Metamorous

Chapter 1 - Turncoat

I drag my trunk slowly along behind me, Hedwig's cage in hand. King's Cross Station. All the noise the people make falls easily on my ears, and the closer I get to Platforms 9 and 10 the better I feel. Just leaving the Dursley's behind has made me feel a hundred times better. A thousand even. I push my way through Platform 9¾'s magical barrier.

I walk briskly through the crowd towards the luggage compartment, calling out to some students but avoid others. Mostly the Slytherins, but also people like Colin Creevey, a Gryffindor with a tendency to snap whole rolls of film of me. As I get on the train I start to look for Hermione and Ron before remembering that they'd be in the Prefects' compartment. Well that sucks. I suppose I'll have to wait until we get to school before I can see them. Walking down the corridor I run into a pack of admiring fifth year Hufflepuffs. The combined adoration and puppy love in their eyes makes me panic a bit. Ok, a lot. Must run... while I still can... They ask me to join them in their compartment and I can only I hope I managed to stammer out a somewhat graceful yet empathetic 'no!' because I pretty much ran after that. I hope that girl eventually forgives me for knocking her over... I stopped some where around the sixth can when I heard croaking and a loud thump, followed by two very exasperated voices shouting 'Trevor!'

I grin. Neville. I haven't seen him all summer but it sounds like his toad was still as wayward as ever.

I slide the door to the compartment open and stick my head in. "Mind if I join you?"

Neville, whose head was currently stuck under the seat in pursuit of his toad seemed to register my voice and hurries me in. "Of course Harry, but do watch for Trevor, will you?"

Ginny looks up from the book she had been flipping through. "Ohhh," she breathes. "Ohh, Harry..."

I thought maybe I should ask her if I had something on my nose.

"You look so good!" she shrieks, jumping up amid Chocolate Frog wrappers and parchment papers to hug me tightly.

Oh. Oh! I'd completely forgotten she hasn't seen me since school ended. I'd changed a lot over the summer and any doubts about my appearance had vanished with Ginny's enthusiastic greeting.

All of my years of malnutrition (thanks Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon) had kept me relatively small, but this summer I had a growth spurt that shot me to 5' 7'', a height I never even dreamed I could achieve. Not exactly tall, I know, but for me it's good, ok? The Dursleys had left me to my own devices for most of the summer and as a result I was better fed and less pinched looking than normal. I was still lanky and tended to hunch my shoulders, of which Hermione is forever lecturing me on, but my shoulders are now covered with rather amazing black hair.

I thought it was really quite a dramatic change. My dark black hair that was normally short and rumpled now spilled down to my mid-back. I'd grown it long over the summer, not so much to hide the scar anymore but because I liked it. And I think it suits me. Apparently Ginny did too.

"You must go through conditioner like crazy!" she said gleefully.

I smile. I feel relaxed and happy. I feel like I'm home. I reach down - who knew that would happen? - and hug her again.

"Good to see you Gin."

~~~~~~~

"Professor Snape?"

"Yes?"

"You're the traitor."

The Potions Master froze. And then before I could blink there was a wand pressed to my throat. Was not expecting that. "Excuse me?"

"I just realized. You're the turncoat. Dumbledore's spy."

A slight pause, and I no longer felt the tip of the wand on my throat. "I see. Obviously you aren't going to attack me. Confronting me this way is not the best course of action as it were." Snape reaches and shuts the door he had been about to go through.

"So you've joined him then?"

I shrug. "It's more of a try out. But more or less I suppose."

"And why exactly are you telling me this?"

I dodge that question since I'm not as yet sure of the answer myself. "I've been given a potion, a very dark one. One that will help me deliver Harry Potter to him."

A growl. "It always comes down to Potter, doesn't it?"

I laugh. "It seems to."

There is another pause as we weigh one another.

"And you can't do it?"

"I don't want to. But if I don't..." I let implications fill the silence that follows. Traitors were not treated well by Voldemort.

"You want protection then."

"Sort of. With luck I won't need it."

"Explain."

"The effects of the potion could be faked. But Potter would have to know."

"What potion is it?"

"Metamorous."

Snape surveys me thoughtfully. "It could be done." He turns abruptly toward another door. "Follow me. We need to see Dumbledore."

~~~~~~~

"Oh! Oh, Harry!" Hermione screeches, launching herself into my arms. "I've missed you so much! And you look so good!"

