The bullying got real after that.

  I wasn't sure what the underlying reason was, whether the Slytherin kids making assumptions after seeing Snape's treatment of Harry and running with it to the seniors or me entering the class alongside the Gryffindor duo, or something else. It didn't matter.

  Rat, frog and bird corpses before my dormroom in the morning. Routine physical contact, shouldering me when in line, elbows to my core when huddled tight, grabbing and pulling my robe from behind. After the first week, it had become clear Snape wasn't the type to spend time in our common room, and these dummies wouldn't waste the opportunity.

  No one had stolen or snatched my homework or any of my possessions yet, but I knew it was coming, was dreading it.

  Girls were a lot less physical, par on course with the bullying I had gotten used to back at Bet. "Dirty little mudblood," Pansy Parkinson whispered as I cranked open my book next to the fireplace. Unlike in Winslow, I would not shy away from being present in public spaces of the school, would not deny the right to myself. "Poor as rags, can't even afford to fix up her arm," she was silent enough that it would make me look bad to confront her, but loud enough that she was clearly targetting me. She should have guessed it wasn't a matter of money, but it didn't matter. "I mean, at that point, why not just lie down and die?"

  Lacking my history with Emma, and with none of the fragility I had back in those days around, it wasn't very effective, but it was bothering me nonetheless.

  What a farce. Who was I wary of? None of the hyenas here were a point of worry for looking bad and coming across as savage. I shut my book, put it to the side-

  And got yanked across the room by a Tracey who had arrived just at the last second to grab my hand and take me away from Pansy and the group of first, second and third year girls around her.

  On that note, the bullying had intensified, but the real problem in my mind were the seniors. They hadn't upped the ante much, continuing their isolation tactics and retaining a stark distance, but their gazes had gotten a lot colder. I hated everything the brats were doing to me, and I pushed and hit them back each time, but the real danger were those seniors who had been taught better spells, more potent potions, and had the mentality and the organization necessary to get around the safeguards and punishments this lax school had set.

  I mean, that seventh year, with the lush beard? That was straight up an adult man. Who even had allowed that here? Guy must have been on his fourth repeat of his last year or something. Seeing him made me want to create a dresscode, or enforce an existing one. Dude could have been mistaken for a professor.

  "Merlin, Taylor! You looked like you were about to hit her!" Tracey let out, after we had arrived to the solitude of our room.

  I shrugged. "Maybe I were."

  That elicited a gasp from her, which was funny. "Taylor, I admire your self-control, but they are clearly escalating! And everyone and their mother can tell they are getting to you, that you'll respond. That's what they want, to get slapped in the face and run to a professor. C'mon, before their plan works, let's go to Snape."

  I snarled. "I will not go begging for help from that bastard." Enduring his shitty attitude against Harry during class, keeping my mouth shut, they were already too much.

  "Okay, okay. Snape's not the only professor in Hogwarts. We can go to Professor Sprout. She likes you, doesn't she? Or McGonagall, the first magical person you ever met, right?"

  Blame me of stubbornness, but I had my own thoughts and plans. "Just... trust me. I'll deal with this myself. I'm flattered you are worried about me, but trust me and just watch...."

  A pained expression passed her face, but she didn't protest. Good. This was just one of the many serious talks we had about my position in the house.

  Tracey was a nice girl, all in all, but she was naive. I spent a few days wondering if a reason she was so insistent was because she was worried the bullying would jump on her as well from association with me, and decided she hadn't even considered that. Emotionally, it would hurt if she had, but logically it would be fair, heck, any normal person would think about the possibility. It wasn't like Tracey had the confidence of a grown-up like I had, she was an actual baby here, and alone if not for me, another baby in her eyes.

  In the end, I felt bad for even thinking any of that.

  But I was honest in what I told her. I hadn't sat around and picked my nose for the past week, I did want to put an end to this, and I was motivated by my desire to not get Tracey hurt as well, so I was preparing.

  I didn't really have a grand plan, just a few roads I was going to follow that would worked really well, in my mind.

  The first part was getting good at magic. It was a highly variable, highly effective tool usable in all possible endeavors and areas of life, and it was entertaining too, so I had planned to practice magic like woman possessed even before I had come here, but this whole bullying thing had boosted my efforts further. One side of it was practical, I needed spells to defend myself and magical knowledge for when members of Slytherin or any enemy attempted to come at me with a new trick. So I worked.

  Worked in secret that is. You couldn't show your opponent your hand. Meaning the common room was out. Making a heated bed for Tracey's drowsy snake by transfiguring and charming a few cloths had been fine, my magnum opus even, but I couldn't try out the bigger, more dangerous spells inside our dorm.

  So I took to the corridors. The castle was big, and it had plenty of deserted places, unused classrooms, places nobody bothered to look in. I preferred my secret training seasons to be later during the day, even after the sun fell.

  It might have been forbidden for us to be outside the property of our houses during night, but that couldn't stop me. I didn't falter in navigating the castle, as always. A few conversations with some of the people on the paintings stopped them from reporting me, the ones spoke to had spread the word. Ghosts were similarly tight-lipped, except for Peeves, probably, who I avoided to the best of my ability alongside anyone in the school staff, most of whom I assumed to be likely to be too tired to patroll excessively.

