A/N: Wow, when I said that updates were likely to be sporadic, I didn't expect this! Since the last chapter, I've nearly completed my ., sat GAMSAT which was delayed for 2 and a half months due to COVID-19 (and online for the first time ever), and submitted my applications to my preferred medical schools. Now all I can do is wait to hear back (or not)! Once again I'll give you the sporadic warning, because I really don't know what's going to be happening in my life over the next few months (and potentially years). While updates may be incredibly few and far between, rest assured that I am at least as interested to see where this story goes as you are, so this is not the last chapter. Sorry it's short.

The Hospital Wing

Even without opening his eyes, Harry knew the room he was in was too bright. The light pierced through his eyelids in a way he had never experienced before. A bitter smell was burning in his nostrils.

The hospital, Harry immediately recognised the smells as what he had experienced at St. Mungo's.

St. Mungo's? I haven't been there. What is it, where is it?

Don't be stupid, of course you've been there. You went there before going to the bank, remember?

Bank? No, that was the first place I went with Hagrid…

Conflicting memories: some solid, some blurred as though they were trying to be forgotten swirled through his mind in every which way.

Never mind, why am I in hospital?

You felt so guilty about learning about Hermione's death that you worked yourself into a panic and fainted, remember?

Wait no, that doesn't seem right…

Shiny white beard… anger, so much anger… flashing lights and rapid movement…

…guilty feelings, panic, sadness…

…regret, frustration…

…frus- "That's it!" Harry hissed, before immediately regretting it. That was it. He had made a huge, huge mistake underestimating the lengths that Dumbledore was willing to go to in order to get Harry back under his control.

Luckily for him, Dumbledore had made a mistake too. Just the one, but it was enough. He had underestimated Harry's Occlumency skills. He had clearly discovered that Harry was familiar with the art, that much was obvious with the way his mind had been altered. Rather than trying to imprint a whole new memory of the night's event as you would with someone unskilled in the art, Dumbledore had tried a more subtle technique. He had taken Harry's existing emotions from the night and created a suggestion of how they played out, and then let Harry's own mind try to fill in the gaps.

The thing that Harry realised had saved him was twofold. One was that Dumbledore had not taken the time to try to understand how Harry's shields worked. He must have assumed that Harry had made them the conventional way- which was probably, considering Harry was not sure if any human had been taught the skill by goblins before.

The other thing was something Harry had never suspected would be of benefit to him. The emotions he was feeling were so clear – the way emotions felt when his empathy was working, and he was sensing the emotions rolling off other people. Each emotion was so… defined. They also felt as though the volume had been turned down on them by at least half. That was not how Harry experienced emotion. He had always struggled to name and understand what he was feeling, and they were always incredibly intense. Was this how Dumbledore normally experienced emotion? Or… was it how everyone experienced them, and he was the weird one?

Weird or not, it was to his advantage. He knew what had happened, and Dumbledore had no reason so far to believe that Harry knew the truth. Now he just had to work out how to stop himself from making another catastrophic mistake.

The task seemed impossible. Dumbledore was so much better prepared for this game than he ever could be.

Just then, Harry heard footsteps coming towards him, so he dropped his hands back down to his sides from where they had been covering his eyes and tried to tuck them under the covers.

"No need for that, Mr. Potter," the voice came from a fair distance, but it was instantly recognisable.

Flitwick, he thought.

The footsteps were quick and heavy, and Harry could tell the tiny man was walking as fast as he could without breaking into a run. That knowledge did not help to calm him down any.

"I saw something of that night, Mr. Potter, I'm not here for Dumbledore," the voice came again.

Harry instantly relaxed.

"…and that is the first thing we need to work on, you can't trust people that easily Mr. Potter. Dumbledore could have sent me to tell you that."

A wave of panic rushed over Harry again, stronger than ever before. How could he make such a big mistake so soon after resolving to not make one? He was well and truly in over his head here, and needed help- but how could he even begin to know who to trust? The memory of the wall he had hit in Dumbledore's office was proof that even that skill was not going to help him anymore- but he had to try. It was his best hope of understanding another person's motive.

Harry reached out using his empathy with more trepidation than ever before… and then stopped. It was a familiar flavour; one he had not felt at Hogwarts before.

Goblin.