I roll my eyes. "Why is that everyone's reaction?"

Ron steps out from behind Hermione. "It certainly won't be mine. At least the shrieking anyway. Though I do like the hair. Makes you look a bit like Marvin Brumble."

"Who?"

"The Chudley Cannons' keeper. Brilliant chap!"

'Mione and I exchange grins. If Ron was talking about Quidditch, everything was fine.

"How are you two anyway? I've barely heard from you all summer." I missed you guys.

Ron shrugs sheepishly. "Sorry we couldn't bust you out of the Dursleys like last year. They were downright violent."

I wince. "I don't doubt it. Uncle Vernon turned purple and started ripping out his mustache anytime he thought I was even thinking about magic. I spent a lot of time with Mrs. Figg. Or just walking around the neighborhood. Lots of fun, really." It could have been worse.

Ron grimaces. "Not sure you would have wanted to be at my house anyway. Fred and George decided to test whatever new jokes they had come up with that week on us, not to mention Ginny acted like she was pregnant the whole summer."

"Pregnant?" What the hell are you talking about pregnant? You're kidding right?

"She was having the weirdest mood swings. One minute you'd be joking with her and the next she'd slap you and run to her room to cry," he explains, clearly confused by the whole thing. Oh. Jesus Ron, you had me scared there for a second. Ginny... pregnant!

"She was going through a difficult time Ron. And you certainly can't blame her for her behavior the week Dean broke up with her. She was terribly upset."

Ron squeaks. "She was going out with Dean?" Then he paused. A murderous expression stole over his face. "I am going to kill him. I'm going to hex him into next week. I am going to use so many curses on him he's make Marcus Flint look like the cover of Witch Weekly! I'll...!"

Sighing, Hermione half guides, half pushes Ron to their spot at the Gryffindor table. I let him rant on while the first years file in, nervous and rather wet from the ride across the lake.

I'm a bit stunned and turn towards Hermione. "Were we really that small?" They look especially miniscule next to Hagrid.

She chuckles. "Yes. You were the smallest of us all as I recall." Then she blinks. "That rhymed a bit too much for my comfort."

I laugh deliriously. "You were a poet and you didn't know it."

"Harry, that was so cheesy!"

And that was the moment the Sorting Hat, which had been sitting rather unobtrusively on a stool, began to sing.

Oh I'm the Sorting Hat

A smarter one you'll never find

Just place me straight upon your head

And I'll poke through your mind

Will you be a Gryffindor

Of brave and noble station?

Strong as dragon, bold as lion

Danger your life's elation

Will you fancy Hufflepuff

For the loyal and the true?

Friends to keep your whole life long

Banner gold and blue

Will you live in Ravenclaw

And share all the things you've learned?

Use your brain to achieve your ends

And receive what you've earned

Will you place in Slytherin?

A house of cold and damp

Whose hidden rooms show hidden depths

And a desire to be champ

I'll place you in these houses four

Whichever one I see

Will suit you best is where you'll go

That's where you're meant to be

A thunderous applause followed as it finished. Ron had finally stopped his ranting and settled for shooting dirty looks at Dean down the table. McGonagall stepped up near the hat, clad in deep blue robes and holding a long piece of parchment.

"Babbie, Chris!"

"Don't you think the Sorting Hat's song was a little short this year?"

"Franklin, Kari!"

"Ugh, that girl even looks Slytherin."

"Recore, Perry!"

"There's Crabbe and Goyle. Do you think they got stupider over the summer, because they certainly got uglier."

"Schank, William!"

"What I want to know is - Where's Malfoy?"

"Malfoy's not here?" I'm so surprised my head shoots straight up. Ow. Whiplash. I scan the Slytherin table quickly, ignoring the dirty looks some of them give me. Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, and the rest of the sixth and seventh years. Malfoy would never sit with underclassman. He was missing.

"Maybe his dad sent him to Durmstrang."

"Please," Hermione spits out. "He's finally become a full-fledged Death Eater more likely."

That didn't really bear thinking about. Though I'm not sure why.

Professor McGonagall rose to her feet, now at the Head Table. "Attention students." Her voice rang clearly and crisply through the hall. "The Headmaster had some important... business come up, and as a result was unable to be here. You will be able to meet him tomorrow."

The Trio's heads duck together.

