Harry swiped his hand over his face to get rid of whatever was tickling him and tried falling back asleep. It didn't work and the feeling persisted, making him groan and wake up, only to notice, annoyed, that he'd been woken up by his own hair. He got up and flicked his wand, which he tended to sleep with, in the air, "Tempus." A bright blue holographic 5:44 appeared in the privacy of his curtained bed. The time informed him that unless he started going out at night after learning the disillusionment charm, he was going to end up going to sleep early enough to never miss a sunrise ever again. This annoyed him for some reason. He hated having a curfew.

There were advantages to being the first one up, however, he mused as he stumbled his way to the bathroom, past his sleeping first-year compatriots. No one disturbed him as he took a relaxing shower and ended up in front of the mirror on top of the sink. "It'll work this time," he told himself reassuringly before pointing his wand at his mouth and casting a spell, "Dentare." Toothpaste and water materialised in his mouth, which he kept closed for this purpose, before unleashing a localised tornado between his teeth. Harry scrunched his face and spit out the contents into the sink. Bright green foam disappeared into the pipes. He really wished that the taste of the toothpaste wasn't set automatically to anise. A flavour that he despised from his student days after making the acquaintance with a particularly vigorous mixture of ouzo and absinthe which someone had apparently thought would be an incredibly funny cocktail.

He sighed. "I miss alcohol."

"My words!" the mirror replied, aghast. "They start so young," it sighed.

Harry gave the talking mirror an annoyed glance and quickly left the bathroom. "Who the fuck thought it would be a good idea to have a talking mirror in the baths. Who wants to be talked to by a random object while naked," he said as he went back to the shared bedroom. His year-mates were still sleeping soundly, so he packed his leather satchel with sheets of white paper, his fountain pen and after a moment's hesitation, his camera. Getting dressed in the uniform that he'd taken a liking to, he headed for the common room. A warm and welcoming space suffused by peeks of sunlight in which dust motes danced lazily. Wooden barrels were installed at large intervals in the walls, although Harry sincerely doubted that they contained anything.

"Swag room," he muttered as he brought up his camera to take a picture. Harry didn't think he would be spending much time here, considering that it was for the most part filled with loud and therefore obnoxious children discussing inanities. He went over to one of the tables and sat down to write a letter to the Dursleys.

Dear family,

I have arrived at the haunted castle safely and have been sorted into the house of the hard-working and the loyal…

It didn't take him long to pen the letter, seeing as not much had occurred yet and he had in fact been dropped off at the train station less than 24 hours ago. He did take special care to include in the letter the fact that he had interacted with Cedric and the twins on the train and that Cedric had been sorted into his own house. Petunia would appreciate thinking that he was making friends, as would Vernon, although the man would never admit it. He tactfully left out the blood-purist child who had accosted him before the sorting. Montongue or whatever his name was.

"Morning," a female voice grumbled from the opposite side of where he had accessed the common room. Harry turned around to appraise the new arrival who was awake shortly after six. Prodigious time for a teenager. His green eyes meet stormy grey ones framed by lilac hair. A cute button nose adorned the aristocratic face which was headed by a body on display by a pair of tight jeans and a form-fitting black sweater. The girl looked to be around 15 years old. A stage of development almost as annoying as all the other ones. "Aren't you up a bit early?" the teenager complained before grimacing, a hand subconsciously going to her stomach.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I could be asking you the same thing. I never thought I'd see a teenager wake up before 7 AM," he replied

"It's also a bit early for brats, innit?" the girl said instinctively, before cringing. "You're not home-sick or something are you?" she asked as she sat down next to him, with another grimace of pain, and glanced at the letter he'd just finished writing.

"Aren't you the detective," Harry replied. "Very interesting how you act all snarky but still sit down next to the presumably about-to-cry first-year. Is everyone in this house a goodie-two-shoes, is this what it's all about?"

"Aren't you a little rain of sunshine," the lilac girl muttered as she laid her head down on the table and closed her eyes with a sigh. "You sure you got sorted into the right house."

