Hey guys! So here is what i think could have happened if Voldemort had attacked the Longbottoms that night instead of the Potters with a few more personal touches for fun. There is a slight backstory for Harry, especially regarding his name. But it will all be explained later and it's not really a huge deal to the story. So if it's really killing you not to know, just let me know and I can tell you guys.

Also, not remaining entirely true to the story, I bumped up the timeline quite a bit. It takes place more in the late 2000's. I hope to put a more modern twist on it.

I do not own Harry Potter, but I think the world is very neat.

I hope you guys like it!

xxxx

Hadrian wasn't one for competition; when he was six and still lived at the orphanage he'd seen some of the ridiculous contests the older boys had engaged in and vowed to never be that stupid.

That being said, he was going to win this shit.

As far as troublemaking went, Hadrian didn't do pranks; he preferred to be much more direct when dealing with people, whether it was simply driving them up to the wall or a punch in the face. Harry had whittled back-talk and well timed eye rolls down to a science. If not for the fear of actually getting suspended and expelled from his Muggle school, he would have taken getting detentions to an entirely new level.

Fortunately, Hogwarts didn't seem to have any actual real world consequences to repeated disrespect and disobedience.

The twins didn't know it yet, but Harry was going to blow them out of the water.

He hefted his bag on his shoulder slightly. He had spent a good chunk of time wandering the dungeons. He knew where the Potions room was, but he wanted to make an impression and to do so, he felt it would be prudent to be outlandishly late to his first class.

Besides, Hogwarts was interesting. Harry had noticed that the dungeons held a distinct lack of portraits, but a disproportionate amount of ghosts wandering the halls. Which was especially strange, as Hogwarts had been built as a school. Not once had the dungeons in the castle been used for imprisonment, torture, or execution.

Many of the first years had been frightened of the ghastly figures wandering the corridors, many of them a grotesque image, reflections of their manner of death. But Harry hadn't let it bother him. They probably just did it to scare the firsties. Nearly Headless Nick was the Gryffindor ghost and despite his near-beheading, was a rather cheerful fellow. Not all ghosts could be doom and gloom and Harry seriously doubted they would allow a mentally disturbed ghost actually hang about with a bunch of defenseless children.

"...bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses...I can teach you how to bottle-," Harry swung the door open to the dim, windowless Potions room without any warning. He blinked at the sudden change to such eerie lighting and shifted his bag on his shoulder again.

"Er, hello. I got lost." He lied. "This is Potions, right?"

The class turned to stare at him, all silent as the grave. Harry knew immediately he'd interrupted an important moment for the professor.

Harry was unprepared for the tall, greasy-haired man to spin around so fast, his cloak billowing about him and making him look like a giant bat. Harry jerked back, eyes widening as the Slytherin Head of House glared at him, dark, shrewd stare framed by long greasy locks. Professor Severus Snape was not a good-looking man. He had a large hooked nose, with jowls that flopped ever so slightly as he moved, and a weak chin. His hair was frankly disgusting, greasy and limp. And of course, there was the sparkling personality Harry had already heard so much about.

"Gryffindor," Snape hissed.

Harry had thought the twins had been kidding about his flare for the dramatic.

"Er, yes sir." Harry offered.

"Take your seat." He jabbed sharply at a seat in the back next to a dark-skinned boy with his hair cropped close to his skull. Harry climbed the small steps leading to the back of the room and took his seat next to the Slytherin boy.

"What is your name, boy?" Snape demanded, voice low and grating.

"Hadrian-,"
"Potter?" Snape sneered. Harry blinked in surprise

"No. Kasinger. Hadrian Kasinger." Snape's eyes widened momentarily, but he waved his hand dismissively.

"Now, as I was saying before Mr. Kasinger so rudely interrupted me..." He went to finish up his speech, but whatever trance the class had been in before was broken. Snape's typical intimidation tactics would no longer work. "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Wow, Snape truly was a greasy git. Harry had a few doubts prior to this class, but as Snape had begun the class with insulting his students, Harry was beginning to get the feeling that Snape was a bigger douchebag than he thought imaginable.

Harry figured Snape was one of those teachers who didn't enjoy anything about teaching, let alone the children themselves, but it was the only job that would give him tenure.

"LONGBOTTOM!" Snape snapped and every member of the class jumped in their seats as Snape spun to glare at the slightly pudgy celebrity. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Harry frowned. Yeah, sure maybe Longbottom, the Boy-Who-Lived, was literally considered a national treasure, but he was still eleven and it wasn't fair to call him out like that. Besides, there was no way anyone in the class would know the answer to that question.

Well, except for Granger.

The bushy-haired girl had thrown her hand into the air the moment Snape had spoken. She had clearly misunderstood that this wasn't a question Snape had asked of the class. Granger didn't comprehend that Snape was specifically targeting a student and that no matter how smart she was, he was going to see her as an interference. This would get her into his bad books from day one.

"I-I'm sorry sir. I don't know." Longbottom answered meekly, head hanging low. Snape's lips curled into a sneer and Harry scowled.

"Clearly, fame isn't everything." Snape leered at Longbottom. "Let's try again. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" Longbottom shook his head, biting his lip. Granger waved her hand frantically and Harry groaned, rubbing his forehead. The boy next to him glanced his way but Harry ignored it. He wished someone would tell her to put her hand down. This class was quickly turning into a clusterfuck.

"I don't know, sir." Snape smirked in response.

"For your information, Longbottom. You would find a bezoar in the stomach of a goat. And it is an antidote to most poisons." Harry was getting fed up with this. Granger was waving her hand in the air frantically, not understanding that what she did today was going to affect how people perceived her for the next seven years and Longbottom looked like he was about to cry. No Gryffindors were doing anything to assist their new housemates who so desperately needed their help.

House of the Brave, my ass.

Harry raised his hand. Snape turned to look at him slowly, arching one eyebrow curious at Harry.

"And what do you have to say? Mr. Kasinger, was it?"