"You don't think it's for the Order do you?" I ask worriedly. "He's not hurt or anything, is he?" Suffice it to say it would not be good. And I'd miss him. He's taken care of me more than I like to admit.

Hermione looks puzzled. "Nothing is supposed to be going on. But you never know..."

We sit back again, uneasy but at the moment attentive because McGonagall is sweeping the crowd with eagle eye intensity. "Welcome -or welcome back- to Hogwarts. Please remember that there is no magic in the corridors, and that no one is allowed in the Forbidden Forest or out of bed at night. Mr. Filch," she grimaces, "Has bid me to tell you that Floating Fog, Mucky Marsh, or any other Weasley Joke products are strictly forbidden. This brings the list to some five hundred and twenty-some items, should you be inclined to read them all." The corner of her mouth quirks. Whether from annoyance or amusement is anyone's guess.

"I'd also like to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Adrienne Harz."

The whole school swivels around to look at a slight, pale woman with sandy brown hair and an air of nervousness about her. I remember how nervous Quirrell always seemed. Maybe I'm being paranoid. Probably.

"Two galleons says she doesn't last the year," Seamus whispers.

"Done!" Colin shoots back from across the table. The two shake hands.

Hermione sighed. "I don't suppose telling them betting is illegal will do anything?"

"Nope," the table chorused. It's good to be back.

"Enjoy the feast," McGonagall finishes, sitting down carefully and gesturing over the empty plates. They instantly fill up with heaps of food. I pile my plate high, brushing my hair back off my face and listening to the noisy chatter around me.

It was good to be back here. This place had as many bad memories as good if you thought about it, but there was such a redeeming quality to the whole thing. Classes and homework, Quidditch games and detentions, friends and enemies. I frown slightly. Though my main enemy seems to be missing. Not that that's a bad thing, right? I'd be able to concentrate on things more. No distractions.

Hermione looks good, I decide. Very tan, and her hair was cut shorter, almost to her chin. Her eyes sparkle brightly and she seems a lot more confident than the obsessive-compulsive bookworm who had left here in June.

And Ron looks much better. He's finally grown into his height, looking more like an adult than an overgrown scarecrow for once. His startling red hair is cut short and though he still has a million freckles he seems to be bearing them with good cheer. God, if I keep going on like this I'm going to get all sentimental and mushy but I've just missed the two of them so much. Seventh year, here we come. Sixth year had passed uneventfully and maybe this one would too.

~~~~~~~

"Prefects, please lead your houses to the dormitories."

Hermione and Ron stand. "Oi! Gryffindors, follow us!" Well, that was more Ron than Hermione.

I just smirk and trail after them. Ron jumps enthusiastically in front of the crowd. "C'mon Harry!" I start to push my way to the front of the rampaging horde, as we like to call it.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall sniffs. "A word please."

I wave Ron and Hermione ahead, catching their questioning looks. "I'll catch up!" I yell. Once they're out of sight on the stairs I turn around. "Yes Professor McGonagall?" What was that look?

"The Headmaster requests your presence in his office."

Oh shit. Not good. Not good at all. I feel my heart clench in my chest. Voldemort. The Weasleys. The Order. Lupin. The Dursleys. Snape. He hadn't been at the Feast after all. Oh God, what if Voldemort discovered he was the spy? I certainly don't like the git but I respect him in a way. Not that I'd ever really admit it.

I give her a curt nod, not trusting my voice right then.

"Chocolate Frog," she mutters, rolling her eyes a bit before going back into the Great Hall. Can't be that bad, can it?

I race down the corridor, heart pounding steadily faster as I reach the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office. How many times had I stood here?

"Chocolate Frog," I state. What does Dumbledore want from me? Please, I pray, Please let this be another stupid check-up. I'd gotten an awful lot of those since Sirius's death. I'm not over it, not by a long shot, but I'm coping. It's been about a year and a half. Things are glossed over now. Shimmering beneath the surface.

I climb the stairs stolidly and resolutely, unaware of the picture I present. People have told me I have a presence, a charisma, being the Boy Who Lived and all that rot, but I know I can be quite the actor when I need to. I would have to be over the next few months. My life would depend on it.

~~~~~~~

"Headmaster? You asked to see me?"

Potter's here, I think grimly. Now the fun begins. I sit stiffly in the chair next to Dumbledore's desk. Things are going to progress from bad to worse soon enough. And then Potter rounds the corner and steps into the room.