Harry sniffed disdainfully. "Of course I did, do you have any idea how many strings I had to pull to end up here?"

The girl cracked open an eye to look at him. "Why'd you have to pull strings? Also what strings. It's a sodding hat, where were you supposed to end up?"

Harry theatrically puffed up his chest and straightened his spine. He tilted his head upwards, so the girl could look up his nostrils for added effect. "Why Slytherin of course, the greatest of the Hogwarts four. The unfortunate thing is just that it's not very cunning or helpful to one's political ambitions to be sorted into the house of dark wizards. Which is where Hufflepuff comes in. You see, nobody suspects the Puff and thus it should be clear that all the real blood-purists and dark wizards are in Hufflepuff. All those in Slytherin are just pretenders, the idiots who'd rather put their blood-purism on display and then have measures taken against it, instead of acting in the shadows and succeeding unimpeded. My great-great-great-grandfather always said that one shouldn't let pride affect your ability to be an effective asshole."

The girl snorted, groaned in pain and clutched her stomach in quick succession. "You're a fucking riot kid. I can't imagine a dark wizard coming out of this cheery place, even if they'd already had a body count before the actual sorting."

Harry winked at the girl. "I agree with you, there couldn't possibly be a dark wizard that ever came out of Hufflepuff."

The girl winked back, a small smile now adorning her horizontally laid face.

Harry stood up and packed away his pen and letter into his satchel. "Well, it was nice meeting you stranger, but I must be off to the owlery to send my evil order-," he coughed, "what I mean is I must inform my family that I have arrived safely at Hogwarts," he corrected, before turning around to leave.

A hand snaked out to grab him by the wrist and Harry turned around to the girl with a raised eyebrow. "I'm not a stranger, call me Tonks. Also, do you even know the way to the owlery? You might just end up getting lost and starving somewhere in the dungeons."

"Are you offering to lead me?" Harry asked. "I'm Harry, by the way."

"Nice to meetcha. Yeah, hells, I'll take you, it's not like I have anything better to do," Tonks said before propping herself up on the table with a grimace to join him.

"Are you sure you should be going with me to the owlery instead of to the hospital wing?" Harry asked, receiving a shake of the head from the taller girl.

"No, nothing to be done there, I must have eaten something bad yesterday."

Harry sincerely doubted that the Hogwarts elves would have let anything bad slip through their fingers to infect the Hogwarts student population. He chuckled as a thought entered his mind. 'Intelligence is knowing when a girl is going through period cramps, wisdom is knowing not to mention it if she doesn't want to tell you.'

"What are you laughing at?" Tonks complained as they started making their way out of the common room, which only made Harry crack up more.

"Nothing much, just life I guess."

-/-

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

It was an enchanting way to the owlery, full of moving paintings, presumably enchanted knight armour ensembles and ghosts and moving staircases. When one reached the top of the owlery one got to drink in the view of Hogwarts and the lake and the forest and the far-off planes.

"They certainly picked a scenic place to put this old castle," Harry said as he ran his fingers over the cracked stone that the owlery was composed of.

The bird he was tying the letter to hooted and hopped away to prevent him from finishing tying the letter. "Oh I didn't mean you, dearie, I meant the castle. You're a young stud, aren't you," Harry crooned at the tawny owl, which hopped back with a preened chest and let him finish the knot. "Now off you go you beautiful, strong bird, my aunt will give you bacon, or bread crumbs or whatever your heart desires. Just stay long enough for her to reply, huh? She has no pretty owl to call her own," he said to the owl, which seemingly not willing to nod, threw its head to the left and then to the right to signify agreement. Not that he could really tell. "Off you go then," he whispered as the owl jumped off the rail and flew off into the sunset. A pleasant wind brought the smell of water and plains into the owlery, not that anything could cover the smell of bird shit pervading the whole structure.