  Filch, who'd failed to be a problem as well, was apparently magicless, a "squib." In another life, in another house, I could have felt bad for him or even defended him against the students who hated his punishing personality, living as an outcast in an eccentric society, likely discriminated. Here though, I had my own battles to fight.

  His cat though, Mrs. Norris, busted me one time I was alone in one classroom trying to cast a defensive spell, the second time I was trying out these escapades. She strolled in to jump and sit on the teacher's desk, all silent and beautiful, took one look at me on the other side of the class, and bolted.

  Naturally, I leapt after her.

  It was a good thing I had managed to made it to the door before her and close it, because there was no way I was catching a cat on an open, straight corridor. That made me wonder if there were any spells or potions around to boost physical performance. Food for thought.

  Unfortunately, I hadn't accounted for how loud she could hiss and meow, which she started doing the moment I closed the door and stepped towards her.

  Panicking greatly, I fell back on the support of my passenger. Thinking what I needed, drawing inspiration from a scene I had experienced with Eidolon back when we were briefing the Protectorate on the dangers she presented, getting the energy necessary for it, I cast a spell I hadn't even planned for yet.

  A bubble of silence. The sound wasn't going out, wasn't getting in.

  She stared me with an annoyed look on her face, not even scared.

  Angry and drained, I slapped her -gently- on the back, my expression of my frustration with her, the tight seconds she had made me live through. She fell sideways with a loud, "Mrm?" looking up to me with big eyes. It got up to all fours, started rubbing her whole body across my hand.

  Huh?

  Most of my experience with animals had been with Rachel's dogs, and cats were a whole different ball game, but this gal seemed to like me.

  I started slapping on her lower back, fast, because she looked like she enjoyed that. She laid the front of her body down in response, raising her butt and started purring. It was a weird scene, but whatever, I'd take it. After that, she never bothered me when I was out, except demanding pets when she caught me where she was sure I was alone.

  I hadn't even felt the euphoria of unlocking a new spell because of how unplanned it had been, though I practiced and mastered to use it without the help of my passenger. At first, the bubble had been stationary, unperceptible by the eye, and not too big. Striding through the corridors, I cast them on my path and dismissed the ones that were left behind, not bothering if I was certain I wasn't in the danger of getting caught, and cast them all over the classroms I decided to work in, but I was working on to getting a bubble centered around myself, moving with me. Maybe I'd try out it with my passenger, trying to mimic Turanta the Indian cape, but I had depended on the interdimensional alien enough already.

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  It was very convenient magic.

  The other side of practicing magic was about my reputation. I went above and beyond to overperform in class. Being capable was respected everywhere, and if not respected, it was feared. So I did more than required, transfigured multiple matches to needles while others struggled, followed Sprout's instructions with twice the enthusiasm they had. Code me as someone not to mess with. I even planned to do something really scary in class by going through that magical exhaustion thing McGonagall had explained, casting a horrifying version of a spell we were working on. In the future, that.

  And despite all of that, progress was slow. Magic was much harder than I had envisioned, it wasn't coming to me naturally, except in the cases I was assisted from outside, and I suspected the fight-or-flight situation I had with Mrs. Norris had aided as well, made me get into flow.

  The second part was my attitude. To show I wouldn't yield. Not hiding from the common room was one thing, not avoiding Harry or any of my non-Slytherin friends was another.

  I had wanted to comfort Harry after realizing I hadn't attended to him after that terrible first lesson with Snape, but he seemed fine, thoughtful.

  "Did you know Gringrotts was robbed on the day of my birthday?" Harry asked me.

  I geniunely had no idea. He seemed really thoughtful about it, both him and Ron.

  Well, that made three of us, those whose minds were busy.

  Snape was calmer to Harry in the second class, at least. He sneaked a few glances to me, even which Ron and Tracey commented to be anger at me ordering him around, but it was... different.

  At a later day, I sat outside with the Hufflepuffs of my year, discussing homework. I hadn't thought of it, but my academic aggression had earned me positive attention as well. They asked for a lot of advice, suggestions and the type. After a thorough hour of working on our transfiguration homework, they got bored.

  "How had you done it?" Megan asked, putting her hands on the grass.

  "Your feet's on the ground, heel raised, your arms and legs straight, keep your core tight. Get down in control, then explode up from the bottom position."

  Megan gave it a try, but collapsed to the greenery.

  "You should start out with girl push-ups," Justin told her.

  "Whazzat?" Susan asked. The girl was perpetually confused at anything muggle.

  "Easier version of the push-up," Justin explained. "Instead of straight legs, you put your knees to the ground, raise your shins to the air and cross them if you wanna. Much more plausible that way."

  "Shouldn't it be named something else, considering the best performer of it we have seen is a girl?" Hannah asked, pointing at me.

  I smiled.

  "How about knee-push ups?"

  "Could you be any more basic?" Megan asked Ernie with a smile.

