Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Please read before stating

Well, welcome to a new story.~

First of all, I want to say that, whether you're coming from another story of mine or this is your first, I hope you enjoy reading it. Whether it's one or a thousand beautiful little people reading this, I want it to be an... experience? Idk, I want it to be worth it lol.

But let's start by making things clear.

Some of you know, others don't, but I'll start by saying that I have dyslexia, so you're likely to encounter spelling errors (hopefully not horrendous ones). Although I try to keep them to a minimum, I hope you can understand this detail. ;>;

Also, English is not my native language, so please, if you see a mistake, let me know, and be kind

With that out of the way, here are a few other small details I want you to keep in mind when you start reading:

• As I stated in the summary, this is a "Modern AU," meaning that it takes place in the present day... it won't change Hogwarts, just the Muggle world, of course. So you can have a better understanding, Harry was born in the year 2000, not in 1980, so he strarts Hogwarts in 2011. This won't affect the development of the story itself at all; it's more to narrate better some events in the Muggle world.
• If you like Draco... bear with me, because here he'll be the little jerk he is in the original work. He's not evil, obviously... but he is the spoiled brat who doesn't understand that not everyone will crawl at his feet. But that doesnt mean you should hate him, poor thing.
• You won't find Weasley family bashing, or Hermione bashing, or anyone from the "light side" bashing, it's not that kind of story.
• Regulus Black is alive.
• Sirius Black never played the "prank" on Severus by leading him to the Shrieking Shack, therefore, there isn't such a strong rivalry between them, to a certain extent they are even "friends", so they managed to make peace before the tragedy occurred.
• In this story, the one who gave the prophecy to Voldemort was not Severus.
• Both Regulus and Severus are Death Eaters who betrayed Voldemort. Everyone believes that Regulus is dead, but he is actually hiding in Prince Manor (the mansion of Snape's maternal family).
• This is not a story with romance as its central theme, but there will still be some development for the couple.
• Some events will not happen, but in many cases there will be parts of the original work, so I ask for your patience as the story unfolds.
• Albus Dumbledore is going to make a lot of mistakes. He's not necessarily evil... just too focused on what he believes to be the truth.

Well, if I find anything else to add, I'll post it in the notes at the end of the story. So please read them so you can find out everything.
Without further ado, welcome to this story.
Let's get the desmadre started. :)

Chapter Text

His uncles didn't want him to go with that man.

They told him there was something wrong with him, but that with a good beating they could cure him. Could they really cure him? And if they did... would they want him?

But he was curious, he wanted to go with Hagrid to see the wizarding world, and if there was a chance, even a slim one, that maybe there was somewhere out there where he could fit in... maybe... maybe he should go.

His uncles were furious, but he was happy. Was he really making the right choice?

It couldn't be all right, he was not supposed to be happy, but he wanted to see.

He went with Hagrid. Was he right to do so? He just met him. He seemed kind... but Harry knew that people could put up an act, like when his uncle pretended to be worried about him when they called home from school, but it was a lie, his uncle never worried about him.

He really liked riding the subway. It was his first time, it was fun... he shouldn't have had fun, but maybe if his uncles didn't find out, it wouldn't be a problem

There were tons of people in the Leaky Cauldron! He didn't really like that everyone wanted to shake his hand, but he did like seeing all the funny outfits, that according to Hagrid, were called "robes."

Diagon Alley was spectacular. It was a shame he didn't have better vision, otherwise, he was sure he would have loved it even more. He only saw faintly defined patches of many colors, but that was okay, when he got closer to each shop, he could see the windows more clearly.

The goblins were intimidating, but he liked them; they were serious about their job.

According to Hagrid, the only difference between a "stalactite" and a "stalagmite" was that one had the letter "m" in its name—it was a funny response, to say the least.

He enjoyed the trip to the vaults; it was very entertaining. He'd never experienced anything like it before, but he supposed that's how Dudley felt when he went to the amusement park and rode the bigest roller coaster.

Harry felt lost when he saw so much gold in his vault.

How would he manage it if he didn't know anything about those things? He never had more than a few coins in his hands, and they have only been to buy something for his aunt or to pay for the newspaper. He had no idea how to keep it from running out before school was over!

Even though it only contained a small package, the next vault they visited had much more security than his. That must mean it was something incredibly valuable... was it right to take it like that? Hagrid was not allowed to do magic; and he didn't know how. What if someone wanted to steal it?

He didn't like going to the uniform fitting. There was a blond boy who talked too much. Not that he didn't mind listening; he preferred that to talking, but his attitude reminded him too much of Dudley. He said something about Muggle-born children not being allowed to attend school. His mother was a Muggle-born, wasn't she? And according to Hagrid, his mother was a splendid witch; he didn't understand why she shouldn't have studied there then.

He liked the idea of ​​Quidditch; he was terrified of having to fly through the air on something as unstable as a broomstick, but at the same time, he found it incredible; wizards were amazing!

Hagrid didn't want him to bring books that weren't on the book list, but he allowed him to buy them anyway. After all he just arrived in a whole new world; he wanted to buy books that could explain some things he didn't know. Besides, "Hogwarts: A History" should be a required book, as far as he could see, it also explained some of the rules, everyone should read them... or so he thought, he could be wrong... well, he probably was, maybe everyone already knew the rules and he was just ignorant, as always.

Potions? He liked the few chemistry classes he had at school. Maybe he'd like Potions classes too. They seemed similar in some ways... although he probably wouldn't be able to do them well; he was useless, after all.

He wanted to use his new telescope that night. Maybe he could hide it so his uncles wouldn't take it, and he could test it from his window. Now that he wasn't sleeping in the cupboard, he had a view of the sky... that is, if they didn't send him back to sleep under the stairs, it was a possibility, his uncle looked furious when he left.

Hagrid had given him an owl! It was the first time he'd gotten something for his birthday. The shop assistant told him his new owl was a female. He'd find a suitable name for her later; he wanted one as pretty as she was.

Harry didn't really want to buy a wand. What if he never figures out how to use it? He was terrified that if he couldn't use it, he wouldn't be allowed into the school.

Mr. Ollivander was terrifying, very interesting... but he still scared him.

He had an impressive memory, remembering every wand he sold was marvelous! Harry was sure he couldn't possibly do it.

He wanted to know if the woods, cores, and measurements meant anything to him, if that is why he remembers them, but he didn't dare ask.

The first wand he waved sent the papers on the desk flying. He jumped and put it back in its box, but the man with the curious eyes didn't get angry; instead, he gave him another one.

This time, the boxes flew, he jumped again and he carefully and fearfully placed the wand down.

Another one, and this time the victim was the inkwell. Harry was horrified when he told him it was his favorite, but he was relieved to notice that he repaired it again with his own wand.

Harry was afraid to pick up the next one; and when he did he dropped it immediately without even trying it. No, it felt horrible.

He didn't even touch the fifth one; he looked fearfully at Mr. Ollivander. That wand was terrifying!

For the next one, the man himself took it away from his hand, saying it wasn't the right one, Harry silently agreed.

"Tricky customer, eh?..."

Harry blushed completely. He wanted to apologize, but Mr. Ollivander was beaming. He coudn't understand why he was so happy, but he didn't question it.

Another try, and another, and another... and another one.

The boy was getting tired, a little sleepy, but the man was just as, if not more, euphoric than before.

When he handed him another wand, Harry hesitated for a moment to take it, afraid of destroying something else.

"Go ahead, Mr. Potter," he smiled at him.

Harry sighed and reached out to take it, immediately feeling warmth run through his fingers. The wand felt like a part of his body. He smiled in delight when, as he waved it, golden sparks flew from the tip.

"Curious, very curious..."

Harry tilted his head, a little intrigued.

"It's interesting that this wand chose you."

The boy just tilted his head again, unsure of what to say.

"Willowwood, like your mother's, with a length of nine inches like your father's, it's pretty but stiff, which is somewhat unusual for willow wands. And it's certainly curious that its core is the same as the one on the wand that made this scar."

When the man pointed to his forehead, Harry instinctively moved back.

"Phoenix feather. The phoenix whose tail feather resides in his wand, gave another feather. Just one other... and that's the one inside yours. Not many willow wands get along with phoenix feathers, but they work perfectly in yours."

"It's very pretty," he murmured. It was very, very plain, but he loved it that way; it was a nice light color and well carved.

"Few are the feathers that are blessed with the tears of the phoenix that gives them, Mr. Potter."

"Oh," was all he managed to say, his mind more focused on admiring his wand.

Harry smiled once more, paying for the wand as soon as he was told the price, bidding the man farewell before leaving with Hagrid.

"You'll do great things, Mr. Potter. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things... Terrible, yes, but great."

Chapter Text

Harry hated people being so close to him, and them being so attentive only made things worse.

So, he decided that the fewer people knew about him, the better... luckily, he was very good at being invisible.

But that was in a world where he wasn't famous... or even known.

How would he get his trunk onto the train? It was too heavy! He needed help, but... he already had trouble asking the kind woman to tell him how to get onto the platform, now having to ask someone to help him with his trunk was...

"Want a hand?"

He jumped when he heard a voice behind him, turning quickly to find one of what he assumed were the sons of the kind woman from earlier.

"Y-yes, please," he said with some hesitation, but relieved.

If the twin in front of him thought Harry was too young to be a first-year, he didn't say anything.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"

Harry blinked at the other boy; they looked the same! It was the first time he have ever seen twins up close... well, he couldn't see them that well; his eyesight wasn't the best, but he knew they were twins.

They helped him lift the trunk to the end of the train, and he sighed, relieved.

"Thank you so much," he whispered, trying to smile politely.

"It's nothing, little one," smiled the one he assumed was Fred.

He ran his hand over his forehead, sighing.

"Hey! What's that?" He jumped again when... George? spoke to him, pointing at his forehead.

"Blimey, is that you?" his brother continued. "It's him."

"It's you!" they said in unison.

Harry, puzzled, blinked a few times, though he found the twins' way of speaking amusing, he thought that in the right situations it would be more irritating than endearing.

"You're Harry Potter, aren't you?"

"Oh, him... I mean" he mumbled, looking away and nodding. "Yeah, it's me... nice to meet you?"

"I'm Fred, this is George," one of them said, pointing at himself and then at his brother, smiling.

Harry frowned. "I thought... you were Fred," he murmured, timidly raising his hand to point to the other brother. As he recalled, Fred was the one who arrived later and was on the right. He immediately lowered his hand again, blushing. "Sorry."

The brothers looked at each other, but Harry didn't notice their surprised expressions, both because he couldn't clearly distinguish their expressions since they weren't close enough to see them clearly, and because he wasn't looking at them anymore, but rather at Hedwig, his precious snowy owl, who was still in his arms, asleep in her cage.

"It was a joke," the twin who had spoken before finally said, smiling. "You can tell us apart better than our own mother!" he laughed.

"I'm Fred," the other confirmed, smiling.

Harry allowed himself to smile too, knowing he hadn't offended them.

They couldn't continue talking because the kind woman called her children, who said goodbye to him and left him alone in the compartment.

He couldn't contain his curiosity and leaned out a little to see the family —there were so many of them! He smiled as he leaned against the window. It must be great to have such a big family... having a family sounded amazing.

He hid again when he heard the twins say they have seen him on the train, but he felt a surge of affection for the witch when she asked them to not disturb him.

He sat back down and pulled his legs up to his chest, leaving his owl at his side. He began to sing softly a song that always soothed him, gently tapping his knees to the beat.

He wasn't paying attention to the movement outside the compartment, so he jumped when someone slammed the door open. His first instinct was to press himself against the wall, but when he saw the younger redhead, he just sighed softly.

It's not Uncle Vernon... he already left, he won't be coming here.

"Excuse me, may I sit down? Everywhere else is full."

Harry tried to smile and nodded, relaxing, but still clutching his legs to his chest.

The twins reappeared to let their brother know where they would be. Harry paled when they told him his friend had a tarantula. Didn't they only allow owls, cats, and toads?

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out.

Harry just nodded.

"Oh, I thought the twins were joking." Harry shrugged when Ron tried to see his forehead. He discreetly brushed out the hair over his scar so he could see it. He redhead looked out the window, having accomplished his goal. "So, how did you meet them?" Ron asked, nodding toward the door his brothers had come out of.

"Uh... they helped me carry this up," he muttered, pointing at his trunk. "It's really heavy, so I couldn't do it alone..."

"Ok" he nodded, agreeing. "Is it true you live with Muggles?" he thought to ask.

"Uh, yeah... I live with my mom's sister and her husband... They also have a son."

"What are they like? Dad's very interested in them."

"Uh..." he hesitated, shrugging. "They're not... bad? Some of them are very nice," he probed. "Are you all wizards?" he questioned, biting his tongue. " I mean... your siblings and your parents..."

"Oh, yeah. I'm the sixth to attend Hogwarts." He looked a little... blue "I have five siblings, two have already finished Hogwarts: Bill and Charlie. Percy's in fifth year, the twins are in third. Ginny's starting next year."

"Wow... You must know a lot about magic then."

"Just a little. We can't do magic at home because we're underage."

"Oh... I thought it wasn't allowed just in the Muggle world... How do they know it's minors who do magic if there are adult wizards there too? "

"That's it..." Ron frowned, trying to think it through. "I... have no idea"

Harry smiled slightly, a little amused. "Can I... err... ask something about Hogwarts?" he asked cautiously, not knowing if Ron minded him asking questions like his uncles did.

"Sure," Ron agreed, grinning.

"How do they select houses? I don't think I'd be good at any of them..."

"I don't know, they wouldn't tell me anything. Fred and George say you have to fight a dragon." Harry paled completely. That couldn't be true, could it? "They're pranksters, so I don't know if we should believe them... Which house do you think- Oh, wait, you just told me, er... Well, which house do you want to be in?"

"I'm not sure, actually... I know my dad went to Gryffindor, but I don't know my mum's."

"I want to be in Gryffindor... although Ravenclaw doesn't sound bad."

"Gryffindor is the house of the brave and Ravenclaw is the house of the clever, right?" he probed curiously.

"Yes, that's how they describe them," he confirmed. "Although my brothers are very clever, they're not in Ravenclaw, so there must be exceptions. In fact, the twins are in Slytherin, and they say that's a house for the wicked, but my brothers aren't wicked... pranksters, but not wicked."

"I don't think it's a house of just wicked people," he admitted. "I know Voldemort was there, but... there are plenty who were there, and there aren't that many Dark Wizards," he explained his point, looking toward the window.

"You said his name," Ron gasped. "I thought you..."

"I'm not trying to be brave or anything, by saying the name," he quickly clarified. "I just never knew you shouldn't! Do you understand? I don't know anything about the wisarding world... I bet I'll be the worst in the class..."

"I don't think so. There are plenty of Muggle-borns, and they learn really fast. Besides, you already know a bit about school, so that's something," he tried to encourage him.

They began to talk about different subjects. Harry found Ron as interesting as Ron found him. He understood that Ron felt a little sad about being the sixth son because they had high expectations of him. He felt strangely identified with his, as "the-boy-who-lived," people also expected a lot from him, after all. So he told him a little, just a little, about his life with his aunt and uncle, he told him that he also inherited his clothes from his cousin and had never received a birthday present until that year, when Hagrid gave him Hedwig.

"Wow... they must be really poor too," he heard him mutter. He wasn't exactly talking to Harry, more to himself.

"Hmm..." Harry hummed softly, shrugging.

No, they weren't poor, they weren't rich... but they had plenty of money. After all, every year his uncle sold his car and bought a new one, and his cousin received more than thirty gifts each year, including computers, cameras, cell phones... things that weren't exactly cheap.

They changed the subject, and there was a moment when they were silent. Harry had once again tapped his knees to the rhythm of the silent song that played in his head as he looked at the scenery.

At noon, a smiling woman passed by with a cart full of sweets and snacks. Harry hadn't had breakfast, so he stood up to buy something. He didn't recognize anything in the cart, and in his curiosity, he decided to buy a little of everything. The woman was very friendly, so he tried hard to be polite and not let his shyness prevent him from saying his thanks properly.

Ron was more than a little amazed. Harry carefully placed everything back on his seat and straightened Hedwig's cage; he didn't want to wake her.

Harry shared his sweets with Ron; in fact, he was happy to do so. He never had anything, or anyone to share anything with; it was a nice feeling.

He only tried one chocolate frog; and gave the rest to Ron, who was looking for a card of some wizard or witch, he didn't know.

The picture was moving! Harry was startled when he noticed. They didn't do that in the Muggle world... well, not printed ones, anyway; after all, computers did have moving images. Ron was the one who was startled to discover they didn't have moving images on the chocolate cards.

Harry was quickly losing his fear around Ron, who was explaining to him about sweets and other things he found himself curious about, not making fun of him for not knowing anything about the magical world beyond what he read in books, he hadn't even shouted at him!

At some point, a boy came to ask about a toad. They both denied having seen it; the poor boy was pale as a ghost. He left the compartment again to continue searching.

When they resumed their conversation, Ron showed him his rat, Scabbers. Harry frowned slightly. Was the rat even alive? The redhead probably wondered the same thing because he poked him with his wand. A shake from the animal let them know it was still breathing.

Ron's wand was a little old; he told him it belonged to his brother. He was about to try to hex the rat to turn it yellow when the same boy from before returned, now with a little girl by his side.

Harry examined her for a moment. She had a lot of brown hair, as unruly as his own, and although her front teeth were quite long, he found her very pretty.

"Have you seen a toad? Neville lost one," she said, her voice sounding a little... bossy. Harry pressed himself back against the wall instinctively.

"We've already said no," Ron frowned, but the girl was just staring at the wand in his hand.

"Oh, you're doing magic. Let's see."

Ron recited a "spell" that sounded more like a rhyme from a children's poem. Harry frowned; he doubted any of the spells were in English; the ones he have read were in Latin... or something like that.

The girl continued talking. Harry was horrified when she said she memorized all the books. He hadn't! He read them all, of couse, his aunt and uncle had been kind enough not to lock him in the cupboard or take his things; they were actually afraid of him, so he had time to go through everything... but he didn't know he was supposed to memorize them!

He turned to Ron, but learned that he hadn't memorized them either. That relaxed him a little.

"Well, I'm Hermione Granger, and you?"

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Harry Potter," he said, shrugging.

"Is that really you?" Hermione questioned, moving closer. Harry moved even further away. "I know all about you, of course. I got a few extra books to prepare before going to Hogwarts, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Events of the Twentieth Centu-"

"I think he knows who he is," Ron replied, a little harsh.

And Harry knew, just as the pretty girl, who he now knew was named Hermione Granger, Harry had tried to get some extra information, though he wasn't sure he have studied enough, not now that he heard that she memorized the books... he only remembered a little of the books, and he only read Modern Magical History, then gotten other books on wizarding lore and culture... but not books with information about what happened in the war.

He felt foolish for not having done more research into what the wizarding world had to say about him.

Hermione Granger left again with the boy he now knew was called Neville. Ron said something about not wanting to be in the same house as her, and that was enough to make him nervous.

While Ron mentioned something about a Gringotts vault being broken into, Harry thought, fearfully, about what would happen if they ended up in different houses.

Would they still be talking? Would Ron not want to be his friend if they both ended up in separate houses? He didn't even know why he thought they were friends. He shrugged at the thought; this gesture must have caught the boy's attention, because he paused.

"What's wrong, Harry?"

"I... If we ended up in different houses... would we still be talking?" he asked, worried.

