloak over him, wanting nothing more than to return, but knowing he should not. The look on Daphne's face told him that much.

He slowly made his way back to the dorm, before collapsing onto his bed and letting oblivion embrace him.