My thoughts are in complete turmoil. What happened to the skinny, scrawny Harry Potter of last year? In his place is - quite simply - a god. Long black hair and piercing green eyes in a face that simply demands to be looked at. His glasses are gone now, and his scar seems to have faded a bit. Or maybe the rest of his face has just finally overshadowed it. But hell, who am I kidding. A face? A body was more like it. He'd grown, Harry had, in more ways than one.

I begin to crack my knuckles absently, something I do when I'm nervous and thinking about it. My father had been unsuccessful in breaking me of it, no matter what he tried. I was careful to not let father ever see me do it after that. No nasty habits for him to nit-pick, no sir.

But that wasn't the problem right now. My whole world had been turned upside down, by my own choice no less. I'd confessed to father's and my activities. I'd told Dumbledore everything, renounced all my ties and turned spy like Snape. But now comes the hardest part of all, and perhaps the most dangerous.

I have to pretend to be in love with Harry Potter.

~~~~~~~

Dumbledore was here, obviously enough, since it was his office. But so is Professor Snape, who is the last person I ever want to see... except for the person in the chair near the fire. Draco Malfoy.

What could he be doing here? Had Malfoy all ready planned some horrid joke on me and gotten caught? He looks sort of fidgety. Almost self-conscious. And those are two adjectives that never go with Malfoy. He's always so sure of himself. Stuck-up prig.

"Headmaster?"

Dumbledore smiles, but more in welcoming than actually feeling happy. "Hello Harry. Please come in and take a seat."

I do, hesitation in every step. Settling into the ridiculous velvet chair I regain myself enough to cast vague glares at Snape and Malfoy.

"What's going on?"

Dumbledore looks unusually solemn and the twinkle is gone from his eyes. "I'm afraid another attempt on your person has been brought to our attention."

I snarl and turn toward Draco. "Malfoy." No wonder he's here. Bastard.

He goes on the defensive and smirks back. "Hate to break it to you Potter, but I'm the one that saved your life."

No way. No fucking way. You're kidding right?

Draco pulls a flask out from the inside pocket of his cloak, eyes gleaming. "This is Voldemort's latest effort to pull you in. My father's handiwork of course."

My mind's reeling. Malfoy has rebelled against Voldemort?

~~~~~~~

"What potion?" I hear Potter say numbly, looking towards Snape.

Snape's lip curls. "I'm afraid even I don't know this potion as well as Mr. Malfoy. I'm simply here as the other spy in residence. Perhaps he should explain."

I nod quickly, holding the potion out to Harry who takes it uneasily. He stares at the vial, wondering about Voldemort's latest effort to get him killed. He doesn't seem overly alarmed though. This must happen more than I think.

I stare at Harry, my eyes shuttered and voice steely.

"This potion is the love philter Metamorous. Just the brewing of it is enough to land you in Azkaban for 6 years, not to mention actually giving it to someone. Metamorous, very loosely translated, means 'changing love'. That is, in fact, the Dark nature of the potion." It's a damn sadistic potion that's what it is.

"A love potion? Where's the evil in that?" Harry interrupts. "Love potions fade after a time, and aren't potentially dangerous, just, well, rather embarrassing. Why would Voldemort use one?"

"This isn't just any love potion Potter," I snap, desperate for him to understand the seriousness of this. "As I've been trying to tell you. This potion never fades. Never. And there's always a chance the witch or wizard will be severely allergic to the potion." I take a deep indrawn breath. "But if you take the potion right after it's brewed there's nearly no effect. If it sets for a few days it will give you the symptoms of a simple crush. A week will give you some more in depth feelings. Nine or ten days and you're in head over heels love with the person. Anything after that is where the trouble begins. The love begins to border on an obsession. You become outrageously jealous of anyone close to that person. You always need to be with the person, know what the person is doing. You become so fixated on the person you will do anything they tell you. It can become very physical, abusive even. You lose interest in everything except for them. It's like they own your very soul." I know my gray eyes are glittering dangerously. "The long and short of it? It will drive you completely insane. And you'll still love them." Do you understand now?

I speak with all the zeal of a messiah bent on the saving of souls. Harry doesn't want to believe me but he does. He has too. Neither of us seems to realize that during my speech I've moved closer and closer to Harry, our faces now mere inches from each other.