"Yes sir. I actually have a question, sir, regarding the things you have just said."

"I'm not taking questions right now, Mr. Kasinger, so I suggest you lower your hand until such a time comes about." Snape responded smugly.

"Oh, no sir. I think you'll take mine." Snape straightened his back, eyes narrowing.

"And what would your question be?"

"I was just wondering sir. Were you bullied as a child and now you use your position of authority to assert your perceived superiority over school children under your care?" The room went completely still. Harry could have heard a pin drop. He decided he was going to talk to fill the silence. "I mean, I can't think of any other reason that you would be such a total asshole to a bunch of children."

Snape had gone kind of purple, Harry observed.

"Mr. Kasinger-," Snape started out in a low voice and Harry figured that if he didn't talk now, he would never get another chance to.

"Please, sir, I'm sure that if you feel familiar enough with this class to ridicule and torment them shamelessly, you feel familiar enough to use my first name, instead of using my surname as a mechanism to constantly remind me of the authority you hold over me, no matter how misplaced that authority has been."

Harry had never been more grateful for the awkward eloquence Muggle school had instilled in him when speaking to a teacher. It was so much more effective to humiliate Snape with- it gave the impression that he was intellectually on par with Snape, even if he really was only a clever little shit that had figured out how to skate by somewhere in between 'gifted' and 'not really trying'.

"Mr. Kasinger..." Harry was seriously considering hiding underneath the desk.

XXXX

Harry hadn't gone in expecting four detentions and a loss of fifty points from Gryffindor, but he was almost sure he could double that next time.

XXXX

He was right.

XXXX

McGonagall looked like she was going to cry when Harry asked if House Points could go negative.

Harry heard Weasley 6 whispering at night to Longbottom that the twins had cried, tears of joy for the newest generation of Hogwarts pranksters.

Harry wasn't really one for pranks, but if making trouble was the competition, he was planning on winning.

XXXX

It was two weeks in, and Harry didn't really have many friends.

Not that he expected to, honestly. He was hardly a social butterfly. Sure, Seamus Finnegan and him had hit it off pretty well at the Welcoming Feast, but Seamus and Dean were joined at the hip nowadays and Harry knew he had no chance of finding somewhere to fit in there that wasn't awkward third wheel. Harry had not gotten along well with Ron Weasley, but that was okay since he had quickly taken the place as Neville Longbottom's best friend. And as for Longbottom himself, Harry hadn't talked to Longbottom at all, other than the introductions exchanged the first night.

Most of the other Gryffindor boys had known each other since they were kids and had their cliques formed prior to attending Hogwarts, so Harry didn't even try there. And Harry was quickly becoming aware of the fact that Gryffindor/Other House friendships were not really a common thing.

Oddly enough, Harry had found a place with Blaise Zabini, a Slytherin first year and his Potions and Transfiguration partner. It had started out as more of a partnership than anything else; Harry antagonized Snape, who would otherwise outright fail him (but they shared the same grade and he wouldn't dare fail Blaise), and Harry's presence in Transfiguration negated the slight but still prominent anti-Slytherin bias obvious in McGonagall's class.

But now they laughed more and smiled more and shared more of the day's happenings. It was kind of nice, actually.

Harry had also made a few friends outside of his year. The twins and Lee Jordan, obviously, and an easygoing Hufflepuff by the name of Cedric Diggory that occasionally hung around with them. Harry had spoken to Nymphadora Tonks a few times, who he hit it off with fairly well, but she was largely concerned with her N.E.W.T.s and had less time to goof off.

So yeah, he had friends. The twins, Lee, Blaise, Tonks, Cedric, Dean, Seamus. But he didn't really have a friend group, people that were special to him. Close to him, in ways that regular friends just aren't.

That was fine with Harry.

But it still felt a little lonely sometimes.

XXXX

"Kasinger! Scrub harder!" Snape snapped from his desk, where he was grading papers. "You should be done with that cauldron by now! Have you ever cleaned anything by hand?" Harry frowned but decided not to respond. He had been scrubbing residue out of cauldrons for close to an hour now. It was ridiculous, especially when Harry knew that such a menial task could be performed easily with magic. It was probably safer too, considering that some of the potion residue was highly toxic.

"Boy! Are you deaf as well as stupid?" Snape hissed when Harry didn't answer. Harry leaned out of the cauldron and settled onto his heels. He peered curiously up at Snape.

"I didn't realize you wanted me to answer."

"So you blatantly ignored me?"

"It wasn't hard, sir." Harry saw the quill in Snape's hand snap and he snickered. He leaned back into the cauldron and resumed his scrubbing. He scrubbed for a while, listening to the constant scratching of quill against paper as Snape wrote furiously on their essays. That was when he noticed something odd. He pulled himself out of the cauldron, staring at the brush Snape had given him.

"Professor?" Harry called out.

"What?"

"Is this supposed to be disintegrating?" He lifted it into the air so Snape could see. There was something green and bubbly on it and it was slowly eating away at the brush. Harry heard the screech of a chair against the ground as Snape stood up and shoved his seat back suddenly.

"KASINGER! GET YOUR HANDS OFF THAT RIGHT NOW!" He roared. Harry gently set the brush down on the lip of the cauldron and got to his feet, backing away, hands up. Snape darted from behind his desk to examine the cauldron and Harry's hands, to make sure he hadn't touched any of it.

"I didn't get any of it on my gloves. I've been careful since it's potion residue. Contrary to what you believe, I have actually done cleaning by hand before. What a revolutionary concept." Harry said icily. Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry.

"Any more back talk and I'll give you another detention, Kasinger."

"I'm sure you'll be glad to have more clean cauldrons." Harry responded, turning away and rolling his eyes. He carefully stripped his gloves off. "And my hour is up. Have fun taking care of toxic potion residue." He grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, heading for the door.

"Kasinger." Harry twisted to look at Snape.

"Yes?"