He felt horrible when Ron laughed. Was he mocking him for thinking they were friends? Maybe he was wrong... as Dudley had said many times, who would want to be his friend? They were just two kids talking on the train, it wasn't even certain that-

"Of course we are, we're friends, aren't we?"

His head snapped up, trying to detect a trace of mockery in Ron... but the redhead showed no sign of mockery. He smiled a little more calmly, nodding.

Ron began to explain what Quidditch was, which he was grateful for. He wasn't very good at interpreting concepts without a basis... and he hadn't really understood much from the book he read, except that there were three goal rings, and different types of balls... but it was hard to imagine how it worked without having seen it. He was quite an idiot at understanding concepts he have only read about.

Just as Ron digressed to talk about his favorite team (and probably wanted to drag Harry into being a fan of it), the door opened again, startling the poor boy again, who was sure he already had a new bruise from all the times he'd jumped against the wall. He took his owl's cage and pressed it against him. The bird gently pecked at the fingers she could reach, trying to reassure him.

"So it's true, Harry Potter is in this compartment. The whole train is talking about it." Harry realized it was the same boy who, in the clothing store, had spoken disparagingly of Muggle-born wizards. He hoped he hadn't run into Hermione yet.

There were two children next to him; they looked like gorillas, too big for eleven-year-old boys. Harry remembered his cousin and was horrified to think of two Dudleys. The blond boy must have noticed him looking, because he introduced them.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle. I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." Ron stifled what seemed to be a laugh in a small cough. Malfoy definitely noticed, because he turned to him, frowning.

"You find my name amusing, don't you? I don't need to ask yours. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." He turned to look at Harry again. "You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

Draco Malfoy extended his hand towards him. Harry just looked at it for a moment, but his grip tightened on his owl cage.

"Excuse me, Malfoy... but I think I need to get to know you better before I decide if I want your 'help,' " he murmured. "I'll keep talking to Ron, who I already know a little, if you don't mind."

He didn't want to start a fight, but he didn't like the blond boy's attitude, especially since now it seemed he was only interested in being his "friend" because he knew who he was. Back in the shop, he didn't bother to hide his displeasure at him for going with Hagrid, and, well, that was the only response he could think of that was "calm" enough not to upset him.

Well, he didn't really succeed though. The boy lowered his hand and looked a little frustrated.

"If that's how you want to play, Potter... but you'd better think about it, or you'll be going down the same way as your parents."

Without further ado, they left.

Harry couldn't stop his eyes from crystallizing slightly, though he kept the tears from falling. For years, he'd thought poorly of his parents, and now being reminded that they'd been murdered didn't sit well with him.

Hermione came back in, asking what had happened. They gave her a vague explanation, and she left them so they could change. Ron blushed a little at the difference in their uniforms, but Harry pretended not to notice and preferred to ask him more about his favorite Quidditch team. The redhead immediately perked up.

They got off the train when they arrived. Harry released Hedwig, and the beautiful owl flew off towards where he assumed was the school, probably heading to the Owlery. They were guided by Hagrid to some boats, where he and Ron boarded with Neville and Hermione.

In the distance, on the mountain, a castle rose majestically, eliciting gasps from all the first-years.

You could say their new adventure was just beginning. And whether Harry was scared or excited, he didn't care at that moment.

Chapter Text

Ghosts, moving pictures, a hat... a singing hat.

From that moment on, Harry knew this school was anything but normal.

Well, it was a wizarding school. How could it be normal?

And Harry wasn't sure he wanted to be sorted into any house anymore. Why had he decided to go? Hogwarts was amazing, and he was... him.

He sighed. He positioned himself at the back of the line to avoid attracting as much attention as possible, but now he'd have to walk across the entire corridor to reach the stern-faced teacher when she called his name. Was he an idiot? Well, yes, the answer was yes.

At least the line was getting shorter. He have always been at the back thanks to his last name, and at the moment, it seemed like a blessing.

Professor McGonagall called them one by one. He couldn't see what was happening, but after a few seconds of calling someone, he heard someone (or something, the hat in this case) shout one of the four houses.

Hermione Granger went to Ravenclaw. Ron relaxed beside him. Harry smiled at him. Neville Longbottom went to Gryffindor. He heard laughter. He didn't know what happened, but Ron told him that Neville ran off with the hat still on. Draco Malfoy went to Slytherin after only a second of having the hat placed on him. Ron was pleased, but Harry shrugged.

"Potter, Harry."

He wanted to run when the entire hall fell absolutely silent, and after the initial shock, it filled with murmurs.

He didn't want to be here.

He began to make his way through the children who hadn't yet been selected. He was the smallest in the group, so he didn't have much trouble weaving his way through them, although it made him extremely uncomfortable when he bumped into any of their bodies.

He could finally see what was in front of him, and the teacher told him to sit. He obeyed immediately, but his hands were sweating terribly.

The hat fell onto his head to cover the tip of his nose, and suddenly everything was dark. He started when he heard a voice in his ear.

"Hmm..." Harry could feel the hat moving slightly. "Wow, it must be hard for you, what you go through in that house, huh?"

Harry frowned, immediately understanding that the hat could read his mind, or at least something similar.

"Lily would have been furious," the hat commented.

"My mum?" he dared to question mentally.

"Oh yes. It was a very difficult decision, she was full of courage, intelligence and a big heart, but certainly she was someone very clever."

"Which House was my mum in? I know Dad went to Gryffindor, but I don't know about her... err, if I may ask, sir..."

"Lily was a Slytherin," he commented. Harry was quite surprised by the revelation. "It was very amusing to see her classmates believing they had a Muggle-born among them, but I'm sure I made the right decision. Snakes can be brave too, after all."

Harry repeated those words for a few moments in his mind, but didn't comment.

"But that's not what we're here for," the hat then said. "You're brave, I can see... The mind isn't bad at all, yes... Ravenclaw could be good... you know hard work and you're honest... There's talent, oh, there is... and even if you deny it, you want to prove that you're worthy of being here. You're determined."

Harry shifted in his seat, a little uncomfortable. The other students were waiting attentively.

"You can do great things, yes..."

"I'm not interested in being great," he admitted with a certain disinterest. "I just want..."

"What do you really want?" the hat questioned, as if it couldn't already know.

"I want to stay here," he sighed softly, having to admit that what the hat had told him was true.

"Tough, really tough," Harry shrugged. "Let's see, where would you like to be?"

Harry hesitated, but thought it over. He wanted to be in one of his parents' houses. Hagrid spoke highly of both, though he spoke more of his father in Gryffindor, the house of the brave, but he heard little of his mother, a Slytherin, the house of the cunning.

A snake can be brave too, right?

"I want to go to Slytherin," he finally decided. "They say there are only evil wizards there, but if my mom could have been there, that means it's not true. I want to see for myself."

"Very well, if that's your decision. Even if you don't want to, rest assured that you'll do great things, little prince. You'll be in Slytherin!" he heard the shout travel across the Great Hall.

After seven minutes of chatting with the hat, Harry took off the Sorting Hat, dazed and somewhat dizzy, still pondering the last words he heard.

The Great Hall remained in absolute silence for a few seconds, still processing the information; their savior was in the House of the Snakes, and he was a new Hatstall, one with a particularly long sorting. But soon applause was heard, though Harry didn't pay attention to his surroundings as he walked to his table; he was more focused on watching his robes change color, now green with silver details.

He saw the twins shouting, "We've got Potter! We've got Potter!" and Harry smiled as he approached them when they gestured to him and parted to give him some space between them, ignoring the stares of the first-years who had already been sorted into that house and were standing together.

He nodded slightly to everyone who approached him; in reality, he was terribly nervous, so he decided to stare at the table as if it were the most interesting thing in the whole place, preferring to hide his hands in the long sleeves of his robes. He was extremely grateful that the twins weren't touching him; it was almost like having a wall protecting him from others. They didn't seem interested in bothering him either, only making occasional comments, which Harry tried to answer, although he didn't fully understood some of their questions.

He only applauded when Ron was sorted into Gryffindor. The twins shouted at him from their table, causing Harry to let out a light laugh for the first time. They seemed proud of their achievement of making poor Ron blush all the way to his ears. Ron was in turn being congratulated by another boy at their table. Harry assumed it was his older brother, Percy; since he could only make out the red hair from where he was sitting.

Harry thought the headmaster was a little crazy... although, he had to admit, it was funny that he took the "few words" thing so literally. If he didn't laugh, it was only because he didn't know whether he should.

He almost screamed in surprise at seeing so many different dishes appear in front of him. There was everything he could imagine and more!

It wasn't as if the Dursleys starved him, they didn't. Sometimes they denied him dinner or he didn't have time for breakfast, but generally they didn't stop him from eating something... whether they gave him an appropriate amount for his age was another matter. But that banquet was just ridiculous, some things Harry had never seen in his life, he recognized a few of the meals he had prepared for his cousin, often at the expense of his hands because he would burn himself with the oil, sometimes leaving scars on his small fingers or because his aunt would put his hands on the stove when he didn't cook the food right, but having all those dishes there for him to try was a dream.

Hesitantly, he placed in his plate a bit of everything he saw. He hadn't done anything to deserve this dinner, but he didn't want to waste the opportunity. However, suddenly, the thought that someone might come and take it away from him terrified him. What if they were making fun of him and then they will tell him he couldn't eat anything? His cousin did that, offering him something he knew he wanted to try and then take it away so he could eat it himself, even if he didn't like it. All to let him know how miserable he was.

Fred, who was to his right, noticed that the boy, despite having food on his plate, wasn't eating anything.

"Is something wrong, Harry?" he questioned.

"Are you feeling sick?" George continued.

"No," he answered quickly. "I'm fine."

"Then eat," Fred insisted, smiling

"We only eat this at feasts; on other days we have healthier food, it'll be like that until fifth year, so make the most of it."

"Healthy food?" he asked unconsciously.

"Professor Snape gives us a healthier diet during the first years, not so much fried and greasy food," explained another boy, one who had introduced himself as one of the prefects. "During the feasts, you have the freedom to choose whatever we want, so eat without fear."

Harry, still hesitant, nodded.

Then he began to eat. It was incredible! It was nothing like the food he had at his aunt and uncle's house. He liked the food he made, but his aunt's was always very salty (he didn't know why it hadn't already given his uncle and cousin heart attacks), but the feast food was a delicacy.

He asked the twins about the specter near Malfoy. It turned out to be the Bloody Baron, the Slytherin ghost. Harry silently decided he wouldn't bother that being.

He was almost embarrassed when he had to stop eating when he got halfway through his meal. He tried, he really did, but he felt like if he ate just a little more he'd end up throwing it all up. He was too full, even though he'd only eaten some sweets on the train a few hours earlier.

He waited for the meal to end, then flinched again when everything simply vanished, leaving it as clean as before it had begun. He wondered how they did that. Did someone clean them? Or was it just magic? He didn't know, but it was incredible!

Harry frowned at the professor's speech. A painful death by climbing to the third floor? Was he serious? Judging by the others' faces, he thought so.

What kind of school was this?

The twins sang the school anthem to the tune of a slow, depressing funeral march. The headmaster followed them to the end, also being the one who got the most emotional by applauding.

A prefect led them to their common room. The twins were still close to Harry, although they were also talking to other boys, so he went in silence, trying to avoid the others' gazes at all costs.

"A Potter in Slytherin, can you believe it?"

"Harry Potter is in Slytherin, I thought he'd be a stupid Gryffindor."

"Are the rumors true?"

"They can't be true if he hangs out with blood traitors."

"Maybe it's a trick."

Harry shrugged at the murmurs, making sure to memorize the password and the wall he had to say it to. The latter was a bit difficult; to him, all the walls looked the same.

The dungeons were cold, but they were also impressive, and their common room was great! at least what he could see of it... Was that a giant squid?

It was incredible to be able to see the bottom of the lake through the windows of the place, lit by lamps that seemed to never go out, a fireplace that allowed the place to have warmth, perfectly upholstered sofas, green carpets with silver details, the stone walls giving a rustic and elegant touch, the paintings, the decorations... there were even shelves full of books.

Maybe it was fine that he couldn't see every detail firsthand; he wasn't sure he could process everything so quickly.

The other prefect told the first years to sit down for the house rules. Harry took a seat on the floor, a little away from the others. The others also sat on the rug, except for Malfoy, who sat on a single sofa at the other end of the room.

A tall man with black hair, like his robes, entered the room shortly after. Harry didn't meet his eyes, instead concentrating on his right shoulder, just to avoid looking rude by staring at the floor.

Severus Snape, for his part, entered and stood in front of the children. He looked around for the only two children he knew. On one side, his godson sat as if he owned the entire room. He almost rolled his eyes. Surely his father had given him the idea of being the Slytherin prince, something somewhat normal in the House of Snakes, where generally the student with the highest status or the most talented held that title. In contrast, it took him a while to realize where the son of his former best friend was. Harry seemed to want to blend in with the surroundings. He frowned at this, but attributed it to first-year nerves. As far as he knew, he was raised in the Muggle world, so this must still be something new and intimidating.

He began by giving his usual speech, explaining the rules they followed. They weren't difficult to follow, just a few schedules and basic rules.

"Any disputes stay in the common room; outside, you're united. If you have problems, you'll resolve them privately. Is that clear?" he concluded.

Snape didn't exactly intend to frighten any of the children; he just wanted to make his point, but one of them seemed scared by his words. He stifled a sigh. Perhaps the Slytherin environment was too much for someone raised as a Muggle-born. No other child was new to this world. Everyone was either a half-blood or a pure-blood, and many were raised to belong to this house from the start.

He received nods of agreement from everyone, even the older students who stayed to listen.

Harry wanted to leave. It wasn't that he didn't like school, it wasn't that he thought Slytherin was bad; on the contrary, everything was amazing, but he didn't belong there.

He hugged his knees closer as he listened to Professor Snape. He was unsure, but he didn't want to give up; he wanted to prove that he could be here. He would do everything he could to be allowed to stay; he didn't want to return to his aunt and uncle's house. Perhaps if he followed the rules to the letter, they would give him the chance to stay at Hogwarts.

He got up with the others to go check their rooms; luckily, there would only be two of them in each room. For a moment, he was afraid of being paired with Malfoy; he wasn't ready to confront the boy yet; luckily, he was paired with another boy, Theodore Nott. They only exchanged brief greetings before each of them headed to their trunks to check their things.

The room was beautiful; according to the prefect, they could decorate it however they wanted on their side. Harry didn't have anything to decorate with, but he was very happy; he never had such a big bed before! He even had a desk for his homework and a wardrobe for his clothes. They even had shelves for their books!

He hurried to arrange his belongings; neither he nor Nott were interested in conversation at the moment, so they remained in comfortable silence. They took turns showering in the private bathroom in the room and went to bed.

Harry closed the curtains of his bed and sighed, meditating on everything that had happened that day.

Hogwarts was impressive, all of this world was... he had no idea what he was supposed to do to stay there, but he would strive to keep up with the others.

He closed his eyes, snuggling down under the blankets.

But you're useless, how do you think you'll ever keep up with the others? You're an idiot, you never achieved even mild grades in muggle school!

He shifted a little uncomfortably, his hands pressing into the blankets.

If this school makes you happy, it's obvious you don't deserve to be here. Didn't they tell you that already? You're just a nuisance, you don't deserve anything.

He bit his lip, turning to the side.

Your parents chose to die rather than continue looking after you. Isn't it obvious you'll only annoy your classmates? And Ron, do you really think he wants to be your friend? He's probably only interested in that scar on your forehead. The moment he finds out that you're nothing like what they say you are, he'll ditch you. In fact, he probably already did because you decided to be in Slytherin and not Gryffindor! You really are an idiot, don't you think?

To think you'd want to stay here, you're not entitled to do that, you freak.

Harry nodded at his thoughts, hiding deeper into his sheets.

He cried silently that night.

The next morning he would tell Professor Snape that he wanted to return to his aunt and uncle's house and that it was all a mistake.

He didn't belong at Hogwarts, he didn't belong anywhere.

At least, in his broken mind, that was the case.

Chapter Text

When Harry opened his eyes, his first thought was that he was inside his cupboard. It was dark and it seemed to be a small space.

A few seconds later, he remembered that he no longer slept in the cupboard, but Dudley's second room. He frowned slightly and sat up, the bed was too comfortable, nothing like the old mattress in his room at the Dursleys' house.

He rested his hand on the "wall," and when it moved, he was startled, until he finally remembered that he was at Hogwarts.

A sparkling joy filled him completely, but when he remembered his promise from the night before, it vanished as quickly as it had come.

He had to get dressed and go to Professor Snape, that's what he had said... but he didn't want to leave Hogwarts.

Would it be too selfish of him to stay even though he didn't deserve it? He really wanted to stay at school...

He also remembered that he would try to keep up with the others and follow all the rules. Maybe if he was good, he could stay.

You're too stupid to keep up with the other students.

But maybe, just maybe, he could try.

His uncles didn't seem happy with him going to this school, but he could also sense (he didn't know how) a joy in not having to see him all year. Did they want him to stay there so they wouldn't have to be around him?

If so, he should do his best to stay at Hogwarts.

Although, Hogwarts was something that made him happy, and his uncles always made it a point to make him understand that he shouldn't be happy.

He frowned, confused.

Harry opened the bed curtains and went to get his clothes to then go to the bathroom, he preferred to shower while Nott was still asleep, although he had no idea what time it was.

He hadn't noticed it last night, but now he realized there was a mirror in the bathroom, so he leaned closer to look at it.

A very small boy was the one who looked back at him. He was quite short and thin, too thin to be normal, although, of course, Harry didn't know this.

His skin was very pale, but not a healthy shade, not to mention the multiple scars and bruises he had all over his body, though none that could be seen when he was dressed. His uncle always made sure of that, making sure nothing was visible. Sometimes he had marks on his arms, but he usually lied and say they were bruises from tripping or bumping into himself while playing with his cousin—yes, his cousin played with him, not the other way around; and the burns on his hands—well, it was easy to tell that he liked to cook and had had a few accidents due to carelessness, which wasn't entirely a lie either.

Besides, his raven-feather-like hair was a mess; no matter how hard he tried to comb it, it just wouldn't budge, and Harry didn't mind it too much either. His nose was small and his lips were somewhat full, though they were cracked, so they weren't very visible, and he had a few freckles scattered across his face and shoulders, though they weren't too noticeable unless you were up close.

When he finished dressing and looked at himself in the mirror again, he thought with some amusement that his eyes matched the uniform.

Had his mother thought the same thing when she first saw herself dressed in Slytherin robes?

He shook his head; he shouldn't think about things like that, or it would make it harder to leave if he had to.

He decided that this first day would be a test. If he could behave well and not have anyone tell him he had to leave, he could try the whole following week, and if he did well, he would stay at Hogwarts to become a wizard like his parents.

It had taken him a while to put on his uniform. He had been practicing tying his tie all week before school, he never had to use one before, so it had taken him a while to master it.

He sighed after taking a few steps away from the mirror. He couldn't see his reflection properly anymore, but his glasses weren't helping much either, so he hadn't even noticed he wasn't wearing them, and he didn't bother going back for them.

He went out to the common room and noticed a couple of boys there. He felt nervous, but tried to keep his breathing steady as he approached one of the sofas near the fireplace. He wanted to reread the books for his class that day, but he had no idea what subjects he would have. He wouldn't receive his timetable until breakfast.