He stepped back from the ledge and turned towards Tonks. The girl was leaning on the other side of the space, looking towards the towering castle with a pensive look, elbows crossed on the railing of one of the countless glassless windows, one hand propping up her chin. She looked quite fetching, he guessed, in a sort of gawkish and awkward way. The way teenagers inhabited their skin always gave off a certain feeling of unease. The only exceptions were dancers or athletes. The sun was rising just beside her, casting her in a lighting that most movie directors or photographers would kill for. Without thinking too much of it Harry opened his camera and snapped a quick picture.

What was it with his camera mostly taking pictures of people fated for death? Harry thought and frowned, putting the camera away. Tonks didn't even stir, seemingly not having noticed anything of what had happened. He stepped up next to her after casting a tempus, straw and mice bones crunched underneath his feet. It was 6:54, it had been a long way here, and his older housemate had explained vigorously how to find one's way in a castle that seemed to take laws of Euclidean geometry more as a challenge than anything set in stone.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked.

Tonks snorted, her eyes unglazing. "I'll take a sickle, minimum," which caused Harry to laugh out loud.

"Tonks, you're a teenage girl, if I wanted to hear whining about boys and observe the process of someone over-thinking a basic social interaction ad absurdum I'd read a romance novel. I'd certainly never pay more than a penny for that particular privilege either."

Tonks made a hurt face but also blushed at the same time.

"Boy, trouble, really?" Harry asked, aghast.

"Oh shut up, you twerp, what do you know anyway!"

Harry puffed out his chest, like the owl earlier. "I am a boy!"

"Little boys don't count," she retorted.

"Try me," he said, and she seemed to think it over.

"There is a guy I like," she began, her eyes going back to looking at the castle, before looking at Harry and shaking her head, "why would I even tell you this…" she muttered.

Harry tilted his head, trying to think of an answer. "You'd tell me, because… You're very cool, pretty and nice. Someone like you doesn't deserve to have unvoiced worries, unshared by anyone," he said, giving the girl a thumbs up.

Tonks stared at him and her previously lilac hair styled elaborately into some sort of spiky goth punk style softly trembled before turning into curly black. Her nose became a tad smaller, her cheekbones higher and her figure a bit less curvaceous.

"I'm a metamorphmagus. It means I can change my appearance at will," she explained.

"You're worried that whoever you end up dating won't love you for yourself, but who you make yourself appear to be and who you could be for them?" Harry asked, receiving a surprised blink.

"Well, yeah. Boys are gross, they'd probably ask me if I could… You know," she trailed off, apparently not wanting to say tell an eleven-year-old boy that most male Hogwarts students within her age range she could date would ask her if she could make her tits bigger, or give herself elf ears or an impossible hourglass figure.

Harry understood her worries. For most people, it could already be an issue to find someone with whom they could unfold the whole of themselves. If one's body was just as malleable as the words one could speak or ask someone to say. Well, he could see why an occasional identity and love crisis wouldn't be amiss for that person.

"Well, I'll tell you straight. Someone you can't communicate your worries to isn't someone you should date anyway. If someone doesn't like you for who you are, fears and all, a relationship with them is just a waste of time So, I guess what I'm trying to say is, that whoever you end up with, with whom it could really work, being a metamorphmagus isn't going to get in-between that," Harry said with a nod of his head. "Although by the time you find someone you're actually compatible with, you'll probably have to deny a few stupid requests from idiots. When you find someone you can be yourself with, hold onto it, it's a rarer opportunity than you think..." he trailed off. "This whole thing, at least, I think this is what my uncle would have said, he's very ehhh, smart."

Tonks was staring at him by the time he finished like he'd grown a second head. "I'm still dreaming," she muttered and turned back to leaning on the edge. "I always get the weirdest dreams when I'm on my period, but this is the most realistic one yet," she closed her eyes. "The weird kid will be gone when I open my eyes again," she mumbled and seemed to be concentrating.

"Well, if I'm the man of your dreams, then I'm calling the Aurors because I'm pretty sure that's illegal," Harry said, making Tonks startle and curse.