"You will come here the same time tomorrow." Snape informed him sharply.

"I look forward to another near death experience, sir." Harry said with a nod, before walking out the door, rolling his eyes once he was out of view. At this point, Harry had probably spent more time with Snape than he had in his own dorm and that was terrifying.

They were three weeks in and Harry was up to fourteen detentions. He was beginning to make a schedule, with times he could fit a detention in. He had made a point not to antagonize any other teacher, for the sole purpose that it would drive Snape insane. He would only know Harry as a troublemaker, and it would drive him up the wall to see that no other teacher felt it prudent to punish Harry for his disrespectful behavior.

Harry had seen Snape's face turn purple three times now and it was wonderful.

XXXX

Flying lessons were great.

Harry hadn't thought he would like flying, because you sat on a rickety stick of wood and flew several hundred feet above the ground with no protection of any kind at high speeds.

But he did, and he liked to think that was part of how great flying lessons turned out to be.

They were lined up in two rows, Slytherins on one side, Gryffindors on the other, which was psychologically disconcerting. Harry stood across from Blaise, who would stare at Harry uncomfortably whenever Draco Malfoy said something stupid, conceited, or rude, which was often.

They'd been standing there for a while now, so long that some kids had started pulling up grass or kicking out clumps of dirt. Madam Hooch was chronically late, though no one thought to mention that to her. She was five foot two, but had a steely demeanor similar to that of McGonagall's to match her steel grey hair.

"Now, on the count of three, I want you to all yell, UP!" Madam Hooch commanded. Harry had stopped questioning wizard logic at this point, though he saw no possible way yelling UP could relate to flying.

Shouts immediately filled the air on her command, and Harry watched as Malfoy called UP twice. The broom flew into his hand with a firm thud the second time, and he smirked in a self-satisfied and smug manner. Blaise stared at Harry uncomfortably. Harry snickered.

"Up." He called out for the first time and nearly dropped it when the handle smacked into his hand. He glanced up at Blaise, who raised a curious eyebrow at Harry. It had taken Blaise a few tries, but he didn't say anything. Harry shrugged back and looked over his own House. It took most people five or six times before they got it, but Neville and Granger were having a lot of trouble with theirs. There brooms would rise a foot or so off the ground, before rolling around hopelessly.

Finally, after ten minutes, Neville's smacked into his hand, but Granger couldn't get her broom to come up. Eventually, she ducked down, her cheeks burning in shame, and picked it up.

"Now, I want you all to put one leg over the broom, lean back, hold on tight, and wait for my command!" Madam Hooch demanded. The class did so, almost robotically. She adjusted a few stances. "Now, when I yell go, I want you to kick off slightly- very gently so you will only be a foot or two above the ground, and hover." She glanced around. "Everyone ready?" There were some nods and some frantic head shakings. "G-!"

With a surprised scream, Neville Longbottom went flying into the air.

His broom took him on a wild ride of twist, turns, loop-de-loops, getting higher and higher. Madam Hooch screamed at him to come down, but Harry doubted Longbottom could even hear her over his screaming. Madam Hooch ran underneath him, trying to follow him and the class followed, intensely engaged in the happenings of today's flying lessons. Finally, Longbottom slammed into the side of the building and fell twelve feet before his robe was caught on an outcropping torch-holder. From there, his robes tore and he fell to the ground from a height of about eight feet, landing on his wrist with a loud crack!

Harry winced.

Madam Hooch rushed over, waving the class back with her hand. But the class was far too excited to see the Boy-Who-Lived after such a disaster to bother listening to her.

"STAY BACK!" She screeched as everyone continued to press closer. She helped Longbottom up, who was whimpering in pain. "HE'S GOT A BROKEN WRIST! STAY BACK!" Very few students paid heed. She spun around, eyes narrowing. "I WANT ALL OF YOU TO WAIT HERE FOR ME! NO FLYING! I'M TAKING HIM TO THE HOSPITAL WING! ANYONE CAUGHT FLYING WILL LOST FIFTY POINTS AND HAVE DETENTION FOR A WEEK!"

That's cute.

She disappeared into the building with Longbottom, holding him by his shoulder and taking great care to make sure he didn't jostle his wrist. He was whimpering quietly, face twisted up in an expression of pain, eyes avoiding his wrist.

The class waited patiently for about a minute before losing interest. They wandered back into the field, friends falling in with friends. There was no teacher to tell them where to stand, but the divide between Slytherin and Gryffindor was still there.

Harry fell in with Blaise, to share a meaningless conversation about trivial things that neither of them were truly interested in. But Harry had noticed quickly that Blaise didn't talk about anything important where people could hear him.

A loud voice interrupted them.

Draco Malfoy had been gathering a small crowd about him for some time now, but apparently they weren't large enough for him. He had raised his voice as to attract the attention of the Gryffindors specifically, bragging loudly. He was holding up a clear, red-tinted ball that filled his entire hand, occasionally tossing it in the air and catching it. He smiled smugly at his small audience.

"Look what Longbottom dropped!" He crowed. Harry snorted.

"A thief and a bastard." He muttered to Blaise.

"I cannot believe the Boy-Who-Lived is such a buffoon!" He was holding up the Remembrall Longbottom had cheerfully showed his housemates at breakfast. "It's amazing he could remember to hold onto this!" Harry glanced distastefully at Malfoy. The teacher had been gone all of six minutes and the field had already devolved into Lord of the Flies.

"Y-you stole that!" Granger spluttered, horrified. Malfoy grinned smugly.

"It's only stealing if I don't give it back."

"Do you intend to?" She demanded, taking a few steps forward, trying to look more threatening. She was not achieving that, however, given that she had been hugging herself a moment beforehand.

Malfoy placed a contemplative hand on his chin.

"Hmm...I'll have to think about that."

"Give it back!" She exclaimed, lunging to grab the Remembrall out of his hand.