He had no idea whether he could go to the dining hall or not, he wasn't even sure if he could remember the way, it was a bit annoying being in a new school... but, this being Hogwarts, it made everything bearable, and he couldn't deny that, despite his nerves, he was very excited.

By the time he realized he'd been playing with his wand for minutes, gently tapping it against his legs to the beat of a song, other students had already started to leave, and a prefect approached him to signal it was time for breakfast.

Harry carefully got off the sofa, out of habit of putting his pencils there, he placed his wand behind his ear, but after seeing the older teen's curious look, he blushed and took it out, putting it in the inside pocket of his robes, and started walking toward the door.

He left behind some older boys; he couldn't see well, so he was afraid of tripping, so the safest thing to do was follow someone else's path. It was lucky that everyone was so organized and left at the same time, and even luckier when he noticed Ron's older brothers standing there, who, upon noticing, approached him.

"Good morning-"

"Little snake."

Harry wanted to laugh at the way the brothers were speaking, but he reacted quicker to their attempt to touch his shoulder. He was embarrassed by his sudden movement to avoid contact, but he managed to pretend he'd tripped, and that's when the conversation changed direction.

"Didn't you wear glasses?" one of them asked. Harry thought it was Fred, but he wasn't sure.

"Um... I can't really see much with or without my glasses," he admitted with a shrug.

"And didn't your relatives take you to a healer? Well, a doctor, for that matter," the other brother said.

"Err... I had my eyes checked at school, but glasses are... very expensive."

He wasn't lying. In fact, since every year he had trouble seeing the blackboard, the teachers constantly sent him to the infirmary, and the result was always the same: he had myopia and slight astigmatism (or something like that, he couldn't quite remember). But his uncles weren't going to bother buying him decent glasses, so they just gave him some. They had helped him when he was younger, but over the years, they stopped serving any purpose other than worsening his headaches. But he didn't complain or stoped wearing them because they didn't want to hear complaints from the school anymore. That had cost him his grades, but, well, it's not like his uncles were interested in his academic achievements, so he was fine with just passing his subjects, even if it was with the help of teachers who didn't want a kid repeating a school year.

He didn't want to think about it too much, so he changed the subject, or tried to, he had no idea what to talk about, and although the twins seemed to want to insist, they accepted his pathetic attempt and they, who did have a thousand and one things to talk about, guided the conversation, even if Harry didn't understand half of what they were saying, what was a howler supposed to be?

Once again, he didn't sit with the other first-years, but instead remained among the siblings. Well, that hadn't been his idea; he sat down first. They were the ones who sat around him, and, of course, he didn't complain. He liked Ron's brothers a lot, they were energetic and friendly, but they respected his personal space perfectly and didn't ask many questions. Well, they did ask some things about the Muggle world, it was a shame Harry didn't know much more than they did. He had no idea what a cinema looked like, but he was able to tell them about television and how his cousin downloaded movies onto his computer. Although, of course, he had to explain what a computer was first.

Again, he didn't eat much, but he was more than happy with breakfast. He never had the chance to choose everything he wanted before! Even if he only had two pancakes and some orange juice, it was the best breakfast he ever had.

When Professor Snape handed him his timetable, he glanced at it for a couple of seconds to see what classes he would have that day. He was quite happy to know that he would have Potions classes with the Gryffindors, he wanted to talk to Ron.

He jumped in his seat when he first saw the owls delivering the mail. The twins giggled at his innocent reaction, but he couldn't help it—it was incredible!

Many of them carried items the children had forgotten, and others had letters from the students' families asking how they had arrived. Malfoy got a bag of sweets that he started bragging about as expensive, apparently from a luxury brand. Harry paid him no mind because Hedwig, his owl, also came down to join him. Hagrid was inviting him to come and see his hut since he had the afternoon off. The boy immediately wrote a reply, and after fussing over his owl and letting it eat some of his breakfast, he sent her on her way.

"Charms?" the twin on his right questioned, noticing the first subject he had that morning on his timetable, which was left on the table.

"That's great. Professor Flitwick is incredible, although you won't learn the fun spells until next year," explained the other. Harry thought it was Fred.

"Fun spells?"

"We'll give you a free taste of knowledge later," George offered, grinning.

Harry didn't know what they wanted to show him, but from their  tone of voice, he guessed he'd understand why Ron called his brothers pranksters.

"Oh, you've got Potions too. That's with our Head of House. Lucky you, he always benefits the snakes," Fred commented, amused.

"Just try not to make him angry. When he's upset, he's stricter... especially with us."

Harry gulped, not wanting to anger Professor Snape.

"First years, I'll take you to your first class if you'll follow me..."

Harry stood up alongside the other first years, said goodbye to the twins, and began following the prefect who had spoken.

He wasn't as scared as he had been during the night, and although he still didn't feel he would be able to keep up with the rest, he wanted to try.

The prefect was explaining about the castle. Harry was horrified to learn that there were 142 staircases, some with false steps and others that moved on Fridays. He was also not amused to learn that there were false doors, some that only opened if you asked nicely or if you tickled them in specific places. And he definitely didn't like learning that it wasn't a good idea to use statues or armor as references because they tended to move around. Well, he already knew that, he read it, but being told about it directly was a confirmation he didn't want to hear.

How did they expect him to learn the way if he literally couldn't get a reference point?

He felt terribly self-conscious when none of his classmates seemed frightened by the same idea; perhaps, once again, he was the only fool who wouldn't be able to find the right path.

He ignored the murmurs of the other students who stood still just to watch him, Harry tried to hide his scar with his bangs, but since his hair liked to mess with him, it wouldn't stay that way for long.

The prefect dropped them off in front of the Charms classroom, told them to line up and wait for the professor to give them permission to enter. The whole group nodded, then stood next to the Hufflepuffs who had already arrived.

"Hi, I'm Ernie Macmillan, nice to meet you."

He was so deep in thought that he jumped when he heard someone so close to him, finding one of the Hufflepuffs extending his hand.

"H-Harry Potter, nice to meet you," he muttered hurriedly, taking the blond boy's hand with some trepidation and trying to smile.

"I know who you are," the other assured, also smiling. Whether he said it mockingly or not maliciously, Harry didn't know. "It was a surprise to everyone that you ended up in Slytherin. It would have been great to have you in Hufflepuff."

Harry was a little embarrassed; he was the one who chose to be in Slytherin because it was his mother's house, so he didn't quite know how to respond to that.

"Yeah, well, him being in Slytherin means he's not completely useless, doesn't it?"

The two turned to Malfoy, who was smirking at the badgers.

The younger one wanted to retort, assuring them that he didn't think ill of Hufflepuffs, but just then the door opened and a shrill voice told them to come in.

Professor Flitwick was a very short wizard, but very pleasant. He had to stand on some books to reach his desk and be able to see everyone. When he called out the names on his list and got to Harry's name, he gave an excited squeal and disappeared from sight, then climbed back onto the books, embarrassed but smiling.

Harry couldn't see the wand movement he was supposed to make, so he was grateful the book had a drawing of it too. He took notes on what he heard, but his hand still trembled every time he used a quill; he was more used to Muggle pens and was afraid of breaking the parchment.

In the end, he managed to do the Lumos Charm; it wasn't too difficult, although he stumbled over the pronunciation as it was the first word he said in the entire class period.

He blushed when he received five points for his house; he didn't think he'd manage it!

When class ended, this time it was a prefect who went to pick up the first-year students. The potions class was in the dungeons, but she would still accompany them so they wouldn't get lost.

Harry sighed when he wasn't able to talk to Ernie and assure him he didn't think like Malfoy.

The path to the dungeons felt a little more familiar; the class room wasn't that far from their common room, so getting there wasn't overcomplicated. The path was cold, but much less troublesome than going to any other classroom, according to the prefect who led them to their first class.

Only a couple of Gryffindors were there when they arrived; Harry didn't know any of them, so he just bowed slightly in greeting. Whether he was hurt or not when none of them seemed interested in returning the gesture, he didn't give it much thought.

He soon understood the supposed rivalry between the houses; neither the lions nor the snakes seemed really interested in talking to each other. He frowned. How come his parents had ended up together if the Slytherins and Gryffindors didn't get along?

Just when he thought Ron wasn't coming, he heard hurried footsteps coming towards them. He turned and could make out the familiar (albeit blurry from his perspective) red hair, as well as a blonde head he thought was Neville's.

He intended to say hello, but immediately backed away, fearing that Ron might not want to talk to him now that he had friends in Gryffindor, so he just tried to fly under the radar.

Well, Ron had other plans.

"Harry!" he greeted, approaching him with a smile.

The green-eyed boy managed to resist the urge to hide even further; luckily, when someone called him by name, it didn't frighten him, even if they shouted at him. After all, his uncles never called him by name.

"Ron, hello," he mumbled, visibly relieved that the boy didn't avoid him. "Err... Longbottom, how are you?"

"Fine... call me Neville, okay?" Harry smiled shyly at the plump boy; he was gasping for breath.

"Okay, you can call me Harry too if you'd like." Neville smiled at him, letting out another sigh.

"It's a shame we're in different houses, but, er, maybe it'll save you from the twins," Ron grumbled. Harry raised an eyebrow. "They showered us with green and silver feathers last night."

"What?" Harry questioned, amazed.

"I have no idea how they did it," he sighed. "But it was obviously them."

"Those weasels are the only thing worthwhile in their family, although their behavior shows the quality of their homeschooling."

Harry and Ron shot an annoyed look at Malfoy, who smirked while the two gorillas snickered behind him.

"What did you say about my brothers, Malfoy?" Ron snarled, leaping at him.

Before he could make any sudden movements, Harry yanked him by the robes and dragged him backward.

"Ron, no, it's not worth it," he squeaked.

"Let me hit him at least once."

"Inside."

A deep, cold voice caught everyone's attention. Harry let go of the redhead's robes and took three steps back. Everyone fell absolutely silent and obeyed immediately, entering the cold classroom.

Harry sighed. The way things were going, he wouldn't have a good relationship with his housemates. Even if he got off to a good start in Charms, he had the feeling that his classmates wouldn't take kindly to him being so friendly with the lions in this little get-together.

He hoped that wouldn't affect his little plan to prove he deserved to stay at Hogwarts... or at least that he could meet the minimum requirements to do so.

Chapter Text

Yes, he definitely wasn't going to end up on good terms with his classmates, especially after sitting next to Ron, but what else could he do? He was the only boy he knew, along with Neville... well, who he knew and was his friend.

Professor Snape began by calling out their names, Harry shrank in his seat when he stared at him, Malfoy, Goyle, and Crabbe snickered, but the teacher said nothing and continued until he finished with Zabini.

The professor had an uncanny knack for keeping everyone silent. No one spoke while he continued reciting a speech that seemed pre-rehearsed due to the confidence with which he delivered it, although Harry thought the professor always spoke that way.

He wrote down what he could, or rather, what caught his attention the most. There was no way he could write fast enough to get it all down.

"Mr. Potter," the professor called. Harry looked up sharply, immediately dropping his quill. "What do I get if I add powdered asphodel root to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry froze. He knew he read it in one of his books, he was sure, but he didn't think he could remember what it did. He didn't look into the teacher's eyes, but instead looked at his hands; they were shaking.

It was a Draught of Something, wasn't it? He was shure it wasn't the Draught of Love, nor the Draught of Peace... Was it the Draught of the Living Dead?
for the life of him he couldn't remember!

"I like verbal answers, Mr. Potter," said Snape.
The boy suffered a violent shudder, turning back to look at the professor.

"I... I don't know, sir," he finally muttered as he looked up.
He forced himself not to look at Malfoy and his friends, who were laughing loudly at him. Instead, he tried to keep his eyes on the professor, although eye contact was making him too nervous. His Uncle Vernon had made it very clear that eye contact couldn't be good.

"If you have an answer, I'd like to hear it, Mr. Potter," the professor stated. Harry felt like crying because of his panic. Why did professor Snape insisted on asking him if he already said he didn't know?

"Draught of Living Dead... I think," he mumbled the last part and swallowed, finally returning his gaze to the table.

"Good... Now, if you have an answer, I want to hear it out loud," he continued. Harry knew he hadn't stopped watching him. "What is a bezoar and what does it do?"

Harry wanted to scream or bang his forehead on the table; either would do.

"A bezoar..." he mumbled, trying to remember what it was, only when he thought he had the answer did he look up. "It's a stone found in the stomach of a goat, and it serves as an antidote to most poisons."

He glanced sideways at Ron, who was clearly surprised, but smiled approvingly. Malfoy and the others were no longer laughing.

"Correct," he wanted to breathe a long sigh of relief. "What's the difference between monkshood and luparia?"

"It's the same plant, Professor," he answered immediately. He remembered that much perfectly. He had read that their leaves were highly toxic, but their flowers and roots are very useful in potions. He had paid special attention to that section when he saw that some poisonous plants were, in fact, very common in gardens, and he wanted to be sure his aunt's garden didn't have any.

"15 points to Slytherin," the professor conceded, finally no longer looking at him. "What are you waiting for? Write it down!"

Harry blushed but smiled slightly; he couldn't believe he got the questions right.

The professor had them working in pairs, Harry had to separate from Ron because he moved him next to his roommate, Theodore Nott. They had to prepare a cure for boils. The potion wasn't very difficult, but Harry couldn't read what was written on the blackboard; his head had been hurting since morning, and his eyes were watering more and more.

Luckily, his Potions book had the instructions, allowing him to start working alongside his partner. Nott was almost as quiet as he was, so there was no conversation other than asking each other for one or another ingredient they had nearby.

Even though everything was going relatively well, Harry was starting to get dizzy from the fumes from the cauldrons. His cauldron was the right color, as was Nott's, but beyond that, the colors differed, and the different smells mixed together didn't help with his headache.

Just as he felt like fainting, he heard a scream that brought him out of his stupor. Neville's cauldron had been knocked over, and some kind of acid was spilling onto the floor, causing everyone to raise their feet to avoid getting holes in their shoes.

Seamus Finnigan rushed Neville to the hospital wing. The boy was starting to develop red bumps from the potion that had spilled on him.

Snape ended the class early because of the mess. Harry, though unhappy that Neville had been hurt, couldn't be more grateful for the class to be over. He couldn't stand another minute in that room. His eyes, throat, and nose were itching horribly.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked as he left, seeing him wiping his eyes for the umpteenth time.

"No," he squealed. "The steam from the cauldron hurt my eyes."

"Where are your glasses?" he asked then, as if he'd just noticed.

"I forgot them," he said simply.

"Mr. Potter."

Harry startled when he heard the professor's voice behind him. He immediately turned and stumbled backward, barely managing to keep his balance, his head throbbing at the same time.

"Yes, sir?"

"Come to my office for a moment."

Ron looked at his friend sadly, but Harry only managed to tell him to go to the Great Hall, that they would see each other later.

He followed the professor while constantly rubbing his eyes. He wanted to go straight to the bathroom to splash cold wateron them, but he didn't dare to say that to the adult.

On the other hand, fear began to grow rapidly in him, causing his hands to begin to sweat and his lower lip to tremble slightly.

Why was the professor calling him? Had he done something wrong? Had he inadvertently broken the rules? Was he going to tell him they had made a mistake and he should return to his aunt and uncle? Maybe he was going to tell him he wasn't really a wizard—no, he had done the Lumos Charm before, he could do magic. But maybe he was going to tell him he couldn't study at Hogwarts.

Had his uncle told any of his teachers he was a freak? Maybe that was why. There was no way a monster like him could be in any school. He might hurt others. Monsters in movies hurt people, at least the bad ones, and according to his Aunt Petunia, he wasn't good, so he must be bad. In fact, what if that was it?
Had it been his fault that Neville got hurt? That shouldn't make sense; there was no way he could have known he was going to make a mistake... but, well, according to his uncles, everything was his fault, so Harry thought that if he had been more attentive, he could have told Neville not to add the hedgehog quills before taking the cauldron off the heat.

He almost bumped into Professor Snape as he paused to open the door; he avoided him by pure luck. Still nervous, he went into the living room and sat where he was told. He would have described the room, but he couldn't really see anything.

He waited patiently for the teacher to speak, but the truth was that he was terribly anxious. He knew professor Snape was looking for something in his surroundings, though he couldn't say what it was. Perhaps it was some document stating that he had to leave school?

Harry's panic was growing increasingly. He didn't want to leave, didn't want to go back to his uncle's house. They were going to kill him there!

When Snape sat down opposite him, Harry forced himself not to tense up in his seat.

"Mr. Potter, I've noticed that you seem to be having... trouble seeing the blackboard in class," he said in a calm voice.

He shuddered slightly, but felt a great relief to hear the real subject he'd been called in for.

Snape frowned, though Harry didn't notice.

At least it was just that; they weren't going to expel him, at least not yet.

Well, that was a conversation he could handle; he'd had it thousands of times in his school years.

"I forgot my glasses in my room..." he explained, looking at the table.

"How can you forget your glasses if you can't see without them?" he questioned. Although he wasn't scolding him, Harry could tell.

It's not like I can see with them on either. He thought, but he wouldn't say it out loud.

"I was in a hurry," he lied. What else could he do? It was what his uncles told him to do when the teachers at his Muggle school asked things like that.

Needless to say, Severus didn't believe him in the slightest. He knew the boy hadn't rushed into the Great Hall, and even if he had, he had time to ask someone to accompany him to get his glasses before going to class.

He studied him closely. The first thing anyone would notice was that the boy was smaller than he should be. Although that could be overlooked; it wasn't unusual for some first-year boys to be like that. But his physical build and skin tone weren't normal. He was too thin and too pale, and that wasn't a natural pallor.

Merlin, he looked like he was about to faint at any moment!

He also didn't miss the signs of someone suffering from a headache, the tears that wouldn't come out of his eyes, the dizziness, even the fact that he wouldn't fully open his eyes. The boy's eyes were large and bright, so this might not have been obvious, but when he was up close, he could see his eyelids half-closed.

Snape deliberately avoided thinking about the eyes of his former best friend.

He handed him the potion he had sought earlier, and the boy frowned slightly, confused.

"It's for your headache," he explained.

He knew it hadn't been his imagination when the boy raised his head and immediately stumbled, obviously regretting his sudden movement.

"Just take it, then go get your glasses."

Harry nodded very slowly.

Was the professor worried about him? Was someone worried about him? That was something he wasn't used to; it was too strange for him.

He took the potion with some trepidation; the smell hitting him full force. His nose was still sensitive and irritated from the fumes from the cauldrons. It was a miracle he hadn't started coughing and caused himself an asthma attack, as he sometimes did because of the dust in his cupboard.

He quickly swallowed the potion to get rid of the smell; it wasn't entirely unpleasant, but Harry wasn't someone used to medicine. In the school infirmary, they never gave him anything more than a pill to swallow; the rest were some ointments for the visible bruises he supposedly caused through his own clumsiness.

His eyes widened when the pain disappeared completely. How long had it been since he had been free of migraines? He couldn't remember; he was so used to them now.

"Thank you very much, sir," he said, unintentionally letting the relief escape his voice.

Snape just nodded, allowing the boy to leave. He noticed that he had regained some color after taking the potion. Was it the pain that made him so pale?
Why hadn't he mentioned it and asked permission to get his glasses to avoid the migraine? He thought it might be the first-day fear. Many new students were afraid to ask to leave their classrooms for anything. Some, even after years, never lost their fear of doing so; they only went out when absolutely necessary or when they were very sick.