"So, so... Voldemort wanted you to give this to me. And for me... to fall in love with you?" Trying to reach some point the rest of us are all ready at, Harry begins to think aloud. "The idea being... you could make me do anything."

"Ten points to Gryffindor," I snarl sarcastically. "He ordered me to let it set for thirteen days. Just long enough for you to be obsessed, but not long enough for you to go completely over the edge. Not that it would have had to push you that far. I was supposed to pretend to be in love with you too. We didn't want anything to seem fishy right? It's just love after all. Hopefully Dumbledore would be enchanted with such a surprising Inter-House romance and not look too deeply." Which just shows that Voldemort really is an idiot.

"I was to deliver you to him at Christmas break," I continue, almost more to myself than Harry. "Take you home to meet the family. Break you, and let him kill you." I'm surprised that Harry doesn't even flinch at my words. "The idea being that you would have driven all your Gryffindor friends away from you. You'd have no one except me, and I'm supposed to hate you."

Harry starts visibly. "You don't hate me?" He stares into my eyes, which I keep carefully blank.

I smirk. "I don't want to kill you, obviously enough, so no, I guess I don't hate you. For now I'll settle for intense dislike." You don't have to look that surprised. Am I really the bad guy here? I don't think so.

He's still confused. "Why is this so important for me to know?"

My gaze slides from Harry's face to his feet. "Perhaps Dumbledore should explain that." I spin around and sit back into my chair. This is where things are going to get ugly.

Dumbledore sighs. "Draco just turned spy, oh," he sighs, "Forty-five minutes or so ago, and we don't need his cover blown just yet. His father often fills him in on Death Eater activities before they happen, and the information could be useful. If he fails in his mission of giving you the potion, we've blown any chances we've had of stopping these attacks against Muggles."

"Voldemort, as well as Lucius Malfoy, has many spies in this building," Snape continues smoothly. "In the forms of Death Eaters children. He would know if the potion had been administered or not."

I can see that Harry understands. He looks as though he's just been told he has to spend the rest of his life with Snape. "You're trying to tell me... that I have to pretend to be in love with Draco."

Dumbledore sighs, clearly expecting this reaction. "You don't have to do anything Harry. But as I said before, Draco's father often knows of the locations and times of the Muggle attacks. We may be able to prevent some of them. It's up to you to decide whether it's worth it."

As if he could really refuse. It's your choice Harry, act like a normal teenager and let people die or pretend to be in love with your enemy.

Dumbledore clears his throat. Is he blushing? How odd. "I realize this may not be in accord with your normal... ah... sexual preferences, but it is just an act after all."

It takes Potter a few moments to fully comprehend that. "Ah. No. I mean, no, actually, it is in agreement... the one part of this plan I do agree on anyway." Now he's blushing too. And is Snape? Good God.

Oh. Harry Potter is gay. Well, well, well. Wonder if those rumors about him and Terry Boot are true after all? Ah, disturbing thought. Why exactly is Snape blushing?

Harry seems to be thinking but then he abruptly squeezes his eyes shut. "I'll do it."

The tension in Dumbledore seems to leave with those three words. "Good. Good. Thank you Harry, Draco." He shoots a look at Professor Snape. "We'll leave you two alone for a minute. You need to plan things. Draco can fill you in on the workings of the potion. I feel we can trust you with the details." Snape strides briskly out of the room and Dumbledore had gone to follow him before Harry remembers something terribly important.

"Headmaster!" he yells frantically. "I can tell Hermione and Ron can't I?"

He shakes his head slowly. "I'm afraid not Harry. After all, if they just accepted it, it wouldn't seem real, would it? It's all or nothing I'm afraid. Are you still going to do it?"

Harry sighs. "Of course."

The Headmaster smiles slightly and walks out of the room, shutting the door behind him. The click of the lock echoes in the room, and both of us are lost in our own thoughts.

Oh God. My world has just collapsed on top of me. I've betrayed my father, become a spy, and now I have to pretend to love Harry Potter, who hates me more than anyone in the world. Right?

~~~~~~~

Oh God. This has all just hit me. My friends and housemates will hate me because I have to pretend to be in love with Draco Malfoy, who may be a good guy but is still the last person in the world I would really fall in love with. Right?

~~~~~~~

We simultaneously look up, flinching at what we read in the other's eyes. Right. This was going to be hell.