"Take it from me, mudblood!" A small whisper ran through the crowd. Harry didn't know what that meant, but from the shocked expressions on peoples' faces, he figured it was bad. Granger looked upset, and Harry didn't think she knew exactly what it meant either. She marched forward to grab it, but he shoved her in the chest and held it slightly out of reach.

"Malfoy, you greasy slimy git!" Weasley 6 roared, cheeks reddening. "Give it back! It's not yours! It's Neville's!"

"Are you gonna take it from me, Weasley? You can try, but if you break it you buy it, and I'm afraid you'd lose the house!"

That was a low blow.

Weasley's face began to burn with shame, vastly different from the angry red dust across his cheeks present before. It was childish and stupid and it made Harry angry. He didn't have many feelings about Weasley one way or another, but he knew what it was like. To have nothing and to have everyone around you know it. It was embarrassing in the strangest way.

Harry trailed off the conversation he was having with Blaise and darted through an opening in the small crowd, and straight up into Malfoy's personal space.

CRACK!

Malfoy's head snapped to the side, eyes wide. He promptly dropped the Remembrall as he let out a strangled scream of pain, hands coming up to nurse his already reddening jaw. He clutched it as he spun to stare at Harry, who was rubbing his knuckles and glaring at the blonde boy. His eyes were filled with horror, his mouth opening slightly to speak. Some blood dribbled out of his mouth and he choked for a second, before he spat a mouthful of blood out, probably from biting his tongue. Harry glanced down to the patch of grass slick with blood and snorted when he spotted a little white tooth stained in red.

"Oh my god." Someone whispered. Harry bent down and picked up the Remembrall.

"I'll make sure this gets back to Longbottom." Harry announced, pocketing it.

"Y-YOU HIT ME!" Malfoy shrieked thickly, through a mouth full of blood. Harry nodded.

"Yes. That's what happens when you steal and insult others."

"YOU LITTLE FUCKING MUDBLOOD!" Malfoy screamed. It had become clear relatively quickly that physical aggression was not a very large part of wizard culture. Harry suspected Malfoy had never been hit in his life. Meanwhile, Harry had been scrapping it with the bigger boys for years now, taking advantage of bony knuckles, grippy fingers, and sheer viciousness.

"Get out of here before I hit you again. It'll be messier if I break something." Harry snapped, turning on his heel and walking away, back to Blaise. He inspected his knuckles quietly. His hand hurt, but he didn't think he'd hit Malfoy hard enough to fracture something. Maybe he did. He'd find out soon enough. He sidled up to Blaise, who turned to him and gave him a funny look.

"How's the hand?" He inquired.

"Nothing that can't be fixed."

"Hn."

"PROFESSOR SNAPE IS GOING TO KILL YOU!" Malfoy screeched. Harry glanced up at the boy who was clutching his bloody mouth still.

"Good. I need a few more detentions if I'm going to beat the previous record." He'd weaseled the information out of McGonagall. He remembered that conversation.

"And what about the four detentions you've received, Mr. Kasinger?" Harry snorted and flashed a grin up at her.

"I'm looking to break some records. You wouldn't happen to know the Weasley twins' current standing, would you?" Harry could swear he saw a trace of a smile on her face.

"I'm afraid I can't condone that kind of behavior, Mr. Kasinger. Next time, try not to bring the rest of the house into it." Harry rolled his shoulders and shrugged.

"I guess I'll ask them. You don't think they'd be the type to give me some outrageous number, just to see if I could do it, do you?" That was the first time Harry had ever heard Blaise laugh; it was so sudden and loud that it seemed to have surprised Blaise himself.

McGonagall looked a little pale.

"The current record is 89 in one year. Please do not make this a competition."

Too fucking late.

"YOU LITTLE BASTARD, MY FATHER WILL HEAR ABOUT THIS!"

XXXX

"Mr. Kasinger." McGonagall was watching him over her glasses, eyes cold, face grim. Snape was sitting protectively next to Malfoy, absolutely livid. "Did you or did you not punch Mr. Malfoy in the face?" Malfoy was glaring at Harry from his seat, his chin stained with blood and his face twisted into a grimace of pain.

"Yes." Harry responded tonelessly. "I did."

McGonagall had not been expecting Harry to admit it.

She straightened up abruptly, eyes widening, while Snape leaned forward and begin to hiss.

"See! The little brat admits he did it!" He spat, glaring at Harry, who shrugged.

"Mr. Kasinger, why on earth did you think it was appropriate to hit Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall demanded, looking horrified that one of her lions had admitted to such appalling behavior. All the teachers knew he was serving a ridiculous amount of detentions with Snape, but his behavior was always so good around them, as were his grades, that they had a hard time believing he was truly a troublemaker.

Harry shrugged again in response.

"He's a thief, a blood supremacist, and a downright bastard. So I hit him." Snape turned purple. His voice started low, but it got louder and louder as he went on.

"You think you can go around insulting my student now you little brat, especially with the position you're in-!"

"Severus!" McGonagall snapped. "That's enough!" She slowly turned back to Harry. "You said he was a thief? What exactly did Mr. Malfoy steal?" Harry shrugged for a third time.

"He stole Longbottom's Remembrall, bragged about it, and insulted him." McGonagall blinked at Harry for a moment.

"I didn't!" Malfoy cut in, but Snape silenced him with a hand.

"So you hit him." McGonagall asked carefully.

"So I hit him." Harry confirmed.

"I'm sure Mr. Malfoy was just holding onto it for Longbottom." Snape sniffed. Harry straightened up in his seat and narrowed his eyes at Snape.

"On what grounds do you conclude that?" Snape glowered at Harry.