  I laughed.

  It was nice spending time with them...

  Getting back on topic, another tactic I intended to utilize was to confront the Slytherins one-on-one, intimidate them if they are hostile but befriend them if they weren't. I mean, I had met Tracey and Blackwood here, two people who were by all accounts, nice and not racist. There were bound to be others.

  Though it wasn't myself who realized the first of such confrontations. That honour belonged to Crabbe.

  It had been yesterday, a day I had left for my isolate training session. The classes over, I'd ducked to the left, going where the corridor lead me. As I'd gone deeper, I had followed right, then left, on pure instinct. Then stepped into a empty classroom, moving to the windows, viewing the lake.

  After a few seconds of just watching, I'd asked, "Why did you follow me here?"

  Crabbe hadn't answered. He'd just approached me, slowly, with a grin on his face.

  "What's up?"

  Again, no answer.

  I'd sighed. I had lured him here, after sensing he had no one with him, and that he wasn't holding onto his wand, meaning I wouldn't need to test my newly learned hexes on him. That was good.

  "Crabbe, stop."

  "No," he'd said. "Give me your wand."

  So this was about that.

  "If you come any closer, or do something, touch or grab onto me? I'll hit you," I'd warned.

  He'd laughed out loud.

  Vincent Crabbe was a big boy, but it was more fat than muscle, and he hadn't gone through puberty yet, lacking the advantage of a man's hormonal development. Add to that my experience and unusual physical ability, and...

  My punch, fueled by the kick of my legs, found his right side, where his liver was. My knuckles pushed through the soft fat underneath. His hold on my robe broke.

  He fell to the ground, wheezing, gasping, tears leaking out of his eyes.

  The first time I'd received a targeted hit to my liver, I'd thought I died. It had been delivered by the PRT officer I'd been sparring with. I knew that guy had hated me.

  "Ahhh, hurts," Crabbe said and his voice went out halfway through. "Hurts!"

  I let him sit in the pain, until he attempted to get up, at which point I kicked him in the side of his lower leg, the least meaty part of it. He collapsed with another scream.

  "Why do you want my wand?" I asked, putting my foot on his ass.

  "Malfoy... Malfoy said wouldn't it be funny if your wand got lost, so I thought-!"

  "Would you jump out of the window if Malfoy asked you to?"

  "..."

  I crouched. "Did he tell you to do this, or did you thought this was a good idea after what he said?"

  "T-the second one."

  I ran my hand through my hair. "Idiot." I could see there was no point appealing to the immorality of what he had planned to do. "If you try anything like this again, I'll break your arm."

  "I-I won't! I swear I won't!"

  I whispered in his ear, "if you tell anything to Malfoy or anyone else about what happened here just now, I'll punch your teeth in. Understood?"

  "Y-yeah. U-understood."

  It was easy to tell from just looking at his face, that he'd keep his word. A brat, scared shitless. I guessed my "emotion-up-the-sleeve" thing was making threats effective as well, when uttered with real anger.

  I left him back there, saying, "What a disappointment. I regret shaking your hand back on the train," as I exited the classroom.

  Traumatizing eleven year olds wasn't something I enjoyed, but following me like that, trying to take away the most important tool I had for survival? What if it had been someone smarter than Crabbe, who had brandished their wand? What if it had been a senior, or a group?

  These kids didn't need me beating them up for beliefs that had been put into their minds by their parents, they needed therapy and reeducation. But I wasn't an adult, much less one responsible for these children.

  No matter what the hat had said.

  That brought me to the present and the most major part of the actions I'd planned to take. The morning, I'd taken Tracey to a run with me, forcefully, and worked her to the bone in class. She'd gone straight to the bed, my plan working perfectly.

  Because she'd surely stop me from what I was about to do.

  I stepped into the common room, which was probably at it's busiest. People were talking, laughing, discussing schoolwork, reading books.

  Malfoy was there too, sitting on the couches. I could see Crabbe near him. We came eye to eye. He'd keep his promise, it was clear from his brown eyes.

  I shifted my gaze from him back to Malfoy. I just stared at him. A second year shouldered past me from behind, but I paid him no attention. I hadn't thought out how I'd play out this part, but the movement drew out their focus, absolving of me needing to approach him.

  I could see Malfoy mouth off to his lackeys, Look who it is. They got up, walked over to me, positioning around me. There were cruel smiles on their faces.

  "Oh, you look upset, Hebert. Finally realized magic's not for you? When are you packing up to run back home?"

  I stared at him. "Magic is for me, though?"

  "How greedy. You probably stole what little magic you have from us, you thief."

  "You?"

  "Purebloods. Actual inheritors of magic. Nothing like you."

  "What does that make me?"

  He snarled. "A mudblood."

  I supposed that was justification enough. I pushed past the group, ending up in the middle of the room. "Excuse me!" I shouted.

  All heads in the room turned to me.

  Politics and pretenses, farces and lies? That might have been how the house of Slytherin went on about their usual business. I could, too. For this, though? I was sick of playing rigged games.

  I was going to take the direct approach.