Harry speaks first. "Dumbledore said something about the workings of the potion," he suggests quietly. "There was something more you had to tell me?"

My head snaps up so hard it hurts. Where are the accusations? Where's the sarcastic wit I've been subjected to so often?

"Not going to blame me for this then?" I ask critically. That's new.

Harry's temper flashes at my prodding. "This is difficult enough Malfoy!" he shouts. "Just tell me what we have to do!"

My eyebrows wing upward. "Fine," I growl. "The potion builds on what's all ready there. If I used it to make you fall in love with Granger, for instance, your love would be the lovey-dovey, sentimental, horribly romantic kind, because it's based on friendship which is basically gentle. You and me... it won't be like that. That's not the way the spell works." I pause significantly, unsure of how to word this. Let's just plunge right in. "Ours will be passionate."

He explodes like I expected. "Passionate? I have nothing but disgust for you Malfoy, how can it be passionate?"

I growl again. Just listen birdbrain. "Because we are passionate to each other. We hate each other with a passion idiot. It's two sides of the same coin. The same yet different. Father explained this to me in rather excruciating detail, so just listen." I drag my chair over to Harry's, taking a piece of parchment paper of Dumbledore's desk as I go. "As for how the potion was supposed to go off..." I quickly draw a calendar diagram of about three months. "The potion can be administered anytime now. I'm going to put it in your food tomorrow. Supposedly. Make sure you show up for breakfast. You won't feel the effects for three days. Again, supposedly. Until then, give me puzzled glances, try to pick more fights with me than usual. And then," I write dramatically, flourishing every letter, "Then comes the first kiss."

Oh God. Oh sweet, sweet Jesus. How am I going to handle this? How was he going to handle this?

"We'll have a fight. In the corridor, or in the Great Hall, someplace public. We throw some insults back and forth, you grab my robes or I grab yours, whatever seems to work at the time... and then you kiss me."

"I have to kiss you? Why can't it be the other way around?"

"Because you're the one under the influence of a love potion. Not me. Let's get that straight."

"Fine. Whatever."

"You should run away," I explain. "Torn and slightly horrified, because you love me but you should be thinking 'How the fuck can I love Malfoy?' " The slightest note of bitterness creeps into the last part. "The school begins to gossip, the gossip gets back to my father, and we keep up this sham of a relationship for three and half months."

"And in the meantime," Harry finishes bitterly. "My house will hate me, I'll be lucky if Ron doesn't beat me up, and Hermione will probably take me straight to Madame Pomfrey to have my head examined."

I shouldn't really feel bad. This isn't my fault.

"You shouldn't worry," I tell him as casually as I can. "For now we play the game of bullshit. It's called lying. Acting, if that makes your conscience feel any better. After Christmas we can return to our former name-calling, you can have Dumbledore make a bloody fucking announcement that it was all a show for Voldie, and they'll have to forgive you. Not that the Weasel and the Mudblood are all that great a catch, but whatever."

Harry's jaw drops. "I... were you trying to be nice to me? Having a conversation? And... don't call Hermione that," he adds vehemently.

I scratch my head and shrug. "Whatever. But yeah, we almost have to. What else are we going to be doing when we're supposed to be snogging in my room?"

Harry blushes. "Right." There's a drawn out moment of silence as he stares into the fire. "Was there anything else? I should get to the common room."

"Nope. That's it."

Harry stands up and leaves without another word. I let him. I don't even look at the door swinging shut, just stare into the fire like Harry had moments before.

Why was that not unpleasant? It wasn't horrible. He didn't call me disgusting or insult me or anything like that. I laugh mirthlessly. Now that Dumbledore tells him I'm on the side of good. Stupid Gryffindors.

I groan and stumble over to where I left my bag, pouring the potion into the fire and hearing it dissipate with a satisfying hiss. Dumbledore told me to dispose of it. Probably not what he meant but I don't want to carry it around any more. Massaging my temples I briefly wonder if I should stop in the Hospital Wing for a headache potion. No, probably not on the first day. There's going to be enough rumors going around about me soon enough.

I walk slowly down into the dungeons, thanking Merlin all the while that I'm a prefect and have my own room. Taking off my robe I slip into bed with the clothes I wore underneath still on. I'm tired. No time for perfect hygiene right this second.

I sleep fitfully. Dreams are not something that come to me easily.