"On the grounds that you are a known troublemaker who has insulted and talked back to me in front of my class and continues to give me lip at any given opportunity. Mr. Malfoy is, however, a star pupil." Malfoy looked so satisfied with himself that Harry wanted to punch him again. "He is polite to all of his teachers and receives excellent grades. Meanwhile, you are on the fast track to failing my class and not even Mr. Zabini can keep you afloat. Additionally, there is a strong Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry and it would not be a stretch to believe that you were jealous of Mr. Malfoy's performance and took this opportunity for your own satisfaction." Snape finished, with a triumphant expression. He glanced to McGonagall, who was looking hesitant. On one hand, she wanted to believe Harry. Harry got the sense that she liked him quite a bit; he was good at Transfiguration and she had a bit of a soft spot for the troublemakers. But on the other hand, Snape was right. And McGonagall had to take an objective stance.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest.

What about witnesses? Harry wanted to say.Granger wouldn't lie to you and she can tell you exactly what happened.

But honestly, he didn't care. Malfoy was a jerk and he was glad he had punched him. He'd willingly take the punishment anyday. Besides, it would certainly rattle a particular Slytherin's cage to know that there was literally nothing to be done that would serve as a deterrent to Harry.

"I don't care if you don't believe me. Malfoy was being a jerk and I'd do it again if I had to. Punish me if you must, but this is hardly about Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry or me being jealous of him." Harry declared. He turned in his chair to face Malfoy, who looked a little shaken at the sudden dark expression on Harry's face. "I'm just letting you know, Malfoy. If you ever call Granger a mudblood again, I'll pound you into the fucking ground." Harry didn't know what it meant exactly, but he wasn't about to let the greasy little bastard get away with what he was pretty sure were blood supremacist slurs.

And the best thing was, Malfoy looked rattled to the core. He knew that when Harry said something, he meant it.

"Mr. Kasinger!" McGonagall exclaimed. "Watch your language! You are already in enough trouble as it is!" Harry knew he was not helping his case by insulting Malfoy, but once again, he simply didn't care. Hogwarts didn't have real life consequences.

"See!" Snape shouted. "He is a violent, aggressive, antagonizing brat! I have tried to explain this to you on multiple occasions, but you have never seen what he truly is!"

And what about what you truly are, Professor Snape? An insecure bully who gets satisfaction out of tormenting children?

Harry probably was a violent, aggressive, antagonizing brat, but whatever he was, Malfoy and Snape were far worse. He let out a sigh and tilted his head, bracing it against the palm of his hand.

"It doesn't matter what I say and I already know that." Harry responded in a bored voice. "So let's get on with it. What's my punishment?" McGonagall postured and brushed unseen dust from her lap. She pursed her lips as she examined Harry.

"I don't want to give you a detention-," McGonagall began.

"WHAT?!" McGonagall sighed.

"For Heaven's sake, Severus. Calm down. My point is simply that we have already established that detentions aren't an effective form of punishment. What do you suggest we do? Besides expelling him?" Snape shifted his weight in his chair.

"He could..." Harry almost laughed. They really couldn't think of what to do with him. Obviously, Hogwarts had never heard of in school suspension and out of school suspension was very difficult at a boarding school.

"No extracurriculars?" McGonagall suggested. Harry outright snorted.

"What extracurriculars?" McGonagall frowned, brow furrowing. Hogwarts did have a huge lack of extracurriculars.

"Severus, we just have to give him detention." She concluded.

"Not with you." Snape said instantly. "You'll be too soft with him."

"Not with you, your detentions don't serve as a deterrent."

"Pomona and Filius would be far too lenient with him; they don't think he's a troublemaker." Snape insisted. Harry watched the two of them go back and forth with a bored expression, ignoring Malfoy's glares.

"He's too young for detention with Hagrid." McGonagall pointed out. "He could legitimately be killed." Harry straightened up at that, looking back and forth incredulously between the two professors.

The fuck kind of school is this?

"Poppy perhaps?" McGonagall suggested. "She will certainly put him to work. And Mr. Kasinger might even learn a thing or two about healing as opposed to hurting." Snape sat there contemplatively for a few moments, occasionally turning his head to glare at Harry.

"Fine." He said begrudgingly. "Six detentions with Poppy." That would put Harry at twenty detentions so far this school year. "And fifty points from Gryffindor." McGonagall didn't look happy, but she nodded. She gave Harry one last disappointed look before verbalizing her approval.

"That sounds good. Mr. Kasinger, if you don't already have a detention scheduled with Professor Snape, report to the infirmary at 6:30. Madam Pomfrey will be notified. Severus, if you would please, take Mr. Malfoy up to the infirmary. I have a few things to talk to Mr. Kasinger about." Snape sneered at Harry as he got up and led Malfoy out the door, a hand on the small blonde boy's shoulder. The door clicked shut behind them.

The moment they were gone, McGonagall frowned deeply at Harry.

"Mr. Kasinger, is there anything you would like to tell me?" Harry shrugged.

"Only that Hermione Granger could have told you everything that happened." He said flippantly. McGonagall's eyes widened in shock and her mouth opened slightly.

"You were telling the truth." Harry shot her a smug look. "Mr. Kasinger, why didn't you say anything? Some of the detentions will still have to stand, but a more equal punishment could be distributed to both you and Mr. Malfoy-,"

"It doesn't matter." Harry cut her off. He paused for a moment. "Professor. I already know who you'll listen to when it comes down to it." He rolled his shoulders and turned his hands so that his palms were facing the ceiling. "Nothing you do to change my punishment at this point matters." McGonagall lifted her chin slightly, pushing her glasses further up her nose.

"Mr. Kasinger." She began in a serious voice. "Professor Snape is a teacher here. I am sorry, but his word carries more weight than that of an eleven year old, especially in the case of physical aggression. A witness is a different story but-,". Harry cut his Head of House off again.

"Professor Snape is a bully. He enjoys tormenting students and right then, he insulted me several times in a fashion that is completely inappropriate for someone in his position. And you didn't say anything about it."

"And what about your language, Mr. Kasinger?" Harry blinked at McGonagall.

"I'm eleven. He's a full grown man. My behavior can be punished and corrected. Who's going to punish him?" McGonagall seemed taken aback. If someone was actually policing Snape's behavior, Harry had no doubt that the man would have been fired years ago. As the situation was, however, Snape had been allowed to run free.

