AN: This is a dramatic chapter, and as I'm writing it I realize I'm neglecting the humor aspect. Hopefully I managed a few jokes. I realize that the last chapter was a fluff chapter, so I'm giving you a growth chapter. As I've said before I will be finishing this thing!

May God have mercy on me for creating a pairing. This may be the only combination of two people that can't be found in a romantic story on this site (I've checked), and I've put the possibility out there. I take full responsibility for this monster.

In the span of two days Harry's reputation as a star athlete had spread. It didn't cross Harry's mind to bask in his fame, but he found Quidditch derived fame to be somewhat enjoyable. It wasn't rooted in something he doesn't remember and he never had a family member die because of Quidditch.

So yes, the bounce in Harry's step was because the muggle exchange students thought he was a star. He didn't care who judged him for it, least of all Snape.

Then Dudley had to ruin it.

It all started with an ordinary conversation during the free hours between curfew and classes. Many students gathered in the great hall during that time. Tables were set out here and there and most were occupied by exploding snap and wizard's chess. Dudley and a sixth year Hufflepuff were making light conversation.

"So he's your cousin isn't he?" the older Hufflepuff asked.

"Yeah, but he never amounted to much in our kind of sports if that's what you're thinking," Dudley answered, sounding a bit defensive.

"That's surprising, I bet he never went out for any teams," the Hufflepuff stated. "You don't get to be the youngest Quidditch player in a century without a good amount of athleticism."

"Youngest? I'm pretty sure if he was allowed to try out and he made it then other people his age did so as well," a Ravenclaw muggle put in skeptically. She had heard a large amount of hero worship coming from Hogwarts students, and she was betting at least half of it was blown wildly out of proportion.

"He didn't actually try out," the Hufflepuff answered. "His head of house saw him flying unsupervised before his first lesson was done. He supposedly caught a clear glass object in a dive."

"We can't say he got on the team on pure untrained talent," a third year Slytherin stated.

"I heard that his father was a Quidditch star," The Hufflepuff offered. "There may have been some legacy thrown in."

"Please, we both know he didn't get in because of his father's fame," the Slytherin said. "He got in because his own fame."

"How was he famous before that?" the Ravenclaw muggle asked.

"Scar, dead parents, etcetera-etcetera," the third year answered flippantly.

Dudley was very confused by this, and that confusion caused him to ask a question. The asking of this question could be comparable to lighting a fire in a forest that had suffered through a year of drought.

"I thought all that happened in a car crash?" Dudley blurted out.

Alright, it could be argued that this revelation was inevitable and that Dudley was not to blame for introducing the concept of the boy who lived to all the muggles at the school. He did let everyone know that he had been lied to about Harry's orphaning, leading to question involving Harry being lied to as well.

Sooner or later the story of how Voldemort vanished would have been told. There wouldn't have been a shock rippling throughout the great hall if it had been one isolated story telling. There wouldn't have been a group gathering to hear the real story of the death of Lily and James Potter. If Dudley hadn't made it such a public affair the story wouldn't have spread like a forest fire.

Harry was blindsided by questions like 'Do you remember killing you-know-who?' and comments like 'You took down an evil dictator! Awesome!' when he sat down for dinner. He should have expected it, he was becoming famous for one reason so the other reason was bound to come up. He could acknowledge that intellectually. However he was not reacting with his intellect when he rushed out of the hall without eating anything.

Two hours later he realized that he needed to eat, and took a trip to the kitchens. He ate silently for a few minutes, and then was surprised by his company. Aunt Marge walked in and instead of the usual disdain on her face, there was something unreadable. She sat down in front of him.

"I'll admit, they weren't the drunks I thought they were," She opened.

"Sorry I blew you up," Harry said.

"What?" She asked completely bewildered. Harry remembered that her memory had been modified.

"Nothing," He spurted out. Then he calmed down. "Have you gotten along with any of the teachers?"

"At first that McGonagall woman seemed like just the sort you wanted to teach," she answered. "But I'm not sure after…"

"You found out that she is really fond of my parents," Harry supplied.

"It's very different from what I've heard from my brother," she admitted. "I still believe him, especially since she turned my wardrobe violet."

Harry smiled at that.

"You used the bitch and pup metaphor in front of her, didn't you?" Harry asked.

"I had a firm supporter in your potions teacher until I brought that up," She said. "It appears St. Brutus's would have been good for you. You've caused far too much trouble to be tolerated."

Harry sighed; she was going back to her old self.

"Did you and Snape hit it off then?" Harry asked snidely.

"Far too peaky and skinny for my taste," she said. "I fear I'd be too much woman for him."

She paused for a moment.

"Perhaps if I could make him eat more steak, bulk him up a bit" She said in a tone Harry was scared to identify.

Harry wrapped some food up in a napkin and left for his dorms, all the while refusing to let images form in his mind. Yes, Harry was fleeing. Even Gryffindors have limits to their bravery.