Harry, for his part, didn't want to go looking for his glasses; he was afraid the pain would return as soon as he put them on. Magic was incredible! Just a few sips of that potion and he felt better than he had in months. He didn't feel dizzy or nauseous from his headache. But on the other hand, he didn't know if it was worse not to wear his glasses, or to wear ones with the wrong prescription.

Either way he went for them; since the common room was close.

He didn't put them on right away, but took them with him to the Great Hall. He was afraid he had missed lunch. The food at Hogwarts was great! He didn't want to skip any meals now that he could choose whatever he wanted, no matter how "healthy" it was, he liked it a lot; it was definitely better than his Aunt Petunia's salty food or the greasy meals his cousin made him cook. Honestly, couldn't they just have a salad, pasta, or something without absurds amounts of oil? His relatives would end up having a heart attack or worse. He wasn't even sure his aunt was healthy.

He arrived on time, luckily. He sat down at a corner of the table, somewhat away from the others, helping himself to some food—no more than he had for breakfast, but delighted to be able to choose between different types of fresh salad and pieces of meat that weren't full of fat. He managed to pour himself a glass of orange juice; he hadn't tried pumpkin juice yet, but he was determined to have it for dinner. He only had a few pieces of fruit for dessert. It wasn't that he didn't like or want anything else there, it was just that he felt like he would get sick if he ate even a little more.

He got up with the idea of ​​going to Hagrid's hut. He didn't know at what time he was supposed to go, but he gessed that earlyer the better. If he went too late, he risked not getting back to the castle before dinnertime, and he really hoped he didn't miss any meals. He also wasn't sure what would happen if he missed one. Would he get punished? The mere thought made him shiver. He didn't want his uncle being called just to be beat him up, nor did he want to be yelled at. He hated when people yelled, especially since it was always at him.

He started walking, though he made sure to put his glasses on first, not wanting anyone else to ask him about it or to anger his Head of House.

He frowned. The glasses didn't make his vision any clearer, now it was just... a different blur?

When he was near the castle door, he jumped when someone called him. He squealed in exasperation. How many times had he jumped since leaving his uncle's house?

He turned to face Ron, his expression changing into a small smile. He was actually genuinely surprised that, despite being in different houses, the redhead actually came looking for him; you'd think he'd spend more time with his fellow housemates.

"Ron, what are you doing here?" was the only thing he could think of to ask.
He was a little uncomfortable; in just those two days, he'd asked more questions than he had ever asked in his life. He was afraid it would become a habit and he'd accidentally ask his uncles one when he got back. He shuddered at the thought.

"I was going to ask you the same, are you going out?" the other boy asked, panting a little.

"Oh, I was going to Hagrid's hut."

"The gamekeeper?" Harry nodded. "Can I come with you? My brothers talked about him a lot. I want to meet him."

Harry hesitated. He hadn't told Hagrid he'd be bringing someone with him; would that be rude? On the other hand, Hagrid actually seemed happy to have visitors; that's how he seemed when he told him to come visit him when they said goodbye after buying supplies.

He nodded anyway, though a little worried. He hoped Hagrid wouldn't be mad at him for bringing someone else without telling him. His aunt would have slapped him if he did that... on the other hand, his aunt would slap him if he dared bring someone into her house, regardless of whether he asked beforehand.

Luckily, his half-giant friend wasn't the least bit upset about Ron being brought along, but instead seemed quite pleased to have visitors, just as Harry had expected.

It was a very pleasant afternoon, discussing his first day at Hogwarts. Not that there was much to talk about; he only had gone to two subjects so far, really, but he was happy to talk to someone anyway, something he wouldn't normally think about, he wasn't much of a talker, but Hagrid and Ron were great fun to talk to. He even felt quite pleased with himself when Hagrid congratulated him on earning 20 points on just his first day, though nostalgia hit him hard when he said his mother would have been proud, as she, too, was an excellent addition to the snake house.

In the end, Harry thought he might be fine staying at Hogwarts. At least he was happy he hadn't failed his first day, paving the way for his first week of self-imposed probation.

Chapter Text

Harry was messing up his hair, for the hundredth time that day.

He was a little annoyed by his own nervous tic, but it wasn't something he could avoid anyway.

Weekends weren't something Harry cherished the way other children did, because for Harry they always meant days of working on chores while his cousin enjoyed teasing him for not being able to go out and play like he did... well, "go out" was an exaggeration. Dudley barely set foot outside his room; he was always glued to his computer or his new phone, which usually didn't last much more than two months. For some reason unknown to him, his cousin always managed to break his electronic devices.

The point is, he was now at Hogwarts. There were no homework assignments to do. The schoolwork hadn't taken up much of his time because he had literally been given nothing more than a short essay on Charms for the first lesson. And in Potions, they had nothing because the class had been dismissed early to clean the classroom.

It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the break time; it was just that he didn't know what he was supposed to be doing, and that made him quite nervous.

He would have stayed in his bed all day, silently, like his uncles wanted him to be when they didn't want him around, but he didn't know if he was allowed to stay in his room. Logic would tell him yes, but Harry wasn't quite sure what was "logical"... besides, he admitted he didn't feel like staying there. He liked his room, but it made him uneasy to be locked up there for too long, even if the place was bigger than his cupboard.

He decided to grab one of his books (he didn't even look at which one) and left the common room, starting to walk through the corridors, trying to pay attention so he wouldn't get lost, even if that meant trying to memorize the different shades of color on the walls. He couldn't look at the details because he simply couldn't notice them.

He was actually amazed by all the doors nearby. He couldn't believe they were all real, given that some were so close together. If they were real, they would lead to the same room, so he assumed they were the fake doors the prefect had mentioned.

It wasn't until after a while that it occurred to him to go to the Astronomy Tower. It was perhaps the only place he was able to find without having to go there first. Well, he just had to go up, there weren't many turns to go around.

He was sure he would have loved to see the landscape, but to him, it was just blurry patches of green and other colors. He sighed, but just sat against a wall and read.

He realized he had brought his book Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, he was a little glad about that; it was his favorite of the books he had bought for his first year at Hogwarts.

He didn't really notice what time it was; his stomach wasn't used to telling him when it was time to eat either. Well, he could obviously feel hungry, but not as often, not as much as he should have, so it was quite common for him to skip meals.

If he didn't do it this time, it was because a pair of twin brothers approached him just as it was almost time for lunch.

Harry squeaked softly and jumped in fright, but when he saw the brothers, he sighed and put his book aside, greeting them.

"What's the little snake doing-?"

"-Alone in this place?"

He looked from one twin to the other, letting out a small laugh.

"I didn't know where to go, so I thought I'd come here to read," he explained, shrugging.

"Well, it's about time for lunch-"

"-So you better come down with us."

The boy was surprised to discover that a few hours had already passed, so he simply nodded and stood up to begin walking with the Weasley brothers to the Great Hall.

"How did you find me?" he dared to ask.

"That's a little secret-"

"-That you'll have to wait a bit to find out."

Harry didn't complain about that, although there was still a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

On the other hand, he was trying to figure out which twin was which; he couldn't quite see their features, so he had to rely on the voices, which, thankfully, weren't the same.

By the time they reached the dining hall, Harry was almost certain the brother on his right was George and the one on his left was Fred.

Even after lunch, Harry spent the rest of the day hanging out with the Weasley brothers. Ron had joined them at some point in the afternoon, commenting on how "weird" one of his roommates was for enjoying a Muggle game with just one ball and where the players ran on the ground so much. Harry understood he was talking about football, though he couldn't really give an opinion on it. At most, he had watched his primary schoolmates play. He was never a big fan of the sport, didn't like being around his uncle when he watched it on television because he always ended up shouting... actually, he didn't like being around his uncle at all.

He didn't quite know what to say to the redheads when they asked him about his life in the Muggle world, much less when they asked him about his favorite activities. All he could say was that he liked to draw, which was practically his only hobby besides singing any song that came to mind. He didn't know if that counted, so he didn't mention it.

The older boys showed him and Ron the lake. It was beautiful at night, but it was also very pretty during the day, looking at it in more detail... although he couldn't deny that it gave him a certain creepiness knowing they were so close to the woodland creatures, at the same time, he couldn't say he wasn't curious about them, although he wouldn't have the opportunity to study them as a specific subject until his third year.

In the end, he was able to figure out what to do over the weekend.

Harry was able to start his self-imposed trial week; on Monday, he had two classes with the Ravenclaws, and he got to see the girl from the train again, Hermione Granger. He had to say he was completely impressed; the girl was a genius! She had managed to turn the matchstick into a near-perfect needle in Transfiguration class, while in Herbology, she seemed to know everything the teacher was going to explain before she even said it.

You see? People like that are the ones who deserve to be at school, not useless people like you.

It was strange to see his History of Magic teacher pass through a wall. He would never have thought he'd have a ghost teacher... much less one so boring. He had to fight to stay awake. He couldn't afford to fall asleep in class. He didn't want to give any teacher any reason to tell the Headmaster it was a mistake for him to be there.

On Tuesday, he had Charms again. Ernie greeted him again, which relieved him considerably. Apparently, he wasn't angry with him for what Malfoy had said last week.

He didn't like Professor Quirrell; he was even more afraid of him than of Professor Snape, even though his Head of House looked like a vampire. He didn't know why he made him uncomfortable; maybe it was the turban he had on his head, or the strong smell of garlic that surrounded him and his classroom. He really wasn't sure. He looked completely harmless and was kind, even though he seemed afraid of everything, but he still didn't like him.

Astronomy was very interesting, although the first-year students seemed to have trouble staying awake until midnight, which was when the class started. The teacher told them to go to bed early so they would wake up before the lesson began.

On Wednesday, he had potions with the Gryffindors again. This time, it wasn't Neville who caused the explosion, but a boy named Seamus Finnigan. Harry was relatively close because he was with Ron; he had jumped upon hearing the loud noise. No one was hurt this time, so they continued until they finished their boil-fighting potion. He wasn't sure he had made it right, but at least it was the color indicated in the book.

On Thursday morning, he lay in bed all morning, unable to stand the headache caused by his poor eyesight, and in the afternoon, he suffered even more in DADA class. He might think it was just a coincidence, but he was almost certain the pain had only worsened when Professor Quirrell turned his back on him.

When Friday's class ended and the afternoon free period arrived, he breathed a long sigh of relief.

He hadn't gotten into trouble; no one had detained him in an entire week! He hadn't been yelled at or hit; and even better, he had earned 50 points in total for his house!

Harry was still trying to process it all; it was simply... incredible.

He had a very comfortable bed he could sleep in all night, a large room with a very nice roommate (he already had a few casual chats with Nott), he had three meals a day, and even better, he didn't have to do any cleaning duties to earn them! Nobody hit him, and until that day nobody had called him a freak or a monster, but instead they called him by his name, it was amazing!

Well, the classes were amazing. Performing magic wasn't just about waving your wand and saying funny words, but it didn't matter; it was awesome, and he was increasingly excited to learn even more; especially after the twins showed him various spells, like changing the color of objects, or when they made his quill start singing.

It's not like you can learn that anyway; you're too stupid for it.

When the following weekend came, Harry visited Hagrid again on Saturday morning with Ron. It was at that moment that he discovered that the break-in at Gringotts was in fact the vault Hagrid had emptied, if you can even call emptying a small, poorly wrapped package, had taken place on his birthday, that is, the same day they went there.

That made him pale a little; on that very day, he had thought that if someone tried to steal the package, they wouldn't be able to do anything to stop it.

Hagrid got him off the subject, or at least he tried to, by talking about Ron's older brother Charly's job, which involved working with dragons (actual dragons!). Well, he didn't succeed, because even as they walked back to the castle for lunch, Harry was still thinking about what had happened.

At the same time, he tried to keep his curiosity at bay. The last thing he needed was to have a nervous breakdown over something that had nothing to do with him; the headaches were driving him crazy already.

Although he didn't like crowds at all, he was relatively comfortable in the Great Hall, of course, as long as he wasn't the center of attention. Harry deduced that was because everyone was sitting in their places and not in a haphazard manner that made him feel suffocated... Although he still wasn't comfortable enough to dare get up to serve himself a dish that was a bit far from him, he always served himself what was at hand and nothing more.

Now he sat next to his classmates, although he only spoke to Nott, and had exchanged words with Zabini and Greengrass a few times; Malfoy avoided him most of the time, his petulant way of speaking still made him uncomfortable, it was exactly like how his cousin spoke to him when he was showing off his new gifts and he could only be eaten up with jealousy or sadness, he wasn't looking for a fight, and from experience he knew that it was better to just step aside.

He was so deep in thought that he didn't notice the Weasley twins approaching him. He jumped in his seat when they called his name so closely, although it was much better than being touched on the shoulder or arm.

"Hey, Harry, we want to show you something, come on."

Would it be silly of him to say he was surprised George said the whole sentence instead of Fred continuing it?

You're always an idiot, I don't know what you're surprised about.

He said goodbye to Nott and went to join the redheads. He wasn't even surprised when Ron got up from his table to join them. He was actually very happy that he hadn't stopped talking to him even though he was in another house.

It was weird when the twins took them both to the Quidditch stadium, and although it was great, Harry didn't understand why they had been brought there.

"Well-"

"-You're probably wondering why you're here."

Harry actually nodded. Ron snorted.

"Well, dear Harry-"

"-Since you'll have your first flying lesson on Thursday-"

"-We thought it would be a good time to give you-"

"-Some early lessons," they finished in unison.

"And Ronnie came uninvited."

Harry looked at the twins in bewilderment, though a smile spread across his face at the younger redhead's indignation.

"What?" was all he could think to ask, amused.

"We're the Beaters on our Quidditch team. We have our own broomsticks," George explained.

"Beaters are the ones who deflect Bludgers, aren't they?"

"Right! You learn quickly," Fred confirmed. Harry smiled even wider.

"Next year we can try out for the team," Ron added, grinning.

"I don't think I'll be good at any position," Harry sighed, tilting his head.

"We'll see about that later," George dismissed. "Now you'll learn how to ride a broomstick."

"Normally you start by learning how to call a broomstick, but that's technical."

"How do you call a broomstick?" he asked Fred, curious about what he said.
"Just put your hand on the broom and say 'up'," he explained.

Harry found the very idea of ​​"calling" a broom strange. He only used brooms for sweeping. Never, not even in his wildest dreams (and he had dreamed of a flying motorbike before), had he imagined himself flying on a broom.

George placed his broom on the ground after bringing it from what he assumed was the team locker room and showed him how to lift the broom. Harry couldn't help himself and asked if he could try it. Fred handed him his to try.

"Up!" he said, smiling more than delightedly as the broom, in one motion, flew up into his hand. "I did it!" he announced, more excited than he meant to be.

"Wow! It took me several tries the first time," Ron smiled at him, equally excited.

"That's natural talent," Fred laughed.

Ron had flown on a broom before, so he helped him to better understand what the twins were saying. It wasn't difficult to understand them either, except that when they split sentences, Harry tended to get distracted and took a little longer to realize what they had said.

George hoisted himself up to show him how to do it, while Fred showed him how to hold the broom once he got on it so he wouldn't slide forward.

When it was time to try to hoist himself up, he felt panic rush through him again from head to toe, but at the same time, the excitement flowed through him so naturally that he had a terrible urge to go higher immediately.

"Just kick the ground, you'll float a little, lean your body forward, and then you can come back down, it's easy!"

Harry narrowed his eyes at George's words; he wasn't quite sure it was as simple as saying it.

You'll break your neck, since you are such an idiot.

He took a deep breath and let it out with a long, measured sigh.

Well, as if anyone would care.

George hoisted himself up first, so he was ready in case the broom went out of his control or something.

Well, it wasn't necessary.

He did what the twins told him, only rising two meters, but in that instant, any trace of fear disappeared completely from him.

He didn't know how to explain the feeling, but if he had to compare it to something, it would be joy, one like he had never felt before in his life, not even when he discovered he was a wizard. It was as if he knew what to do; it wasn't something he needed to be taught.

Instead of going back down, he soared even higher. George climbed with him, thinking something was wrong, but surely he immediately realized that wasn't the case when he heard Harry's laugh.

For the first time, he wasn't afraid to laugh openly either.

Fred whistled and Ron gasped in admiration. Harry simply leaned forward on his broom, as if he had known how to do so all his life, to speed across the Quidditch pitch.

George followed close behind, but he no longer seemed worried about him having an accident; it was as if they were having some kind of race. Harry pointed the broom handle downwards to gain speed on his fall, only to stop a metre above the ground and gently land next to Ron, who was staring at him with his mouth open.

His hair was messier than ever, his clothes were disheveled by the wind, and his glasses were slightly askew, but his face was flushed with excitement, along with the biggest smile he had ever mustered.

"That was amazing!" he shouted helplessly, delighted.

"That was beyond amazing!" Ron agreed as soon as he was able to snap out of his stupor.

"Are you sure you've never ridden a broomstick before?" Fred questioned when Harry handed him his broomstick, amazed.

"I grew up in the Muggle world, I didn't know I was a wizard, how could I have ridden a broomstick?" he replied.

He blushed even more when he realized his tone of voice, the shock still not completely wearing off. "Sorry..."

"You definitely need to get on the Quidditch team," George added, ignoring Harry's comment.

"If you fly like that the first time you ride a broom, I don't even want to imagine what it'll be like when you've had some practice! Why couldn't you have been in Gryffindor? Now Slytherin will surely win the Quidditch Cup!" Ron complained.

Harry was beyond red. He had never received so much praise before, and he wasn't sure how to take it. The natural thing for him would have been to reject it without a doubt, but now he felt doubtful because of the adrenaline coursing through him, coupled with his newfound euphoria.

"We're sorry, little brother-"

"-But Harry will be our champion."

"We're not really sorry," they said in unison.

Harry hadn't even finished processing everything the twins had said. He had no idea what position he might occupy on the team, he didn't even know if he'd even make it. The only thing he was sure of was that he loved flying, and that he wanted to do it again.

This time he soared alongside Fred, taking a similar route to the one he took with George. They even went higher, feeling again that joy he had discovered, he loved.

Ron also managed to do a few laps with him before they returned to the castle, both talking excitedly about how incredible flying was.

Harry couldn't wait for his first flying lesson, which, as it happened, he shared with Ron.

He was sure, he loved magic.

Chapter Text

It wasn't the first time Harry hadn't known what he was supposed to feel, but this time was definitely the worst of all.

He felt afraid, happy, sad, shocked, anxious... in general, he wasn't sure what he was feeling. An eleven-year-old boy shouldn't be like this!

It was Sunday, and too many things had happened, more than Harry could tolerate, although maybe, for once, that was okay.

Although he would have loved for it not to happen, Harry knew it was bound to happen at some point. It happens to any child, it happens to everyone, and he definitely couldn't be the exception. He had simply gotten sick; it wasn't unusual. He had been enduring the constant headaches from his poor prescription glasses for too long. He had fainted several times before from being unable to stand it, and other times he felt nauseous, but he was used to it... his roommate wasn't.

That same morning, dizzy from waking up too suddenly from a nightmare, his headache worsened, forcing him to throw up the previous night's dinner. This alarmed Nott, and although Harry tried to explain it was normal, the renewed dizziness that hit him didn't help much, and he was finally dragged into the hospital wing by one of the prefects.

You've barely been here a week and you've already gotten yourself into this. Now they'll know you're broken and they will send you back to the Dursleys.

Madam Pomfrey must have thought the tears that sprang to his eyes were due to the headache, and Harry refused to say anything about his family or his fear of returning: he shouldn't upset the adults.

They didn't care, anyway.