"Mr. Kasinger-,"

"I'm done talking." Harry announced. "We're beating a dead horse here. Interview Granger or don't, I don't care. I'll take my punishment as it is and Malfoy's already lost a few teeth and a lot of face. Increase my punishment for my arrogance or not, I don't care about that either. I'm done with this." Harry stood up. McGonagall gaped like a fish for a moment, before trying to talk to him again. He ignored her as he walked out the door. She didn't come after him.

XXXX

"Hey! Longbottom!" Harry called as he jogged to catch up with Longbottom and Weasley 6. The two of them were meandering through the halls to class, looking more than a little lost. Longbottom stopped dead in his tracks when he heard Harry's voice though, twisting around to face him. His face was red, dark hair plastered against his forehead, covering his scar. Longbottom had a tendency to tilt his head towards his feet and bite his lip uncomfortably. "How's the wrist?" Harry inquired when he was closer, dropping into a fast walk.

"Fine." Longbottom said to his feet. It was disconcerting. Harry dug into his pocket.

"Here, I've got your Remembrall." He tossed it to Longbottom, who nearly dropped it trying to catch it, surprised. Weasley 6 was watching Harry suspiciously, as if he suspected Harry might have ulterior motives.

Longbottom stared at the Remembrall in his chubby hands.

"I thought I'd lost this forever." He admitted.

"Well, now you've got it back. Hope your trip to the Hospital Wing was pleasant. I've heard mending bones can be a downright bitch." Harry replied amicably. "Anyways, I've gotta get to class. Follow if you like. And feel better, you look a little pale, Longbottom. Later, Weasley. If you get a chance, tell your brothers I'm up to twenty and on a roll. They'll know what I mean." Harry had gotten a few steps down on the staircase when Weasley suddenly burst out of his silence.

"You punched Malfoy!" Harry paused and spun around on the stairs, peering up curiously at Weasley. Longbottom's mouth had dropped open and he was staring at his Remembrall again, like he couldn't believe what Harry had done to get it.

"Yeah." He admitted. "What about it?" Weasley looked confused.

"Why? Why did you do that?" Harry shrugged at Weasley.

"Lots of reasons. He was being a jerk. I didn't like it so I knocked out his teeth." Weasley gaped. "You coming to class or what?" Harry asked abruptly. "We'll be late if we wait any longer."

"A-aren't you in trouble?" Longbottom stuttered, eyes round like a dinner plate.

"Eh." Longbottom glanced back at his Remembrall.

"This is my fault, isn't it?" He whispered. Harry shook his head.

"Don't sweat it. Wasn't you. It was just Malfoy. If I didn't beat the shit out of him today, I would've done it tomorrow."

"Th-th-thank you." Longbottom mumbled. Harry waved a hand dismissively.

"You don't need to thank me. You guys are my housemates. We stick together, y'know?"

XXXX

Harry was beginning to realize how violent and dangerous Hogwarts really was. In his spare time now, he was serving detention with Madam Pomfrey, with a few Snape interludes. He wasn't around all the time, but he'd been around enough to see just how many people came in on a regular basis. Quidditch was horrifying; people came in with cracked skulls, broken bones, concussions, internal organ damage. One kid had been impaled through the lung with his rib. Pomfrey had sent Harry to gather potions and bandages while she treated him in a flurry and Cedric Diggory had been cracking jokes the entire time, even as he choked on his blood.

Most of the time he wasn't around patients; Madam Pomfrey didn't trust him to treat them or even help treat them. She only involved him when it was absolutely necessary, like when Cedric Diggory was choking on his own blood and she needed those potions immediately.

He spent his detentions cleaning up bloody sheets, organizing the potions and herbs, writing the record of all the patients that came in and their injuries.

He also spent his time picking up supplies and dropping off supply orders. He'd mail-ordered a couple things for Madam Pomfrey already and both dropped off and picked up items for her.

Harry vastly preferred picking up orders from Professor Sprout, as the only other option was Snape.

Today he had to go pick up some potions from Snape, which was never fun. At least he was going to stop by to pick up some orders for Sprout and she typically had tea waiting for him.

"Now, do you remember the list?" Madam Pomfrey demanded. They were standing in the blindingly white Hospital Wing, Harry dragging a cart behind him. Harry had unsuccessfully tried to convince her to add some color, but she had added a few plants to the corners of the room. There were about twenty beds lined up. Currently, a few girls were waiting in the corner, sitting on one of them and looking uncomfortable. Harry figured they were here for painkillers; they were hardly the first girls to come here on their periods looking for relief.

That was one advantage of Muggle schooling, at least. So far, Harry didn't think that any of the wizardborn boys had any idea what menstruation was.

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey." Harry responded in a bored voice.

"Repeat it to me."

"Four Blood-Replenishing Potions, ten Pepper-Up Potions, two Blemish Blitzers, Four Calming Draughts, six Cough Potions, two cures for boils, two Draughts of Peace, four Dreamless Sleep Potions, two Essences of Dittany, two Fergus Fungal Budges, two Invigoration Draughts, two Lung-Clearing Potions, two Murtlap Essences, an Oculus Potion, two Restoration Potions, two Revival Potions, four Sleeping Draughts, four Wideeye Potions, two Wiggenweld Potions, six Wound-Cleaning Potions, some wormwood and valerian root." Harry listed off tonelessly. Madam Pomfrey beamed at him.

Madam Pomfrey was a bit of a motherly figure, in Harry's opinion. She was supposed to work him hard, and had for most of the first detention. But after she realized that Harry was not nearly as bad as Snape made him out to be, she had warmed up to him considerably, teaching him a few bandage-binding techniques, essential first aid responses, and forcing him to eat during the detention, as she felt he was too skinny.

Even now, she picked up his hoodie from one of the beds and draped it over his shoulders, licking her thumb and adjusting his hair.