"Fuck, you're still here!" she shouted and pulled at her own hair, which had now reverted back to its previous state, just like the rest of her body.

"You're not dreaming, dumbass," Harry said before reaching over and pinching the girl's thigh.

"Ouch, you little shit. That hurt!" Tonks exclaimed and slapped the top of his head.

"Woke you up, didn't it," Harry said while rolling his eyes as he rubbed the spot where she'd hit him. "Come on dummy," he said and made for the stairs down, "show me the library and then go have your existential crisis on your own time. Don't appreciate my advice? Fine, just don't waste my morning," he grumbled.

"It was surprisingly decent advice for a figment of my imagination." Tonks mused, "I guess I'm smarter than I thought I was," she concluded proudly, before walking in front of him to lead him to the library.

Harry rolled his eyes.

-/-

"It's beautiful," Harry said and tears glistened in his eyes, as he beheld the wonders of the world in written form. Aged leather backs, stacked next to each other, above each other, on shelves that reached the ceiling. The scent of parchment assaulted his nose and he was all in.

"Who gets excited about the library?" Tonks complained, before casting a quick tempus and scratching her head, "I have to leave, Harry. I have my satchel in my room and I need to get ready for Potions," she said the last word with the sort of disappointment reserved for licking an ice cream flavour that sounded better than it tasted.

"It's alright, go, shooo. I think I'm supposed to get my schedule today during breakfast, which isn't for another hour. I'll explore the library myself."

Tonks seemed to hesitate for a second. "I could get you from the library, go to breakfast together?" she half proposed, half asked.

Harry literally waved her off. "You go have fun with your friends, I think I can find the great hall from here. Worst case I ask someone or follow them. I think I saw some students already up."

"Alright," Tonks said, "I'll go then," she finished as she continued standing there.

"Thanks for leading me around, Tonks, really. I'll thank you properly one day, ok," he said, going on his tip-toes to pat the girl's shoulder, before turning around and entering the library. Steps receding away from him resounded from behind.

"So basically," Harry muttered to himself, "How am I supposed to find what I need?"

So began his descent into madness.

-/-

"Where were you?" Cedric asked when he sat down next to a catatonic Harry who was alternating between shoving pieces of bread, fruit and eggs into his mouth in a mechanical and continuous motion, "Your bed was made and you were gone. Nobody saw you."

"I was at the library," Harry said with a faraway look, a piece of half-chewed bread falling out of his mouth as he did so. He mindlessly picked it up and ate it again while Cedric looked at him with a disquieted look.

"What happened at the library that made you like… this?" he asked probingly while waving an arm in his general direction.

Harry covered his eyes, inadvertently reliving the horrific moments, "It was horrible. I still can't believe something like this could exist."

"What happened?" Cedric queried further.

"The index Cedric! The bloody sorting system! It's a fucking mess!" Harry wept angrily, "I've never seen such a disorganised library in my entire life!"

"Isn't it sorted by topic?" Cedric asked as he glanced around the Hufflepuff table, looking for someone who could help. However, unfortunately, all older year students looked quite busy and the only other available person was Penny, who grumpily waved at them from where she was clutching her morning oatmeal as if it were a lifeline.

"It is sorted by topic. But Cedric, what use are four full shelves chock full of history of magic if you can't find the one book detailing the particularly important decade for magical politics that occurred in India during the 17th century," Harry said and when Cedric made to say something, he simply spoke over the boy, "and all the weird names! It's not like the titles are something like Indian political history 1650-1660, no it would probably be like politicking with politicians from Pindia, they would add a letter in front of the country's name just to make an alliteration, believe me, please," Harry begged.

"Eeeeer," Cedric started, before reassuringly rubbing Harry's shoulder. "Didn't the prefects yesterday mention that there was a librarian?" he asked, at which Harry buried his head in his hands and started crying harder.

"She's uselesssssss and mean and protects the books as if they aren't even supposed to be read. If you ask her for something that's not in the curriculum she doesn't even try to help you!"

Cedric enveloped Harry in a hug as the latter wept.