The healer wasn't very pleased to see on his physical examination (Harry didn't know how one worked) the fact that he was severely underweight and with undeniable anemia. She didn't ask him if he ate well, but rather if his headache often made him nauseous. Although he wanted to lie, he couldn't bring himself to do so, so he told the truth and said yes. Although he was surprised to learn that his skin was so pale due to anemia, he hadn't known anything about it, and the woman politely explained it to him, which he appreciated.

But he felt quite bad to learn that because he wasn't eating properly at his relatives' house, he now had a potentially dangerous illness. He had always believed his skin was like that because his parents were like that, at least that was his uncles' explanation to his teachers.

When Professor Snape was called, Harry inevitably had a panic attack; he had ruined it! They were going to send him back to his uncles' house!

Madam Pomfrey became worried when he stopped breathing properly. The problem wasn't just his nerves, but also his asthma, which, unfortunately for him, was pretty severe. She made him take a calming drought, or at least that's what he learned later, when he was able to calm down and get the proper medication. The two adults talked to each other for a couple of minutes, during which Harry thought about how to say goodbye to Ron and the twins, as well as Neville and Nott. He also wondered if his aunt and uncle would let him keep Hedwig. If so, at least he could send letters to his classmates.

Harry didn't know how to react when they told him he was being taken to Diagon Alley. He just looked, dismayed, at his Head of House and then at the Healer.

"There's an optician's there. They'll test you and get you the right glasses. It seems your headaches are due to not having the right prescription for your lenses," the woman had explained. She tried to sound gentle. She reminded Harry of the nurse at his Muggle school; she'd always been kind to him. "That should stop the headaches. I'll also give you a potion to take every day after meals. It'll help with the anemia," she finished, this time in a more stern voice, as if to imply that he couldn't skip that.

Harry blinked a couple of times. That could have made him look stupid and like he didn't understand what he was being told, and in fact, Harry didn't, but it wasn't that he didn't understand what they had just told him. Oh no, he understood that perfectly... what he couldn't make sense of was why they were doing it.

Wouldn't they send him back to that house?

"Excuse me... aren't you upset?" he murmured, only knowing that the healer understood him by the way she opened her eyes.

"Of course not, this isn't your fault, Mr. Potter. Although it was very irresponsible of you not to announce that you couldn't see with those glasses," she chided him.

"Glasses are very expensive!" he announced immediately, nervously. "I didn't want my uncles to hear that they were no longer useful and would have to buy me new ones..." He lowered his voice, shrinking back on the stretcher. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

You shouldn't have yelled at her. You're such an insolent, rude bastard, you deserve to be hit.

But Madame Pomfrey just sighed, shaking her head.

"I understand, Mr. Potter, but your health comes first. Now, I'll give you a potion for the pain, and then you'll go with your Head of House to have your eyesight checked and buy the glasses you need."

Harry felt stunned, first, because someone was worried about him, second, because he had been told that his health was important, and third, and what was the most unusual to him, he had been told that it was not his fault.

At his aunt and uncle's house, everything was his fault. How should he handle being told it wasn't his fault now?

Anyway, too happy to question it because he wasn't going to be sent back to his aunt and uncle's house, he just nodded. After taking the potion, and Professor Snape continuing to talk to the mediwizard to sort out some details, or something like that, he couldn't quite understand. He also went to clean up and get dressed to go out, though he put on a robe over it, not wanting to go out alone in his huge, worn clothes.

Instinctively, he grabbed the professor when they Apparated. Although he explained how it would feel, Harry wasn't quite ready for it. He didn't throw up, as Snape thought he would, although if he hadn't taken the painkiller potion, his headache would have worsened dramatically.

Breakfast had already passed, so when they left the school, they first went to the Leaky Cauldron to get something to eat. Harry let Professor Snape order, and although he planned to pay for his own food, by the time he was done, the teacher had already paid. He felt awkward about this, but didn't say anything.

They went to Gringotts first so he could get more money to buy the glasses and pay for the appointment.

Actually, that encouraged him quite a bit. It was his own money, so it was fine; he had forgotten that fact; now he had money, so he could pay for it himself, so he wouldn't upset his uncles. Yes, he was a little worried that he wouldn't have enough money left over for all his school years, but if he was careful the rest of his time at Hogwarts, maybe he could manage it well, and if not, well, he could always work to get more.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't nervous, but he was determined not to show it, or at least not to let the professor realize the reason for his anxiety; he preferred him to think he was nervous because of the exam and not because it went against what his uncles told him; he was afraid that if he found out, he'd tell them.

In fact, he still hoped they wouldn't tell his uncles about this; if they found out he had money of his own, there would be no way he'd be able to save any for the rest of his school years. They wouldn't notice on their own that he had other glasses; they never looked at his face, but just in case, he'd wear his old ones around the house. That way, if they hit him, at least they wouldn't break the new ones.

The witch who helped him at the optician's was very kind, and although she spoke more to his professor than him, he could vaguely understand what she was saying. Well, myopia and astigmatism, he already knew that, so it wasn't really a surprise. He just waited patiently for them to call him back, not so nervous now that he wasn't in trouble, at least.

Severus, for his part, was still dismayed. That morning, when they called him to tell him that his best friend's son was in the infirmary, he'd been worried sick. It didn't help when Poppy told him the boy had anemia and constant headaches, nor that his glasses weren't what he needed. She wasn't specialized in vision, so she could only tell him the obvious: those glasses were no longer suitable for the little boy, and he should go with her to buy new ones. It wasn't the first time a teacher had accompanied a student to a consultation that couldn't be done in the school infirmary, especially if they were raised in the Muggle world, so the latter didn't surprise him at all.

Regarding the boy's anemia, the boy knew nothing about it, but she could only deduce that it was like a vicious cycle in his health. The anemia worsened his eyesight and headaches, which in turn caused eating disorders, either due to a lack of appetite or nausea and vomiting, which, again, only made the anemia worse.

She wondered again why Harry hadn't said anything about his glasses, although the boy himself said he didn't want to upset his aunt and uncle because he knew how expensive they were. He felt exasperated, but at the same time, he had to admit it wasn't the first time he'd heard of such a case. Besides, perhaps the boy felt responsible for his aunt and uncle taking care of him and didn't want to burden them further. He still thought it was extreme, but that was all he had in mind.

Perhaps if Hagrid had told them how the boy's aunt and uncle behaved like, he would have had a much more accurate idea.

He was shocked to see all the gold the boy had in his temporary vault, and while he didn't understand why he took the money from there instead of his family's vaults, he assumed that because, as a minor, he only had access to that vault, so he didn't question it.

He had to say it, Harry was very calm and obedient, something he liked. He answered his questions much more naturally than he had at school, which only reinforced his suspicion that his attitude in class might be due to the fact that he still felt intimidated by the environment of a totally new world. He had no idea that Harry was now calmer thanks to the potion he had taken in the hospital wing to calm his panic attack.

The mediwizard who treated him evidently noticed the boy's health deficiencies that had worsened his condition, but he could only say that the boy was unaware of this and that was why he kept his problems to himself. She looked at him with pity, and perhaps only then did she realize who he was, and then she understood a little more. But at his request, she wouldn't say anything about Harry Potter being there, much less about his problems. Well, in any case, she couldn't say it; the confidentiality that healers were required to maintain prevented it.

She suggested that, in addition to glasses, the little boy also wear contact lenses, assuming it would help with practice sessions where the lenses might be damaged. Harry loved the idea, although none of the adults realized it was because it meant he could wear contact lenses at his aunt and uncle's house and still be able to see even if he wore his old ones, they would never be able to tell that something changed. If Severus had known about this, he would have thought Harry was definitely a Slytherin.

Perhaps the best part was that Harry could undergo treatment once he came of age, thereby permanently correcting his eyes. She couldn't do it right now because, unlike other treatments that were done 'the sooner the better,' this one required Harry's eyes to be fully developed and have a more stable prescription, which wouldn't happen until he was at least twenty, but meanwhile he could use glasses to treat the problem, in addition to some eye drops he must use for now, Harry was a little surprised; he thought that was exclusive to Muggle medicine.

The boy blushed when the witch told him he had beautiful eyes. He wasn't at all used to such comments, even though his teachers had always told him the same thing, saying that those eyes were unlike any they had ever seen before. Severus agreed. The boy's eyes were just like his mother's, but at the same time, they were different: brighter and more vivid, although perhaps in a strange twist of fate, their color was too similar to that of the Killing Curse.

The healer also helped him choose frames for his glasses, Snape not being good at such things, and Harry being too indecisive on his own. In the end, he had clear contact lenses, and she also chose a pair of thin, round, black frames (which Snape didn't think would look as good on anyone else as they did on Harry). It was strange; with the glasses, Harry looked even more like James, but at the same time, because the glasses were different from his father's, it gave him his own... style? So, he was like James, and he was like Lily, but in the end, Harry was his own person.

The witch doctor told Harry that he might continue to suffer from dizziness and mild headaches while his eyes adjusted to the new prescription, but that wasn't a big deal to Harry: he had spent almost his entire childhood suffering from constant migraines severe enough to drive any adult mad; he could handle it for a few more days until they stopped once and for all.

The boy paid the bill, to the surprise of the witch, who probably expected the adult to control the money, but Harry wanted to learn how to handle magical money, so he did.

Harry couldn't have been more delighted, seeing, technically for the first time, everything clearly.

Diagon Alley was ten times more incredible, and he had no doubt the school would be just as impressive.

Since the consultation had taken a while, they decided to have lunch there, again entering the Leaky Cauldron for this. And although they would have been able to return immediately, Severus gave Harry a chance to look around the shops a bit, enjoying the opportunity to see everything as it was meant to be and not just as blurry blobs.

He wasn't babysitting the boy, but he didn't want him to get sick by apparating right after lunch. On the other hand, he wasn't bothered by the boy either. All the boy did was go into the bookstore to get some books. He didn't see which ones, but he didn't stop him. He inevitably thought of the boy's mother. She was the same; she had often bought books that weren't in the curriculum to read between classes or on weekends, not caring whether they were in the school library or not: she wanted her own.

Harry, for his part, couldn't be happier.

He had new glasses and could now see everything with a clarity he hadn't thought possible. He also had the opportunity to buy new books: he looked for the ones Hermione Granger mentioned when they met, the ones where he was mentioned. Not that he was very interested, but he thought it was useful to know what the wizarding world had to say about him... In addition to another book on magical creatures, he had already finished the one on the school supplies list, so he bought a new one.

But the best part was that he wasn't going to be punished for it. He had learned new things, and even if it took up an entire morning with the professor, and once they returned to school, he just told him to go to his common room, free of any hitting or yelling, he still wouldn't be expelled!

The fact that he had gone to the hospital wing first to thank the healer was just a small extra gesture he wouldn't tell anyone about.

Now he went to the Slytherin comonroom, being greeted first by two red-haired twins who asked him where he went, and for once, Harry was more than willing to talk and tell them about his morning.

He couldn't wait for the next day to arrive so he could attend class, now able to read the blackboards and follow along properly.

In fact, Harry was so happy that he was able to not pay attention to that little voice in his head that was nagging him about everything he did.

Yes, he had had a good day.

Chapter Text

The fact that Harry talked a little more and felt slightly more confident since getting his new glasses probably only reinforced the belief that he acted the way he did because of the stress of being in a new environment.

But it didn't really had anything to do with it; he was just a little less afraid of making a mistake because of his poor eyesight. Although he was getting a little more accustomed to school, and unlike some of the other first-years, it wasn't as if he really missed "home."

He had more conversations with Theo, as he had told Harry he could call him; also with Zabini and Greengrass, and generally with other boys in his year. He thought that after becoming friends with Ron, his classmates wouldn't be happy with him... and some didn't like him much, but they put that fact aside when they talked. In the end, the only one who continued to bother him constantly was Malfoy, but he could tolerate that; it was no more difficult than avoiding Dudley.

That week they had flying lessons for the first time, and if Harry had previously been afraid of making a fool of himself for not knowing how to ride a broomstick, now he was too excited.

However, that would be on Thursday, and first he had to focus on other classes; he liked the lessons, and he got along well with his classmates, even those from other houses. Harry had never had much contact with any of the other kids in his classes in muggle school because his cousin kept them away from him—well, they kept their distance because they didn't want to be beaten by the overweight, oversized boy everyone thought was older than he really was—so he was actually quite happy, even if they barely exchanged a few words, he still didn't like talking, much less being the center of attention.

The week started out fairly normally. On Wednesday, he even talked a lot with Ron after Potions class; they were both eagerly awaiting flying class. Although, at some point, Ron brought up a topic of conversation that caught Harry off guard.

"I'm telling you, she's really unbearable. In Charms class, she's always correcting everyone."

"Come on... I know that can be a bit annoying sometimes...
but she's not that bad either..."

He tilted his head. He hadn't really spoken or exchanged many words with Hermione Granger either. The girl had only approached him in Transfiguration to talk about the class, and then in Herbology to ask if he had read that one of those plants was also in the Potions textbooks. Ron wasn't the first person he had heard complaining about her; actually, he had heard Theo and Zabini, and Malfoy, too, but, well, to be fair, Malfoy complained about everyone... but at the same time, even some Hufflepuff boys said so; he couldn't possibly talk about the Ravenclaws because the few times he exchanged words with them, Hermione was nearby, and obviously, they didn't talk about her, just about the classes.

Yes, he had to admit that it made him a little uncomfortable sometimes. He didn't want to be rude, but he didn't really enjoy hearing the girl try to boss her classmates around or when she tactlessly corrected everyone in the process... but he didn't dislike her either.

"You should have listened to her, really."

Harry just shrugged.

After lunch, he said goodbye to Ron and went with his classmates to his next class, which he shared with the Ravenclaws.

Harry really liked Professor McGonagall. She was very strict, yes, but somehow you grew to like her very quickly, and when she congratulated him when he did something well and told him that his father had also been very good at Transfiguration, his feelings of affection and admiration for her only grew even more.

As always, the classes went well (even if they ended with tons of homework to do), but the problems didn't arise until after they were over.

"Move out, Mudblood."

Harry looked at Malfoy and raised an eyebrow. Hermione Granger made a similar expression as she looked at the blond, although the others looked disgusted. They only understood that it was, obviously, an insult, but they couldn't possibly know the severity of it: they weren't raised there to know that.

Still, Hermione didn't want to be spoken to like that.

"You have no right to talk to me like that, Malfoy," she snapped.

"You need to learn your place and respect your superiors. One'd think with you being such a know-it-all, you'd know that already."

Although Harry wasn't very happy with the girl's attitude most of the time, that didn't stop him from feeling bad when he saw her eyes fill with tears before she ran off, earning ridicule from the blond boy and his friends. Even worse when some Ravenclaws agreed with the nickname he gave Hermione.

The youngest boy started running after the brunette girl, ignoring his housemates, who were calling him or, in the blond boy's case, making fun of him.

It took him a few moments to figure out where she had gone, but after a few minutes, he managed to find the girl hiding in a hallway. His heart sank when he saw himself hiding after being beaten by his "family."

He approached slowly, not wanting her to run away again, though he stayed put when she raised her head to look at him.

"What do you want? Do you want to tell me I'm a know-it-all too?" she said in a contemptuous voice, though tears still streamed down his face.

Harry nervously shook his head and slowly approached, squatting in front of the girl.

"I don't believe what Malfoy said. I think you're very clever," he explained, shrugging.

"Yeah, right... everyone believes what he said."

"Well..." he probed, not wanting to offend her further. "Maybe they don't like you correcting them in class... but still, I think you're brilliant." He smiled at her, trying to encourage her. "You're not a know-it-all... although you are a genius."

Harry was startled when the girl hugged him, immediately tensing and feeling his vision blur for a moment.

He hated, above all, physical contact. He hadn't let anyone touch him until now... but he was trying to fight the urge to push away the girl who had started to cry on his shoulder. He didn't want to make her feel bad...

He tried to control his breathing, however difficult it was proving to be, so Hermione wouldn't notice he was panicking. He just let her relax and pull away on her own, although by then, Harry was already starting to tear up too.

"I'm sorry, I..." she began, nervous, more so because she saw the younger boy was also crying.

"No, no... it's okay," he swallowed, wiping his eyes. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes... I... thank you."

"It's okay," he smiled at her, still feeling the slight tremors throughout his body. "Don't let them get you down... it's not worth it; you're amazing... Hermione."

"Thank you so much, Harry."

Harry thought it was worth letting the little girl hug him after seeing her smile so convincingly.

They only talked a little longer, both were raised in the muggle world, so they understood each other quite well, although Hermione knew much more than he did about the magical world from all the books she had already read, so she recommended some for him to read.

While they were in the library looking for the books she mentioned; Hermione had also promised Harry that she would try to be less intense in class, in order to not to disturb the others , although when she immediately said something in that bossy maner of hers about the books she was holding, he thought, with some amusement, that it would take a little longer to achieve. On the other hand, he helped calm her fears about the flying lessons, which Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had on Friday, by telling her that he had already flown on a broomstick (he didn't say when or where) and that it was quite fun.

Theo was the first to welcome him into the comon room when he decided to return, although after seeing the books in his arms, he thought he had only been in the library. He offered to help him with them since, as a pureblood, he knew everything the books covered.

When the next day arrived, all the first-year Slytherins and Gryffindors were excited, so much so that they barely concentrated on that morning's lessons. The former ones were already in the courtyard and little by little the lions were arriving. Harry smiled to see, once again, Ron and Neville arriving nearly on time, evidently in a hurry as always.

Chapter Text

"I still find it surprising that you became a Seeker, especially in your first year."

"And I'm still trying to process it," he admitted, blushing a little.

Harry smiled timidly to Theo, as he walked toward the Great Hall. He was quite delighted with the idea; after getting a broom, he would begin his training with the team, and although he was extremely nervous, he was also excited. He felt a bit bipolar, to be honest.

They sat down at the table. Harry greeted the twins, who winked at him. It was a secret that he was the team's new Seeker.

"Wow, Potter, I'm surprised you weren't expelled yesterday," Malfoy snapped.

"Me too," he replied, rolling his eyes. Theo let out a small laugh.

They started to eat breakfast, Harry took the potion Madame Pomfrey gave him, he still had a long way to recovery, and the woman had become even stricter now that he was going to be playing on the team. He actually felt bad when she started complaining about how dangerous it was for a child to play that sport, but even so, he could hear some excitement in her voice. Harry thought the healer was a fan of that sport too.

He only had two classes on Fridays, Charms and Potions, both in the morning, so he had the afternoon free to do whatever he wanted.

He visited Hagrid, and as much as he wanted to, he didn't tell him about his new position. Something told him the man wasn't very good at keeping secrets, and that was supposed to be a secret yet.

He watched the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff flying practice, recognized Hermione's bushy hair, and even from a distance, he could tell that she was holding onto her broomstick a little too tightly. He sighed softly; the poor girl was truly terrified of flying.

He decided to go read in the library for a while, and while he was at it, he'd drop off some books he had borrowed from there. It didn't surprise him when Hermione wandered in there as if seeking refuge after a while. She was similar to Neville in that, even though she was pale, she seemed delighted to have her feet back on the ground.

Ron also arrived, though much more annoyed, with several rolled-up scrolls sticking out of his backpack. Ron didn't strike him as the type of person to do chores with the whole weekend ahead of him, so he found it odd that he was there.

"I lost a bet with Dean, now I have to do his astronomy essay," he growled. Harry fought back the strong urge to laugh.