"You finally noticed," and Harry swore the voice was smiling.

"Now, we're alone in here as I'm sure you're aware, so I'd appreciate if you'd open your eyes and look at me for this conversation," said Flitwick and any other student would have recognised how odd that statement sounded coming from the typically cheerful professor.

"I… can't," Harry managed, "it's too bright" his throat feeling as though he hadn't spoken in a long time. He felt a wave of concern from the professor and relaxed even more. That was far better than the response he was expecting about it not being that bad and stop overreacting- the response he was used to on the rare occasions that he mentioned a particular sensation was bothering him.

Almost immediately after the words came out, the light piercing through his eyelids vanished even as he heard the swooshing sound of Flitwick's cloak moving as he cast the spell.

"Thank you," said Harry, not knowing how to possibly convey how much he meant those two words, and the scope of actions they were meant to cover.

Harry could feel the older – man's? – goblin's? – eyes staring at him even as Harry himself opened his eyes and fixed them on a place just slightly to the left of the professor's face.

"Now I don't know everything, but I do know that you were in Gringotts for longer than 10 minutes the other day; and I know that I saw our esteemed Headmaster with his wand turned on you in anger. Care to fill me in on the gaps so I know how best to help you?"

"Why are you different?" Harry asked him instead of answering. "Normally you're so… I don't know… not like this."

"We all have our methods. Right now, I need to understand yours."

So Harry, knowing he really had no other options, began to explain the events of the last few years, culminating in Professor Dumbledore's office.

"…and I don't remember anything else from last night, just waking up in here," he finally finished.

"… alright, Mr. Potter, alright. I think I'm getting a clearer picture now. There are obviously many things we need to address but I think for now, your plan needs to be to continue to become the average Ravenclaw as much as possible. Indeed, recent events may have conspired to make that easier for you."

"How so?"

"It was not last night that you experienced your latest ordeal, Mr. Potter. You've been in the hospital wing for 2 months now. Today is the day after Christmas"

"Two- two months?" Harry asked, trying to grapple with the idea that last night's terror was months in the past, and that he had somehow missed out on so much time passing.

"Indeed, Mr. Potter, two months. The majority of students are currently away on Christmas break." The man paused for a while, and Harry, still looking slightly to the left could once again feel the burning stare.

"This is to your advantage, I believe. The months away means you can more easily explain away unusual gaps in your knowledge if you slip up, and you can slowly increase your knowledge over time with Mr. Weasley as a good gauge for if you begin to push too far. I can also warn you if I believe you are starting to seem too knowledgeable. In that two months as well, the other first years have formed much stronger friendships so it will not be seen as a red flag if you are more of an outsider… which pardon me but you do seem to struggle to interact with your peers so a good excuse such as this will be helpful for you, no doubt."

"First the sorting hat, now you, I didn't think I was that bad," Harry grumbled.

"You're not the first student I've met who has troubles," was the Professor's only response to that.

"What, the Headmaster is trying to kill other students?" Harry asked, alarmed. As conceited as it sounded, Harry could see why the Headmaster was on his back, prophecy, and everything. But random other students? Harry was almost offended that he wasn't special.

"No," Flitwick responded, and a wave of some unknown emotion came with it; "not the first to struggle socially. Not the first to misunderstand social cues and definitely not the first to have some sort of aversion to eye contact that you make look so painful."

Harry's eyes shot to the professors. Once again, he did not realise he was being so obvious.

"Sorry, Professor," he mumbled.

"It's not an attack, Harry," the man responded, using his name, "it's just a fact. I am not upset by it. You do remind me a lot of a few of those students though, they used to do a similar thing with their hands as well."

Harry instantly forced his hands to lie still.

"I didn't-"

Flitwick cut him off by loudly dropping a stack of parchment beside his head.

"The work you've been missing, Mr. Potter!" The bouncy, cheerful man was back, contrasting heavily with the fear Harry could sense from him. Someone unknown must be nearby that Harry could not see. He immediately shut off his empathy.

"Your classmates have been keeping track of the homework for you, it's all here! I am looking forward to seeing you back in my classes once term starts back. Happy Christmas!"

And he was gone.

Harry, utterly exhausted from the events that in his mind had taken place only over the last night, was fast asleep seconds later.