"It's cold in the dungeons so bring your sweater." She reminded him. "You may stop for tea with Professor Sprout. Remember to bring the cart with the cushioning charm on it."

"I know, Madam Pomfrey."

"Do you have your wand on you to levitate it?"

"Yes ma'am." She nodded and Harry slipped his arms into his hoodie and zipped it up halfway.

"Be careful and don't antagonize Professor Snape." Harry nodded in response and left the Hospital Wing, dragging the cart behind him. The first years hadn't learned the levitation charm yet, but Madam Pomfrey had taught it to him so he could move the cart up and down the stairs easily.

The trip to the dungeons was never a short one and the switch was uncomfortable. He went from the brightly lit Hospital Wing, with the curtains open and light streaming in and the comforting smell of clean linen to the dark, damp, windowless dungeons that always smelled noxious.

Harry knocked on the office door of the Potions Master, zipping up his hoodie even more. It was always cold in the dungeons.

"Come in." The deep voice practically echoed from the room, down the hallway. Harry opened the door, dragging the cart in behind him. It clacked against the tile floors as he rolled it in.

Snape's office was cluttered and musty, jars of strange things sitting on the numerous shelves. Papers covered his desk, which constantly surprised Harry. Snape always seemed like quite the meticulous man to Harry.

The moment the greasy-haired man spotted Harry, his neutral expression turned to a scowl.

Harry smiled back cheerfully.

"I'm here to pick up for Madam Pomfrey."

"Yes." Snape hissed. "I know." He rose from his seat, cloak billowing about as he did. He gestured for Harry to follow him to the supply closet. Harry followed him in and the two of them remained completely silent while they worked to fill up the cart.

When they were done, Harry stopped and counted the potions in the cart. They were all labelled, but Harry had gotten pretty good at recognizing Potions on sight. He frowned at the cart.

"I need another Blood-Replenishing Potion and another Wideeye Potion." Snape glowered at Harry.

"Are you questioning my counting skills? I gave you four Wideeye Potions and four Blood-Replenishing Potions." Harry shook his head.

"No, you only gave me three of each."

"Boy." Snape's hands were forming fists. "Do not question me." Harry spread his hands out, palms up.

"I counted, twice. I need one more of each. They are kind of important, Professor." Harry maintained.

"I gave you four of each." Snape insisted. Just for the hell of it, Harry peeked in and counted again. Snape refused to look down into the cart.

"I need one more of each." Harry repeated evenly.

"You little-!" He swung his arm out wide in anger. Harry leaned back to avoid being hit in the face with the billowing cloth.

He heard the crash too late.

BANG!

Harry felt the explosion before he heard it, all the air being pushed out of his body. Smoke filled the room instantly and he squeezed his eyes shut against the debris. the sound of glass colliding continued, like raindrops on a window.

There was a sense of weightlessness, a burning in his lungs, and then nothing.

XXXX

Harry woke up to what sounded like humming.

It wasn't actually humming, but voices, footsteps, all sorts of noises had blended together to form what sounded a bit like a strangely comforting hum.

Opening his eyes was difficult. The light burned them whenever he tried to, and everything felt stiff, even his eyelids.

He sniffed, sucking in a breath. The room smelt like clean linen.

And blood.

Harry had seen enough people in the Hospital Wing bleed excessively, but it had never smelled like blood before.

Harry tried to move his stiff body into a sitting position, but immediately thought better of it. He had been injured. Presumably, badly. He couldn't remember anything after the explosion, but he remembered the glass, the shelves- he remembered thinking that he couldn't hear the glass shattering.

Oh shit. I probably blew out my eardrums from proximity.

Harry had been injured plenty of times before, but he was beginning to think this would be the most severe.

He blinked a few more times, trying to clear his vision. Even when his eyelids no longer felt as heavy, the light was bright and it stung.

He let out a cough as the Hospital Wing slowly became clear and loud footsteps broke through the hum.

"Harry!" Madam Pomfrey swam into his view, her normally bright, cheerful face grim. Where there was usually a wide smile and rosy cheeks, she was pale, with her mouth set into a tight, thin line.

"Hi." Harry croaked out. A relieved expression broke over Madam Pomfrey's face. "I take it I was seriously injured?" Madam Pomfrey looked like she wanted to laugh.

"You're okay now." She assured him. "Your Head of House is on their way right now, as if Professor Snape."

Harry jerked up into a sitting position suddenly and Madam Pomfrey let out a cry of shock.

"Why is he coming?" Harry demanded, suppressing a cough from his dry, scratchy throat. "Also, can I have some water?" Madam Pomfrey reached over to his bedside and picked up a glass. Harry twisted to see it. He hadn't even noticed it was there. She handed it to him gingerly, making sure his hands were wrapped securely around the glass before she let it go. It was a lot heavier than he expected, harder to lift to his mouth, but water had never tasted so good.

"Mr. Kasinger, I'm going to be truthful with you." Madam Pomfrey said seriously. "You were injured very badly. The explosion blew out your eardrums, you had multiple gashes and stab wounds from flying glass, you were burnt all along your torso and you broke your ankle. You had serious internal bleeding from the impact, as well as multiple broken ribs. You lost a lot of blood."

"But I'm mostly on the mend?" Harry inquired. Madam Pomfrey nodded.

"You have a little bit more healing to do, but you should be out of here in a few more days. I kept you unconscious for most of the healing, as your injuries would have been extremely painful." Madam Pomfrey explained.

"Do you know what happened?" Madam Pomfrey looked uncomfortable.

"Well..." She took a breath. "Professor Snape accidentally knocked one of the more...explosive jars off the shelf. It hit the ground right in front of you. Both you and Professor Snape were injured, but you suffered the worst injuries. Professor Snape managed to conjure a shield at the last second, but obviously, you could not." Harry snorted. Of course Snape only conjured a shield for himself, not the child he endangered.