"You can't play with that," Hermione chided him. Ron frowned.

"That's none of your business."

"All of you are being very irresponsible; our education isn't a game."

Harry felt self-conscious; they weren't shouting, but he didn't like it when people got angry. Why did they always get so easily upset around him?

"Harry?" Hermione called, trying to put a hand on his shoulder.

The boy managed to avoid the contact, blinking a few times.

"Sorry, I... I was thinking," he mumbled. "Sorry, I have to go; I told Theo we'd do the Potions essay together. See you."

He left the room after showing the librarian the book he was checking out and pointing out the ones he was returning. He liked that, at his school he could only take out one book at a time, if he wanted to use more than one, he had to stay there... well, it's not like he minded that either, it was a good hiding place for his cousin, Dudley never went into the library.

Harry jumped in his seat when the Weasley twins "attacked" him in the common room the next day. He wasn't sure he'd ever get used to being surprised by someone. His first reaction was always the same: you'd think he looked like a cat, the way he was startled by noises.

His eyes probably lit up when they invited him to fly again, because they let out a small laugh, but he didn't even care; the idea of ​​flying again thrilled him.

He was delighted to be able to fly again, and it was even better when Ron joined them after a while. Harry had no idea whether it was against the rules for first-years to fly or not, but the twins reassured him that there will be no problems.

If he had been told that no students were allowed to fly outside of classes or training, Harry would probably have panicked.

Sunday was quieter. He and Theo had taken care of finishing their homework, Zabini had also joined them, and then Greengrass arrived as well. They studied throughout the morning and part of the afternoon, but then Harry decided to go out and explore the school, something he hadn't done before.

He wandered through the dungeons first. It still seemed quite incredible to him that he was studying magic at a school; I mean, just over two months ago he had no idea he was a wizard, and suddenly on his eleventh birthday a half-giant had come to tell him the truth about himself and pour his story down his neck like a bucket of cold water.

He was surprised when he found a passage that led him outside the school. How did he get there when he had just been near the Great Hall?

He went back to the castle, although it took him a while to determine his own whereabouts and find the main entrance. The secret passage closed the moment he reached the outside, but he assured himself he would try it again later; it would help him get to his Herbology classes in the Greenhouse faster.

He was terrified when a staircase shifted and almost knocked him to the ground. He had completely forgotten that stairs could do that, although they only changed places on Fridays, sometimes that happened, as if they were actually moving.

He still hadn't quite gotten used to students staring at him, which is why he preferred to go out with his contact lenses and make an effort to cover his scar with his hair, even though for some reason it still seemed like everyone was staring at him, even if they didn't recognize him. He didn't like it at all, and it didn't help his social anxiety (which he didn't even know he had) improve.

He continued walking through the hallways. He had found at least three false doors and two more hidden passageways, though he wasn't sure where he had ended up, so he had to go back through the same corridors to avoid getting lost.

He skipped a few steps when he saw they were the ones that bit students' legs. He frowned. What were the founders supposedly thinking, making a castle with stairs that bite? Although, well, maybe they had developed personalities after years of being fed magic, and he was unfairly blaming the founders for that.

He probably thought the Weasley twins must find it quite amusing to have stairs like that at school.

It was while he was walking that he came to a corridor he hadn't seen before. He was sure he hadn't passed through that place at any time, so it wasn't on the way to his classrooms, and it wasn't a place he had walked through before getting his new glasses.

The first few rooms were empty; they were just used to store chairs or tables, nothing really interesting.

However, he came to one with a closed door. Harry frowned; it was the only one he had found closed so far.

In his aunt and uncle's house, Harry wouldn't have hesitated to leave the door alone; a closed door was simply a sign that no one should enter there, no matter which room it was.

But now Harry was curious, especially because he was sure he had heard something or someone there, and it didn't seem right to lock an animal or person in a room, and he highly doubted it was a wall breathing, no matter how magical it was.

He wrinkled his nose slightly and walked away, still cradled by the feeling of wanting to know what was there at all costs.

Harry had no idea he was in the forbidden corridor on the third floor, and he didn't realize it when he left to return to his common room.

He didn't see that room again for the rest of the week, as he spent his time catching up on his homework with Theo, Zabini, and Greengrass—or Daphne, as she asked him to call her. He also helped Ron with Potions and sometimes studied Transfiguration with Hermione.

On Monday morning of the following week, after showering, dressing, and putting in the drops in his eyes (which he soon discovered weren't like Muggle medicine, as they made him blind for five minutes), he left the room with Theo, who always waited for him and kept him company until the blindness wore off. They went with the rest of the Slytherin students to the Great Hall.

"I'm telling you, Harry; it's not normal to add centimeters to your homework."

"I'm sorry, but if I didn't, I wouldn't be able to get everything. You know I'm bad at summarizing information," he complained, puffing out a cheek.

"For someone who barely speaks, that's ironic," his companion mocked.

This time the boy blushed, shrugging.

"You added a few more to your Astronomy homework... Do you like it?"

"A little," he admitted. "Although I prefer Transfiguration."

Harry just nodded. He couldn't pick a favorite class; he just knew he didn't like DADA. He was still afraid of Professor Quirrell. It wasn't natural to get headaches only in his class, especially after his eyesight had been fixed and his anemia had subsided.

They sat down to eat while they waited for the mail. Theo was waiting for a package. He bought a book to teach Harry about wizarding traditions surrounding Samhain, although the boy wasn't really comfortable with it, not because he didn't want to learn or wasn't interested in the subject, but because he didn't like that specific holiday. He never had, but now it was for different reasons.

While he was eating breakfast, Harry didn't notice everyone paying attention to what was about six owls flying by with a long, thin package. It wasn't until Theo asked him if he knew who it was for that he noticed it, just in time to see the owls drop the package in front of him, startling him.

Hedwig also came down and left him a letter, Harry stroked her lovingly and let the owl eat from his plate, taking the letter to read it before checking the package, which was lucky.

His eyes widened, and he struggled to contain his joy. He had his own broom! His eyes must have sparkled because Theo smiled, not even knowing what was happening. Harry told him to follow him, to then grab the package in order to leave the table, understanding why he had been asked not to open it there: it would be a problem if all the first-years saw they had made an exception to the rule for him.

They ran out of the dining hall, it wasn't a common occurrence for them, but Harry was excited to see the broomstick right away, and so was Theo, who smiled even more when he handed him the note.

Ron caught up with him later, probably wanting to see what had been sent to Harry. They stood in a corridor, and he handed him the note, grinning.

"A Nimbus 2000!" he exclaimed enviously, but smirking. "That's incredible."

Theo still hadn't spoken to Ron, but he wasn't bothered by him being there either; he just snorted, a little amused.

As they were about to open the package, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle arrived as well; the blond took the package from Harry, examining it.

"A broomstick," he said, then handed it back with a mixture of jealousy and resentment on his face. "You did it, Potter. First-years aren't allowed one."

When Ron and Malfoy started arguing, Harry looked to Theo for support, beginning to feel hopelessly uncomfortable; but luckily, Professor Flitwick arrived at their side, breaking up the fight.

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," Malfoy said suddenly.

"Yes, yes, very good," he said, smiling at Harry. "I've been told all about the special conditions. What model is it, Potter?"

"A Nimbus 2000, Professor," Harry replied, smiling even wider.

Now they left again to open the package, ignoring Malfoy's frustration at not being able to get them into trouble.

After opening the package and staring at the broomstick for a few minutes, growing increasingly enchanted with the object, Harry went with Theo to drop it off in his room (rewrapping the package first), then went to his first class of the day, still too excited to really pay attention.

Hermione must have noticed this, because three times in Transfiguration class, the girl had to get his attention to keep him from turning his quill into a needle instead of a matchstick; though it was still interesting to see him manage to change the color of his quill to silver.

In Herbology, he was more focused, but that was because he was interested in the plant they were studying; though personally, he preferred not to have to go near the Devil's Snare.

After lunch came History of Magic class, and although he really tried to pay attention, this time he almost fell asleep on top of his book. It didn't help that the professor didn't notice and ignored the students who were already in their fifth sleep. When they had to leave, Harry forced himself to take Theo by the shoulders to wake him up. He barely managed, but he immediately broke away to return to the common room. Maybe he'd even get some sleep before nightfall.

Although he had already shown that he could play as a seeker, Flint wanted to first take that afternoon/evening to better explain the basics of Quidditch to him, or rather about the Slytherin team, for that matter.

He arrived a little earlier than agreed, not because he was wrong about the hour but because he was eager to get some time to fly before the team captain arrived. So he hopped on his broom and kicked the ground to get airborne, feeling that overwhelming joy he had longed for again.

He loved his new broom; it seemed to react to the slightest touch, as if it could react to his thoughts.

He flew through the goal hoops and swooped down to the ground, leveling the broom just a meter off the ground to hover close to it, only to then rise again and circle the pitch a few times, wanting to see how fast he could fly.

"Harry!"

"Come down!"

He stopped in midair at the sound of his name, smiling at the sight of a pair of red heads next to the team captain. He swung his broom down again, swooping down to stop beside them.

"I thought I was just going to train with Flint," he told the twins, smiling. He had moved to sit in front of them on the broom, but hadn't yet gotten off it, which was still suspended in the air.

"Yeah, well-"

"-How could we refuse a night flight?"

The youngest just smiled, then waved to the captain before getting off his broom. Flint nodded.

"I had seen that before, but it's more than true that you have natural talent, just like Hooch said. The broom helps enhance that."

"Not everyone masters a Nimbus the first time," Fred told him,
winking. Harry smiled at him, amused.

Again, Harry had to pay more attention to Flint's explanations to understand what the twins were saying. He understood them, but he was still easily distracted by looking from one to the other in succession, especially when they started making comparisons with topics in the wizarding world he wasn't familiar with; although he later got them too by mentioning topics from the Muggle world they didn't understand.

Flint had brought a box of the different balls they used in Quidditch, and then the three of them explained how each one worked.

The team captain was also a Chaser, so he explained the scoring and their position. Of all the balls, Harry thought Quaffles were the only normal balls in Quidditch; they didn't fly for hitting or fleeing.

Harry was startled when a Bludger was thrown, though he managed to bat it away with a bat before it hit him and broke his nose, earning a whistle of approval from the twins when he managed to throw it quite far. But they were the ones who stopped it when it came back at them once more.

"You don't have to worry about the Quaffle or the Bludgers," Flint began.

"Unless they break my cranium" Harry snapped, frowning.

"We'll take care of that," George began.

"We won't let the Bludgers get near you," Fred continued.

"If anyone can, it's them; they're two human Bludgers," Flint also replied, and far from being offended, the twins seemed more than a little delighted and proud of the comparison.

The Seeker position wasn't something they needed to explain to him again; he knew exactly what to do... the problem was achieving it; And even though he had managed to catch a Snitch before, now that he saw it again, so small, he found it hard to believe he could do it again.

It was probably just luck the first time.

Harry frowned further, but he focused solely on the twins as they told him how their older brother, Charlie, had been a Gryffindor Seeker, and had been one of the best, winning practically every match he had played in.

When night fell, they returned to the castle; Harry still thought Flint was kinder than he seemed. He had been patient enough to explain everything, and even more so, to endure the twins' constant teasing. He felt anyone else would have tried to shut them up, although, well, he doubted they'd succeed.

He went to take a bath and then went to his room, ready to answer his roommate's questions. While he was very quiet outside the classroom, when they were alone together he was the one in charge of creating conversation, and Harry was fine with that.

They chatted while Harry finished his Herbology essay for the next day, making vague comments and also chatting a bit about the approaching Halloween. Harry just shrugged at that point, preferring to pay attention to what he was writing.

He didn't feel like thinking about that yet.

Chapter Text

On Saturday, Harry decided to return to his task of exploring the castle. He decided to find out where those secret passages he found before, but hadn't been able to investigate, led to.

Somehow, he ended up back in front of the closed door he found before. He let out a squeal of frustration when he realized it; he tried to keep his curiosity at bay; nothing worked out when he wanted to be curious.

Children were naturally curious, yes, and that's generally how they learned, but Harry had never had the opportunity to do so. For him, being curious meant being punished, and that wasn't something he wanted.

He had no idea what the punishments at Hogwarts were like, and he didn't want to know. He was afraid they were worse than at his uncle's house. What if they used a spell to beat him on the back with a belt? His uncle became tired quickly due to his poor physical condition, but if they did it with magic, it could last for hours... and the idea of ​​having his hands shoved into a magically fueled fire didn't appeal to him at all either. He must have seemed too clumsy to his classmates when he told them the burns on his hands were from hurting them while trying to learn how to cook, let alone getting new ones because some teacher decided he should stick his hands where they shouldn't be.

He sighed and started to leave, thinking maybe he'd see Hagrid. He really liked the half-giant; he was very kind to him and didn't yell at him for asking questions, although he sometimes diverted the subject to avoid answering, but Hagrid didn't insist.

Well, he didn't know how to react when he did, in fact, see Hagrid, but it wasn't on his hut, intead he was coming out of the door he thought was locked.

He gasped when he caught a glimpse of what was locked in there.

A Cerberus! Hagrid had a Cerberus at Hogwarts!

When he saw him starting to approach, he ran out of the corridor. He'd have another chance to ask the man why there was a Cerberus in the castle, but he didn't think it was a good idea to be caught in the third-floor corridor; and if he remembered correctly, Hagrid had told him that Mrs. Norris, Caretaker Filch's cat, followed him whenever he came in, and he didn't want to run into the cat either.

Theo must have thought there was something wrong when he came running into the room, and indeed there was! There was a Cerberus at Hogwarts!

He sighed and decided to lie down for a while after telling him everything was fine, that he was sorry for worrying him. He just crawled into bed, thinking for a while about what he had seen.

Cerberus were guardians, so that one in the room was probably guarding something, something important enough to put there. Hagrid told him there was no place safer than Gringotts... except maybe Hogwarts.

He frowned. Was that where the package they had taken from Gringotts was hidden?

He doubted Hagrid would tell him if the package was there, much less what it was; but he hoped he could at least tell him about the Cerberus.

He'd go talk to him another day.

On Sunday, something a little strange happened. While Harry was sitting on the common room rug reading, waiting for Theo to come down for breakfast, he noticed one of the decorations in the room.

He had to say it: that was the Slytherin room in all its splendor.

The first time, he didn't notice it beyond the colors, but when he got his glasses, he was able to see every detail, and he found it particularly amusing that there were so many snakes all over the place. He found it even more endearing the thought of the other rooms being like that too; maybe details of lions on Gryffindor's, badgers on Hufflepuff's, and eagles on Ravenclaw's.

This time, however, he took a special look at one of the ornaments placed on the mantelpiece, and found that the small silver snake with emerald eyes actually looked like a real one, or at least, in the fire, it seemed to be wriggling and snaking in place.

"You're truly beautiful."

Harry wasn't aware of the hiss that escaped his lips—not that he could be—and there was no one there to tell him what had happened. He was the only Slytherin who preferred to sit on the carpet rather than in the expensive, comfortable armchairs in the living room. Even Theo preferred to sit on the single sofa near him when he was on the floor, causing Harry to have to look up when he wanted to see his face, which didn't happen often either; he wasn't used to looking people in the eye when talking, and it made him uncomfortable.

When he heard his name, he stood up and walked with Theo away from the fireplace to the Great Hall. This time they were accompanied by Daphne and Zabini, the latter arguing, with surprising elegance, about a topic he didn't delve into.

Although he spent much of the day with his housemates, in the afternoon he and Ron were strolling around the school grounds. The redhead was apparently irritated at once again having to share classes with Hermione; the girl had corrected his pronunciation in a spell, only to later demonstrate that she could do it perfectly.

Harry stifled a small laugh at that, took out his own wand, and cast the spell, lifting the piece of bread Ron had brought from the table and hadn't finished because he was half-talking and half-eating at the same time.

"I can't believe it, you too?" he complained. Harry smiled.

"Hermione taught me," he clarified, with a hint of amusement in his voice. "She's a good teacher."

"Yeah, when she's not proving you she's a know-it-all," he snorted.

Ron understood he had upset the younger boy when he dropped the bread on his head with a snort.

"Don't call her that. It really hurts her, you know. She's not mean, she's just trying to adjust."

"She's not doing very well."

"It's obviously going to be hard for her; it's a new world; I'm not used to it yet either."

"You seem to be handling it well, though," he added, frowning slightly.

"I have pureblood and half-blood classmates who teach me the ways, and the prefects in Slytherin give us extra lessons. She's trying to adapt on her own. It's not her fault. Reading books won't teach you how coexist in harmony... believe me..."

He said this last bit in the lowest voice he could, barely moving his lips. He shook his head, moving forward.

"I suppose..." Ron had to agree, snorting, unconvinced.

Then he told him about Seamus, his classmate, who in his impatience had managed to set his quill on fire instead of making it fly. Harry thought that boy would surely have an easy time controlling the Devil's Snare.

Everything was going well, at least until Monday came.

The half-bloods were the only ones familiar with the Muggle concept of Halloween; many even told funny stories about costumes they had worn before, moving through the aisles giggling at the memory of the sillier ones too.

"You've never done it?" Theo asked, nodding toward the group discussing trick-or-treating.

"No," he muttered, shaking his head. "I don't like Halloween."

Theo didn't comment on that; he got the hint; You didn't have to be a genius to know that someone could hardly enjoy a celebration if that day reminded them of the fact that they were an orphan.

However, the wizarding world didn't agree; many children were orphaned in the war, and Harry was just one of them, so they celebrated the fall of the Dark Lord, and they also praised that same boy as a hero with indifferent cruelty, ignoring the suffering that the memory of that night brought back.

But Theo didn't know that it wasn't just because of this that Harry didn't enjoy the celebration of Halloween. In fact, he didn't even know that until a few months ago, Harry hadn't even known such a thing had happened.

Harry hated Halloween because, until that year, it had meant enduring particularly painful insults directed at him and his parents. His aunt didn't even look at him on that date, completely ignoring his existence... but his uncle became more aggressive, hatefully reminding him that on that day, his parents had died, and that was why he was ruining their perfect life.

Of course, up until that point, the words they had been saying were about them being useless drunks who had killed themselves through their own foolishness, and that he had survived only by an unpleasant miracle.

He had hated his parents, or at least felt ashamed every time they were mentioned, especially when his cousin said it in front of all his friends, humiliating him in ways he hadn't thought possible. Now he felt ashamed too, but of himself, for having believed his uncles, for having despised the family that gave their lives for him.

Of course, Harry had no way of distrusting them; the story made sense in his childish mind. His uncles' contempt was justified by the fact that they had to take care of him against their will, entangling them in some kind of invisible contract just for being his closest family. The green light seemed like that of a traffic light or a vehicle, and the chilling laughter until that moment seemed to be just the uncontrolled laughter of a drunken man; there was no way he could have noticed the evil and coldness it carried before.

But, well, for him, it was just another reason to despise himself, gnawing at his uncles' words over and over again.

It's all your fault.

In class, Harry was more distracted than ever. In Transfiguration, he couldn't even turn half a tree leaf into a piece of parchment, even though he had previously managed to do it in less than three attempts, placing him only behind Hermione, who managed it on the first try, or failing that, on the second.

In Herbology, he dropped everything in his hands or at his side; he had bent down at least ten times to pick up his tools; he had even forgotten his gloves, and he didn't realize it until he discovered his hand was bleeding from a cut on a plant's thorns.

In History of Magic, things were no better. He didn't bother trying to keep Theo awake as he had done on other occasions, and he didn't even care that he had fallen asleep behind his book that time.

When he woke up suddenly in the middle of class, he looked around, desperate; but nothing had happened.

There was no new flash of green coming his way, no laugh, no voice too soft to understand what it was saying, but remaining by his side the whole time.

He sighed. No one noticed his outburst, and if they did, they probably didn't care. It's not as if there hadn't been students who woke up bewildered in the middle of class before, and Professor Binns didn't even seem aware that he was in a classroom full of students.

When it came time for the feast, Harry didn't want to go, telling his classmates he'd stay in the common room, and that if Ron, Neville, or even Hermione asked, they should tell them he was just tired.

He smiled at the Weasley twins when they tried to cheer him up, but Harry just shook off the guilt by telling them he was fine. Well, they probably didn't believe him, but they let him stay in the common room. Instead, they gave him some sweets they had bought the day before in Hogsmeade.

The more traditional purebloods might not be too happy about Halloween, but no Slytherin was really willing to miss the feast, so Harry was left alone in the hall.

He sat, as always, in front of the fireplace, absentmindedly stroking the rug with one hand while hugging his legs tightly against his chest with the other.

"Why should I be the only one to survive? If I had gone with them..."

He unconsciously hissed at the small silver snake in the fireplace, shaking his head before curling up closer in front of the warmth of the fire, distractedly watching the flames rise and fall.

Elsewhere, while the students in the Great Hall were enjoying the feast, the head of the snake house noticed the absence of the green-eyed boy (not that it was difficult to notice his absence; he was always there, either next to Nott or between the Weasley twins), although he supposed it was only natural given the date. He didn't think the Potter boy would remember that, but he assumed he paid some respect to the date. After all, it was the day his parents died. The family he was staying with must have instilled that in him as a symbol. Not many people thought about it, but from the messages left at the Potters' old house and the memorial in that same town, he knew some still thought about them.

He didn't know he couldn't have been more wrong.

No one seemed to attach any real importance to the absence of the "Boy-Who-Lived" on that particular day. Only Theo was occasionally glancing at the door, as if hoping his roommate would come in for dinner, but then assuming that wasn't going to happen.

Hermione actually noticed it too. Her table was next to the Slytherin table, and she was able to notice the absence of her only friend in that house. She was a little worried, but like Professor Snape, she didn't believe it was anything other than a show of respect and mourning.

It was halfway through dinner that Professor Quirrell came running into the Great Hall, terrified and disheveled. He approached Professor Dumbledore, leaning against the staff table to speak:

"A troll... in the dungeons... I thought you should know."

The commotion erupted when the teacher fainted and fell to the ground, which the headmaster dispelled when he threw fireworks with his wand.

"Prefects, escort the students to their common rooms immediately," he exclaimed.

Thus began the movement of almost every table, while the students in the Slytherin room remained there after hearing a second order, this time from Professor Snape, demanding that they remain there until another teacher told them it was safe to return to the dungeons.

Returning to Harry, the boy, of course, was oblivious to all the commotion outside, and he didn't hear anything that might indicate a troll was nearby; therefore, he had no way of knowing that when he left, he would be facing a monster. 

He was only going to take a shower before bed. The showers in his room were fine for cleaning up before class, but not for the evening... well, at that moment, he would have loved to avoid that routine.

He jumped when he heard footsteps near him, footsteps that upon hearing them, there was no way they could have been human; not them being so heavy and slow. A foul smell also reached his nose, making him immediately unwell. What was supposed to be going on?

It didn't take long for him to get an answer when he found a troll rounding the corner of the hallway, walking slowly while dragging a mace in its long arms.

For once, he had to be thankful he couldn't scream, because the last thing he needed was to get the enormous creature's attention.

He hid in a nearby hallway, panting heavily. He hadn't even realized he'd been losing his breathing.

First a Cerberus, now a troll. What kind of school was that?! What happened to it being a safe place?

His hand tightened around his wand, but he didn't even know what he would do with it. How many spells had he learned in class so far? Four? Turning a light on with his wand, turning it off, one to open doors, and another to levitate things; how was that going to help?

He tried to calm himself, but his breathing was shaky. He felt even more scared when he heard the hissing in his own chest. He didn't like the idea of ​​having an asthma attack right now.

He tried to think, but he didn't know what to do; he was too terrified. He turned again to see the troll, again he almost screamed when he noticed that it had turned in his direction and was approaching, he wasn't looking for it, but he was afraid that if it saw him it would start attacking him.

He moved down the corridor, it only lead as far as putting him behind the troll, but he'd much rather be behind him than in front of him; so he tried to stay there, waiting, his mind working overtime.

The twins only taught him a few spells, none of which he remembered at first. Changing the color of things, throwing colored sparks... the tripping spell!

He looked at the troll's short legs; he didn't know if he could do it, but if he made him fall... He then looked at the mallet, trying to formulate everything in his head.

Well, if it didn't work, at least it would distract him long enough for him to go hide. He wasn't going to get far in the middle of an asthma attack, and he didn't think he could move from one corridor to another without the troll noticing.

He took a deep breath and pointed his wand at the troll's feet. His heart almost froze when the creature began to move toward him, as if it had heard his footsteps; But he did not hesitate, and raised his voice as high as he could to say the spell.

When the troll actually fell like a dead weight to the ground with a high, ugly scream, Harry stifled a squeal and rushed to aim for the mace, this time using the only spell he could think of that might remove it. He shouted the incantation, and the wooden mace soared into the air a few feet. It was pure chance that he dropped it on the troll's head; he had panicked when he saw it start to rise and lost control of the spell.

The moment the enormous figure fell unconscious to the ground, Harry stumbled backward and tripped, landing on his back on the floor, panting heavily, his chest rising and falling too quickly, and the impending wheezing of his asthma hunting him.

He heard hurried footsteps, and Harry couldn't hold back his anxiety. He scrambled to his feet on shaky legs and started running, trying to get away from the creature.

When he was told he was going to study magic at Hogwarts, he never imagined he'd have to deal with something like this too!

Someone grabbed his arm, and his first reaction was to point his wand at whoever had captured him, though it was immediately and relatively easily snatched away from him; Harry had no idea it was his Head of House who was now trying to calm him down.

"Potter, Potter! Calm down," the professor tried to instruct. Harry realized who it was, but now his nerves had nothing to do with what he'd done before, but rather with the fact that he was holding his arms, so he tried to pull away.

"Let me go, please," he begged, his voice cracking between gasps. "Please, I won't do anything. I'll behave, I swear, but just let me go. Please!"

Severus frowned, not understanding why the boy was reacting this way, but he did as he was told, regretting it the moment Harry simply collapsed to the ground, too weak to hold himself together.

It would be later that the teachers would have to figure out how the little boy managed to deal with the enormous troll that was completely done for in the middle of the corridor floor.

Chapter Text

Harry kept his eyes closed even after waking up, smelling the distinctive smell of the hospital wing heavily. How could the hospital wing of a magical school and one at a Muggle school smell the same? He didn't know, but he recognized it nonetheless.

He tried to think about what had happened and realized that, after being detained by Professor Snape, he had once again succumbed to unconsciousness. It had been at least a month and a half since he had last fainted, and it was due to hypoglycemia, the result of skipping breakfast after having grown accustomed to eating three meals every day; the anemia potion taken on an empty stomach didn't help.

He pondered the events in his mind, almost letting out a squeal of exasperation when he realized the way he had reacted in front of the professor when he grabbed his arms—it wasn't his fault! (It was) He hated it when they did that. His uncle had done it so many times, and always so hard, that Harry always feared he might break his arm. Okay, he was exaggerating, but he was a small boy, his uncle was huge; and he always left bruises from his grip... not to mention that grabing him was just the beginning of the torment. He suppressed a shudder. Yes, nothing ever went right when his uncle grabbed him; it was just a sign that something worse was coming.

When he remembered the troll, his previous efforts to remain calm vanished completely. He sat up abruptly, feeling the headache and dizziness rip through him. He leaned forward and placed his head in his hands, trying to stabilize his world. He then heard a voice beside him, but it took him a while to make sense of the words.

"Mr. Potter, calm down," he finally understood.

Harry slowly looked up, but his panic only increased when he saw his Potions professor and Head of House.

Now you really have no excuse. They'll send you back to your uncles to punish you.

He shuddered violently and felt tears welling up in his eyes, terrified.

He didn't want to go back to his uncles, didn't want to be expelled from Hogwarts. He loved the school, he loved having the opportunity to study there, to have classmates who wouldn't run away from him, he evn had friends. He had also discovered that he loved flying on his broomstick, and he didn't want to give that up either.

"It's fine, Mr. Potter. The troll has been removed from the castle," the professor said slowly, noticing the boy's terror, believing it was due to that. "Would you be so kind as to tell me what happened?" he asked, handing the boy his glasses, watching him carefully put them on.

Confusion flooded Harry once again; it was becoming a fairly common feeling for him not to understand anything.

Did he want him to tell him so he'd know the severity of his infraction? Was there a chance he might not be sent back to his aunt and uncle? He considered lying, but he didn't want to... he hated lies, he hated them immensely. His aunt and uncle were always lying to him and forcing him to lie.

"A verbal response, Mr. Potter," the teacher insisted. Harry jumped, realizing he had been lost in thought.

He opened his mouth to say something when he was startled again, this time by a hand on his back.

Poppy was startled when the boy moved away from her, turning so abruptly that he almost fell off the other side of the bed, staring at her with some fear. She was forced to abandon her stern face to smile at him, trying to reassure him.

"I'm sorry, I thought you knew I was behind you. I didn't mean to scare you, Miste- Harry," she said softly, also remembering that the boy preferred to be called by his name.

Harry just nodded, a little reassured that the woman hadn't tried to touch him again. Instead, she handed him a potion, which he grabbed and drank without complaint, knowing what it was.

It wasn't that he was frightened by her being behind him; rather, it was the contact that made him react that way. He still didn't understand why he was so afraid of it, but, quite honestly, he didn't appreciate it in the least.

"Thank you," he murmured.

"You weren't hurt, but your blood sugar dropped dangerously low; I assume you didn't eat dinner last night?"

Despite the woman's gentle tone of voice, Harry blushed up to his ears, suddenly finding his bed very interesting.

"I'm sorry..."

"No one's upset with you, Harry," the woman soothed, picking up the now-empty potion vial.

"Mr. Potter, may I ask what happened last night?" Snape insisted, rolling his eyes at the medi-witch's annoyed look.

"I... err... left the common room but... that... the troll was there and... I... I didn't know what to do... there was just a corridor and... well..." he broke off, looking to the side.

"How did you manage to knock the troll unconscious? I think you know that's not something any kid would do," he urged, understanding that the boy didn't want to, or didn't know how to continue.

Harry's face reddened again, and he shifted further onto the stretcher, nervous.

"No... I didn't know any spells I could use... but... I got behind him through a hidden corridor and... I used the Tripping Charm and made him fall to the floor. Then I levitated his mace... I didn't mean to knock him out! But I lost control of the spell and it fell on his head... it was really an accident..." he admitted, embarrassed, twisting the blankets in his hands.

For better or worse, Severus was very impressed; He might have been an eleven-year-old boy, but he had managed to stop a troll all by himself without a scratch; and it had been ingenious the way he had used simple spells to get rid of it.

On the other hand, that had been terribly reckless, but as much as he disliked it, he had no way of arguing back. He knew why he hadn't been at the banquet, and it was an understandable reason. Besides, the boy couldn't have guessed there would be a damn troll at school, and he hadn't even left after curfew, it was during a permitted time, and he was alone. It's not like he could have called someone older to help him, nor had he sought out the troll on his own to provoke it.

He could see the terror in the boy's green eyes; he didn't like it, and he still had the boy's reaction when he had taken him in his arms to consider.

"I won't do anything, I'll behave, I swear."

What need did the boy have to swear to him that he would behave? Did he think he was angry about what had happened? Even if he was, the way he reacted wasn't natural. Was it just panic that had caused him to react so violently?

He doubted it.

"You're still underweight, Harry, but you're getting better. Are you still taking your potions?" he heard Poppy ask, and the boy nodded.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, a little more relaxed; he seemed no longer afraid of being scolded.

"Does it hurt anywhere?"

"No, not anymore," he commented, and Poppy nodded.

"Good... It's almost time for lunch, go get something to eat, and then you can get back to your classes."

"Huh? Did I miss the whole morning?" He looked a little tense again, glancing sideways at the professor, who understood his concern.

"You're justified, Mr. Potter; your classmates will help you catch up."

The boy nodded, smiling a little self-consciously, before turning to the mediwizard to thank her, then bowed slightly to the professor. Poppy let him use the hospital wing shower to clean up quickly and then leave in his uniform.

Severus thought he should go speak to the headmaster; just to confirm if he was sure the family the boy was staying with was who they said they were.

Harry, for his part, quickly went to the Great Hall. At first, no one noticed him; but when he sat in a corner to try to go unnoticed, he was soon mobbed by his classmates: apparently, the news that he had single-handedly defeated a 3-meter-tall troll would not be a secret.

He pretended not to know what had happened, saying he didn't know what had happened or that he didn't remember it well; he didn't feel like remembering that he had been face-to-face with that thing. He diverted the subject to ask his classmates what they had done in class that day.

In any case, Harry ended up earning Slytherin points for having accomplished the feat of stopping the troll. Surprisingly, it was Professor McGonagall who gave them to him, once she found out what had happened.

Otherwise, the rest of the week was unremarkable, just very cold, so Harry always wore his green and silver uniform scarf, covering him almost to his nose; although because of this, he had to wear contact lenses because his glasses would fog up.

"Excited about next week's match?" Ron asked, watching Harry blow on his hands to warm them.

"I don't know," he answered without thinking. "As much as I'm looking forward to flying, I'm terrified. Hermione lent me a Quidditch book, and while it says that Seekers are indeed the smallest and fastest players, it also says that they're the ones who get into the most accidents. I'm not really thrilled about ending up back in the hospital wing so soon," 

"Come on, I'm sure it won't be that bad... Besides, my brothers will protect you from the Bludgers. I saw them playing at home. They're both human Bludgers themselves," he said confidently.

Harry wondered if everyone called the Weasley twins that.

He was about to say something else when, from the window, he saw Hagrid coming back toward the hut, so, still wanting to ask about the Cerberus, he said goodbye to Ron and then ran off toward the half-giant's house.

The cold air was horrendous; by the time he stood in front of the hut door, his chest was burning and even aching; but he took a long, deep breath before knocking. The moment he stepped back, Hagrid opened it. He seemed to look around for the intruder, but when he saw him, a huge grin spread across his long beard.

"Harry! Come in, come in. Would you like some tea? I've also made some biscuits."

Hagrid was probably the one person Harry could never refuse anything to, even if it was some tooth-breaking biscuits.

He tried to keep the conversation as casual as possible, although like all his conversations, it was always more about following the thread than creating it. Unless Hagrid asked him something, he wouldn't say anything.

Well, that is, at least until he decided to find out why Hagrid had a Cerberus in the school... or at least wanted to know anything about it.

"Who told you about Fluffy?" he said sharply, when Harry barely mentioned the word "Cerberus," although he hadn't even hinted that there was one in the school. It startled Harry a little, but he doubted the half-giant would hurt him, so he tried to calm down.

"Fluffy?" He tilted his head, blinking a little in confusion. He thought it was a funny name for a Cerberus.

"I shouldn't have said that," was his reply. Harry laughed a little.

"May I meet him?" he asked. He wasn't going to ask what he was doing at school, not now. He already had his suspicions and didn't need confirmation now.

"Are you interested in meeting him?" The surprise in his friend's voice told Harry that not many would have asked him that question.

"Yeah, I've read about them before, but I've obviously never seen one." He smirked, swinging his legs in the high chair. "Is his name Fluffy? I wouldn't have thought so."

"You know... the corridor is off-limits, and..." He didn't seem to be trying to discourage him. The idea of ​​someone else wanting to meet his creature seemed to encourage him. "

"I'll go with you. I don't think we'll have any problems."

He smiled inwardly when the half-giant looked completely convinced after that.

Yes, just like him, Hagrid could hardly deny Harry anything.

The conversation until dinnertime was about Fluffy. He now knew that he was, in fact, Hagrid's, who bought him from a Greek wizard... that he was just a puppy (that was what surprised him most); and several times he was on the verge of telling him that he was guarding the small package in the Gringotts vault.

It was after dinner that Harry slipped away to meet Hagrid and meet the Cerberus. Theo asked him where he was going; Harry didn't lie and said he'd be with Hagrid. His classmate shook his head, not understanding his fascination with spending time with Hagrid, but let him go without saying anything, Theo assuring him that if they asked, he will say Harry was with a friend and would be back before curfew.

Well, it was one thing to see the Cerberus from a distance, quite another to have it right in front of you.

Hagrid opened the door and let him in; at that very moment, a loud growl was heard. The boy jumped and turned to face the animal, stifling a scream. As terrifying as it was, it was amazing.

The half-giant proceeded to pet the animal as if it were a helpless puppy (Harry bet Hagrid saw him that way), and then introduced it like one would introduce one's best friends.

Harry didn't have good experience with dogs. In fact, Fang, Hagrid's dog, was the first one he had the pleasure of discovering that not all dogs were bad. His only experiences had ever been with his Uncle Vernon's sister's dogs, whom he was forced to call Aunt Marge (he didn't know why he couldn't just call her Madam, that woman wasn't his family), and it hadn't been pleasant running from the animals that always seemed to want to tear him limb from limb.

But, just like with Fang, he surprisingly didn't find Fluffy all that bad. Yes, it was a Cerberus. Yes, it was much bigger than him and would also be capable of killing him in one fell swoop if it tried... but he didn't find it exactly bad; especially when the Cerberus brought its heads close to sniff him, and immediately stopped growling at him to lick his face.

That made him jump again, not out of fear, but because of the force with which he did it. He let out an uncontrollable laugh. It was disgusting, but it was fun.

He took out his wand and used the cleaning spell the twins had taught him: "Along with planning pranks comes knowing how to undo them," they told him.

For some reason, Fluffy took a shine to Harry, and Harry to Fluffy. The Cerberus didn't even tried to bite him or even growl at him, and after playing with him for a bit, the boy was more than enchanted with the animal.

After that, sometimes at night he would stop by to look after the Cerberus; he couldn't feed him because, obviously, he had no way of transporting the meat he ate... but he could fill his water bowl. He asked Hermione to teach him the spell for it; it wasn't a spell from that year, but her friend learned how to do it in order to teach him.

In the end, the visits to Fluffy served as a distraction, especially as the day of his first Quidditch match approached.

The idea was to keep Harry's status as the new Slytherin Seeker a secret, so only members of the team would know—and, of course, Harry's closest friends... but the news still leaked out.

No one but Theo, Ron, and the team saw him play, so they couldn't tell whether he was any good at playing, but that only led to two kinds of rumors:

The first kind, which said he'd do really well, because, after all, there had to be a reason for letting him be on the team, even though he was a first-year.

And the second, which was that he will simply be a disaster.

He didn't know which he preferred to hear.

The twins also introduced him to Lee Jordan, their best friend and the game commentator. Harry felt a little more confident in his friendship with Ron after learning they also had a friend from another house; Lee was a Gryffindor, after all. The brunet was quite excited to see him play, although, like Ron, he said it would have been better if they had all been Gryffindors.