Harry had been overjoyed at first that Hogwarts had no real world consequences. It meant he could prank and talk back to his wildest dreams. But the teachers experienced no real world consequences either. Harry imagined Snape wasn't even getting a slap on the wrist. He was still teaching here, wasn't he? If this had been a Muggle school, he would have been fired instantly for endangering a child like that.

Magic made people so stupid.

"Of course." Harry muttered. Pomfrey blinked.

"Professor McGonagall is on her way right now to speak with you." Pomfrey assured him, as if that was supposed to make him feel better about the situation. Harry did not feel reassured in any manner.

XXXX

The short of it was that nothing really changed. Harry had been told that Snape had been "reprimanded" for his actions and was currently "on probation" with a variety of other "privileges" being "taken away". It was all bullshit and McGonagall seemed to honestly believe it. Harry suspected it had been Dumbledore who told her this. And of course, Dumbledore was the Leader of the Light, the Defeater of Grindelwald. Savior of damsels and kisser of babies.

Harry hadn't grown up in the wizarding world, so he hadn't known much about the hype surrounding Dumbledore until his introduction to Hogwarts. Frankly, he hadn't gotten much into it. It was a lot of names he didn't know being thrown around. While it would have been incredibly cool to have an old powerful wizard as their headmaster, protecting them from forces of evil and all kinds of Lord of the Rings bullshit, Harry had been in the system long enough to know that adults always disappointed. You just had to wait.

The thing was, adults weren't honest. They lost the childlike naivety, the solidarity between struggling teenagers, the open, plain honesty among children. Everything was war and death and politics and deceit. Some of them hid it with kind eyes and a sense of empathy. Harry spotted it in Dumbledore's twinkling eyes across the Great Hall. The exact moment his opinion of the man began dropping dramatically.

One of his teachers nearly killed an eleven year old and he didn't even bother to show up and explain things in person.

On the bright side, Harry was no longer allowed to attend detention with Snape. All of his detentions were immediately given to Madam Pomfrey or some other teacher. Snape could still assign them though, and Harry had no doubt he would.

At least Madam Pomfrey liked having him around and Harry was learning a few things. Healing magic was important, but barely touched in the Hogwarts curriculum. Harry would very much like to know how to treat wounds, perhaps even save his own life or that of another in some sort of dangerous magical mishap. It was Hogwarts and Harry had been in the Hospital Wing long enough to know that it was bound to happen. Just look at Quidditch; what was supposed to be a fun, extracurricular sport had nearly killed multiple students in the past week.

XXXX

"Harry?" The voice startled him. Harry had been in the midst of taking his shirt off, so when he jerked suddenly, it tangled in his arms. He pulled it off completely and spun around to address Neville Longbottom. Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom had been laying on their beds, which were next to each other, discussing Quidditch teams. Or what Harry assumed were Quidditch Teams because he had no idea what else the Chudley Cannons could be.

"Y-your chest." Neville said, barely meeting Harry's eyes. Harry was not physically intimidating. He was a skinny kid, with knobby knees and thin wrists. He wasn't very strong, but he was fast and determined and that made up for it. He had some scars here and there, but the newest additions were the burns along his torso. Magical fire was apparently harder to heal than regular fire. Madam Pomfrey had given him a salve that would eventually reduce the scarring, make it a little less noticeable, but they would never really go away.

"Yeah." Harry responded.

"Is that because of what happened with Snape?"

"Yeah." Harry shrugged. He wasn't bothered by it, really. Not the scarring. Even if he was, there wasn't much he could do about it. He was just mad at Snape for being such a dickhead and mad at Dumbledore for not doing anything to punish the asshole.

"That must have been awful." Neville was giving him a big-eyed, sympathetic look. Even Weasley looked stunned.

"It wasn't that bad." Harry said carefully, side-eyeing the two of them warily. He had been getting sympathy from everyone over the accident. It was weird; students who hadn't given two shits about him beforehand were suddenly so concerned.

Not Blaise though. Blaise was very blase about it.

"I see Hell was hot." He'd said.

XXXX

"If you could piss on anyone's grave, whose would you piss on?" Blaise asked. Harry bit into his sandwich thoughtfully. They were sitting up in an old Astronomy Tower, leaning against the railing and dangling their feet over the edge. It was completely empty and sometimes Harry liked to lay in the middle and stare up at the vast night sky for a while. He could hear the sound of the Black Lake lapping the shores, or werewolves howling in the Forbidden Forest. The new Astronomy Tower had replaced this one as the student population at Hogwarts increased and more space was needed. So while the Old Astronomy Tower was easily accessible, no one came here but Harry and Blaise.

"Like, in the future? Like someone dies and then I piss on their grave or people who are already dead?"

"Both."

"Snape, obviously." Blaise snorted. "Dumbledore, definitely. Erm, probably Voldemort. He seemed like a nasty-ass dude. Hitler. Y'know, the basics." Blaise shifted to look at Harry directly.

"Dumbledore?" He sounded surprised. Harry shrugged.

"Dude's an asshole."

"Really?" Harry took another bite of his sandwich and nodded.

"There is something in this school on the third floor corridor that he knows could kill us. Snape almost killed me and nothing's been done about that. Dumbledore didn't even come see me when I was in the Hospital Wing, and to be honest, for all his campaigning against blood supremacy, I don't think he actually gives a shit about muggleborns and Muggles." Blaise shrugged.

"Fair enough." He sipped his drink. "Does it bother you, being called a mudblood?"

"On a moral level, yes. Personally, not really, I guess. But I'm against it on principal." Harry shifted. "What about you? Whose grave would you piss on?"

"My dad's." Harry decided not to pry. They sat in silence for a little while.

"You wanna check out the third floor corridor?"

"Of course."

xxxx

wow that was long

tell me how you guys feel about the chapter length. they'll probably be a little shorter in the future; just don't know how short.

also, there is a lot of stuff i want to explain that will be explained later on, so keep that in mind. hope you guys liked it! feedback is always appreciated and reviews are inspiring!