The morning before the match, Harry was nervous enough to not want to eat anything from the table, even at the insistence of his friends... but he knew he couldn't pass up breakfast, couldn't risk causing his blood sugar to drop in the middle of the match and causing him to pass out on his broomstick.

Still feeling sick after lunch, he went downstairs with the team to change, listening to the cheers (and insults) of the students.

"Relax."

"You'll get used to it."

Harry just rolled his eyes, but nodded to the twins.

He found the Gryffindor team captain to be very... effusive. Even though they were on opposing teams, he didn't fail to admire his broomstick, and also mentioned that he had the ideal physique for a Seeker, being small and thin.

They put on their team's distinctive green robes, and Harry took out his glasses to put in his contact lenses; he put the drops in before breakfast, otherwise he wouldn't be able to see anything.

Marcus wasn't one for giving long speeches, but the few words he said, the Weasley twins knew by heart, making Harry chuckle a little.

The time came, and both teams got to the pitch; Harry looked at the Gryffindor Seeker with some surprise. He was much taller than him and more robust; the exact opposite of what Seekers were supposed to be.

When Madame Hooch ordered it, everyone climbed onto their brooms.

Hearing the whistle, he kicked the ground, immediately rising several meters, feeling his nerves and fears stay with the grass below him, returning to the joy he loved so much of being able to fly.

He stood relatively still up high, scanning the entire pitch carefully for the Golden Snitch, occasionally laughing at the comments of the twins' friend, clearly struggling to be impartial.

The game was much rougher than he'd imagined, at least in the sense of it being a school game. The brutality of how they tried to throw each other off their brooms—or rather, how his team tried to throw the Gryffindors off their brooms—was something he wasn't used to seeing... although, he couldn't really say much; it was his first game.

For his part, the Gryffindor Seeker flew from one side to the other, Harry didn't pay much attention to it, but several times he came close to colliding with him, and more times he had to dodge the Bludgers, although the twins always managed to send them away from him, generally towards the Gryffindors.

At some point, he managed to see the Snitch, so he dived to catch it, attracting the others' attention since he had been staying fairly still up until then. The Lion Seeker went too, but Harry was faster, and he wasn't at all afraid of going straight down in the way he was doing.

Just as he was about to get close enough to catch it, the broom gave a violent jerk that sent him flying, stifling a yell at the suddenness of the incident. This time, he collided with the Gryffindor Seeker, as the older boy couldn't stop in time. They didn't fall to the ground, but they were momentarily stunned.

"Sorry," Harry muttered, but it was no longer heard because another yell escaped him as the broom jerked again.

That couldn't be normal; brooms weren't supposed to try to knock their riders off their feet. He couldn't say it was the collision's fault, because it had happened because his broom wasn't right.

It was becoming increasingly obvious that something wasn't right. People began to focus on Harry. The way he was moving couldn't be normal, which was confirmed when the brooms jumped and left him dangling by one arm, eliciting screams from the crowd, terrified for the first-year.

The Weasley twins tried to get closer, but that only made the brooms' shaking worse, so they started to fly underneath him in order to catch him in case Harry fell.

Harry couldn't be more terrified. His arm was hurting more and more with each second that passed, and he felt like he couldn't hold on any longer; every jerk hurt. But he was more than 15 meters off the ground; he could do nothing but try to stay firmly on the broomstick.

He had no idea Hermione had sneaked into the staff area. He didn't know she was the one responsible for setting fire to his Head of House's robes, so that all the teachers would stop paying attention to him for a second, and then immediately afterward; allowing him to regain control of the broom.

He climbed back on, gesturing to the twins to show them he was fine, although he no longer felt his right arm; it was completely numb, and he wouldn't be surprised if they told him his shoulder was dislocated.

The last few minutes of the game were as confusing as they could be, especially when Harry raised his hand to show he had the Snitch; it had been an accident that he'd caught it. The golden ball simply flew towards him, and Harry reached out purely out of reflex; he wasn't even aware he had caught it until he felt it fluttering in his left hand.

Even with all the confusion, the snakes screamed and celebrated the match, having thrashed the Lions team by winning 210 to 20 points.

They would solve the broom problem later; now Harry was more concerned with avoiding all the people trying to give him a friendly bump on the shoulder or a hug to congratulate him.

Chapter Text

Even a week later, Harry and the others hadn't learned anything about who might have hexed his broom during the match.

Hermione and Ron insisted it was Professor Snape (since the girl had seen him through binoculars while he was reciting a spell and looking directly at him); but Harry couldn't understand why his Head of House would want to kill him.

The only other thing they learned was what Fluffy was looking after; between chats with Hagrid, he had let slip another name: "Nicholas Flamel." The half-giant was angry at himself for letting slip another piece of information.

Harry didn't know why he remembered that name from somewhere, but, even trying to stay away from the subject, he made a concerted effort not to worry about it.

He continued to visit the Cerberus regularly. He found that he loved spending time with the enormous three-headed puppy, because yes, now he too saw him as a puppy and not as an scary adult dog, no matter how large he was.

Classes weren't going badly either, and the Christmas holidays were drawing ever closer.

The cold was becoming more and more evident; and Harry hated this. He certainly liked the cold more than the heat, but he hated all the asthma attacks it caused him, and having his common room in the cold dungeons didn't help.

On one occasion, an attack started just as he arrived to the common room, but before he could use his inhaler, Malfoy had taken it away, insinuating it was a Muggle toy and mocking him—at least until a prefect (who happened to be a half-blood) understood what was going on when he saw the blond holding the inhaler and Harry coughing to clear his airways.

While the blond was getting scolded, Theo asked him what that was supposed to be; it was then that his roommate found out he had asthma and what that thing Malfoy called a "toy" was. The Weasley twins also found out later, curious to know why the conceited blond was getting the speech of his life.

Malfoy continued to tease him, but couldn't find anything to say about it: no one was amused that Harry had asthma; in fact, it only made them even more impressed that he had managed to become a Quidditch player anyway, and then they'd return to the topic of how amazing it was that he could stay on a broom with just one hand. Angry and jealous, Malfoy started teasing him with his family again.

"It must be sad spending Christmas at Hogwarts, you know, not having anyone at home that loves you."

Harry knew he was just blabbering; there was no way the blond could have known that in that house he was not only disliked, but hated... but the subject still bothered him. That's why he did everything he could to make sure no one noticed what was happening there. He wanted to be just another kid, so he tried hard to leave everything behind, building a new life at Hogwarts... not that it was difficult; at his uncles' house, he was a phenomenon; at the wizarding world, some kind of hero.

He didn't like either option.

"This is awful," he hissed in annoyance.

"Did you say something?" Theo questioned, raising his head. He knew Harry had spoken, but he didn't understand a word because he didn't hear him properly.

"I said it's awful. They've given us more homework than we've had all year."

"You don't have to start doing it now, you know? It's for the holidays."

"Yes, but if I don't start now, I'll leave everything to the last minute, and I want to do something decent."

The boy just laughed, but said nothing.

"I'll go with Hermione; she offered to help me. Do you want to come?"

"Err... no, thanks... I..."

Harry smiled at his companion, understanding.

"Do you still have issues with her?"

"It's not easy, you know."

"It's okay... you don't insult her anymore, it's progress. Don't worry, it's years of habits, after all. It's like when I fail at pureblood tradition lessons," he muttered, somewhat embarrassed. "Thanks for trying, anyway."

"I suppose I must admit she is not that bad," Harry snorted.

He left the snakes common room to go to the library to meet his friend to do his homework. Harry thought he wouldn't be able to keep up with so much work without Hermione.

Then he took her and Ron back to Hagrid's hut. They had finally started getting along, although they still argued quite often about everything; usually about homework.

Perhaps the only problem with this was that his two friends were more than a little interested in knowing what Fluffy was keeping, and curiosity was extremely contagious, so they had started looking into it.

"It's something very important, or very dangerous... maybe both."

Harry had no idea how such a small package could be dangerous, but if they were putting Fluffy in charge of it, there was a reason.

They tried to research Flamel, but it wasn't in any modern history book they had read. Ron complained that he had never read so much in his life, Harry silently thought the same, although he found the subjects too interesting to complain.

"He said he's related to Professor Dumbledore. How come he's not in the modern history books?" Hermione complained.

"If he's as old as Professor Dumbledore, he's probably even in ancient books," Ron mocked.

Harry squinted, still trying to remember where he have read the name, and what Ron told him only made him think even more. He jumped when he realized Hermione had hit Ron over the head with a book.

Days passed and the holidays arrived. Harry helped Theo pack the night before.

"Are you sure you want to stay? Don't you miss your aunt and uncle?" his roommate asked.

"No, it's fine... They'll be visiting my uncle's sister anyway," he explained, though it was just an excuse. "Besides, the Weasleys will be staying here too, so I won't be alone."

"As you wish," he smiled at him. "You must come to my home sometime."

"That would be great, thanks Theo."

He said goodbye to him in the morning, and to Hermione as well, who hugged him once again. Harry went terribly pale at the girl's gesture, and he also tensed up completely. Once again, he tried to control his panic and let her be, knowing that Hermione wasn't to blame and that she didn't know about his disdain for physical contact.

Not having to worry since it was the holidays, Harry sat with Ron at the lions' table for lunch that day. The twins also sat there so they could talk to Lee. He was finally able to meet Percy, who was so effusive in his greeting that his glasses fell off, causing his brothers to burst out laughing.

Ron taught him how to play wizard chess, although it was quite surprising for him to notice that the pieces could talk; they gave him confusing advice and easily distracted him. At least he learned later that it wasn't just that he was bad at the game, but that Ron was something of a genius at chess. Not even his older brothers could beat him, although he noticed that the twins were trying to cheat by taking his pieces, something that would easily work on a Muggle board, because the pieces didn't scream to warn Ron of the trick.

Harry visited the Gryffindor common room and was surprised to find it very warm; not just in temperature, but in colors as well; the complete opposite of the snake room.

On the other hand, it made sense to him.

Ron felt jealous to discover that only two of them shared a room, not five like them. Harry told him that it was better to see the faces of four boys every morning than to wake up and see the giant squid stuck to the window; something that was definitely scary the first time it happened.

They didn't find anything about Flamel the first few days, and Harry didn't know if it was a good idea to ask any of the teachers, although he was determined to not ask them because he was afraid the teachers would think they were looking for what Fluffy was looking after.

They only came to the conclusion that the day the troll entered the school was to get in and steal the package... although they had no other clues. Harry knew that Professor Snape had seen Fluffy, he even knew that the Cerberus had hurt his Head of House, but he didn't know why he would go see the Cerberus.

Perhaps they're right, and it was Professor Snape.

But he didn't know why his professor would steal... whatever was there; and even less why he would try to knock him off his broom.

"Perhaps that's why he let you be Seeker, so he could sabotage you during the game."

That's what Ron told him, but he didn't know what to make of it.

He feared he was avoiding thinking the worst about the teacher out of gratitude for the help he had granted him, but he really found it hard to believe it was Professor Snape doing this.

Ron grew bored of searching for information, and they spent the rest of the days playing.

The Weasley twins charmed snowballs to throw at the back of Professor Quirrell's turban. They were punished at least five times in one week, but they didn't seem apologetic, not even a little bit. They even taught Harry how to make snowballs chase someone. Needless to say, he won the snowball fight against Ron.

On Christmas morning, Harry woke up a little late, unused to it. It took him a few seconds to react, only to be surprised again to find a few presents at the foot of his bed.

It was strange; he had never received anything before.

He smiled broadly when he realized Hedwig was there. His owl could hardly reach the dungeons and was always in the owlery where he came to see her; but now she was resting on a perch he had set up for her in case she ever decided to sleep with him. He stroked her affectionately before returning to the bed to see the presents.

He was delighted to see that Hagrid had given him a flute; he could tell he had carved it himself. He was even more delighted when it made a sound similar to an owl's call. Hedwig hooted happily at the soft sound.

He almost snorted when he saw the coin his aunt had sent him; and in fact, he was amazed that they had sent him anything at all... but his surprise about the matter disappeared when he saw that it was for his note, probably believing they were obliged to give him something in return. He didn't make much of an effort for them either, knowing that anything he gave them would probably be thrown away or become a toy for one of Aunt Marge's dogs.

Hermione also left him something, a box of chocolate frogs. Theo, for his part, also left him a chocolate bar, but he also gave him a pair of Quidditch gloves that fit his wrists better than the ones he had.

He was about to open the next package when the twins entered the room, causing Harry to jump on the bed and Hedwig to squeal.

"Merry Christmas..."

"... little snake!"

"Merry Christmas," he laughed a little, making room for the brothers to sit on the bed.

"Look at that!"

"You've got a Weasley sweater!"

"A what?" he smirked, starting to open the package.

"She always makes sweaters for everyone," George explained. Harry raised an eyebrow at the boy wearing a blue sweater with an embroidered 'F'.

"Wow, yours is better than ours," said Fred, who was wearing the blue sweater with the embroidered 'G', once he finished unwrapping the present. It was a hand-knitted sweater, thick, and a very pretty emerald color. "He tries harder when it's not for one of us."

"Your mother is very kind," he told them, smiling affectionately at the object. He slipped it over his head and put it on carefully, leaving the glasses on the table so as not to knock them over.

"It fits you perfectly, wow." Harry was actually impressed too; he hadn't thought the woman could guess his measurements so easily.

"Hey, it's the same color as your eyes." This time he blushed, putting his glasses back on.

"Come on, we'll go with Ron and Percy."

"What color do you think his sweater is?"

"I say red, as usual."

Harry couldn't even notice the last remaining package because he found himself being dragged along by the twins, who only left him so he could change out of his pajamas before leaving for the Great Hall, carrying Hedwig on their shoulders so she could then return to the school owlery.

He sat back down at the Gryffindor table with the Weasleys.

Sure enough, Ron had a dark red sweater while Percy's had a 'P' embroidered on it. Harry gave Ron the coin his uncles had sent him, amused by his excitement over the item.

Harry noticed that the food served at the tables was somewhat different; although most meals were shared, some were slightly different. He dared to try some new things, also finding that the Surprise Eggs scattered along the table were not at all Muggle-like. Ron didn't understand why they found muggle ones exiting when they only had a plastic bag with a few toys that didn't even move.

"I'm telling you, George is the one wearing the jumper with the 'F' on it," Harry argued with Ron as they followed his brothers out of the castle.

"That doesn't make sense," Ron retorted.

"Want to see?" he challenged. "George!" Harry called. "Were you the one who threw the most snowballs at Professor Quirrell?"

"Obviously," the twin with the 'F' jumper said enthusiastically and proudly.

"Just by one more, bro; next time I will win," Fred replied.

"I told you so."

"Incredible," Ron snorted. Harry let out a small laugh.

They spent the rest of the day playing again, mostly only coming in to eat, and sometimes they all went to the Gryffindor common room to warm up in front of the fireplace. It was impossible to go back to the snake common room after being in the snow because it was too cold.

Harry asked Ron if he knew how to ice skate; he wasn't really surprised when his friend didn't even know what ice skating was exactly.

That evening, when he returned to the common room after the feast, Harry finally noticed the last package he hadn't opened.

He found, to his surprise, that it was some kind of cloth; but it seemed to be almost liquid. It was shiny silver, a kind of cloak.

He frowned and laid it on his lap as he picked up the note that came with it, reading it.

He was rather surprised to discover it was his father's cloak, gulping at the thought that now, at least, he had something that connected him more to him.

He looked down to pick up the object again, gasping when he noticed his legs were no longer visible.

He jumped up, and as it fell from the floor, he saw that now only his feet were no longer visible.

"An invisibility cloak?" he questioned to himself, taking the cloth to place it over his shoulders, discovering, indeed, that was what it was. He looked in the mirror in the closet and then covered his head as well, finding there was nothing left to reflect back to his eyes.

He found himself very fascinated by the gift, but also very puzzled.

First, he didn't know if it really was from his father, but it wasn't as if he could make any guesses; he didn't even know who sent him the gift. Second, would he use it well? He couldn't yet imagine what he would need it for... although he supposed that once he figured it out, he would use it a lot; for now, it might be useful for visiting Fluffy.

He couldn't help but wonder what his father used it for.

When a wave of emotion ran through him, he swallowed again and left the cloak over his body, slipping out of the common room unnoticed.

He knew it was wrong to go out after curfew, but the idea of ​​wandering around the castle was simply tempting. He felt like he'd never have the chance in his life to do something like that—to do something he wanted to do without being so afraid of being told off. Maybe, just maybe, if no one found out, there wouldn't be any problems.

He passed by the library, thinking he could even go and check out the books in the restricted section to find something about Flamel... but he wasn't sure: he was already pushing his luck too much by staying out so late to try that too, at least not for the first time.

He continued on his way, then discovered that one of the rooms in a corridor he hadn't noticed before had an open door. Curious, he decided to enter, only to discover it was a room filled with unused chairs and tables.

However, there was something that didn't match the plan: a huge, gilt-framed mirror.

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi, it read across the top.

Not scared enough to stay far from the object, and perhaps being led a little by his naiveté, Harry decided to go closer and take a look.

His sense of not being scared changed from one second to the next when he noticed his reflection: first, because he could see it despite having the Invisibility Cloak on; and second, because there were more people behind him.

Too shocked by the image, Harry turned on his heels to look behind him, but there was no one there; he was completely alone.

With his heart pounding in his chest, he looked back at the mirror, trembling, only to find all the people standing behind him once more.

Did the mirror reveal invisible people?

He turned around again, running his hand over where the people were supposed to be, but he felt nothing. He looked at the reflection once more, observing firsthand a couple standing behind him. If they had been there with him, he would have been able to touch them, so no, they weren't there; those people only existed in the mirror.

He paused to look at the people in the mirror in more detail, this time feeling another pang in his chest, but one of terrible melancholy.

The woman was very beautiful; she had long, dark reddish hair and the brightest eyes he had ever seen on anyone... other than himself. She was crying. She was smiling at him, but she was also crying. She was gently waving her hand in greeting.

A man stood beside her, with hazel eyes and untamed black hair, exactly like his own. He put his arm around the woman, smiling too, and even through his glasses, he could see a certain sparkle in his eyes, like someone holding back tears.

Harry felt his eyes fill with tears when he realized who these people were.

"Mom... Dad..." he whispered.

The moment they smiled even wider, tears began to flow down his cheeks.

They were the ones he sometimes saw in his dreams, then.

He took off his cloak and placed his hands gently on the mirror, almost afraid, just to try to better admire those behind him.

Everyone there had features similar to him; be it their hair, their eyes, the shape of their face, their nose or lips, even the barely visible freckles... he was seeing his family for the first time.

He just stood there, staring for a long time, watching his family greet him. Some waved with both hands excitedly, others seemed more refined and just nodded.

A few people caught his attention: only two didn't look at all like him. A man with long black hair and gray eyes (which he did manage to see in other members of his family), and another with brown hair and a face covered in scars. He frowned slightly, he didn't know what they were doing there, but seeing them made him feel even more nostalgic than he already felt for seeing his parents and the rest of his family.

He jumped when he heard a noise, turning quickly on his heels before looking back at the mirror and grabbing his cloak once more to walk away, barely murmuring a soft farewell, one that sounded broken and small in his voice, that was accompanied by silent tears.

He easily made his way back to his room, left the cloak in his trunk, and snuggled under the covers, feeling his heart squeezing inside his chest, but at the same time, feeling a joy he had never experienced before.

He felt like this was the best Christmas he had ever had in his life.